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pampushky · 2 months

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Creature (Both Haunted & Holy)

Vinsmoke Sanji/Reader - Chapter 28 - 4.2k

Two and a half months after the events of the last chapter, you adjust to Robin joining the crew, while coming to a decision after learning about exactly what your grandfather had done to Arlong.

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“Look me in the eyes, Luffy, where did all the fish go? They were set out on the deck to dry on the special racks I bought,” Luffy withers under your gaze, unable to meet your eyes, even when you squat to look at him. Sanji stands behind you with his arms crossed, angrier simply because you had explicitly told your captain to wait until they were fully dry. Luffy keeps his nervous stare firmly away from you and waves his hand in front of his face, trying to shoo you off.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,”

“I can smell it on you, Luf. It’s not like I’m adjusting to my senses coming back again.”

Sea Mother, you sound just like your gram when she had caught Toha and yourself sneaking dried squid from the racks outside her hut. Sion had apologized fervently to her mother, while the old woman held both of you by your scruffs, looking almost amused by her mischievous grandchildren.

“That’s not fair-ayYE– Sanji! ” Luffy whines as he gets his ear pinched by your partner, and dragged off to help with chores to make up for this latest incident. From her spot on the deck, Robin laughs. Her giggles send a chill down your spine, and your ears flatten down to your skull, a warble unwillingly bubbling past your lips after you hear it,

You’re not certain why you’re so unsettled by her. You’ve shot up in height, gaining two inches, You’re looking more and more like a proper leopard seal every day, arms and legs growing thick with muscles. But something about Nico Robin startles you.

Maybe it’s her morbid humor. Or how she stares right through you. Sanji likes her well enough— something about her having “the vibe of childhood trauma” as he does. The only one who is as wary of her as you are is Zoro. So the two of you always tend to sit back whenever she says something, prickling like two startled cats as Luffy drapes himself over her shoulders. Which, speaking of… you hold one of the new crew cats tightly, enjoying the comfort he brings.

Chowder is an overfed tabby that had been one of the many parting gifts from Alabasta. That, along with three other cats named Curry, Miso, and Gumbo. All named lovingly by Luffy, who had insisted on being the one to name them, regardless of how you had been the one to request them, to deal with pests on the ship.

Not that you were complaining. At least they had some consistent theme. You just croon softly to yourself, while Roux lets out a squeaky meow. Zoro stands beside you, frowning at the archaeologist, who doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care, that you’re both wary of her. Luffy tries to hide behind her chair as Sanji barks an insult at him, and you watch as your poor captain is dragged across the ship by his stretchy ear, whining the entire way. Usopp just sighs and follows after, making a speech of what sounds like Luffy’s obituary.

The tanned ravenette makes eye contact with you and smiles, making your ears flatten to your head while Chowder lets out another pathetic mew, wriggling in your arms before settling himself half on your shoulders, laying like a baby waiting to be burped. Gracefully, Robin walks down to join you, closing her book as she does so, looking down at the two of you as she leans on the railing.

“Your captain is an interesting one, to be certain,” her mouth quirks up into a partial smile. “But a good one, nonetheless.”

“Guess you don’t have much else to compare to, besides Crocodile,” Zoro says dryly, and she laughs, covering her mouth with her hand.

“He was alright when it came down to it. Never forced me to do anything I didn’t want to.” She shrugs, and you shudder.

“That’s. Basic etiquette, I fear,” You mumble, and squeeze Chowder a bit tighter. The cat mewls, and presses a soft paw against your face, as if to say That was rude, Mom. “Sorry— I—”

And she just laughs again. Leaning over the railing with one hand on her chin as she watches you, before sauntering into the galley to likely watch whatever chores Sanji is making Luffy perform to make up for eating the only partially-dried fish. Zoro just gently grips you by your elbow, leading you away and towards the front deck of the Going Merry so the two of you can spar safely, and hopefully help you get more control over Tide as the two of you fall into a rhythm, fighting hand-to-hand rather than using your weapons of choice.

Tide groans from where it’s leaning next to Zoro’s katanas. You’re not sure if you imagine it, but two of the swords seem to rattle in response to it, distracting you just enough for Zoro to land a solid hit as he tackles you. The wind gets knocked from your lungs for a second, and it’s utterly freezing around you, too cold for you to just be winded—

The loud yelp from Zoro yanks you from your panic into an entirely new spiral. Half of the front deck is covered in frost, with several large chunks of blue ice pointing out to sea from where they’re frozen to the railing. And Zoro’s staring at you, not frozen, thank the Sea Mother , but still startled, with blue lips and frost in his hair and along his eyelashes.

“That’s,” he breathes out, and his breath forms a cloud in front of him, “Huh. That’s new, seal.”

And then he promptly slips on the ice, when he tries to step towards you, which makes you start to wheeze as you recover from being winded, causing yourself to slip on the ice. The thump of you both hitting the deck attracts Nami, who just stares at the two of you with a mildly concerned expression until she hears you both laughing. However, she is less amused by the chunks of ice on the ship, making it resemble an iceberg.

“As funny as it is to you, this is concerning,” Nami places a hand on one of the chunks, watching as it starts to steam from how warm the air around it is before she looks back at you. Tide shudders in your hand, while you frown down at it. “Your tuning fork has been acting weird ever since we left Alabasta,”

“It’s not a fork,” you blurt out, and Tide goes still, almost appreciative that you're defending it.

“ Threek , then,” Nami counters, grinning at you as you try to hold in another laugh before her gaze turns serious again. “You should call your grandfather on the ship’s snail. He could be able to help,”

The deck falls into silence, save for the sound of the chunks of ice starting to crack and fall from the boat. You’ve brought your knees up for your chest and held them there, gazing down. You seem to be refusing to look at your weapon now.

“I don’t wanna bother him,” you mumble out, “….he’s probably not able to call, being on the run and all.”

“He did that for you. I think he’d be happy to hear from you.” Zoro snorts, and you bite your lower lip.

This isn’t the first time this discussion has come up. Ace had been the one to bring up how ‘Pops’ had been grumbling over an old friend stirring up trouble, the flame-man just hadn’t realized who this old friend had been. One News Coo later, and you’d suddenly had a very odd day placed firmly in your hands.

On one hand, Arlong was dead. Shattered into pieces on the floor of his cell, terror written on his mangled face. He would never be able to hurt anyone again, would never be able to so much as breathe the same air as you because, well, he wasn’t breathing anymore.

But he still haunted you. The shadow you’d seen was mostly gone, yes, but that didn’t mean his touch was totally erased. A rather awkward session of dry humping with your partner on the galley’s couch had revealed that when you’d frozen up when Sanji went to suck a hickey into your neck.

You wanted to cry. To celebrate. To scream. The man who’d destroyed your life, who had taken away everything you once were, was dead. Dead and gone and likely rotting in a garbage heap, with your grandfather to thank. Pell had every right to do it, you supposed. He’d lost his daughter and her wife because of him. Lost four grandchildren, and countless old friends. Yet you’re conflicted. Part of you had wanted to be the one to kill Arlong. The other part wanted to curl up deep in a blanket and never so much as hear his name mentioned, or you felt like you’d puke.

How do you celebrate the death of your abuser when you can’t even bear to look at his face on old wanted posters without getting the strong urge to flee?

More so, how do you talk to the man who’d done it? How do you thank your grandfather, who you hardly know? Do you thank him?

“Or. You can continue to struggle with the threek,” Zoro’s bluntness startles you from your thoughts, and you scowl at him. “You have a chance to ask someone who wielded Tide before you, and who can help you control your other selkie issues. You’d be an idiot to not take advantage of it.”

Nami smacks the back of his head the moment the words leave his mouth, and you stare blankly at the swordsman just as Chopper scurries up the stairs to see what the commotion is about. He looks overjoyed at the ice on the deck, flopping down on it happily, and letting out the most adorable sigh, and effectively throwing off any serious discussion as you all look down at the little reindeer rubbing his face in the quickly melting ice. You look at Zoro, trying to decide how to answer him, before leaving to go give yourself some space in the storage room.

When you get down there, the calendar almost seems to stare at you. Next week, blocked out in bright blue highlighter, is your cycle. You huff and turn away from it, knowing it’s just a piece of paper on the wall, but at the same time, it’s more than that. You’re fully matured now, you’ve had a real cycle— this will help, with a more steady pattern to follow, but it’ll also be a nightmare, with… certain aspects.

The ladder creaks above you, and you rub your face, getting ready to tell Nami that no, she can’t use the money to buy more clothing when Zoro comes down, looking a bit embarrassed.

“I was being a dick.” He scratches the back of his head and refuses to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to talk to your grandfather unless you want to.”

“Thanks,” you stride forward and pinch his cheek, making him grumble, “I know it’s alot for you to apologize,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro pushes you away by your face, but he’s grinning now until he looks at the calendar again, face falling. “Oh shit, that’s getting close again. You have like… two weeks?”

“Don’t remind me,” you groan, and sit against the wall, letting your head hit it gently against the wall. “Privacy would be nice.”

“So… you and the cook can…?” Zoro trails off, raising an eyebrow, before hissing when you smack him in the arm. “Ow! Okay– fine! You don’t fuck!”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” you grumble, before stretching out to start to sort out the shelves and looking back at him with a scowl, just as Curry winds himself around his legs, meowing pathetically before darting under one of the shelves, scurrying away with a rat in his mouth, which is followed by a familiar shriek from a certain cook, who appears to have finished whatever chores he’d set Luffy on.

“But not as big of a pain as your curly-eyebrowed boyfriend,” Zoro sighs, as the two of you make your way out of the storage room.

Sanji has the rat in his hands, cradling it to his chest while Curry meows pathetically at his feet, attracting Miso, Gumbo, and Chowder, all meowing to see what is in Sanji’s hands. He’s never hidden anything from him, not unless it’s their dinner, which then turns to the four cats trying to claw their way up his legs.

The moment you poke your head out of the door, and see what’s going on, you start to laugh, making Chowder turn to look at you, leaping off of his pants to prance towards you with a rather long mew. You scoop up the cat, watching as she sways slightly, completely limp in your arms, still meowing.

“Sanji? You take the rat from our boy Curry?” You tilt your head, gently pulling the aforementioned cat off of your partner.

“Yes— he nearly killed the poor thing,” Sanji peeks at the animal in his hands, cooing softly at it.

“That’s… what they’re supposed to do,” Curry and Chowder are both now crawling over you, the most recent rat-catcher of the two balancing on your shoulders, purring happily and headbutting against you. “That’s why I asked for them.”

“They’ve been hunting rats this whole time?!”

You blink in surprise at just how upset he sounds. “Yes…?”

The noise Sanji makes as he hurries to find Chopper makes you and Zoro share a glance, before you gently brush the cats off of you, following after him. When you find Sanji, he’s watching as Chopper is inspecting the little creature as you come up behind him. His worry about the little animal hits you through the bond, and you let out a surprised cough, to which Sanji turns to you with wide eyes.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, as you walk towards him slowly.

“Yeah— yeah, Parsley will be okay too,” Sanji says softly, and you pause.

“...who’s Parsley?”

“Our new pet,” Sanji gently takes the rat into his hands, and you hate how your heart squeezes over how it scurries to sit on the blond’s shoulder. “Usopp said he’d help me build a proper cage for him too! With enrichment and hammocks,” he gently scratches under the rat’s chin, and you again, feel your heart squeeze at just how cute the image is. “Isn’t he cute?”

But then the logic hits you, and you look from the rat, newly named Parsley, to your boyfriend. “...where’s the cage gonna go, Ji?”

It’s comical how blank his face goes, processing your question while Parsley manages to crawl up to sit on the top of his head.

“Because I’m not gonna let them go back in the storage room.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” Sanji mumbles, bringing his hand up to his chin, still thinking very hard about the problem he’s created for himself. “Hm.”

“.... would it count as the storage room, if you split it in half?”

Zoro’s input makes the both of you jump. On your part, you'd forgotten he'd been behind you when you went to find Sanji. Parsley squeaks in terror, from how the swordsman is holding Curry in his arms. The cat looks indifferent, having already been given a treat to reward him for his catch. Sanji scowls, and holds a now trembling rat in his hands.

“You could make it into a room. Then we don’t have to leave when the seal’s on her cycle,” Zoro grunts, and you both look at each other.

“I didn’t know you were capable of such logical thinking,”

“You were shocked that the cats were hunting rats! ”

"Don't you bring my innocent children into this! Curry is no murderer and I won't have you slandering him!" Sanji looks at the cat in Zoro's arms, cooing softly, "You didn't know, no you didn't, right my boy?" "Oh, forgive me, the cats that were doing their job, y'know, acting on their instincts,"

“How dare you say that, Mosshead, when the last two things that could be considered instincts are fighting actively for third place in your empty skull!”

You push yourself between them after that last insult, with a small sigh on your lips, leading them pair up to the galley where you can discuss the transformation of the storage room with the rest of the crew. When you present the reasoning behind the privacy for yourself and Sanji, it's a unanimous decision, to say the least.

Reorganizing the storage room is shockingly easy when you have someone who can spawn a near-infinite number of arms and hands, shifting the room around with ease, while also moving the furniture around the ship. Robin laughs softly, head in her palm as you watch her do this in a matter of minutes.

“You’re… mildly intimidating, do you know that?” You whisper, which makes the woman look at you again, an oddly warm smile on her lips. “And so are you, Enesidaon,” she leaves with a small pat to your head, who looks absolutely amazed by the newly created bedroom, setting his chin on your shoulder while wrapping his arms around your waist. “And here I thought we’d be working down to the wire,” Sanji mumbles, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before looking around the room, opening drawers, and looking at the newly built cage, with a very happy Parsley lounging in a hammock. You don’t miss the way he smiles at the rat, sticking his hands through the wire of the cage to stroke his head. Your stomach flutters, suddenly imagining him standing over a cradle with a gurgling pup in it.

He turns to look at you, with a raised eyebrow, a dusting of blush along his cheeks. “Someone has baby fever,” Sanji teases, and you let out a low warble of annoyance, flopping onto your bed with your hands over your face.

“It’s not baby fever— my cycle is coming up, so it’s making everything all hormonal,” You mumble, looking away from him as he crawls over you on the bed, grinning with amusement at your excuses. “So that little pinch in the bond…?”

“ Maybe it’s baby fever,” You admit, and he kisses your cheek playfully. “But not anything I’ll be acting on for a while.”

“I agree. We have a son to take care of already,” Sanji says rather solemnly, and you frown at him.

“Three sons, two daughters. You better include the cats, even when you’re mad at them,” You pinch his cheeks and he concedes, laughing and reaching to tickle your sides, quickly devolving into breathless laughter as the two of you squirm on the bed. The normalcy of it all appeals to you, especially with how Sanji looks at you as though you’re the most precious thing in the world to him. How he’d sworn he’d never let anyone hurt you again.

Pell would be happy to hear about that, you think. He’d want to know about how your life has changed since you’d seen him nearly seven months ago.

You come to a decision rather quickly after that, snuggling into Sanji’s arms with a contented trill.

Pell had never been one to read much. He’d keep track of the news, just to see if his old crewmates were up to anything. But he’s skeptical as to what exactly is true and what’s not. He’d started doubting the News Coo the moment that they’d changed Roger’s name.

And just as he’s sipping a warm cup of cider, the usual seagull drops the paper beside him with a squawk, catching the coin that he tosses upwards without so much as a second look at the old selkie. Pell sighs, and unrolls it all with his free hand, reading through the front page in a bored manner only to find your crew staring back at him.

The cider sprays all over the deck, the mug dropped on the wood as Pell tries to stop himself from choking, looking down at the front page in utter shock.

After his activity at Impel Down three months ago, infamous Gold Roger’s helmsman, Blackfin Pell, has returned to hiding. His current whereabouts are unknown but with the arrest of Portgas D. Ace, it’s thought that he’s taken refuge with the Whitebeard pirates. However, his bloodline appears to share the same sentiments for piracy, with his last surviving descendant, only known as The Blackfin Enesidaon, who is thought to have been a crew member of the Arlong Pirates. It is unclear if she has any ties to her grandfather, but she has been seen wielding her grandmother’s weapon and has inherited the rare Earth-Shaker ability that Rippled Coth possessed, as well as the Storm-Bringer ability that her grandfather was named for.

Along with those abilities, Blackfin appears to be in alliance with the Straw Hat Crew, gaining a bounty of 35,000,000 berries, alongside the crew’s first mate, Roronoa Zoro, 60,000,000, and captain, Monkey D. Luffy, 100,000,000.

The crew was last seen fleeing the Kingdom of Alabasta. It is unknown what part they played there, but it can only be thought to have been a part of the chaos that the former Warlord, Sir Crocodile, created. Any known whereabouts should be reported to the World Government for possible county collection. It is advised that no one under the level of Captain try to bring these pirates in.

You’re terrifying in the picture on your wanted poster. Tide is stuck in the ground, with a crack going towards the camera, and Pell can see the unconscious body of a…. sea-urchin-like woman tossed to the side alongside a man with oddly shaped…. nearly numerical, hair. Your eyes glow, and the scars on your arms seem to match the ethereal nature of it all. He can almost hear the rumbling of thunder based on the gray clouds hovering above.

The article doesn’t paint you as the rather awkward pup he knows you are. No, this is not the quiet selkie that had wandered into his hardware store, flinching when he moved too suddenly. It paints you as the next Storm King, and Pell doesn’t know if he should be proud or horrified about that.

A drought had been ended because of your anger. Rain that had stopped a civil war. Waves of rainwater sweeping through the streets of the capital city as you roared your anger for Baroque Works. And you’d passed out, he guessed, knowing how much of a toll that amount of work would have done on your still-recovering body. You’re alive, that much he knows, from the blurry picture of your crew’s ship in the distance.

Back to the camera. Left arm in the air. All next to your crew mates.

He wants to shred the newspaper and give Morgans a piece of his mind for claiming you were a part of Arlong’s crew. That bastard of a bird needed a reminder of just how seals dealt with waterfowl, for making up those facts. Perhaps he could even get a good meal out of it— pan-seared albatross breast with capers sounded lovely , now that he thought of it.

Should he call you?

He scratches at his beard, biting his lower lip just as he’d done whenever he was anxious about something. He’d wanted you to be the one to reach out. And he’s not entirely sure where you are at the moment– the paper made no mention of your current whereabouts, which is good! But the protective grandfather side of him wants to know where you are, and if you’re doing well. You look as though you’re doing fine— growing into a proper leopard seal, and learning how to wield Tide as well.

Whitebeard leaned over his shoulder to read the paper, using a giant hand to take it from Pell, who’s stopped reading it altogether, too lost in his thoughts. “Pah. They don’t mention where they put Ace. Bastards.”

“They also implied my grandpup was a willing accomplice in Arlong’s tom fuckery.” Pell grows, and crumples the paper, tossing it onto the deck. “I should pluck that bird.”

Edward reaches over and carefully uncrumples the paper ball, reading the article. He raises an eyebrow, looking at the picture of you, as well as the new wanted poster.

“But did you see her debut bounty?” Whitebeard cackles. “35,000,000! That's a fair bit more than yours was! Nowhere near Coth’s, though.” He sighs, leaning back on the deck. “What a woman she was!”

“Adjust to the inflation, you old bastard! And don’t talk about my wife like you had a chance!” Pell barks back, leaning against the railing as he looks out onto the open water. Coth would know what to do. She’d know exactly what to say to you, and he misses her now more than ever. The familiar pur-ru-ru-ru-ru-ru of his transponder snail interrupts his thoughts of his late mate.

“Hello?” He holds the little creature up to his mouth with a sigh, still looking out on the waves.

“Uhm. Hi…. Pop? It’s me.”

Pell nearly drops the snail the moment he hears your voice.

#black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x you #one piece insert #one piece x reader #one piece x you

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redux-iterum · 1 year

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Burning Hearts: Chapter Twenty-Two

(AO3 counterpart here.)

A couple nights passed, each one nicer than the last. Fireheart was once awoken by loud, dragged-out meows that were strained with effort and pain. In the evening, it was Frostfur sitting outside of the nursery, not Goldenflower.

“Brindleface had her kittens,” the white molly explained when Fireheart approached. “Goldenflower’s keeping an eye on her while she rests.”

Fireheart’s tail stood straight before curling over his back. “That’s wonderful! Are they healthy?”

“All three of them are plump and eating fine,” Frostfur replied, her eyes shining. “Our nursery is going to be quite full once Goldenflower has her kittens, too.”

Fireheart nodded enthusiastically, then deflated as his mind drew a conclusion. “I’m not going to be able to visit Goldenflower, am I?”

“I’m afraid not,” Frostfur said sympathetically. “Mates and mollies only.”

Fireheart sighed and rolled a shoulder. “Well, maybe you and Tigerclaw can tell me about them when they’re born.”

Frostfur tilted her head, thoughtful. “I don’t even know if Tigerclaw would be allowed in if Brindleface is here. He makes a lot of queens nervous.”

“Oh.” Fireheart blinked.

“I can at least tell you,” Frostfur said. “When they come around, of course. In the meantime…” She twisted her front half around and called into the nursery, “Kits! Come play outside!”

A unanimous, squeaky cheer echoed from inside the den. Fireheart and Frostfur stepped out of the way just in time for a cloud of white and gold to stampede into the open—and to Fireheart’s surprise, Snowkit wasn’t the last one out. In fact, he beat Thornkit and Brackenkit easily. The kits spread their chaos out, with the golden brothers running to the just-waking elders and Brightkit plunging into the admittedly small prey-pile, pawing at a squirrel about her size. Snowkit stopped in the center of camp, looking around with his big blue eyes before sniffing the air and crouching clumsily, fluffy little tail thrashing about.

“Wonder what he’s up to,” Fireheart said to Frostfur.

Frostfur purred. “He’s been trying to sneak up on his siblings for the past two days.” She paused, then spoke with more confusion than affection. “It’s odd. He used to try and speak, but suddenly he’s not making a single sound.”

“Oh!” Fireheart perked up more. “I’ve seen him; he mimicked Ravenwing when he was telling that story the other night - moving his mouth to Ravenwing’s words. I mean, he didn’t talk, but…”

Frostfur looked at him, eyes wide. “Did he… do you think he understood what Ravenwing was saying?”

Fireheart’s mouth twitched in consideration. “Well, I don’t know, but he looked like he was trying. But—” he hastened to add “—I think he’ll get it down pretty quick. He seems smart.”

“He is smart,” Frostfur said, the tiniest edge in her voice and iciness in her expression. “All of them are.”

“Of course,” Fireheart said quickly. “I just mean– well– you know– I think you don’t have anything to worry about. I think he’ll be just fine.”

The cold edge left Frostfur entirely. She sighed and nodded. “I hope so.”

Fireheart opened his mouth to unnecessarily add more, but he was saved by a high-pitched roar and then a grunt. When he looked to the source, the entrance, Brightkit had just tried to tackle Bluestar, Brackenkit helping on the leader’s other side.

Frostfur shouted in wordless outrage and trotted forward. “Brightkit! Brackenkit! Apologize right now!”

Bluestar didn’t seem bothered. She just gazed down at the unaware kits and gently tousled the top of their heads, one at a time.

“Bluestar, I’m so sorry, they don’t know who you are yet, I—” Frostfur met her and glared at the kits. “You do not attack our leader! Tell her ‘sorry’.”

“It’s fine,” Bluestar said, quiet and calm. “They’re just having fun.” She looked down at the kits again. “But I do need to eat, little ones.”

Bluestar’s request, followed up with Frostfur’s glare, seemed to be enough to convince the kits to back away and mumble nonsense that was probably supposed to be an apology of some kind. Bluestar flicked her tail in acknowledgement and walked slowly to the prey-pile. She sniffed the available prey with some disinterest before taking the squirrel at the top and moving at that same slow pace across camp, reclining where it was quietest. She observed camp without a word, not touching her prey.

Driven by a spark of concern in his heart, Fireheart made his way up to her, briefly trying to look casual by glancing around aimlessly. The hollow look in his mentor’s eyes made him give up on that and trot to her directly.

“It’s a good night, isn’t it?” he said cheerfully, coming around to her side and sitting down.

Bluestar, thankfully, did not seem offended or awkward about this intrusion. She simply looked up at him (only shorter now that she was halfway on her side) and flicked an ear.

Fireheart waited a moment for her to respond. When she didn’t, he tried again. “It’s just nice! New kits in the nursery—Frostfur said they’re healthy—and her kits, they’re all strong and happy, running around and enjoying life. And Cinderpaw’s finally resting, which…” He nodded at the crashed-out apprentice lying in a bundle of messy dark fur with her bad leg kicked out. “Took her long enough, right?”

Bluestar hummed in acknowledgement, looking at her apprentice fondly, even if that fondness was dampened with melancholy.

“And then Goldenflower, she’s pregnant!” Fireheart’s chest buzzed happily. “She’ll have kits, too.”

Bluestar finally spoke, quiet and reflective. “She’s been wanting kittens for a very long time.” Her eyes ever-so-slightly crinkled. “Small wonder she took to you so quickly.”

“Small indeed,” Fireheart muttered without any bite in his voice. His left ear turned sideways. “How come she hasn’t had kittens already? Was she just busy as the matriarch?”

Bluestar’s eyes drifted to the nursery. “As far as I’ve known, it was Tigerclaw who wanted to wait. I never pried into it. That’s just what I’ve heard.”

Fireheart pondered that for a moment. “…That’d make sense, I think. Nice of Goldenflower to give him time, then.”

Bluestar didn’t respond. When Fireheart looked at her, her eyes were distant and unfocused, the claws of the paw on her squirrel ever-so-slightly unsheathed, grazing the fur.

Fireheart very gently tapped her with his tail, asking in a murmur, “What’s bothering you?”

He expected her to get snippy with him prying, or even just not respond. She instead looked up at him, meeting his eyes for a moment, before sighing and turning back to watch Snowkit wrestle soundlessly with a yowling Brightkit.

“We’re going to need as many kits as we can get,” she said. “Winter isn’t a kind thing to the Clans. We’re bound to lose a couple as they grow.”

It took Fireheart a moment to realize what she meant. He stiffened. “…‘Lose’ as in die?”

Bluestar nodded morosely.

“But—” Fireheart almost started looking around for someone to refute her words. “But how? Aren’t they all safe in the nursery? Nothing can get them, right?”

“Anything can,” Bluestar said quietly. “Sickness, the cold, weak hearts… we can’t keep everything out of the nursery, as much as we’d like to. Fighting off a stoat or eagle is easy—it’s when a kitten just stops eating or freezes to death overnight that we can do nothing about.”

Fireheart stared at her silently, mouth slightly agape. His mind flew all over the place in its newfound fear: to his sister in the Houses, to Goldenflower in the nursery, to Silverstream in RiverClan, all with a bundle of kits that were ready to die off, one by one. It was a fear he could do anything about as much as he could hold back a storm.

“It happens all the time,” Bluestar said, watching the kits roll around, oblivious to the dangers of the world. “Sometimes… sometimes entire litters are lost.”

Fireheart did not miss her claws sinking into the squirrel’s hide, gripping it like a rogue’s pelt. He leaned forward a little to look into her eyes - pale and foggy like a sun on an overcast winter day, her face the frozen earth.

Fireheart didn’t dare to press, but he saw something unidentifiable in her expression. If he could just thaw it out—

Bluestar sat up and pushed the squirrel in his direction, her claws leaving puncture holes in its side. “Have this. I need to speak with Tigerclaw.”

“Bluestar—” Fireheart started, almost wanting to apologize for a reason he couldn’t name.

“You should eat.” She walked past him with speed, leaving camp before he could even respond, several cats watching her go with confusion.

“I’m not really hungry anymore, either,” Fireheart said to the empty air she left behind.

---

“Yeesh.”

“Yeah.” Fireheart rolled a loose pebble under his paw. “I upset her on accident.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Greystripe said after swallowing his mouthful of squirrel. “The loss of kittens gets to everyone. She was already thinking about it before you said anything, it sounds like.”

Fireheart sighed. “Still…”

“‘Still’ nothing. Just get some food in you, buddy.” Greystripe stretched out a huge paw and pushed at the mole between Fireheart’s feet.

Fireheart twitched his whiskers weakly and looked down at his mole. It was a very fresh one, almost warm still, and fat with rare autumn’s bounty, but his stomach was stiff and icy. Chewing alone seemed a monumental task.

“Maybe I should give this to someone else,” he said.

Greystripe shook his head. “You’d tell me to eat if I was feeling bad, right? Even if I didn’t want to?” At Fireheart’s sheepish nod, he returned with a sharper nod of his own. “Go on, then.”

Fireheart’s stomach stayed chilled, but he bent his head and pulled off a piece of his prey—more like he was pulling a tick off of Halftail than chomping on fresh meat. He chewed without tasting and swallowed. To his relief, his stomach lost its cold just a bit, enough to alert him to how hungry he really was.

Greystripe purred as Fireheart went for more. “Better?”

Fireheart nodded more enthusiastically, his tongue waking up to the taste of mole.

“Awesome.” Greystripe creased his eyes in self-satisfaction before he continued on with the last half of the squirrel.

They ate in silence, occasionally glancing up to watch Swiftpaw try to get Cinderpaw to lay back down or Teaselfoot make some quiet joke that Mousefur swatted him for. The kits were back in the nursery, having lost their energy after bouncing around for quite a while and then staggering into the den. Not a sound came out from under the roots that served as its architecture. Every conversation around them was quiet but cheerful, and as Fireheart half-listened, munching away, his anxiety and guilt gradually subsided.

“Oh, hey—” Greystripe looked to the shifting entrance. “Ravenwing’s patrol might be back.”

Fireheart perked up and waited until Willowpelt and Whitecloud passed through to call a greeting to Ravenwing as he followed behind. Ravenwing turned his head to his friends, who both waved their tails, and trotted over to them, his own tail stiff and slightly puffed out.

“Oh, there you are,” he said, only stopping when he was almost touching Fireheart, and bent his head down, speaking almost under his breath. “Are you two done eating? Can we go out and talk?”

Greystripe and Fireheart looked at each other with mild puzzlement, but nodded. They chomped down the last bits of meat before standing and following Ravenwing back to the entrance.

“Already leaving again?” Willowpelt asked, head tilted.

“Still got some energy,” Ravenwing said quickly. “I just want to hunt a bit.”

Unusually, Greystripe seemed to catch something Fireheart didn’t and added, “Yeah, there’s nothing left for anyone else,” and jerked his chin at the single, pathetic mouse lying in what used to be the prey-pile.

“That’s kind of you.” Willowpelt glanced at her kits by the stump before adding, “Do you think you could find a pigeon for Cinderpaw? I know they might not be out right now, but…”

“We’ll try to find one,” Fireheart said brightly. “What about Swiftpaw? Anything for him?”

“Oh, he likes pigeon too,” Willowpelt replied. “If you only find one, they can share.”

Fireheart dipped his head and followed his friends out of camp.

“So—” started Greystripe, but Ravenwing held up his tail for silence. Greystripe glanced back curiously at Fireheart, who tilted his head with the same unspoken question. The pair continued on after Ravenwing until the scents and sounds of camp were far behind them. Abruptly, Ravenwing stopped and turned around, his eyes wide and nervous.

“Do you know where Tigerclaw is?” he asked quietly.

Fireheart frowned, confused. “The last I heard, Bluestar went to talk with him. Why?”

Uttering a tiny, low groan, Ravenwing looked around, ears swiveling before they flattened against his head. “Okay. Um. This is going to sound crazy, but please hear me out.”

Fireheart blinked. “Of course we’ll hear you out.”

“Something wrong?” Greystripe asked, his casual tone ever-so-slightly leaning into wariness.

“Okay. Okay.” Ravenwing swallowed. “So…I think– I think– well– you know how Tigerclaw called Bluestar to the border and a car hit Cinderpaw because she went instead?”

“Yeah?” Fireheart said slowly.

“And then Tigerclaw called Bluestar to the border again, and you went instead, Fireheart? And you said some black-and-white rogues were coming right for you, but then Tigerclaw showed up and they went away?”

For a reason Fireheart didn’t want to understand, his chest tightened. “…Yeah?”

“And before all of that…” Ravenwing looked around again, much more conspiratorially. “Lionface disappeared, and all we heard about were the sight of two black-and-white rogues? And then Tigerclaw got promoted to deputy?”

Fireheart glanced at Greystripe; his face was weirdly unreadable, like he couldn’t decide what emotion he was feeling. To Ravenwing, Fireheart said uneasily, “What about it?”

“It’s just… weird, you know?” Ravenwing’s teeth clicked a few times. “Why are those two rogues showing up so often? Why does something bad happen, or nearly happen, when there’s some business at the border?” He shivered. “And why do our deputies keep disappearing?”

“Lionface was probably taken away by humans,” Greystripe said, but his eyes were intensely focused now. “And… are you talking about—”

“Redtail,” Ravenwing said. “He fell into the Gorge and we never found a body.” His feet shuffled, pacing in place. “And yeah, okay, that’s the Gorge. We never get anything back from there. But I’ve been thinking about this for a few nights now, and…” He swallowed again. “You know, only Tigerclaw saw what happened to him.”

Ravenwing’s words made the fur on Fireheart’s spine prickle. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not– I’m not sure exactly what I’m saying yet.” Ravenwing heaved a shaky breath, visibly forced his paws to stop moving, and looked between his friends, eyes now alert and face setting into something like determination. “But I want your help in whatever this is. Something’s going on and I want to find out what. Maybe I’m just making things up, I don’t know—but it’s weird. It’s really weird, and I need to at least get some information before I pass it off.”

“We can help,” Greystripe said, his voice low. “Fireheart?”

Fireheart opened his mouth, shut it when he realized he didn’t know what he wanted to say, and then nodded. “…Yeah. What’s the first thing you want to do?”

Ravenwing sighed with relief, then refocused. “First things first… I want to find out exactly what happened with Lionface.”

#here we go #warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #chapter #chapter twenty two #book two #arc one #burning hearts

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whollyjoly · 9 months

Text

tag game

✨get to know me✨

thank you @xxluckystrike @panzershrike-pretz @luckynumber4 for the tags my loves 💕

- Name:

em! (although Occasional Cult Leader and Obsessed With Alton More are acceptable as well 😂)

- Pronouns:

she/her/hers!

- Star sign:

CRAB SIGN CRAB SIGN CRAB SIGN 🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀 ...no but actually im cancer sun cancer moon cancer mercury, the stars really said fuck you you're gonna be an emotional wreck and they were goddamn right

- # of siblings and fun facts about them (if you have any):

only child babyyyyyyyy ...well technically i have three step-sibs, but they are all older and were out of the house by the time our parents moved in together, so i never really? experienced sibling-ness with them?

- # of pets & their names:

my baby, my child, my little monster, the love of my life, my sweet cat BD-2 💕 she is an absolute fluffy menace, little miss priss, the queen of the castle, and im obsessed with her. nicknames include: Squeaky (cause she doesn't meow, she squeaks), Squeaks, The Squeaky One, The Lord Squeaketh (and The Lord Demandeth the Play), Shrimp Whiskers, Menace, Floof Creature, Angel Who Has Never Done Any Wrong, and Baby 🥰

- Fandoms:

lord i have been in so many fandoms over my many tumblr years...right now its full Band of Brothers hyperfixation season, but I'm watching M*A*S*H for the first time right now and slowly am falling into the rabbit hole also im a star wars girlie from way back (shoutout to all my old clone wars moots who were probably like "what the fuck" when i started posting about wwii men, sorry not sorry) also also: watcher, doctor who, star trek (tos mostly), chernobyl, and various other things, as a treat✨

- Favorite color:

im an olive green girlie, although deep purple has a special place in my heart!

- Favorite song:

holocene by bon iver ❤️ it's my all time favorite song, the song i listen to when my anxiety feels overwhelming, what i put on when i need to center myself and get out of my head. (someway, baby, it's part of me, apart from me)

- Favorite author (of anything readable - books, fanfics, zines, webtoons, whatever!):

sooooo my all-time fav book is Invisible Cites by Italo Calvino!! i am absolutely obsessed with the way he describes physical places and emotions, the metaphors and imagery and the way he describes the feeling a place or person can give you without actually describing it at all? it's both dreamlike and ethereal and grounded and real at the same time, and i just....love it so much. here's one of my favorite bits from the book:

Cities & The Sky [3] Those who arrive at Thekla can see little of the city, beyond the plank fences, the sackcloth screens, the scaffoldings, the metal armatures, the wooden catwalks hanging from ropes or surrounded by sawhorses, the ladders, the trestles. If you ask, "Why is Thekla's construction taking such a long time?" the inhabitants continue hoisting sacks, lowering leaded strings, moving long brushes up and down, as they answer, "So that its destruction cannot begin." And if asked whether they fear that, once the scaffoldings are removed, the city may begin to crumple and fall to pieces, they add hastily, in a whisper, "Not only the city." If, dissatisfied with the answers, someone puts his eye to a crack in a fence, he sees cranes pulling up other cranes, scaffoldings that embrace other scaffoldings, beams that prop up other beams. "What meaning does your construction have?" he asks. "What is the aim of a city under construction unless it is a city? Where is the plan you are following, the blueprint?" "We will show it to you as soon as the working day is over; we cannot interrupt our work now," they answer. Work stops at sunset. Darkness falls over the building site. The sky is filled with stars. "There is the blueprint," they say.

- Favorite fic type:

oh i will eat up...anything. literally anything. BUT if i had to pick, i have a special place in my heart for: soulmate AUs, angst with a happy ending, fake relationship AUs, hurt/comfort, time loops, magical realism AUs (particularly if canon-divergent), and the good old classic, fluffy modern AUs 💕

- Favorite Holiday:

i fucking...love christmastime okay?? i love the traditions my family has for it, like Short Feast on the winter solstice (where we eat Short Ribs and Short Grain Rice and Short Vegetables and Shortbread and put on our Short Pants and drink Short Bottles of Whiskey and go outside to Welcome the Coming of the Light, after the Longest Night of the Year), as well as finding/writing poems on Christmas Eve and walking to the large 600+ year old sequoia trees in our neighborhood to recite them and bring good energy to the new year, to watching It's A Wonderful Life every year. holidays and traditions are so much what you make of it, and i love the energy my family brings into it - nothing is precious, but everything is sacred.

- Do you have a partner (romantic, qpr, anything!)?:

ye, i have a bf!

- Hobbies:

i love to cross-stitch! it helps my adhd ass brain focus on things, so if ever im watching a show or listening to a podcast, i usually have a hoop in my hands. i also love board games - particularly social deception games! and of course - watching tv/movies, reading fic, consuming media, making moodboards, dreaming up fic ideas, and all the lovely things you see me talk about here on tumblr 💕

- Fun facts about you:

uhhhhhhhhhhhh i dont?? know if i have a fun fact?? about me??? OH WAIT okay this is for the bob fans out there - so i was visiting philly not all that long ago, and went to both front street and 17th street in south philly For Our Boys, bill and babe ❤️ and while i was there, i went into a bookstore that was right on s 17th street... and they had a SINGLE copy of bill and babe's book!! i got it of course, and it felt like it was absolutely meant to be!!

tagging, if you want!: @sweetxvanixlla @ronsparky @coco-bean-1218 @onlyyouexisthere @mutantmanifesto @samwinchesterslostshoe @ewipandora @blood-mocha-latte

#em speaks #tag game #something fun and simple for the new year!#i live for the best something of hell #Spotify

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blorbologist · 2 years

Text

Cat's Cradle - Chapter 11

Ch 1 … Ch 10

“I thought cats and baths didn’t mix?”

“They don’t,” Vex confirms a little sourly, double checking their workstation. “But she has fleas, and I’m not dealing with these - those bastards on top of everything else. So - flea bath.”

Percy looks over his hands and the kitten he holds in them again, scanning for any unwelcome visitors.

This sixth kitten is tiny - smaller even than Screwdriver and Sprocket, the real runt of the litter. Her fur is so black it hadn’t registered how dirty she was until he’d tried giving her a gentle scratch and his nails came away with dirt. He hopes it’s dirt, at least.

Vex takes his contemplation for doubt. “It’s easy with babies this small,” she promises. “Just a ring of soap around the head and wash in lukewarm water. You can hold her and I’ll scrub and she’ll be squeaky clean in no time.”

It’s not easy - this kitten is livid.

Percy’s glasses are sprinkled liberally with sudsy water from the flailing, and Vex has already gotten soap in her eye. Even with two people crowded over the sink she is surprisingly good at evading any cleaning, wiggling with surprising strength. More than that, she’s yowling, downright yowling, and something about the sound throws Percy’s insides into an irrational panic.

He read something about cat meows being similar to a baby’s cries, to spur a reaction out of owners. Hadn’t quite believed it until now, with every howl sending him into a fit of shushing and reassurance.

“Darling?” Vex asks, tsk-ing when the little head wiggles away from her sponge for the nth time. “What’s the loudest thing in the workshop?”

That feels a little rude - he'd certainly make a fuss if he was given a bath by hairless apes. “What about Spanner?” he suggests instead, wincing when the claws dig in and pull, valiantly, to extract the kitten from his grasp. He holds as firmly as he dares.

“A spanner in the works?” Vex cuts off her trail of thought with a delighted gasp. “Oh, sweet baby - she’s got a little white, there!”

“Oh?”

“You were so icky we couldn’t even see your pretty markings,” Vex coos. The kitten tries to bite the finger that goes to smooth away the wet fur. Still toothless, she just succeeds in gumming viciously. “What a pretty little girl.”

She pulls the sponge away to allow Percy a better look.

Yes - just there, on her forehead, the thinnest sliver of white hairs, connecting to a smattering on her muzzle. And white toes, now that he examines her more closely. Vex’s next rinse, with a cup of warm water, comes away brown and reveals a star on the kitten’s throat, too.

Black, with a hint of white.

Percy drowns the thought by dipping to press a kiss to the wet little head.

He catches Vex’s fingers, there, too - but can’t exactly stumble into an apology because he tastes soap and suds and is suddenly all too occupied hacking and rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand.

As soon as they’re done - kittens fed, spare kitten fed, Trinket fed, and finally, finally humans fed - Percy sequesters himself into Vax’s room. Stares at the ceiling for several long minutes. Stares at his open phone for a few shorter ones. It’s with sparse hesitation he dials the number and calls.

She picks up on the third ring. “Percy?”

“Evening, Cassandra.” He swallows heavily. “How is school?”

He can easily imagine her narrowed eyes. “What answer will get you to the point? You don’t call for casual talk - I know you would rather keep it to text whenever possible. Or emails, even.” Her tone eases considerably when she asks, “What’s wrong, brother?”

Gods, where to start?

So many places he can’t. He leafs through any number of openers. Comes up empty.

Cass’ sigh jitters through the phone. “Reminded?”

“Yes,” he says. “Hospital - vet, I mean. There had been a lot of blood, and the white, and-”

“Percy? Are you-”

“Fine, now,” he assures her. “Better - might have had a bit of a panic attack.”

“Does this have anything to do with the kittens? Five, right?” When he hums an affirmative - too tired to bring up the whole ordeal of Curio - she swears. “Fuck. Five is not great.”

“Six, now.”

“Oh,” says Cassandra. “Okay, that certainly explains it. Is it okay?”

"Yes - yes, it was the mother, that - she should be alright, but..."

Cass, uncharacteristically, swears again.

Percival is not a superstitious man. It’s human nature to find patterns - faces in floorboards, lucky habits to swear by. Enough coincidence and the mind will believe in anything. And five kittens, with a sixth appearing, belated, the smallest, dark but for streaks of white -

Well. Pattern recognition.

She's shuffling over the line, like she’s sitting up, or down, or otherwise settling to consider this more carefully.

“I’m wondering,” says Percy, when she’s quiet too long and his mind starts to wander. It helps, thinking out loud. “If… perhaps, I made a mistake, in taking them on.”

“You’d spend every moment regretting it if you hadn’t,” Cass points out. “Too bloody responsible.”

“But now I’m invested, Cass -”

“And you’re scared positively shitless that it’ll bite you in the ass. Brother, you can’t keep walling off your feelings forever.” She hesitates. “Maybe… maybe this is a good way to deal with them.”

Movement draws Percy’s attention to the vivarium across the room. Simon, jaws stretched in a yawn. It’s uncanny, how wide they open. That had taken some getting used to - he’s seen Vax feed it once, and Vex earlier this week, but alltogether he's decided reptiles are not quite his thing. If cuter than he expected.

The snake - corn snake, he thinks - is basking quite contently, draped over a shelf carved to look like a dagger. He’d never quite gotten the story out of Vax. Keyleth, though, had been happy to share: Vax’ildan had found the creature in a box outside a petstore, cold, with a badly infected eye, and stuffed it into his jacketsleeves while they figured out what to do with it. Simon had apparently slithered right up, past the shoulder, to settle around Vax’s waist. Something about the experience had apparently clicked, for him, and he’d decided to keep the scaly new friend.

Simon’s tongue flicks out.

“Percy?”

He adjusts his grip on the phone. “I’m here, sorry.”

“Could have sworn your head was in the clouds, again.” Cass sounds a little like mother when she gets gentle: “Kittens are ready for adoption at, what - two months, two months and a half? And once they start to wean they’ll be far less work. The worst of it is behind you, and if you need to step back… it’s not the end of the world, Percy.”

The tension is massaged from his chest as he sighs. “Thank you, Cass-”

“Send me a photo, will you? I need something cute after that dour line of thinking.”

He obliges easily enough. Between Keyleth’s frequent demands for updates on the litter and his own need to photograph and record everything, in case it should become necessary, there’s already a fair handful of the new kitten - Spanner.

“Sent.”

He hears the notification ping through their call. There’s a moment of silence, then, deadpan:

“I can’t see the resemblance.”

Percy grins. “Dark-haired little run that howls and howls and howls-”

“And which one is the pimply nerd?” she asks sweetly, and Percy laughs.

#critical role #cr fanfic #critical role fanfic #perc'ahlia #percahlia #percival de rolo #vex'ahlia #cassandra de rolo #cat's cradle au #my writing #percy's opinions on reptiles do Not reflect mine - corn snakes are the BEST. perfect noodles sweet faces so v curious

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laurel-resting · 6 months

Note

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers (ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡

Thank you for sending me this, lovely! Always fun to practice some gratitude for the good things in life ♥

1. My beloved partner, Kal. We've been best friends since we were little and we're in such a good place with our relationship right now. Despite the ups and downs of life, we've learned to communicate and the hard work we've put into our relationship has really changed things for the better. 2. Kitties! My darling fluffy children bring me so much joy, from my morning cuddles with Kenobi to Heidi's squeaky little meows (and drooling when you pat her long enough, she's a gremlin but she's MY GREMLIN). 3. Roleplay; I'm really loving and vibing with the characters I'm playing at the moment! I've gone for something a little different with each of them and it's been fab to see how these characters bounce of the others around them. I'm in a good spot at the moment rp-wise and am keen to put this inspiration and enthusiasm to good use! 4. Getting crafty; I've been doing more painting and sewing recently, trying to get back into the swing of making things with my hands. We recently did a clay workshop as a wellbeing day with my work team, and it was a greatly therapeutic- I'm hoping to do more clay work in future. 5. The rain; I'm inside, nice and cosy at the moment while a rainstorm is going overhead. The sound of it on the roof is so soothing and it's such a good background noise to work to. I love rugging up during cold, stormy weather ♥

This was really fun to work on, thank you for the tag dear friend!

#laurel speaks

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crvwly · 10 months

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hang on it's been so long since i shared all my critters i gotta

everyone knows Bones, my one and only, my prince, my baby, my soulmate, the bestest boy in the whole world

and then we have The Fucking Beast, Troi (my partner's dog, two years old GSD/pit terrier/husky mix, yes that is exactly the nightmare breed mix it sounds like, we were told lab mix and the DNA results showed 0% lab lmfao)

then the cats: my perfectest princess Nyota who has never done anything wrong in her life and hates everyone non-human in the house

then fucking Gravy. fucking. Gravy. i hate this guy. in multiple years working for two shelters, one of which was feline specific, i have never hated a cat more. he is so rude. he is not my pet, he just fucking lives here. he wants to escape but every time i try to let him he gets scared and comes back. he bites me all day long. he yells at me all day long. he masturbates on a blanket 24/7 despite being neutered. he chases my poor perfect princess anytime he sees her. i would sell him but no one would ever buy him. the only one in the world who likes him is Troi and she just spends all day chewing on his head like a squeaky toy. does anyone want this piece of shit. this is the only picture i have of him and i took it to send to my partner to tell them what a shit cat they bought for $60 on craigslist

dont be fooled by the pink nose. dont let him trick you. he's fucking evil. he's EVIL

and the BABY, Wesley Crusher !!! the leetlest guy who i plucked out of a tree a month or two ago and is the most fun cat i have ever met. he loves all people and all our animals and has the cutest little meow and walks on a leash and plays all day long! obsessed with him. he loves the other cats but they dont know how to play with a kitten so he's becoming friends with the dogs and he's rad as fuck

and of course the honorary alien mention: Keenser! she lives in a box and loves roaches and sleeps like this. what a freak 💖

#my critters #!!!!!#yes including the beardie #i have six #but i work three days a week and my partner works from home #i promise everyone is well attended to lmao #except FUCKING GRAVY!!!!!

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catsofcalifornia · 2 years

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Ellie and Pete from All Animal Rescue & Friends in Morgan Hill, California

Click here for more information about adoption and other ways to help!

Click here for a link to All Animal Rescue & Friends’ main website.

Ellie is a super confident, happy and lively kitty. Her motto is: play hard, sleep hard, love hard... repeat. She loves to be around the action in the home, and always wants to be in the loop with whatever is going on. She is fearless and interactive and has an inquisitive nature with a confident sense of independence that gives her the personality edge of a calico. She loves to play fetch, enjoys tag with her siblings, and is proud when she successfully manages the pest control in the house by taking down flies and small creepy crawlers! One of her favorite activities is running laps on the cat exercise wheel! She taught herself how to use it and is a natural pro (and her foster mom has been trying to teach the adult cats for years with no success and Ellie mastered it all own her own in just a few days!) When it's time to unwind and relax, Ellie loves laying alongside you for a good movie and cuddle session! She is well socialized and gets along with kids and cats of all ages, as well as dogs. Ellie would love to be adopted with her brother Pete and would thrive in an active home.

Pete is the kind of cat that if he were a person, you'd say, "everyone wants to be friends with Pete". He is confident, outgoing, engaging, and the life of every party! Petey is interactive and wants to be involved with all family members and what they are doing, regardless if human, cat, or dog! He is also equally sweet and affectionate and loves snuggling up in your lap for the workday computer hours, and enjoys snuggling beside you or on in your arms when it's time for TV. His foster family calls him "Squeaky Pete" because when he has something to say it, his meows are the cutest little squeaks. Pete also considers his pest control services a free perk for his family, and will take care of any flies or little creepy crawlers that make their way into the house! He is a friendly little guy and is well socialized and gets along with humans and cats of all ages, as well as dogs. Pete would love to be adopted with his sister Ellie as they are especially close.

#cats #california #morgan hill #adoption #adoptnotshop

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titansworks · 3 months

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Kitten Kaboodle Chapter One: The Discovery

There was a cool wind blowing through Jump City, the Southern California town succumbing to the occasional cold of nightfall in early spring. Beast Boy grumbled to himself about how he should have brought a jacket on his nightly patrol. He could have sworn he saw his breath. Amidst his complaining, a small noise made its way through, causing his sensitive ears to twitch. Ears snapping to attention, he continued to listen. It was small… weak… muffled. Following his ears, the Titan found himself in an alleyway, spotting a beat up cardboard box containing a ball of fuzz. An animal? Slowly approaching, he was surprised the animal wasn’t lashing out or running away. Upon getting closer, he realized why. It was a cat, a mother cat at that, desperately curled around her kittens in a feeble attempt to keep them protected and warm… but she was no longer breathing. Nor were the kittens. “No,” a lump formed in the changeling’s throat as he frantically sought for any sign of life. That sound had to come from somewhere! That was not the last moment of life he’d heard! His breath hitched as he heard the sound again. One was alive! Digging into the box, Beast Boy could feel movement towards the bottom. Upon discovery, he gently wrapped his fingers around the wriggling mass, pulling it out and stepping near a streetlamp for a closer look. It was a tiny black kitten, so young it had barely opened its eyes. “It’s okay. I got you. I got you,” the changeling whispered as he gently cradled the kitten to his cheek. Feeling the kitten’s lack of body heat against his skin, he knew he had to heat up the poor thing and fast! Pulling his left glove off with his teeth, he placed the tiny kitten inside it, hoping the remnants of his body heat could keep it warm. Holding the tiny body to his chest, Beast Boy rushed to get the frail feline what it needed. He’d never been so grateful for hypermarket chains as he stepped into the store, its warmth and light giving them what they both needed. Looking down at the kitten held to his chest, he noted just how young it was. It was downright tiny with barely opened eyes and curled ears. It couldn’t have been born any more than a week ago, not even old enough to be determined male or female. It looked up at him with its barely visible blue eyes and let out squeaky desperate meows. “Ha… still meowing. That’s good,” Beast Boy muttered to himself as he made his way down the aisles, kitten clutched in one hand and pushing his cart with the other. Kitten formula, bottles, heat source, cotton balls, soft towels, a cardboard box… That should be enough for a single night… A plush cat on the way to checkout couldn’t hurt. The poor creature could use something that at least vaguely resembles its mother. Paying for his purchase, he’s never been so happy to have been saving money. While it was initially to be spent on a new video game, this was far more important. Making his way back to Titans Tower, lugging both the supplies and the kitten, he made his way inside. He would definitely need help with this, but who was awake at this hour that could help him?

#Kitten Kaboodle #writing #tw animal death #Beast Boy #Teen Titans

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monotone-artist · 2 years

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concept thing for wildway, my silly gremlin escape artist. she’s a type of being made out of pure magic, she just takes the form of the skull she inhabits (which happens to be a dragon’s). i also kinda messed around with brushes here lol

[id: several sketches of my dragon oc, wildway. the sketches are uncolored, but she is very fluffy, with longer fur on the back of her neck, elbows, chest, and hind legs. her tail is also quite scruffy, and there is a spade at the tip of it. her head is a skull, with spiky horns, of which the left one is broken in half. there are darker striped markings all over her body at random spots. there is text that reads, “wildway, she/her”.

in the top left of the canvas are four bust shots of her: the first is of her looking upward to the right; the second of her looking straight at the viewer, her eyes dots; the third of her looking upward again at a 3/4ths angle; and the fourth her looking downward, her mouth slightly open. to the left, there are sketches of her eye, with the pupil in different shapes: big and round, a slit, an upward arc, and a downward arc. the text there reads, “eye is just a hole in skull so can’t move, but pupils can emote”.

there is a full body of her at the bottom of the canvas, her wing outstretched above her and her head slightly lowered. the text there says, “markings are asymmetrical (represents wounds that wildway’s skull’s old body recieved at death)”. a couple texts reading “spikes” points to a few spikes on her tail. end id]

#maekrenia #dragon #sketches #wildway #ive always found it rlly hard to get a final design for her for some reason asdjhsjfsd #itll probably be something along these lines though #also the whole time i was drawing this my cat was yelling at me lol #her meows were getting more and more squeaky #im sorry but ur breakfast isnt till later!!

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totebagchiqbarista · 3 years

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Hello! May I request fluff with Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir with the reader who is the mouse superheroine "Souris Blanche" which translates to White Mouse, please? Thank you so much and have a wonderful day! <3

love me // chat noir x gn!reader

Hii, I'm so sorry it took SO long to finish this fic I was struggling with life in general lmao. Thank you for the kind wish, have a great day and I hope you like it! :)

Pairing: chat noir x fem!reader

Summary: White and black, two different yet similar worlds, just like Souris Blanche and Chat Noir

"Have you talked to her yet?" Lady in red sat next to Chat Noir on their favorite rooftop in Paris. His feet dangled from the edge of the building as he stared into the distance. "I don't know how to"

Ladybug was aware of his feelings for the girl who was known as Souris Blanche. They both knew her identity for it was necessary to do so. Yet, Chat was way too afraid to talk to her other than their fights side by side.

She was the one who pushed him to do so, but there was something always stopping him. "You should"

He only nodded in response, for he was aware of it himself.

"Why don't you talk to her in your civilian form" He looked at her like he just saw a ghost.

"M'lady, that is the dumbest idea you had ever had, no offense" They laughed but she didn't let it go "Why not?"

"I can't. When I'm Chat Noir and with her, I'm free. There is nothing stopping me. But when I'm just me, without the mask, she takes a hold of me. I can't think straight."

She nodded in understanding "I know that feeling."

He seemed surprised. "You do?"

Ladybug just sighed in agreement. "But you're Ladybug." Chat was more than taken back.

"I know that feeling by heart."

"You should tell the boy you're in love with that you like him" he proposed but she just shook her head

"No, no way." standing up she helped him up too "C'mon, lover boy, let's go get the girl you're in love with"

Just as they were about to swing above the rooftops to the park they both knew she spent her time, an Akuma alert rang. "Just at the right time" he joked.

Ladybug looked at the villain that was tearing Paris apart. "We will need help". Taking the mouse miraculous she lent it to Chat. "Go get Souris Blanche"

The green-eyed boy smiled widely, preparing for the encounter with Y/N. In no time he was at the park, landing right in front of her. She looked so peaceful sitting on a bench and enjoying her day. The moment Y/N saw him, she froze, unable to move. "Chat Noir" was all she managed to blurt out.

He stepped forward, placing himself just inches away from her. "We need you"

She understood right away. "My pleasure"

Taking her by the hand, the cat boy led her to an ally right aside. "I'm glad to see you again," he said, and only then did he realize their bodies were close to each other. His cheeks burned red as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

"Not as glad as I am, kitty"

Y/N placed her miraculous around her neck to what a sleepy kwami appeared. "Mullo! You squeaky head" she smiled with a smile full of love

Mouse kwami spun around her head "Y/N I've missed you"

"We need to help Ladybug and Cat Noir. Mullo, get squeaky!"

With said transformation words, a normal Paris teenage girl turned into a superheroine- Souris Blanche

"Meow, let's go play cat and mouse," said Cat Noir, taking her by the waist and riding them off with his stick.

Flying so high off the ground, Souris pressed closer to the cat boy who held her firm, his fingers pressing into her suit. "You're holding on tight to me" she spoke with a quiet voice. Y/N wasn't sure, but even with the quantum masking and under the disguise, she felt the boy blush.

"I-I'm sorry"

"No need to apologize. Makes me feel special"

He looked at her for a second "You are"

Now it was her time to blush and she prayed he didn't see that. That would have been quite embarrassing.

"You made it!" Chanted Ladybug as she saw the two figures coming her way. "Happy to see you again Souris Blanche." the two exchanged a small smile.

"But we have work to do." Lady in red said, showing them the red and dotted pen she got as her lucky charm

"A pen?" The cat was not impressed

"I've got a plan, listen carefully" And so Ladybug told them her idea of defeating the akumatized villain.

It wasn't an easy plan, it never is. But it was their only solution. "Stay behind me," Said the cat boy protectively as the two of them ran across the roof, in a different direction than Ladybug.

"I can protect myself but thanks"

"I know you can, just, I cannot imagine seeing you hurt."

Souris' heart melted. He cares about her. "I won't, I promise."

The battle was heated, the villain was unstoppable. It seemed like the three of them will never make it.

Souris looked around, trying to think of something. Yes! It will be dangerous, of course, but she has to do this. "I have to go"

"No! Souris Blanche wait!" the cat wept. But, she was already far gone. "I love you" he whispered to himself.

The black cat watched the love of his life and behind him landed Ladybug "What is she doing?! Why did you let her leave?!"

"It wasn't up to me!" Cat Noir defended himself

"I cannot work with you two! Just stay there when I tell you!"

And just as she was yelling at the boy in black, the girl in white was flying towards the earth. No, rather she was falling. "Oh no" whispered the dotted hero.

"NO!" A scream that could freeze blood pierced through the air. She was hurt. And he couldn't do anything.

"RUN CAT NOIR" and so he did. He ran as fast as he could. Hell, it seemed he would pass out. "NO! STAY WITH ME" he screamed as he was trying to catch the lifeless body of his love.

"Please, please, please Souris come back" he cried, holding her close, cradling her face in his hands.

"I love you please don't leave me"

As he was weeping over his lover's body, Ladybug saw an opportunity in tragedy. With a few swift movements, she defeated the villain.

"Miraculous Ladybug!" the magic surrounded the city, fixing every damage the akumatized villain layed upon them.

"I love you too" shakily whispered the girl in white, running her fingers through his blonde hair. "I would never leave you"

Without much thinking, Cat Noir kissed the girl with all that he had got.

She loves him.

#miraculous ladybug #chat noir #miraculous #adrien agreste #chat noir x reader #tales of ladybug and cat noir #ladybug #miraculous chat noir #cat noir x reader #cat noir #adrien x reader

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ashiristic · 2 years

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So the villain turned into an animal (any sort of animal) because the scientist accidentally poured something on them! THEN THE HERO SAW THEM AND THE HERO DOESN'T KNOW IT WAS THE VILLAIN!

Request

"MEOW!" Villain scratches the person's arm as they try to put them inside a pink cage with squeaky toys inside. And the worst part is that they're offering them cat food. They thrashed around, digging their claws deep into the person's arm as she yelped a loud 'ouch', and set them free.

They ran away while the person tried to catch them, but the pain kept her away as she gave up with frustration plastered on her face. Villain halts as they see a nearby park, taking a glimpse into the narrowed silver fences, and sprinting inside when there is not a single shadow inside. The villain ran inside and settled themself under a random rattan chair near the trash bin. Twirling around the small space, then swishing their black tail after they found a sweet spot.

“Meow…” Beautiful…

The sunsets with gentle orange and red hues mixed on the horizon. The scent of fresh flowers permeates the air, as the tall bushy tree leaves dance with the wind like a lullaby. Quacks of ducks swimming in the river ring in their ears. They were right… the world is indeed beautiful in different places.

They meowed softly as their eyes slowly fluttered close, their tail swished back and forth, and completely comfortable on their spot. But the question is: why has the fearsome villain turned into a small, gentle-looking black cat?

Finally, finishing the reports and sending them to the headquarters. Villain has visited their most trusted friend, the scientist. Well, a kind of trustable friend now since they turned them into a cat.

A random machine was pointed directly at them when they opened the door, then somehow they have become a narcissistic creature since ancient times. They aren't saying that this day is a curse, since it is more leisurely than their day-offs.

No problem of getting assassinated, check. About the hero killing the shit out of them, check. And especially, no work until they turn back into being a human again, check. What a wonderful day, isn't it?

"Fuck, why do they need to chase me?" A person cursed as they kicked the rattan chair to block off the shooter's attack. Sweat ran down to their forehead, glimpsing an innocent black cat beside the trash can.

The shooter loaded their gun again as they shoot aimlessly at where the person is. They dashed towards the cat, securing it away from the shooter's vision. Villain woke up from the sudden grip as they meow loudly, and scratches the person's arms. This time fatally.

Hold on, this isn't a normal person's daily life garment. Silver gloves that have a golden stone imbued on them, with bright red vertical lines engraved on them. Isn't this the hero's signature gloves? They looked up, mouths dropping as their penetrating green eyes wide.

Those sharp jaws and a gorgeous face that conquers the sun in terms of who shines brighter. It is indeed Hero, aka their number nemesis, with a love-and-hate relationship with them.

A bullet shot puts them out of their trance as they glance at the people trying to catch their fish. Rookie villains, probably the shining prodigies that are too prideful for their own good. But they are sure lucky to catch the hero in this condition. Completely wounded up and lost their energy, the villain could already hear the beeps ringing inside the hero's earpiece about how low their energy was.

Even though they are in an innocent-looking creature's body, that doesn't mean they can't use the power of their will. Villain raises their paw as they create tiny blue energy with their paws, gathering it around, then throwing them on the rookie's forehead. It'll induce hallucinations and paralysis, since they don't have any defence items with them because of overconfidence.

They are indeed rookies for doing such a thing. If Villain could smirk, then they would do it right now as they witness each of the rookie’s clumsy movements. What a wonderful report for this week! They could already imagine Supervillain blowing their faces as these kinds of people are like bugs to them. Supervillain hates bugs more than the heroes.

Hero notices the change as they glance at the trash bin near them, kicking it on the two rookie's faces as they let out a sigh of relief after those two met on the ground. Hero pants heavily as they walk over the rookies’ body. Both of them are safely knocked out, by they mean ‘safe’. The rookies don’t have any serious injury, only scars and bruises.

“Thank god, they are still alive.”

“Meow?” What the fuck?

Hero stares down at their arm, severely bleeding, then to the cat on their arms. They immediately check the cat, cupping its gentle fur to find if there is external injury. Letting out a sigh ofl relief once they are sure that there isn't one. Such a unique trait for a hero. Instead of making sure if they are okay, they examined a cat first before themself.

Is this the reason they call Hero partner material on the internet?

Villain used to laugh at such hypocrisy, but after witnessing it themself. They don't have any reason to deny it anymore. For a few seconds, their cat emotions tick as they began licking their paw clean, and their other body parts. The hero smiles gently as they pet the villain's chin, up to their head, then behind their tail.

Villain flinches back a little as they purr, raising their head upon how sensitive they are, and standing up when Hero rubs behind their tail. Oh, to be a cat, and thank the scientist mentally. The hero chuckles as Villain stands up, rubbing their body against their body.

"Do you like it?" the hero asked, amused.

"Meow…" Hell yeah, I do. They purred as their tail swished back and forth, enjoying the sweet massages Hero offers them.

"So cute… Should I keep you?" the hero pets their head while the villain didn't notice their answer. Wrong move.

“There is no one in the house anyway… I'll adopt you to feel less lonely, I guess…”

Wait, what the hell?

Hero picks them up and flies to their apartment, carrying a small feline who is mentally screaming about how they don't want to go with this person. But their cat tendencies think otherwise.

#hero x villain #hero and villain #villain x hero #hero x villain prompts #fantasy #writeblr #snippet #writing snippet #fluff #fiction #writblr

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leggerefiore · 3 years

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Twice now you have referenced the perfection that is the Super Station Master, Tama the cat. I must request a set of headcanons specifically about the twins getting their own Tama. Doesn't even have to have a Reader involved. Some things are more important.

someone noticed... i'm so happy i love station master tama

A loud yowling echoed throughout the nigh empty station. Night crawlers were few and far in between that night. Ingo startled awake from his unwanted slumber. Had he passed out? Drool has escaped his mouth onto the incident report below him, and his jaw tightened. That was lovely. Now, what was making that deplorable sound? The elder twin knew nothing in his station should be making that noise. Unless it was a person. Ingo rushed out of his office with astonishing speed to the night staff. Part of the surprise was attributed to the fact they thought the Subway Boss had gone home hours ago.

His footsteps echoed noisily off the great walls present in the station. Every possible place as human could have gotten themselves was checked thoroughly by the duteous man. Had Ingo hallucinated such a sound? It was entirely possible the noise has echoed from the dark recesses of his mind to awaken him back to the waiting world. That conclusion was about to fully arrive at the station known as acceptance until it rang out again. Closer, this time. Ingo froze. Walking toward the cliff of the tracks, he spotted it. A pitiful, purple kitten yelling their tiny heart out. The harsh shell in which the Subway Boss hid himself in broke into thousands of pieces. Who had abandoned such a piteous, tiny Purrloin? Ingo would never forgive them as he scooped up the kitten. The way it nuzzled its warm body into his dress shirt decided its fate.

Emmet stretched as an obnoxiously loud yawn escaped him. The faint glow of the television, and moonlight dancing in through the window, told him it was late in the night. Why had Ingo not woke him up? His back did not appreciate the rest the couch provided. His joints popped as his stretch reached peak intensity. Fingers snuck under his shirt to scratch at the flesh of his abdomen. Creeping around their shared apartment, Emmet peered into Ingo's open bedroom. There was no way his brother was still doing work this late. The younger twin shook his head; would he have to return to the Gear Station to drag him back home?

His clothes were swiftly thrown back on. Then, just as he entered the living room, the front door swung open. There stood Ingo, bright yellow, plastic shopping bags hung around his arm and a Purrloin in the other. Emmet jumped back in surprise from the sudden introduction of his brother. “Emmet, you're awake. Good. Please grab the litter box from the hallway, I need to check her for fleas and ticks,” Ingo commanded while maneuvering the shopping bags from his arm, sleeping kitten undisturbed. Emmet dumbly did what he was told and brought the litter box in before realizing the situation. “Wait a minute! Ingo, where'd you get that cat!”

● Emmet had been opposed to the new addition until he was given the kitten, who proceeded to purr and knead into his shirt with a squeaky meow. Then, he was hooked. That was his little meow meow, not Ingo's. No, he would not share. Ingo sneaks the Purrloin back when he falls asleep.

● They feel bad about leaving the poor thing alone for long hours, so she gets to stay in their office at the station. They are both in and out all day, so she's never really alone. (All the employees come to adore her after she wandered out once. Ingo returned to an office cooing and cawing at his cat.)

● They go back and forth on names for her. Each has their own little name for a decent while, until a day clerk chirps out an “Emi” and she responds loudly. Ingo bit his lip in frustration, and Emmet nearly cried. The betrayal little Emi had committed. Unforgiveable.

● As she grows, she's allowed to wander the station under supervision. They do not want their precious cat near the tracks again. Commuters grow to love the strangely social nature she exudes. Purring and meowing at strangers, rubbing up against them. She's beloved, you better believe.

● A depot agent sees her approaching with Emmet and calls out, “Well, if it isn't Station Master Emi! How are you doing this morning?” He's too busy petting the feline to notice his boss's grin growing wider at the title. Oh, Emmet had to agree. She was definitely the master of the Gear Station. Ingo is told this over lunch, and his chrome eyes shoot wide. It's agreed, Emi has an official title.

● With her official title, of course, she gets a steel grey cap like the Subway Bosses own and golden badge (hung from her collar). Station Master Emi struts around the station with swagger. People know she's got authority. They both fear and adore her. The depot agents salute her, children squeal over her cuteness, and the Subway Bosses love her. Her job is to greet passengers (and provide comfort to her overworked owners).

#pokemon ingo #pokemon emmet #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #nonromantichcs #i dedicate this to my own cat who keeps my fragile state in check with cute meows and purrs #and of course our dearly departed station master tama

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ebiemidnightlibrarian · 3 years

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Cornucopia | II — Castimonium I | Father Paul x Fem!Reader | English

SUMMARY | AO3 | MY MASTERLIST

Chapter Summary: Miriam is faced with a pile of dusty problems and has her first interaction with Bev, things don't go as planned. She meets Sheriff Hassan and Joe Collie and discovers that there might be some very well hidden skeletons in the island's closet.

Chapter Title: Castimonium (/castīmōniae/; latin): abstinence; abstinence (sexual/from meat) for ritual; purity of morals; chastity.

Warnings: Slow Burn, Angst, Mentions of Past Religious Trauma, Description of an Anxiety Attack (Slight), Anxiety, Descriptions of a Cold, Descriptions of Depression Symptoms (Is just a suggestion of actually).

Word Count: 7.8K

Note: Skin, hair and body descriptions has been handled as vague as possible so that everything can be read as a reader fic.

Again, English isn’t my mother language, so I’m sorry for any orthography or writing mistakes you might find.

A/N: So… how do I say this… This chapter has completely got out of hand. My idea was to release it on Christmas Eve, to be a gift to everyone reading this (THANK YOU SO MUCH!). But what ended up happening was that the chapter got so big and so full of information that I had to split it in three. It's, like, 12K, and I didn't even get to the crock pot luck part *laughs w despair*

This is part one, where our priest meow meow only comes up a little bit and there's A LOT of OFC development, in this case, the reader. This first part is more connected to Angst and Character Study than anything else. HOWEVER, I swear our boy shows up quite a bit in part two (which I'm still finishing lol) including, ladies and gentlemen, tense moments (you know what kind ; D).

Also, my asks are always open to you all, make yourself comfortable to send me anything!

Enjoy the reading! See y'all in a couple of days, so, happy New Year! I wish all the best in the whole world, and that in 2022 all of your dreams come true.

ONE ASPIRIN. An aspirin and a comfortable bed were all Miriam wanted most. Her head throbbed with the white noise that Beverly Keane's squeaky voice had become in the last half hour she'd spoken non-stop. Both, along with the mayor, Sheriff Hassan, and Ed Flynn, were all in the small police station at the back of the grocery store.

Miriam smoothed her fingers over her forehead and pressed hard against the bridge of her nose in an effort to keep her tired eyes open and to calm herself with a long inhale. The small island's problems had escalated considerably quickly since her arrival in the early hours of that day. The entire morning she was supposed to settle down had been spent in lengthy discussions with Mayor Scarborough and the unofficial administrator, — arising from the end of Mass and who, at this moment —, was looking reproachfully at the young woman. Shafts related to her futility of presence shot toward her with a subtle vigor Miriam had never seen.

Hassan prostrated himself for some time in a corner away from the tiny, enraged woman, his toned arms crossed in a defensive posture, his dark eyes watching the discussion unfold. Miriam caught him analysing her at one point, when Wade miraculously managed to become the deaconess's target. The young woman caught an identifying look behind the sheriff's tired orbs. Found a brother in the pain of being unwanted, it seems, she concluded to herself, sighing as she turned her gaze to the two arguing in front of her.

“…and that's why I don't think it's wise to allow a stranger, someone unfamiliar with Crockett's ways, to run our community.” To Miriam and Hassan's relief, Bev seemed satisfied with the numerous listing of her reservations to the newcomer. Her poisonous green eyes looked up and down at the woman patiently awaiting her turn to speak.

“Yes Bev, I know that well, you've already made your discontent very clear, but you have to understand that the City Council has decided. We've taken a vote, there's nothing to argue about.” The mayor's voice was low, slightly husky, almost irritable, and despite being much bigger than the deaconess, the mayor seemed to cringe before the woman in a mixture of complacency and barely contained anger.

“Right.” There was a short pause, the woman looked at the oldest Flynn leaning against the door frame of the tiny office and seemed to remember the real reason for that meeting. “What do you suggest we do then? With the cats, I mean.”, asked the beatified, looking pointedly at the young woman in front of her.

“I believe the best way to find out what happened to those poor creatures is, of course, to investigate. And since this is not my field of expertise, I think it's more than clear that Sheriff Hassan should be in charge. He'll know better than any of us what to do on this occasion.” The sheriff and the woman exchanged a simple look of understanding.

“She's right, I can manage this.” The law man's slurred voice echoed through the cubicle for a moment. The sour look that gleamed in the deaconess's eyes directed them both with caution and discretion. The mayor was ready to speak, his large moustache moving as he opened his mouth before being rudely interrupted by the braided woman.

“Yes, this is more than clear, but I was referring to what must be done with the bodies. I don't believe it's wise to just leave them lying around.”, the tartness of the words did not go unnoticed by any of those present. The lamp attached to the ceiling produced an incessant hum that made the back of Miriam's head throb in pain even more.

"Of course. You’re right, miss.” Miriam allowed, by one beat, Bev to gloat over her 'superiority'. “The wisest thing would probably be to burn them, as suggested by Mr. Flynn. They could be contaminated with some form of illness, and it wouldn't be good for the children to have contact with infected waste, would it?” There was a passive aggressiveness in Miriam's words, mirroring the tone of the deaconess.

Silence.

The only sound other than her breathing was the persistent hum of electricity running through the lamp.

“I can't guarantee the parishioners will approve.” The woman's high-pitched timbre seemed to ring like bells inside Miriam's head. She was starting to get impatient once again in less than twelve hours.

“It's for the safety of your children, I'm sure they'll understand the steps to be taken, Ms. Keane.” The beatified’s name slipped acidly across her lips. A smug smile painted the curve of the young woman's lips. Turning her body to Ed Flynn, Miriam walked past the deaconess, rummaging in her coat pocket for her cell phone. “Mr. Flynn, would you mind telling me how many gallons of petrol do you think it will take to cremate the cats without any major problems?” Typing quickly into her mobile device, taking notes of spending possibilities, Miriam waited for a response from the man.

"Well," the fisherman glanced at the sheriff in the corner and then at the irritable figure of Beverly Keane, who was incessantly squeezing with the neat tips of her nails the hem of her greenish jumper sleeve. “About three gallons should be enough, is what? A hundred?” the man who smelled of fish and sea air asked Hassan, avoiding any form of eye contact with the small, sullen woman. The good sheriff nodded with a nod of his dark hair and eased himself into a more comfortable position against the wooden wall.

"Excellent. Sorry to bother you with this, but I'll need a detailed list of the island's supplies, whatever's in store, can you get me that Mr. Scarborough?” the woman turned, her exhausted eyes falling on Wade. Taking a few more notes on her cell phone, Miriam returned to her spot propped against the sheriff's desk, facing the prime deaconess. Nodding his head, Wade muttered a restrained 'Sure' as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Still unreconciled but restrained, Beverly Keane clasped her hands in front of her with a sigh and nodded, like a cranky child who has had to settle for less candy than she wanted. A short beat of silence followed. The deaconess was staring at Miriam, her eyes scrutinizing her, as if searching tirelessly for a hideous flaw that lurked in the weary marks on the woman's features. Her greenish orbs glowed with an eerie light as she caught the rosary that stood out, glittering around the black collar of her jumper.

"Very well, then. May I ask you something Miss…”, the space to be filled in her soft, squeaky speech was deliberate.

"Harper." Miriam's voice came out as pure hoarseness. The sandy feeling at the bottom of the palate starting in grades. Clearing her throat, so her voice sounded less like the dragging of an iron slab over dry concrete, she continued. "You can ask me what you want, I want you to feel at ease with me.", the deaconess’ green eyes narrowed for a moment. Two would play this game.

"Ms. Harper, tell me, are you Catholic?” The passive-aggressive tone covered her words, and the lopsided half smile that painted her freckled features screamed at Miriam to be careful with that woman. Harper had always trusted the unease that gripped her chest with some people, this time it would be no different.

Casting an almost imperceptible glance at Hassan, — who was still watching the discussion like a curious feline —, Miriam stiffened her posture the least bit and looked as deeply as she could into the dry green of the slightly shorter woman's orbs. She chose her words carefully.

“I believe I can honestly say, Miss. Keane, I was once very devout. However, it is normal for us to have our disagreements with God. I don't disbelieve him, but I haven't practised the good dogmas of the Holy Church for years.”, a palpable tension had formed, the deaconess' thin smile faded slightly, she would find a way to muster the islanders' general contempt for the newly arrival, of that Harper was sure. Both women maintained their haughty postures, eyes glazed over.

“Ah!” the noise of understanding escaped the redhead’s lips with clear contempt. "I see," she said, glancing sideways at the sheriff and giving the mayor a sharp look. “I believe we're done here.” The tone of authority increased the tension in Miriam's shoulders. Beverly turned to leave, her rigid braid snaking behind her body.

Wade whispered some mild apologies on behalf of the woman and excused himself, the woods creaking with his weight, as he passed the fisherman still standing on the jamb, the mayor greeted him briefly and continued on his way. Ed Flynn turned tired eyes to the woman who had remained and cleared his throat.

“She…”, a restrained pause to choose words, followed. “She just cares a little… too much. Will get used, Ms. Harper.” The man watched the young woman's tense shoulders shake the slightest bit with a deep breath, and, refraining from saying anything more, waved goodbye to the sheriff and walked out the door.

A joint sigh escaped the remaining two.

“Let me guess, she doesn't get better after you meet her.” The woman's once melodic and now husky voice bounced against the walls and returned to her, her own speech ringing bells in the aching inside her head. A weak nasal chuckle escaped the detective.

“Honestly?” the man asked, a hint of light humour in his voice. Moving from where he was, Hassan closed the door to the tiny parlour and turned his worried face, — softer now —, to Miriam. “No.” The man watched the woman rub her eyes hard and inhale deeply a few times.

“Who could imagine, right? I believe she almost made it clear that she despised me when she said, and I quote, 'it is useless to hire someone to fill a position that is already competently occupied'. It's amazing, really. I was called, — very subtly I should point out —, useless, stupid and incompetent in the same sentence on my first goddamn day on the job.” A disgusted moan escaped her as she ran her fingers through the tousled strands of her hair.

“I must say she's not usually so openly hostile to someone. Maybe she's just not used to having someone stand up to her. I haven't been here that long, but I can safely say this is the first time I've seen her be so… aggressive with the mayor.” Settling down casually in his chair, the sheriff studied the exhausted figure propped up on his desk. He felt sorry for her, the deaconess could be a pain in the ass without even needing to be provoked, but now, from what he'd seen, Bev would certainly develop the extra vigor to crucify the newcomer.

Amazing! Apparently I hit the jackpot. Bad Wi-Fi, a thousand problems, and now the only person I shouldn't tease wants my head. Great first day! Exhaustion was making her more acidic than usual. Nodding at the man, Miriam noticed in her peripheral vision a passage she hadn't noticed there. Moving with curiosity, she saw that it was a set of two small, barred cells. Her eyes caught sight of a shape lying on one of the beds, the musky odour and the unmistakable smell of cheap beer invading her nostrils.

"This is Joe Collie." said the sheriff, appearing behind her in the passage. With a flick of his wrist, Hassan pushed open the cell door frame, the pulleys sliding with a loud snap that woke the man asleep inside the cell. "Good morning, Joe.", a pair of confused eyes, stared at the two standing at the door.

"Arg… Coffee?", waving a chubby hand, he ignored the sheriff's greeting. The man's grumpy timbre was choked with sleep. With an effort, Joe sat up on the messy bed in the cell and rubbed his eyes and his face, trying to ward off sleep. Releasing a hoarse grunt, he looked up at the nearest woman, his restless eyes locked on the burgundy colour of the coat she was wearing. "And… who are you?" his eyes to her face, half curious, half uninterested.

Hassan whispered 'be polite' to the man in the cell, like a father berating his son for not paying attention to visitors. The sheriff walked away from the two of them unhurriedly, under the pretence of getting himself and Joe a mug of coffee. He kindly offered it to Miriam, which she politely declined.

“Ah… I'm Miriam, Harper, I came… to work with the mayor. Nice to meet you, Mr. Collie.” She introduced herself for what felt like the ninetieth time that day. Taking her hands out of her coat pockets, she reached out to shake the sleepy man's hand. Joe stared at the hand held out in front of him for a moment.

"I heard Bev's bitch voice a little while ago, she doesn't seem to like you very much, maybe that's a good sign.", a nasal laugh escaped Miriam at the comment. He soon shook the woman's hand firmly, an approving half smile curving his lips hidden under his beard. If she had laughed at his comment, it must have indicated that she was as fond of Beverly as he was. She hadn't looked down on him when she saw him, or with pity, she had greeted him honestly, without judgment, like a real human being.

"Yeah, I suppose you can put it that way.", the woman laughed again weakly. “I guess it makes sense, I'm stealing her job anyway…” she lazily leaned against the door jamb, weary of arguments, happy to speak of her dislikes to the deaconess with someone who so similarly seemed to detest her.

The new information piqued Joe's interest. If Bev was being removed from her post, that was news to him. Happy news.

“Hm… Are you… taking care of things now?”, he asked. The answer he got was an exhausted nod from the woman.

A muttered 'excuse me' came from behind the woman, and Miriam gave space for Hassan to walk past her with two steaming mugs of coffee. She watched as Joe thanked him and took the crockery object in his big hands. The sheriff leaned against the wall, inhaling the reek of the dark liquor and watching the interaction between the two.

“I already heard about the Spill, didn't you?”, another brief nod. “But…” the man took a sip of his coffee and cast a quick glance in the detective's direction. “Do you know what happened next?” There was a conspiratorial tone in Joe's words, almost as if he shared a secret. Realizing this piqued Miriam's curiosity.

“Joe…” Hassan's husky, slurred voice sounded like a warning, something that indicated he shouldn't say whatever he was going to say next, the patronizing timbre again present in his words. Joe Collie glanced sideways and deliberately ignored the sheriff's warning.

"She needs to know.", the detective smoothed his face, knowing he couldn't stop the man from talking. Joe continued, turning to Miriam. “When the oil spill happened a few years ago, business went down the drain. We are a fishing community, fish are our livelihood, without them life was fucked up.”, a long sip of his coffee followed. His unquiet eyes moving restlessly, as if remembering a time millennia in the past. “Obviously, it was huge shit, but they thought they could get rid of us by offering a deal for the loss. You know, a lot of people took a back seat to accept it.” Hassan opened his mouth in a deep breath to interfere. Harper glanced at him briefly, a hint that there was no need for interference, but he continued.

"You don't know if that's true, Joe.", the detective intervened with a calm tone of someone who didn't want to argue. Hassan looked as exhausted as herself, Miriam noticed. All the surrounding signs pointed to a great avalanche in her path that only a trickle of snow was holding back. Trouble, and more trouble… Her head was still throbbing. Her back ached and every limb of her body seemed to want to let go.

“You have no idea what I know, Hassan.” There was a bitterness in his words. Joe sipped the last of the blackened liquid from the mug and placed it on the floor beside his feet. His drunken, sad features turned serious for a moment. “Bev Keane killed half this town with the shitty deal.” His tone was incisive, annoyed. “I've known that woman since elementary school. And nothing she ever did or does is…”, he trailed off, hands rubbing his palms nervously against his jeans, the man with the thick beard and the smell of alcohol shook his head as if to expel an unwanted thought. “Bev encouraged everyone to accept the oil companies' agreements. It was a lot of money, well, it seemed at least, until a few years of lost income counted. But nobody bothered to do the fucking maths at the time.”, the curse came out with emphasis from the man in the cell.

Miriam was unnerved. It was not uncommon to find someone who took advantage of the business, but it was always revolting. Standing now, against the door frame, the woman ran her hands over her face, understanding the scale of the problem. Taking a deep breath, she stared at Joe, waiting for him to continue.

“Then, in the midst of all that shit, Bev came up and said, 'Take the money, it's a gift from God. Enjoy and give some back to Him.’ And that's what everyone did. They took part of the money and gave it to the church. But old Pruitt was so sick that all the money ended up in that bitch's hands. I don't know what she thought, if it was some sick kind of guilt or just a front, so it's not obvious she outsmarted half the island, but she decided to build the damn Recreation Center. Nobody knows if building it really cost what they gave her. And a lot of people have already left this backwater, so maybe you'll never really find out how much money she laundered building that useless centre. Nobody uses that shit, only when there are storms and sometimes not even like that.”, he finished. The heavy breathing of someone who had talked a lot.

“My God…”, the young woman, was exasperated.

It wasn't enough: the endless, outdated paperwork in the city's files, the cats, the fiduciary damage, there was still a fucking money-laundering scheme right under everyone's noses. That realization made her want to beat herself up for the bad decision, but now it was too late, she was already here, and promise made is promise kept. Fucking promise, she thought, absorbing all the information.

“Thanks, Joe. For sharing this information with me. I promise to try to do everything in my power to try to reverse this situation as soon as possible.” With a nervously trembling hand, Miriam took a small notepad and pen from her inner pocket. Quickly, she jotted down her contact number in two places on the same sheet, highlighted it, then separated the ends where her number was noted. "Here. Please don't hesitate to call me with any information that might be of interest to the community. Sheriff Hassan, I'd like you to update me on the cat situation. Talk to me, just me, please.” she asked, handing them the small detached pieces of paper, the numbers written in her hurried print.

Joe nodded, getting up from his place in the cell and bidding a short goodbye to the two who remained, his unsteady steps heading towards the grocery store coolers.

"Okay," confirmed the good sheriff, his dark eyes moving from the paper in his hand to the young woman's face. “Look…”, he began with a worried father tone. “You seem like a good person, well-meaning… Just be careful with Bev. And don't get in trouble, okay?”, Hassan approached her with calm strides. A hand rested on the woman's shoulder in a comforting, friend-like grip you can trust.

“Yes sir.” Smiling with patience and weariness, she nodded in understanding and started to walk away.

The worn woods on the floor creaked in the same place they had first made it when Wade had passed by. Walking toward the exit, the young woman said a simple, friendly 'good morning' to Annie Flynn behind the counter. The woman with short blond hair smiled widely in response, turning her green eyes away from her husband, with whom she was talking about something. How Annie smiled reminded her of her mother. Miriam was already at the door when she spotted Joe picking up a crate of beer cans and approached the counter, she waved a vague gesture, the prim man didn't seem to notice.

Continuing her way outside, she felt the warm, welcoming breeze of the afternoon embrace her aching body. ‘Shit…’ she whispered so that she would be the only one to hear. Anxiety and anguish splintered, tearing each other for the space in the woman's chest. It was a constant, nervous grip. Her eyes lifted to the sky, the azure colour of the dawn having been replaced by a lingering misty gray. Stepping down the first step, Miriam felt a wave of pain run up her spine.

“Fuck…”, the murmur, escaped her lips. With some effort, the woman sat down on the low steps of the grocery store.

It was only when she was already sitting with her face buried in her hands that she felt something cold touch her cheek. Raising the confused orbs, Miriam was slightly startled as her field of vision was taken up by the obscure shadow of a huge dog. The animal seemed interested in her, curious in some way for the person who looked so distressed, disturbing his peace. A wary hand prostrated itself in front of the dog's icy muzzle. One sniff, two, and he happily licked the tips of her fingers.

"Hi.", her husky voice called the dog. Miriam felt her fingers spread over the animal's fur. It felt like velvet and it was so warm and cosy, she didn't mind when the dog laid its heavy head on her thighs.

The young woman looked at the thick collar that resembled a leather belt that wrapped around the animal's throat. There was no small metal tag with an identification, in fact, the dog's name had been sloppily scratched into the leather of the collar. Letter by letter, she read the name: P-I-K-E.

“Pike. Is that your name, boy?” The furry animal's ears in her lap perked up at the call to his name. Miriam smiled serenely, her well-cut nails scratching affectionately behind the dog's ears. She took a deep breath, the anxiety calming in her chest as she focused on running her fingers through Pike's fur.

Miriam looked around her vehemently, studying the small ghost town intently. It was peaceful, no cars speeding wildly along the roads, no buildings over twenty floors high scratching the sky. Just trees that calmly swayed their foliage and small houses where a few families lived.

"Mom, you would have loved this place.", she sighed. Calm and composed again, the weight of problems less incisive on her tired mind.

Pike lifted his head from her lap with a sudden interest in a tall, slender figure who walked leisurely a little way away from where they were standing. Miriam also followed the animal's attentive gaze curiously. It didn't take long for an easy smile to curve her lips. His full black hair pulled back and a messenger bag snug over his shoulder.

The good father felt the unmistakable awareness of eyes on him. Lifting the deep, dark puddles that were his brown orbs, Paul noticed a figure sitting huddled in front of the grocery store, a large dog lying nearby, its diligent head resting in its lap, for a moment he wondered who was looking at him. After his renewed eyes adjusted to the distance, a wide smile spread as he realized it was her.

He slowed his pace, nodding sparingly at Miriam. She held up a hand and sheepishly returned the greeting. The young woman felt a comforting warmth spread through her core, instantly relaxing her shoulders and her rigid posture. There was a strange comfort in the man's aura, a friendliness that mingled with a sense of mystery. Miriam attributed the strange feeling of mystery to the resemblance between the priest and the old Monsignor.

Paul debated whether to turn away from his walk towards Millie's house or continue. He hesitated, but the weight of the sacrament he carried with him kept him going. Taking a deep breath, he gripped the strap of his bag tightly and continued his long stride. Millie needed this as soon as possible, his sudden interest in the newcomer could wait a little longer.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Trim!

The microwave's shrill whistle blew late in the afternoon. With a moan, Miriam looked up from the cold kitchen island counter and caught sight of Erin Greene's gleaming face. She had placed a plate of steaming food in front of her, the sound of crockery clicking against the counter echoing in her head. There was a glass cup filled with water, a small aspirin waiting beside the cup. Pulling out a chair, the pregnant woman sat down, and propping her chin on her palm, she was amused to watch the slow movements of the woman in front of her.

“I heard Bev was hard on you today.” With a weak gesture, she pushed the aspirin and glass closer to the huddled figure on the counter. “Here.” Erin watched the marks of a tired worker on her tenant's face. Harper made a disgusted expression, her mouth a downward frown.

“I wonder who told you. News travels fast, doesn't it?”, Miriam's slurred voice rang out dry. I'll definitely wake up sick… but at least I'll have an excuse not to run into Bev. Miriam stared at the plate of food in front of her. There was some oven-roasted rice, some cherry tomatoes, and a fried fish filet. It looked good, but she had no appetite.

“Not who you think. Apparently you made a… strong impression on the Flynn family.” A husky chuckle escaped the counter, along with a long, childish 'no'. "Annie described you as a…'girl with strong presence of mind.'", A wide grin of mischievous amusement painted Erin's full lips. Harper remembered when she'd seen them whispering at the grocery store earlier.

“I will stay spoken. Jesus, they hate me.”, whimpered Miriam, burying her hands in her face. The woman with long curly hair laughed once more. Harper smoothed her fingers through her hair, its strands a damp, oily mess.

“No, I don't think that's it, Miriam. Maybe it's just weird that someone finally faces the old cow.” They both laughed weakly again. A beat of silence ensued. "Well. Take this and eat something. You've been out all day, I doubt you've had time to eat.” A mother's serious tone covered Erin's words, and for a moment Miriam considered.

“Yes ma'am.”, still smiling, but firmly, Miriam took the small white pill in her fingers and swallowed it without difficulty. The sandy feeling in the back of her throat when she swallowed bothered her a lot.

With the eyes and a big smile, Erin stared at the woman, gesturing to the plate in front of her. Sighing, Harper picked up a fork and rummaged through the food without much interest. The tiredness and the sleepless night were finally getting to her.

"Good. I'm going to bed, soon the night sickness will start and these are particularly worse than the morning ones.” Her gentle expression and witty comments made Miriam feel at home, comfortable. Saying goodbye, Erin went upstairs to her own room, leaving Miriam to finish her dinner.

With little interest and some effort, the woman forced herself to eat a few mouthfuls of the food, the dampness of the oven rice not so bothersome when she swallowed. Miriam finished the rice and a portion of the fish. Moving her slightly trembling hands to the mobile device in her pocket, she reached for her cell phone.

7:15 pm.

Wow, how much in such a short time, she kept the thought to herself. In fact, a lot had happened since she'd set foot on the sodden wood of the dock. A storm worthy of a disaster film; an infestation of dead cats in the best 'The Ten Commandments' style; a ghost town crammed with fervent Catholics; a money-laundering scheme and, of course, a priest who certainly shouldn't be so attractive to her, after all he was a man of cassock, — and her experience with such men told her not to trust them.

Once again, Miriam found herself thinking of the good Christian with the deep brown eyes. He looked so pure, so genuinely kind for his own good, that he looked almost suspicious. She laughed at the thought. Despite his stature, the priest didn't look like someone capable of doing any harm, not with those lost puppy dog eyes.

Thinking of the adorable way Paul's wide eyes crinkled when he smiled or how perfect his teeth were made a cold wave run through her body to lodge in the pit of her stomach. Paul, when did she start thinking of him by name and not title? By God, they barely knew each other, and he is a priest. Maybe all that time in Catholic boarding school had driven her insane, or maybe just a little prone to a Thorn Birds’ romance style.

Shaking her head, Miriam got up from the chair she'd been sitting in and picked up the half-eaten dinner plate from the glass still with a little water on it. Carefully placing the plate, — already clean of food scraps —, on the sink, and the now empty glass, Harper called her much-loved cousin, leaving the call on speakerphone as she grabbed a sponge and soap to wash the dishes dirty.

Only three calls were needed for Abel to take her call. His soft, modulated voice squeaked in the background, which she quickly identified as one of his David Bowie's Berlin trilogy albums that he adored so much.

“Hello?”, he asked after a second of silence.

“Good night, Abe, it's me, your cursed cousin.” Miriam announced, her voice so husky he was sure to hear the change in her tone.

“Holy shit, what happened to your voice? You sound like mom.”, Abel chuckled as he asked. The woman could imagine him pulling his smooth dark locks back across his worktable. The open laptop and the pair of rectangular glasses resting on the table as he compared her to his mother, — her aunt, who used to smoke two packs of cigarettes a day.

Laughing, Miriam got a sense of how terrible her voice sounded to anyone who heard it.

“Don't exaggerate, it can't be that bad.”, she knew it was a lie, but she didn't care. “I ended up in a storm when I arrived. I spent the night in a church, I was soaked, so now I'm like this, but don't worry, I'll probably be worse tomorrow.” Miriam laughed at her own bad luck, drying the cutlery with an embroidered cloth.

“Oh my God, you’re indeed the cursed member of the family, Miriam… But other than that, how are you doing?”, there was a good-natured concern in his modulated timbre. Abel had always been her best friend, her heart-brother, and her confidant.

For a moment, she pondered telling him what she had learned about money laundering through the recreation centre. Carefully calculating, she came to the conclusion that there would be no harm in mentioning it, even if she still needed the papers for confirmation.

“Abe, I'm going to tell you something, but I require you to do nothing, okay?”, a noise of confirmation came from the other side of the line. Looking around, Miriam had already put away the dishes when she cautiously started up the stairs towards the room where she would be staying. Once she was sure Erin was sleeping in her own room, Miriam locked the door and took a deep breath.

She told everything, Abel listened carefully to every piece of information and made little observations here and there about one thing or another. Both came to the consensus that, in fact, there was something at least suspicious about the whole thing. Her cousin offered to help her with anything she required regarding the process she had got herself into. Miriam thanked him.

“Thanks, Abe, this is really going to give me a horrible headache. Did you know the files here are still made of paper?”, A nasal laugh reverberated through the cell phone's speaker. Sluggishly, the woman sat at the head of the bed, her eyes intent on the cloudy moonlight outside.

“I figured that could happen, that place parked in the 60s, so I'm not surprised, but it's late, and apparently you've had quite a hell of a day, you should go to sleep. I want news from you tomorrow, okay?”, he mocked, the sweet tone of concern warmed the woman's chest, she was already missing him.

“I promise to call. Good night, Abe, give Lenz and Karly a kiss for me.” Miriam smiled, Lenz and Abel were a lovely couple and their little girl was the sweetest. Harper was never very good with children, but little Karly was special, her shrewd questions amused the woman.

"I’ll, now rest. I'm serious. Bye.”, the line was silent and without much interest she threw the device onto the old spring mattress.

She scanned the room carefully. The walls were covered with yellowish floral wallpaper, the geraniums were faded with age. The dark wooden wardrobe was crooked, one of its feet was broken in half, making it dangle on just three feet. Worn and slightly dusty stuffed animals resided on a shelf with their expressionless eyes glazed over at the seated female figure. A particularly tattered rag doll sent a shiver down Miriam's back. The dim light from the lamp engulfed the room in gloom, its yellowish light glinting off the framed embroidery glass that prostrated itself beside the white door. It was verses Miriam knew well that were woven into the cloth, it was verses from the Book of Lamentations.

“‘The kindness of the Lord never ends, His mercies have no end; they are renewed each morning’” she read aloud.

The irony of the words sank claws in her mind. Jeremiah had written those words, looking at Jerusalem destroyed. Jerusalem was the hope of a dream, it was freedom, it was the function, the effort, the dedication to a promise made by God himself. And yet, seeing it destroyed, Jeremiah had hope. ‘Faith’, she could hear her grandmother's voice correcting her.

Only a fool can hope and be faithful in the face of impending disaster, Miriam remembered how those pessimist words had saved her multiple times. After all, if you expect the worst of all, it's harder to be disappointed. The memory of the searing rock salt cutting into her knees sent an uncomfortable tingle down her spine.

Suddenly, a flock of night birds that had perched silently on the tree beside the house took to the air. Miriam was startled by the loud noise of the flapping of wings that had so rudely broken the morbid silence of the room. Her eyes were drawn to the darkened outline of birds against the sky. The birds scurried away, as if fleeing from something. It wasn't long before her tired gaze landed on the slender, blackened shadow that soared into the sky like a harpy. The figure rose, so close to the window that it made her move away.

The snap of the tiles that covered the slab complaining of a sudden heaviness made every hair on the back of her neck prickle.

The almost anaesthetic sensation of uncertainty making it difficult to breathe, she felt the same feeling of dread as when she had seen what appeared to be the Monsignor on the balcony of his rectory, however old Pruitt was not on the island…

Miriam couldn't finish her train of thought, the cracks were now right above her room, but they didn't feel like just cracks any more, they were footsteps.

Taking a deep breath, Miriam rationalized as best she could: It's just an oddly large bird, that's all. This is a lie, and you know it. An insistent voice whispered in the back of her tired mind.

Another sound similar to the flapping of great wings resounded. She was silent, straining her hearing in an attempt to hear something else. Approaching the window, she peered out.

Nothing.

The dark leaves of the tree danced in the direction of the wind. She took a deep breath. It was just a bird that your overworked mind is turning into something else, Harper forced herself to believe that, at least for now.

Closing the frayed curtains, she walked away towards her suitcase to organize her things. With some speed, Miriam removed her already folded clothes and arranged them in the empty wardrobe that smelled of mould and mothballs. She carefully laid out her toiletries, a towel and a pyjama top on the patchwork quilt. Closing her suitcase, she pulled out the last thing she had: a framed photo of her, her mother, and Abel, all together at her cousin's graduation.

She had kept that photo with a certain fondness, it was one of the few photos where she and her mother were smiling. Her mother, who had suffered so much, had a proud, shining smile. With her fingertips, she caressed the glass that held the photograph affectionately. A tiny smile painted her lips.

Placing the frame on the night stand, she gathered her things from the bed and wandered barefoot against the carpet toward the bathroom. The click of the switch reverberated through the room. It was a cubicle covered in white tile with an over-the-tub shower, a sink, and a toilet. She put one foot down, a cold shiver running up her leg. Miriam closed the door, which creaked with the movement, the lock clicking with a low metallic clang. Her silent steps led her to the sink.

Releasing a heavy sigh of exhaustion, Miriam stared at her reflection in the mirror. The dark smudges under her eyes from bad sleep stood out now, in the white light. Unhurriedly, she began to undress, the coat slipping off her tense shoulders and soon followed by the thick wool jumper and a pair of trousers. The cool air coming from the open window ruffled her skin. Leaning forward, with a trembling hand, she closed the window, interrupting the night breeze that enveloped her.

The running water was warm, the temperature easing the knots of tension in her back, relaxing her muscles. Now, undressed, Miriam could feel the beads of the rosary weighing down against her chest. Taking a deep breath, the woman replayed the events of that day once more in her mind, like a scratched disc.

The way the islanders behaved was not necessarily abnormal, but it gave her a mixed feeling of strangeness and anxiety. Their unshakable beliefs gave her memories of her years at St. Agnes boarding school. Memories she had never intended to recall, not even the sporadic visits of her mother, grandmother, and cousin, who always took place on Catholic holidays, all of them ending with her begging to leave that place.

Dragging her mind to those moments reminded her of the Christmas that her grandmother had passed away years ago. She remembered her mother's exhausted and bereaved expression, and how she'd shown up alone that holiday. As much as she didn't have as much contact with the old woman, and that, especially during her childhood, she held a grudge against her grandmother's attitude of throwing her in that place, Miriam remembered how she'd felt her chest sink with the news. She also remembered feeling a certain relief in knowing that Mathilde had left in her sleep, that she had died a painless death.

Death. There was a lot of death around her, as a child, as a teenager and even in her adult life. The people around her seemed to leave constantly, without warning, without giving her a chance to try to stop them. This had drastically reduced her family circle, and now her only remaining family was her cousin. Abel. Miriam never told him, but somehow she envied him. He had a beautiful daughter, a great husband, and was drowned in their loves. She wanted that, but maybe she wasn't born to have her own family, after all, everyone who approached her always seemed to die.

The first was her father, Atticus, who had died in the army before she was even born. According to her mother, he had no intention of taking it on, for him Miriam had been an accident that he was unwilling to deal with, 'it was a one-night stand', he said. The second had been the death of Abel's mother, she wasn't particularly close to her aunt on her father's side, but still she felt the full brunt of the woman's death through her cousin. The third had been a young priest who taught her at boarding school, he was something close to a friend, he was the only one who showed the least bit compassionate to her, despite his dark personality, she respected him. Miriam remembers that one day, out of the blue, Father Romero collapsed lifeless in the middle of the classroom. No one seemed to understand what had happened, but the look of pure fear he had given her a thousandth before had been imprinted on her mind.

In her teens had been her grandmother, she was fifteen when she lost her, a woman of frighteningly unshakable faith and a strong pulse that she had come to love. Miriam felt torrid tears mingle with the running water that bathed her. Her mother's death was so short a time ago, she couldn't help but struggle. The first week, she couldn't even get past her mother's room. It had taken nearly a month for her to stop putting two places at the table daily.

A sudden sob made her gasp, her mind once again drowning in thought. Breathing heavily, she forced herself to choke back her tears and focus her mind on now. There was a real mess to be worked on, and she couldn't let her anxieties tie her to the past.

She ran her fingers through her hair, massaging her oily scalp and letting the shower wash away the remnants of her sadness. She was so tense and allowed herself to empty her head. Closing her eyes to clear her thoughts, the first thing that crossed her mind was the way Paul had caressed her hands, how big and warm they were, how strong. Miriam felt a rush of heat run down her abdomen at the thought. A malicious idea crept into her thoughts, and she wondered for a moment what it would be like to feel those hands gripping her thighs.

No, she broke off at the sensation. Opening her eyes and feeling a familiar pulse in the tops of her thighs, she sighed. Not that. Come on, he's a priest! The idea of fantasizing about someone who would be so close to her in her daily life was definitely not a great thought. Also, she was probably close to her period, which would certainly explain the ease with which she had been shaken by the image, and also the excessive anxiety and anguish she felt.

"No, I'm just tired, I need to sleep and forget about all this for now.", Miriam whispered to herself, finishing her shower and turning off the faucet, the cold metal against her hot palm sending a shiver over her skin.

With some caution, the young woman climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in her towel, the softness of the fabric against her breasts not helping her forget the soft throbbing below her venter. Firmly, she gripped the edges of the sink for support as she wiped her damp body. Setting the towel aside, she stared at her reflection in the mirror once more.

Her once-bleached cheeks had taken on a slight blush from the hot water and the other sensations the dark-haired priest was arousing. Her hair looked better, washed now. Miriam saw someone different from what she used to be, realizing it drew an exhausted sigh from her. A beat of absolute silence followed, only her breathing to accompany it.

A strong chill shivered on the back of her neck, that funny, disconcerting feeling you get when someone is watching, observing her movements. She felt watched, her brows knitting in slight confusion at the feeling as she glanced at the reflection in the window beside her. Miriam froze as her orbs caught a pair of glowing eyeballs glinting in the darkness. The reflection was beyond the window, among some bushes that spread out at the foot of the tall tree.

The eerily tall, shadowy figure moved like an animal interested in its next meal. That sank ice into the woman's guts. Without delay, she turned in a rush, closing the window and the curtains. There was definitely something very wrong, either with her or with this place.

Miriam felt her heartbeat in her ears. Her hands shook in disarray at her sides. Her lips parted on a shaky, trembling breath. She didn't take long to brush her teeth and get dressed after that. The woman felt her muscles tremble with each step she took towards the bedroom. As soon as she entered the room, she closed the door and took a deep breath, letting her heartbeat settle as well as her breathing. You really need sleep. Really, a voice in her mind whispered to her.

Turning off the lamplight, — after making sure the window was securely closed —, she lay down on her bed, her feet covered in white socks and her body warmed by her old pyjamas. The patchwork quilt she had covered herself with had an almost imperceptible scent of lavender and years of disuse.

For a time she clung to that scent, and how the moonlight made perpendicular patterns on the ceiling through the gaps in the curtain, achromatic and dancing patterns. It was not long before her tired mind delivered her into the arms of Morpheus to fall asleep soundly in the sleep of the righteous.

Taglist:

@stardustandgunpowder, @liesandghosts, @pruitts-tight-fucking-jeans, @un-kiss-de-breakfast, @girlwiththenegantattoo, @dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade, @sterwild, @thegardenarcher, @snapessecretdiary, @judarspeach, @novywhere, @hungrhay, @midnight-mess

If your name is striped, it’s because Tumblr don’t let me tag you for some reason. =(

Here's a Google form, where you can tell me where you want to be tagged.

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