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[archangeldyke-all]

hiii i had this idea stuck in my head all day, how about buying sev flowers just because, without any occasion and she doesn't know how to react? you can sprinkle some spice there pretty please

AWEEEEEEEE this is so SWEET

men and minors dni

as you strolled to the last drop like you always do on thursday evenings-- sevika gets fridays off so you like to walk her home after her last day of work, stop to buy her whatever she's craving on the way home, and spend the time catching up and chatting with your girl-- your eyes caught on a little cart on the side of the street.

flowers are rare in zaun, especially flowers that aren't meant to be smoked for various inebriating effects. there's hardly any sunlight in the undercity, hardly enough clean water for all the citizens, much less the flora and fauna. but, once in a while, someone will head up to the promenade, buy a whole bunch of flowers in bulk, and haul them back down to zaun to sell.

most often, people who visit the flower sellers of zaun are men trying to get back on their girls' good side, or people headed to funerals. you slow your pace to examine the colorful bunches of petals, smiling softly as your mind wanders, as it tends to, to your wife.

you wonder what kind of flowers are sevika's favorite. you wonder if she's seen enough flowers in her life to form an opinion. something sad settles over you, and you frown as it occurs to you that your wife's likely never been gifted flowers in her life.

well, that's all it takes for you to cross the street and pat down your pockets for a few spare coins.

"hello, beautiful!" the old lady behind the cart greets you. you smile.

"hello. i don't know much about flowers, but i'm looking for something for my wife?" you ask. "something sweet and small."

the woman grins, then reaches up and grabs a giant bouquet of red, pink, and white roses. you giggle.

"oh, no, i think that's a bit much. she might die of embarrassment if i give her those." you chuckle. the woman smiles.

"so she's got subtle taste?" she asks. you giggle and nod again. that's one way to put it. the old woman quickly gathers a few flowers from various bunches. she holds it up for you to examine. you smile.

"that's perfect. what flowers are these?" you ask, reaching out to hold the small bundle she's picked out for you. she smiles and reaches across the cart, pointing to each flower she's arranged.

"white tulips," she points to the two tall white flowers, "for a pure love." she moves her hand to the tiny five-petaled blue flowers with bright yellow centers. "forget-me-not's, their meaning is in their name." she explains, then she points to the the tallest flower, one singluar purple stalk. "this is lavender. it's symbolic for women like you and your wife." she looks you up and down, winking, and you realize she means gay people. you chuckle. "it'll also make the room you store these in smell fabulous. chop the stems at an angle when you get home, and then put 'em in fresh water with a little bit of sugar. keep 'em in a sunny spot--not too sunny though! they should last you a week." she says, quickly wrapping the stems in your fist up in a sweet white bow.

you grin and pass her three gold coins. she gasps.

"oh honey, this is only worth one!" she calls as you start walking toward the last drop again. you just giggle and wave her off.

"thank you miss!" you call, waving goodbye to her.

you're a little nervous to give the flowers to sevika, worried that she won't like them. but when she walks out of the front doors of the bar and sees you waiting across the street for her, she grins, and all your worries melt.

she wraps you up in a big hug, and you giggle. "hi baby." you mumble against her shoulder. she groans, kissing your scalp.

"it's so fuckin' good to see you." she mumbles.

you pull away to look up at her, pouting. "bad day?"

"horrible. c'mon, i want somethin' greasy and salty for dinner."

you laugh. "i got you somethin' that might cheer you up." you say. sevika raises a salacious eyebrow at you, and you burst into giggles. you're happy to see her permanent scowl melt a bit at the sound. "not that kinda surprise, baby." you snort.

then, you reveal the bouquet you'd been hiding behind your back, pushing it into sevika's hands. she blinks down at them, then up at you, then back down at the flowers. "...what?" she asks eventually. you giggle and kiss her cheek.

"i got you flowers!" you exclaim. she looks up at you, still confused.

"...did someone die?" she asks, and you can see her trying to mentally catalog all the people she knows. you snort, then gently smack her shoulder.

"sevika! can't a woman just buy her wife some flowers? no ulterior motives?" you ask.

sevika considers this like you've just asked her what the meaning of life is. she looks seriously confused. you're half adoring, half sad. you make a mental note to start buying your wife flowers any chance you see them. she needs to be spoiled more.

then, her face clears, and she looks up at you with a look she reserves for you and you only. reverent, vulnerable, and shaky. you pout, and reach up to cup her face in your hands. "just for me?" she asks. you smile and lean forward to kiss her.

"just for you, babe." you whisper against her lips.

sevika usually walks with her flesh hand in yours. tonight, though, she demotes you to her mech hand, so her flesh hand can gently cradle the bouquet against her chest.

you make a quick stop at jericho's to pick up some grub, and you have to bite back a smile at the looks regulars are throwing sevika as she gazes sweetly down at a small bundle of flowers in her hands.

when you get home, you insist that you be the one who trim and arrange them for sevika. she hovers over you as you do like you're going to crush them. you think it's adorable-- she's so attached to the things already, you're a little worried what's going to happen when they eventually die.

(you don't have to worry though. you end up pressing the flowers between some old encyclopedias, then framing them and hanging them on your wall. it's becomes a tradition, each time you buy sevika flowers-- which ends up being close to once a week-- you guys press and frame them together once they're close to wilting, to preserve the memory and love forever.)

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352

[multiplicationdivision]

Follow up to this story.

Joel, or rather Elias he guessed, looked down at his arms. The muscle pulsing beneath old tattoos, the memories of himself in conflict with each other over the varying shifting features that felt like him. Elias’s pale sickly skin warming with health and years of working out as it morphed into Joel’s.

It was bizarre having been one person and then suddenly not being that person anymore. Still caught in the inbetween of the transition. Joel and Elias ebbing and flowing in his head, the influence of Elias in him slowly being overcome by the flow of memories of an entire other life. The parts of him that could still be called Elias evaporating into oblivion.

Joel truly only felt like himself now, at home in a body that factually hadn’t been his minutes ago. He’d been Elias, mind and soul, mere moments ago. Thankfully smiling at the man that Joel could see in the water’s reflection, asking for the hundredth time if that man was fine with what they were doing.

The fragment of Elias that still lurked were nothing but a painful memory. Glimpses of guilt and depression stained by addiction, eating away at him as the years went on. Watching his own face become aged as the cocktail in his blood became more and more toxic with every day.

Joel studied his own choppy reflection in the lightly shifting water. Long gone was the body he could only faintly remember being his. Scrawny arms had bulked with the pleasant feeling of a fresh workout and the collections of Elias’s eclectic scars having sunk back into his skin, leaving it unmarred. A rough beard and mullet had retreated back into his head, leaving his face familiarly clean shaven and his hair undercut.

He’d remembered being Joel, shaving it that morning. Ruffling his hair in the mirror, satisfied in the way it rose and fell. Feeling out his muscles, glad with his progress. Remembered looking in the mirror at his own face, anxious and oddly excited at the coming day.

The Joel that was once Elias now had the same arms, at least for the most part. They were still stained by the collection that Elias had accumulated, their individual stories now lost to the man he’d become. Joel waited for them to twist into the familiar shapes that he’d collected over his own years, yet Elias’s seemed to remain.

Joel could hear his counterpart beside him, having surely watched transfixed throughout the whole process. Joel could remember until minutes ago, standing in that same position. Being that man until they’d diverged in body.

Joel, the original one, had came into work that day at the behest of his boss. Or rather, bosses. They’d been strange since the start, two identical men that identified themselves as Ashton, plural. He’d assumed they were just strange twins, having the oddest codependency or having been far too dedicated to fucking with Joel. He’d been hired in a disorienting interview, two identical voices randomly completing each other’s interrogations in perfect lockstep. He’d been hired and had decided to not question it, the two refusing any attempt by him to differentiate them.

He’d gotten his answer to the twins when they had become triplets one afternoon. One of the Ashtons had been dealing with an emotional middle aged man, distraught over how his life was ruined in some way or another. Something about gambling and debts. Joel only heard bits and pieces. Nonetheless, the situation had somehow changed, Ashton leaving the man to sit with a confident smirk as a look of pure dissociative desperation was shot back at him. Joel had sat watching as Ashton returned to where he and that man had been talking on the surf, a spare of his uniform in hand.

Joel had been horrified when the man started stripping, bare ass and dick out in the cool summer. Unable to look away as Ashton stood unfazed, Joel and him watching as the man awkwardly shrugged on Ashton’s uniform. The man’s body warping over a time that lasted a lifetime until he was the perfect reflection of Ashton, right down to that confident smile. They two clones had looked at where he sat and waved and Joel had ran.

It had taken a week before he got enough bravery to come back, receiving a lengthy explanation from three duplicates. Something about the qualities of the water and the first time it happened. More morally dubious stories of Ashton’s own experimentation on tourists, explaining the oddly heightened presence of twins around their beaches. All culminating with Ashton deciding to manipulate some poor man into becoming him, raising the count of himself to three.

Joel had called him a monster then, accusing Ashton of essentially murdering people. Erasing his victims into nonexistence and inflicting the horrors of duplicating someone else’s identity onto so many poor shmucks.

He’d been silenced when Ashton had kissed him, three bodies working in perfect unity to muffle his conscience. It had felt to good for Joel to continue voicing his horror, and everytime he’d tried to bring it up after that had merely prompted Ashton to love him again.

The idea of it still scared him. Imagining himself accidentally slipping on Ashton’s lake soaked uniform, feeling himself slip away as that horrible and handsome man overtook his soul. Feeling himself inevitably aroused at the idea of watching the same conversion again, repeating the memory of Ashton’s new triplet’s creation over and over again.

Joel had accepted against his logic and sense when Ashton had asked him for a favor.

Elias had had a terrible life up until this point. A combination of childhood traumas and financial ruin leaving the man only hanging on a million different vices to keep going. Some poor punk that Ashton had known his entire life, watching the guy get beat around again and again.

Elias had been living on Ashton’s couch when Ashton had first arrived home in duplicate. Had still been there when the third Ashton joined them, Ashton having confirmed the exact specifications that dictated how the conversion occurred. Ashton having supposedly offered his friend to become a fourth him, only to be rejected.

Joel could actually remember Elias’s reasoning for that. Ashton having been a precious piece in the punk’s life, a steady foundation that was always there. A man Elias knew to his complete depth. Exhaustingly workaholic and extroverted. Elias had laughed at how the Ashton’s would bicker and enjoy each other, but reeled at assimilating into such a dynamic.

So Ashton had asked Joel. Joel who Ashton believed was Elias’s embodiment of a wet dream, fit and self assured. Moral in all the apparently frustrating ways that Ashton found attractive. Joel who was steadfast in his healthy lifestyle, having been sober for years now.

Joel had said yes through his hesitation. Fueled by a sense of empathy for a Elias’s life that so clearly mirrored his own back in the day, before Joel himself battled alcoholism and won after so much painful hard work and therapy. Joel would have given anything to never go through that again, would have given anything for an easy way out at the time.

There was also that insidious heartpounding excitement at the idea. Days spent with three Ashtons surrounding him, loving him in every way he could imagine. Practically programming his brain into fixating on that duplication, imagining the ways that their odd dance would change with the addition of more partners. Feeling himself hard at the idea of another him, two Joels matching in body and clothes. Just like Ashton.

Joel knew he was even harder now, feeling the ghost of Elias’s own pleasure in becoming him laced over his own. He finally glanced back at his twin, nearly perfect reflections of the same man in the same beach clothes. Duplicates only differentiated by tattoos, Joel able to see the art that once painted him now marking the original. Existential horror merging with lust for that second body, also combined with the relief at his new state of being. Able to feel all these raw emotions without that haze of substance abuse and bone deep tiredness.

One of the Ashtons called from their equipment house, congratulating his boys whilst also yelling at them to get back to work. A man that was all too used to this situation, unsympathetic in letting them acclimate.

The Joels sent sympathetic glances at each other, sharing exasperation. Sharing everything.

The original Joel clasped his shoulder in camaraderie before they went back to work, leaving the crisis and everything pleasurably world shaking for the coming night.

They’d be able to truly explore their shared identity later.

Midjourney photo taken from post by @ricardolima

[sleepyfan-blog]

Nearly Taking Root

Author’s Note:  this is the second part of mer-Darsas fic! I have borrowed @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan ‘s boi Hura with permission for this fic

Previous.

Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel @whorety-k

Warnings: Body Horror, near-death experience, swearing, ask me to tag something if it bothers you

Summary: Darsas finds two little helpers in his garden and one of his dearest brothers comes for a visit.

Darsas hummed happily as he swum through the burgeoning garden of rot that he had been lovingly and patiently tending to for months now. The garden was small and fragile, but Darsas held out hope that with time, effort and the endless patience that Grandfather has taught him, the small space of decay will grow and become a -

“Ehehehe!”

The high-pitched giggle burbled around the diseased reef and through Darsas’ mind. A bright grin pulls at his lips - and the larger mouth that Grandfather had Gifted him on his lower torso purred out “I hear you little one! Won't you come play with me?”

“Who calls us? We hear! We want to play… Will you be nice?” Another voice chittered in his mind and through the water.

“I am Darsas Plagueweaver. Psyker of the Death Guard, humble grandson to the Lord of Rot.”  The space marine rumbled, not entirely surprised as two nurglings peered Up at him from the heart of the garden, where grew the Plague Rose vines. 

The deep green vines dripped with spores and bacteria from their black thorns, pulsing in time to his heartbeats, curled around his previous offerings. He had no willing cultists to feed the garden's heart, nor any worthy captives. But the larger aquatic mammals were sufficient for the task for now, and by the time he needed sentient sacrifices, Darsas Was certain he would have them.

After all, he had seen the baseline humans who regularly visited his gardens, taking samples of his efforts. Their curiosity was understandable, as was their weariness. Ancient Terra was incredibly difficult to create and maintain Works like this without much blood, sweat and tears. He hadn't approached them directly - but he planned to soon.

They definitely seemed like the types to meddle, and baselines though often enthusiastic needed a patient guiding hand to show them the path forwards. He was delighted to see the tiny deamon's faces. Their many sharp teeth and ever-shifting number of eyes as they swam out to meet him with wide grins and happy giggles.

“This world is… Not one we have been able to work in before. Grandfather is grateful that you would seek to bring his Love and Care. We bring you a bowl filled with His Soup, to fortify you. You're practically skin and bones. Our Grandfather would not have you fall into sleep and join him in the Warp too soon.” One of the Nurglings coos while the other cuts its’ belly, it's writhing intestines and brackish blood curled around the bowl of benediction.

Darsas kneels down as far as his large bulk would allow, lovingly patting both Nurgling's head, smiling as their tar-sticky skin clings in clumps to the fused ceramite-skin of his armor. “My thanks, to you both and our Grandfather.” with careful hands, he scoops up the small bowl and tipped it - bowl and boiling stew together - into his larger stomach-mouth.

A soft sigh of satisfaction leaves Darsas as the mind-numbing ravenous Hunger he had been unable to sate from the moment the first Rot Rose Vine began to grow in the heart of his garden. The ragged edges of exhaustion were lovingly removed from his mind and body, and the micro-tremors from how ragged he had been worn from working the hard-fired clay that the Warp felt in this time, on this world. Another dual smile and a deep, thrusting purr rumbled through Darsas as he scooped up both Nurglings, nuzzling them happily “Please send my deepest thanks to Grandfather. I feel much better now.”

“We are here to help! Many souls live on this world, just waiting for Grandfather to embrace them. There are many diseases and parasites that could be empowered with Grandfather's blessings… Many souls in agony, on the brink of fearful oblivion and in need of the gifts that he can give to those loyal grandchildren who follow in his footsteps.” one of the nurglings chirruped happily.

“Oh I know, but I do not move quickly over land. Through the air and in the water, yes. And the mortals here shy away from me, as they fear my visage.” Darsas pointed out with a regretful sigh. He was large for a Chaos astartes and had long since fused with his armor, which was more akin to his skin than anything else.

The scent of putrid Rot and decay followed Darsas wherever he went, the scent strong enough to nauseated most mortals who got within thirty feet of him. The spikes on his armor and the way his fins could stretch and Warp to suit his needs bothered many of his cousin astartes as well, if the low-level headache one of the lingering blessings of Nurgle didn't drive them away. It wasn't as if Darsas could help to be the way that Grandfather had altered his body and psychic gifts to be of better service.

And serve Darsas did, the memories of Father's long years of defiance and horror as he and his brothers were… Made examples to The Reaper, of why defying Grandfather was the height of foolishness. But that had been long, long ago and whatever his initial feelings on Back Then had long since faded.

“Worry not, Darsas! For we can alter our forms to be able to move quickly over land, and to mortals we will look pleasing to their eyes unless we choose not to!” The healing nurgling burbled up at him happily. 

Darsas beamed and gently patted the injured nurgling, setting it back down within the Heart of the Garden, allowing the vines to wrap around his body, it’s thorns sinking deeply into his flesh, as it drank his blood.

“Darsas?” One of his nearest and dearest Brothers called out.

“Over here, Hura.” Darsas called out over vox, his voice weakening as the thorny vines constricted further around his body. Grandfather’s stew kept the pain away, and it the pressure felt pleasant as the blood loss made him feel floaty. Shadows were starting to lengthen and deepen as the Apothecary came into view. Why was the other horrified? Darsas was fine, really, and the Nurglings giggled and clapped delightedly, dancing at where his tail touched the decaying reef. The sweet relief of sleep was incredibly tempting. “I’m… So tired, Hura…  Been working on this garden all by myself… Younglings all wandered off.”

Hura was frowning for once, and the usual smile on his face was missing. He was… Cursing? Angrily as he hacked and slashed at something with his power sword. “Oh absolutely fucking not, Grandfather damn it all, Darsas why didn’t you tell me that you had a Hungry Plague Heart that needed feeding? I would have been able to procure for you an appropriate sacrifice. You didn’t need to pull something like this.”

“Huuuuraaa stop being maaad! Grandfather gifted me a bowl of Soup… I feel great.” Darsas murmured, feeling something leafy and verdant on the back of his tongue, for reasons he couldn’t begin to guess. “Look! Hura! Nurglings!” He pointed at the two little ones who’d scrambled behind him, peering up at Hura, their faces shifting.

“He is hurting the heart! We must stop him!” One nurgling cried out, frightened.

The injured one rushed at the Apothecary, trying to grab at the other’s tail “Stop it! Stop it! We were going to play a game and you’re ruining it! Stop iiiit!” They begged.

Hura glanced down at the Nurgling pawing at his tail and sent the tiny demon flying into a large sandstone rock, the force with which the Apothecary had used enough to cause the little demon to splatter into a puff of warp-energy and necrotic rock. “I will not let you take my brother from me. It is not his time yet to join Grandfather.”

The other nurgling whimpered and looked up pleadingly at Darsas “Please help me! Why is your friend being so mean? I thought he would be nice, like you.”

“He is nice. I don’t know why Hura is being so strange… ‘Urrie, you need to calm down. ‘M fiiine! I promise.” Darsas reassured the very unhappy apothecary, reaching out a shaking hand to cup Hura’s face, to get his attention.

“You really aren’t, Darsas. I was worried when our brothers mentioned that you’d been withdrawing from them. I didn’t think you’d pull something like this. Sar. You stop fussing and let me do what I must.” Hura growled - actually growled - at him.

Genuinely stunned and taken aback, Darsas obediently kept still, unable to process the frantic pleading of the remaining nurgling - who’d gotten sliced in half by a stray swing of Hura’s blade when it tried to step between Darsas and the irate apothecary.

Eventually, Hura sheathed the blade and pulled Darsas into his arms, still growling softly. “Don’t you dare fall asleep until I tell you to. I will wake you up if you do.”

“No… Promises. I’m so tired, ‘Urrie.” Darsas mumbled as the darkness took him.

[balkanradfem]

So, you've all probably seen my tablecloth, it's orange and old-timey and looks very homesteady and I like it a lot, I got it from a roommate who was throwing stuff out and immediately liked the vibe of it.

(My old tablecloth 2 years ago when it was still somewhat clean, with my foraged stuff and rose water on it.)

However, that thing has been sitting on my table for 3 years now, and I'm bored with it and I want a green tablecloth. I've been vaguely considering getting one at a second-hand shop, but now with the change of currency to euro, they've increased all their prices, so I've decided against it.

Instead, I'm going to make a patchwork tablecloth.

I've rumbled thru my stash of 'clothes that is to be used for sewing material' and dragged out all of the green fabrics that weren't stretchy or transparent, I also decided to add in a bit of red for contrast, and white because I'm suspecting that I don't have enough green to make a purely green one. Then I sampled all of the colors and made a design in Excel (because I've seen that one post saying excel is good for pattern making; it is!):

I've spent the first day of making it mostly just cutting out the rectangles and figuring out how much of each do I have, and how big I can make it. I decided I hate cutting fabric and this was the most boring part of the process. I also proved not to be very handy with scissors, I've accidentally cut thru a rectangle while cutting out another one. I thought it was funny, then I quickly mended the damaged one, and added a little yellow circle and did something embroidery-like, that made it a special rectangle:

It even got a prominent spot in the tablecloth!

Here's how it looked when I was done cutting and arranging the bits:

Sewing the rectangles to each other was way more exciting! I was doing it by hand because I do not own a sewing machine and I'm not particularly interested in getting one, I've became pretty fast with hand sewing, and was able to put it all together within like, afternoon and a half. Here's some of the process:

I've also realized in the process, that my table is not a square, and that it was unclear why I made the design square, so I changed it into a rectangle while sewing it together:

And you can see the end of my sewing process – it's complete!

So I knew if I made it this way, the patches would make the fabric bulk up at the edges, I've seen in tutorials that people can make patchwork smooth only if they're sewing it on another piece of cloth, but. I figured I would borrow an iron and iron down all of the seams on the other side, so they would lie flat against the cloth.

However, as soon as I've started on that mission, I realized, that ironing seams is actual hell on earth that nobody should go thru for any kind of reason, it was taking me full 5 minutes to straighten just one seam because it kept falling out of place and wrinkling, and that's when I threw the entire idea into the garbage and just ironed the tablecloth on the right side and called it a day.

And it's so pretty! I love it on the table! See without ironing vs clumsily ironed:

Oh and I am NOT hemming this thing. Unless I'm like, really bored one day and don't have any food to forage or process. Which is unlikely. That's for the people with the sewing machine. I'm okay with the messy edges.

I think it's super pretty though! It reminds me of abstract art for some reason, I think I accidentally used a lot of colors that were used in that style, but that's fine. It would be prettier if it had more green but I'm already cheered up every time I enter the kitchen and see that my table is 70% green! It's also completely clean and crisp and it feels incredibly fancy after having a stained one that could no longer be washed.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

My Grandmother Janet

*

Janet was a renowned cook and baker. Her yeasted rolls are one of life's marvelous moments of pure perfection. I still remember the look and smell of her kitchen when she got down to the business of baking.

RICH ROLLS

Milk [scalded] 1 cup Shortening [part or all butter] 1/3 cup Sugar 1/2 cup Salt 1 1/2 tsp. Yeast 2 cakes Water [lukewarm] 1/4 cup All Purpose Flour [sifted] about 5 cups Eggs beaten [2]

Combine scalded milk, shortening, sugar and salt. Cool to lukewarm. Soften yeast in lukewarm water and combine with cooled milk mixture; add about 1/2 the flour.

Add the beaten eggs, flour to make a soft dough. Mix thoroughly. Turn out on a lightly floured board and knead about 10 minutes or until smooth and satiny. Put dough in a warm greased bowl and brush with melted butter. Cover and let rise until doubled in bulk. Shape into rolls. Let rise until doubled in bulk and bake in moderate oven. [375]

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Now you know the secret of the best yeasted roll that you will ever eat. Hint for success. Follow the recipe EXACTLY. My daughter-in-law made these, following to the letter vs me, who was a little loose with the facts. Hers were better and rose higher. A Word to the Wise.

[This is from my recipe blog "Continual Feasts" where I share my favorite recipes]

[fanficsfreeideas]

alastorshippermonth day 19 Disney replace it with 3. hot springs/ hiking

alastorshippermonth day 19 Disney replace it with 3. hot springs/ hiking - ship Mammon/Alastor

Alastor basked in the warmth of the hot spring as the steam rose around him like a veil. The water enveloped his body, soothing away the tension that always seemed to cling to him. He leaned back, his antlers barely poking out above the surface, and for once, his ever-present grin softened into an expression of pure relaxation. This moment of stillness and peace was a rare treat for him, where chaos reigned supreme in his life. Alastor closed his eyes and allowed himself to fully embrace the tranquility—the gentle sound of water lapping against his skin and the soft rustling of leaves in the nearby trees. But just as he was fully in this moment of quiet, Mammon appeared.

The sound of Alastor's heartbeat echoed in his ears, each thump growing louder and faster as his crimson eyes landed on the imposing figure stepping into the water. Mammon, the King of Greed, was larger than life in every sense. His massive frame exuded power and indulgence, his pale skin glistening with a sheen of sweat that seemed to accentuate every curve and line of his body. Every inch of him seemed to embody his sin, from the way he moved with effortless confidence to the way he eyed Alastor with a hint of intrigue.

Alastor felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched Mammon's bulk create ripples in the water, almost like they were obeying his command. The thought sent a thrill through him that was both exhilarating and terrifying. He couldn't deny the desire that flooded through him at the sight of Mammon, imagining what it would feel like to run his hands over those generous curves and press against that glorious expanse of indulgence. His nipples hardened at the thought, but he quickly shook his head to clear it, muttering under his breath to stop himself from getting lost in these thoughts.

But even as he scolded himself for being foolish, his eyes continued to flick back to Mammon's form. The water only seemed to highlight every fold and curve, making it impossible to look away. Alastor tried to remind himself that he was the Radio Demon, not some lovesick fool, but deep down he knew that was exactly what he was becoming. It didn't help that Mammon had noticed him now, their eyes meeting in a charged moment. Alastor hoped against hope that the king wouldn't notice that he was a woman. But as they stood there, locked in a silent exchange, Alastor couldn't tear his gaze away from Mammon's imposing form.

Mammon's golden eyes gleamed with mischievous delight as he waded closer, the water barely concealing the fullness of his figure. “Oi, if it isn’t Charlie’s little radio mate,” Mammon drawled, his Aussie accent wrapping itself around every syllable like honey. “What’re ya doin’, takin’ a soak all by yer lonesome, eh?” His golden eyes sparkled with mischief, the grin splitting his face both predatory and playful. Alastor's breath hitched at the sight of the powerful sin before him. He struggled to find words, but all that escaped was a faint, strangled noise as Mammon drew near. “Yer starin’, deer,” Mammon said with a smirk, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Not that I mind. A bit of admiration never hurt anyone.” He leaned in, the gold in his eyes sparking with amusement. “But you might wanna be careful. That look in your eyes," Mammon said, his voice dropping to a low rumble that sent shivers down Alastor's spine. "Y'know the one. Like where a starving man eyein' their first feast in ages. Mammon thought to himself it had been a while since someone had looked at him with such lust and desire.

“I—I most certainly am not!” Alastor snapped, though the quiver in his voice betrayed him. He tried to look away. A deep chuckle rumbled from Mammon's chest, his laughter rich and smooth like honey. It was a sound that could charm anyone, and it sent shivers down Alastor's spine. Mammon's hand shot out, tilting his chin up with a firm yet surprisingly gentle touch as he spoke. “Now, now, no need to get all bashful on me,” Mammon murmured, his grin softening as his thumb brushed Alastor’s cheek. “Ain’t often I find a sinner this entertaining. ” And you?” He leaned in close, his breath warm against Alastor’s ear. “You’re bloody fascinating’, mate.”He tried to move away, but Mammon's large hand rested firmly on his shoulder, keeping him in place.

"Don't go runnin' off like a frightened fawn," Mammon murmured, his grin softening just slightly. His eyes held a hint of lust, but there was also something gentler lurking within them. "It's not every day I come across someone worth my time, little deer. And you?" He leaned in closer, his breath hot against Alastor's ear. "You're bloody worth my time." Mammon thought to himself, having sex wasn’t something he often indulged in, but the sight of Alastor's cute face made him want to take him right then and there in this hot spring.

Alastor's mind raced as every instinct screamed at him to flee before he made a mistake. He couldn’t let Mammon know he was a woman. But he couldn’t move; he was entranced by Mammon's presence. Mammon’s touch was igniting a fire within him, and the heat of the spring paled in comparison to the heat between them. His body was coming alive as his nipples hardened painfully. Without realizing it, Alastor began to twitch and moan under Mammon's touching his ears.

"I see that little twitch of yours," Mammon teased, his voice low and intimate. "No point in hidin' it, mate. You want this just as much as I do; those moans of yours are a dead giveaway." His words were like a siren's call, and Alastor couldn’t resist any longer. With a slight flick of his tongue, he moaned again, giving in to the pleasure that Mammon was offering him.

Alastor’s resolve crumbled. He could no longer deny what he felt—the pull, the need, the sheer allure of Mammon’s form. Alastor leans over the rock in the hot spring. He looked over at Mammon. His voice came out in a whisper, trembling with surrender. “Take me, my King of Greed; I’m yours.” Fuck it, thought Alastor; she wants this more than tricking sinners.

Mammon’s smirk widened. He placed his hands firmly on the rock, his weight starting to press Alastor against it. The smaller demon let out a soft moan, the sensation of Mammon’s sheer presence overwhelming her. The water splashed softly around them, their shared heat mingling with the steamy air.

“That’s more like it, little deer,” Mammon purred, his deep voice sending delicious shivers through Alastor's body. At that moment she had surrendered to the very desires she had suppressed for so long. When Mammon's hand moved in closer to play with Alastor, his eyes widened with excitement, and a mischievous smirk played on his lips. It was clear that his "little deer" was a doe. Mammon's breath tickled Alastor's ear as he whispered, "It seems my cute buck is just a very cute doe." “What else are you hiding, my little deer?” Alastor let out a gasp as Mammon trailed a thick finger along her sensitive folds, igniting waves of pleasure throughout her body. She couldn't help but cry out, craving more of Mammon's touch.

With a low chuckle, Mammon teased, "I’ll only give it to ya if you tell me what else you’re hidin’." Alastor shivered as Mammon continued to tease her with gentle touches. Suddenly, he slid a thumb inside Alastor’s folds, causing her to cry out once more. Through heavy breaths and moans of pleasure, Alastor finally revealed, “I’m Furfur's daughter.” Each time Mammon softly petted her, Alastor couldn't contain her gasps and moans.

And then she added while fighting back a moan, “I enjoy playing tricks on sinners, Mammon; add another finger in his little deer that sent a wave of pleasure throughout her body. Please, Mammon, take me.” The anticipation and desire were too much for Alastor to handle any longer; she moaned out in desperation for Mammon's touch, for his cock.

Mammon’s grin was wicked as he watched his cute little doe beg for him, her eyes wide with need and desire. His fingers moved slowly and deliberately over her slick folds, slipping inside to tease her before he hoisted her up onto the rock. Leaning in close to her ear, his voice low and seductive. “My sweet little deer, I’ll give it to ya all bloody night long.” Alastor let out a loud bleat as Mammon curled his fingers inside her, then slipped them out to give her pussy a sharp slap before plunging them back in. The sensation made her arch, her chest rubbing against the rough surface of the rock.

“That’s it, little deer, take my fingers,” Mammon growled, his voice husky with desire. “Your cunt’s starving for it, ain’t it? Beg for my cock, you naughty little doe. Goin’ around playin’ tricks—should I punish your pussy for bein’ so cheeky?” Alastor whimpered, her eyes squeezing shut as Mammon pulled his fingers out only to caress her ass before sliding them back to tease her trembling folds. Her voice was barely a whisper, desperate and pleading. “Mammon, please…”

“Please what, little deer?” he murmured against her ear, his breath hot and teasing. His tongue flicked out to give it a playful lick, making her shiver uncontrollably. She gasped and panted with every stroke of his fingers over her sensitive flesh, each time he pushed them back inside her heat. “Punish my pussy,” Alastor moaned, her voice trembling with pleasure. “I’ve been bad.”

Mammon chuckled darkly, his grin widening. “Too bloody right, ya have, my little doe.” Without warning, he withdrew his fingers and delivered a sharp slap to her pussy, the impact making her body jolt against the rock. The mix of pain and pleasure sent her spiraling, a strangled cry tearing from her lips as she climaxed, her body trembling beneath his touch. As her high began to ebb, Mammon leaned in, his tone taunting yet dripping with sinful allure. “What d’ya think, little deer? Wanna taste my cock?”

Alastor’s eyes fluttered open, her breath catching as they landed on his impressive size. She licked her lips instinctively, her body already burning with anticipation. Without a word, she slid down from the rock, positioning herself on his cock. A loud bleat of pleasure escaped her lips as just half his cock made her feel full. Mammon’s hands gripped her hips firmly, holding her in place as he began to thrust with raw, primal intensity. “That’s it, little deer,” he growled, his accent thick and rough. “Take it. Let’s see how much of me ya can handle.”

Lucifer strolled along the edge of the hot spring, enjoying the peaceful sounds of nature. But his peace was soon interrupted by unexpected noises filling the air. Amidst the sound of splashing water, he heard the bleating cries of what sounded like a distressed deer mixed with Mammon's familiar voice—low and teasing. "Little deer, you like that? I've still got more to give you," Lucifer could hear Mammon's deep chuckle as he spoke, followed by soft bleats from another voice.

Curiosity sparked in Lucifer's mind, and he couldn't resist investigating. He moved closer to the source, careful not to reveal his presence. As he reached the edge of the hot spring, he couldn't help but pause at the sight before him—Mammon pinning a dazed and blissfully compliant Alastor against a rock. Alastor's red hair bounced with every thrust from Mammon, and each movement was met with a soft bleat from Alastor. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much for Lucifer, and he couldn't hold back his laughter. Mammon had Alastor pinned down with his stomach while his hands wrapped around both of Alastor's legs, pulling them apart. But thankfully for Lucifer, the view was obscured by the water, leaving only enough for him to see what his brother was doing to the bellhop.

Shaking his head and chuckling, Lucifer walked away with a knowing smirk on his face. "I knew it," he muttered to himself. "The bellhop is a chubby chaser, and he's got the hots for his brother." He continued to whistle cheerfully as he heard bleats and grunts echoing behind him in the night. "Looks like Husk and Angel lost their bet," Lucifer declared triumphantly as he spun around. "They owe me $200 each." He couldn't help but notice the way the bellhop was eyeing Mammon like he wanted to devour him, more than once, in the past week.

The next morning, Alastor shuffled into the dining room, his usually composed demeanor betrayed by his unsteady gait. The events of the previous night at the hot springs—and later, in Mammon’s quarters—had left their mark. Mammon hadn’t stopped, even after they’d returned. He’d taken Alastor again and again until she barely managed two or three hours of sleep. Now, she felt an ache, a gnawing emptiness where Mammon’s intoxicating presence had been. Angel was the first to notice, leaning forward at the table with a smirk and oversized sunglasses perched on his nose. “Smiles, I know that walk when I see it. Spill it—who fucked you so good you can’t even stand straight?”

Alastor’s grin stretched tight and brittle, his composure cracking for only a moment. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my dear,” he said, his voice almost as smooth as usual. “I merely... slipped on the way here. The roads of Hell can be treacherous, you know.” Husk snorted into his drink. “Slipped? More like you got rammed.” Angel howled with laughter, clutching his stomach. “Rammed! Oh, that’s rich! You’ve gotta tell us who did it.”

Before Alastor could muster a retort, the dining room doors swung open, and in sauntered Mammon. His hulking frame and commanding presence drew all eyes immediately. His grin was infuriatingly smug. “Mornin’, little deer,” he greeted his voice a low rumble as he leaned against the table. “You sleep alright? Didn’t wear ya out too much, did I?” He winked before adding with a lazy smirk, “So, wanna meet up next week? Or better yet—why not just come home with me? Save us both the trouble. I wouldn’t mind keepin’ ya all to myself.”

From his corner, Lucifer, sipping his morning coffee, choked and spit it across the table. “WHAT?” he exclaimed, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. His eyes flicked between his brother and the bellhop. “Mammon, you can’t just—” he sputtered, gesturing wildly, take a sinner from Pride! “And—Alastor can’t be that good.” His gaze flicked to Alastor. “I can understand a one-night stand, but seriously? The bellhop?" Alastor growled, his crimson eyes narrowing into slits. “Fuck you, sire.”

Mammon, unbothered, smirked as he leaned closer to Alastor. “You’re just jealous, Lucy,” he drawled. “My little deer wouldn’t let ya near his sweet hole even if ya begged him.” His grin widened as he added, “Not everyone can handle him. He winked at Alastor, then turned back to Lucifer. “Unlike you, I’ve got everything he wants.”

Alastor crossed his arms; his smirk was sly as he leaned into Mammon’s side. “That’s true, sire. The King of Greed was made just for me. He does things to me—things that make me want him to hold me, kiss me...” He trailed off, clearly enjoying the growing tension. Angel slapped the table as he howled with laughter. Husk groaned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a thick wad of cash. Sliding it across the table to Lucifer, Husk muttered, “Here you go. Four hundred bucks. Enjoy.”

Lucifer grabbed the money, glaring at his brother. “I’m not jealous,” he snapped, scowling at Mammon. “You can have the asshole." His gaze flicked to Alastor; Lucifer finally saw it. Alastor had a cute face. He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Mammon I truly can understand a one-night stand because the bellhop is cute, but this? You’re out of your mind.” Mammon grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos, and draped a possessive arm over Alastor’s shoulder. “Admit it, Lucy. You’re green with envy ‘cause my little deer’s got the best of both worlds: brains and a body that’s now all mine.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, scoffing, Mammon, the only reason Alastor likes you is because of how large you are.” "I’m just glad sinners can’t get pregnant. And Alastor’s a man.”At least you can't get him pregnant." Mammon and Alastor both grinned, clearly reveling in the situation.

Alastor smirked, his voice sharp and mocking. “I hope that cash keeps you warm at night, sire. I know Lilith isn’t there to do it for you.” Mammon smirked before saying, "Lucifer I know something about Alastor that you don't know." Lucifer groaned, rubbing his temples. “Oh, my wings—what now? That he’s great at swallowing? Fine, whatever. You want to take him home; be my guest. You’re both deranged and honestly, you deserve each other.”

Mammon chuckled, “Damn right, we are.” He pulled Alastor closer, whispering something into the smaller demon’s ear that made his cheeks flush deeper. Lucifer turned on his heel, muttering to himself as he walked away. “Hell really is going to shit,” Lucifer grumbled, shaking his head. Behind him, Angel and Husk exchanged a glance, while Mammon and Alastor remained locked in their own little world. A Year Later in Hell

Hell buzzed with excitement and gossip. The Radio Demon, Alastor, had been revealed to be Furfur’s daughter—a Hellborn noble who had hidden her true identity for years. Standing proudly beside her was Mammon, the King of Greed, as they introduced their newborn fawn to the public. Cameras flashed wildly, capturing the historic moment.

Nearby, Furfur glowered, his piercing eyes locked on Mammon like daggers. Rumors swirled that Furfur had threatened to take Mammon to court over his “one and only daughter” and first grandchild unless Mammon agreed to marry her. The mere suggestion had nearly sent Mammon spiraling into a full-blown meltdown, though five of the sins had eventually stepped in to mediate the situation. Alastor, cradling her fawn, had attempted to soothe her father. “Dad this isn’t necessary,” But Furfur, with his pride and indignation fully aflame, would not be dissuaded. “Alastor—it’s about respect!” he had barked, pacing furiously.

Meanwhile, Lucifer, who had been preoccupied with helping Charlie manage the hotel, had been oblivious to the entire ordeal—until now. When he arrived at the announcement event, he immediately spotted Alastor with a baby nestled in her arms, standing beside Mammon. His composure shattered in an instant. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped as he stumbled forward. "How?" he murmured, his voice barely audible over a whisper. “How is this possible?!”

Mammon turned to face his brother, an infuriatingly smug grin plastered on his face. “How? By having sex, Lucy—what, you need a diagram or something? I came inside her while she did the rest—growin’ it, poppin’ it out. You should know how makin’ kids work; ya got one of your own, after all, he said shamelessly."

Alastor let out a long, exasperated sigh, rolling her crimson eyes. “Mammon, do try to act with some decorum,” she snapped before turning to Lucifer. “Sire, Mammon, and I are getting married in three months. Do bring Charlie with you. Since you’ve never bothered to attend any meetings or the discussions between my father and Mammon, the least you can do is show up to your brother’s wedding.” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “Not that I particularly want you there. I’d much rather have Charlie. But we don’t always get what we want, now do we?” Before Lucifer could respond, Alastor turned on her heel, clutching her fawn close, and began to walk away.

Lucifer blinked, still processing the scene before him. His brain struggled to catch up. “A baby?!” he spluttered, running a hand through his hair. “You’re telling me you made a baby with Alastor?” His voice rose in pitch, cracking slightly. “Hell is doomed.”

Mammon slapped Lucifer on the back with enough force to make Lucifer stumble. “Cheer up, brother!” he said with a booming laugh. “I’ve got even better news for ya. Alastor and I talked it over, and you, Lucy, get to babysit our little fawn while we’re off on our honeymoon. A whole week with your nephew.” Lucifer’s expression shifted from horror to outright disbelief. “Babysit?” he echoed. He looked like he might faint.

Mammon’s grin widened. “Oh, and there’s more. We gave him your name for his middle name—well, sorta. His middle name’s Luci. Fittin’, right? After all, it’s thanks to you I even met my lovely little deer in the first place.”

For a moment, Lucifer froze, utterly dumbfounded. Lucifer blinked as the weight of Mammon’s words slowly sank in. A baby. He was an uncle. A grin began to tug at the corners of his mouth before spreading into a mischievous, gleeful expression. Without a word, he spun on his heel and marched off, his movements practically bouncing. “I’m an uncle!” he exclaimed to no one in particular, his voice rising with excitement. “I’m finally an uncle! And his middle name is after me!” He started whistling a jaunty tune before breaking into a triumphant sing-song. “Uncle Lucifer’s got a nephew, and his name is Luci~!”

Watching from a distance, Alastor’s glare landed squarely on Mammon. “I told you I didn’t like giving our fawn any part of Lucifer’s name,” she said through gritted teeth. “Even if it’s just his middle name.” Mammon chuckled, entirely unbothered as he leaned closer to Alastor. “Aw, come on, little deer. Look at him. He’s ecstatic. A happy Lucifer’s a helluva lot more fun to deal with than a sour one. Trust me—it’ll pay off in the long run. Just wait and see.”

Alastor sighed, clutching their fawn protectively. Her crimson eyes softened as she gazed at her child. “Fine,” she said softly, though her tone still carried a tinge of resignation. “I trust you.” Mammon grinned and planted a kiss on Alastor’s forehead. “That’s my doe,” he murmured, his golden eyes gleaming with affection as he wrapped an arm around her. Lucifer’s gleeful voice echoed faintly as he celebrated his newfound title. “Uncle Lucifer has a nephew, and his name is Luci~!”

[everythingfiction13]

Kuvira is evil in this version, no redemption arc:

Final battle, shortly after the Colossus has been taken down, Hiroshi is killed and before Kuvira's escape to the Wilds.

None of them could have anticipated the next events, try as they may. Korra pulled herself up from the rubbles, aches overtaking her so much that it felt as if every limb in her body was about to fall off. She groaned, a sharp stab pulsing through her right side, stumbled down from a bulk of concrete from building that had collapsed as Kuvira's mech imploded.

Ash and dust rose all around them, yet a quick flick of her hand, she airbent it away to the sound of coughing. A couple of feet away from her, Kuvira, too, was getting her bearings together.

"It's over, Kuvira!" Korra took the last leg of her descent rather unceremoniously. It didn't matter. "Give up, and we can still sort this out."

"Never!"

Despite the obvious blackening of her eye, her hard gait and shallow breathing, Kuvira summoned a great bout of earth just under Korra's feet. The latter saw it coming, and with as much grace as her own agonies permitted her, she swiveled away from the crumbling ground, taking to the skies. With a great swish of air, she blew gentle blades towards the Great Uniter - enough to knock the winds out of her, but not harm her.

Kuvira dodged, but the Avatar's last attempt had her stumbling back a couple of feet.

"Stand down! Please!"

Kuvira snigger was near unbearable, the kind that made teeth clatter. "Whatever happened to the great Avatar? Disappearing for years, returns only to beg?" Another round of metal this time hurled at Korra. She deflected them as easy as she breathed.

"Kuvira, there are no winners in a war! This is pointless!"

A swath of rocks blanketed Korra's space, relentless and merciless, and somehow, by pure skill, she managed to avoid the onslaught. The air beside her swooshed as she spun mid-air, a particular stone coming a bit too close for comfort.

"Kuvira, that's enough!"

The Great Uniter stilled for half a second at the familiar voice, enough to have Korra hurling a water torpedo her ways. Suyin pressed forward as well, bending metal all around her in a protective stance. Somehow, the others had managed to gather around, bruised, and battered yet alive. Korra did not have the time to ponder on that thought, her water deflected by a slab of earth that aimed to smash the life out of her.

For a hot second, it seemed that Kuvira had won, succeeded in her effort to kill the Avatar.

From the space on the ground, Korra groaned, a heavy weight crushing her with arms wrapped around her head, warm air ruffling the hair on her neck. Asami trembled against her. She pushed herself upwards and supported herself on her arms, enough for Korra to notice the soot and dirt on her usually pristine face. There were clean streaks, too, but that was for later.

"Just in time," Korra breathed.

The others barraged Kuvira with their elements, giving her little time to react were she not who she was. Su had trained her well. Even with her army circling around them, they were not wholeheartedly at a disadvantage. Team Avatar worked in motion, each pulling from the other's element, thrusting jabs of air, earth, water, fire, and metal with practiced ease. They had seen each other bending before, trained together at times, and their bond was strong, old and young, an insurmountable force to be reckoned with.

Getting back on their feet, Korra and Asami rejoined the fight, the CEO's electric glove sizzling to life. To anyone who did not know Asami, it would have seemed ludicrous that a non-bender would charge in against one of the most powerful benders around, but Korra had seen Asami in a fight. Powers or not, she was a formidable foe.

It seemed as though they were winning, seemed as if this whole thing could be well and over with in a matter of seconds, but then the earth shook in a terrible roar, and the cornered animal raged with unforseen anger. Kuvira's raised arms brought up with it the whole of the surrounding area, forcing a hurried retreat from everyone.

Stumbling on her feet, Asami yelped, crashed to her knees were it not for Korra hanging on to her.

"Hold on tight!"

Korra kicked them upwards, a swirl of air twirling under them the higher up Kuvira went. Yet, her eyes landed on them, and with a simple fisted hand, broke through the mound she's created.

"The Earth Kingdom will be safe again, Avatar! And there is nothing you can do about it!"

Korra weaved them past the flying rocks, spinning and turning to a dizzying speed. But a slab found its mark. Asami slipped from Korra's grip, a soundless scream billowing from her parted lips, hand outstretched as it had moments ago with her dad.

"NO!"

With a terrible punch to the wind, Korra burst it forth and towards her best friend. The air knocked her ever backward, yet towards the airbenders. Asami was brought back soundly to the ground, disheveled, but otherwise unscathed.

"KUVIRA!" The Avatar's roar was terrifying. Eyes glowing that brilliant shade of white, Korra threw herself forward, throwing to the wind all of her previous want for peace. This had to end.

Crashing into the Great Uniter, they stumbled down towards the ground, the rocks Kuvira had summoned bent away by those on the ground. Never before had Korra ever been thankful to have so many earthbenders with her than now. Dust swerved where they crashed, covering them from view.

Asami ran forward much to Lin's futile warning, ran like a madwoman towards where Korra was most certainly lying. This could not be happening again. Not again.

"Korra? Korra!"

No answer. The air was near impossible to breathe, but Asami did not let up. "Korra!"

Asami turned on her feet at the sharp sound of metal. A few feet away from her, Korra's back was turned against the Great Uniter.

Asami screamed as Korra turned just as the metal knives flew towards their target, piercing through the faux-leather jacket. The heiress slumped in the Avatar's arms, blood gushing out from around the weapons latched in her chest.

"Asa...no, no, no, no...Sami..."

They crumbled to the ground in a heap, the movement exerting Asami's shallow breathing. Her face had grown paler than it usually was, an expression of pain curling her pristine lips. Lines dotted her forehead, her hand finding Korra's arm for support, yet her grip weak, barely a hold.

"What have you done? Oh, Sami, why...?"

Somewhere next to them, someone cursed, earth was bent, fire was breathed to life, and the Great Uniter was knocked unconscious. But Korra didn't care. Korra didn't care.

"Asami..."

"It's...it's...okay..." Tears spilled from her eyes, leaving a somewhat clear trail on the side of her face. "It's okay..."

Korra vehemently shook her head. How could it be okay? "I'll fix you. Kya will fix you. You just have to hold on. Hold on, Sami."

The latter tried to nod, but the movement, imperceptible as it was, illicited a pained gasp. Her emerald eyes rounded from it, fingers latching to Korra's armband.

"KYA!"

"Not here, Korra." The latter had no idea when the waterbending master had skidded to her. She spewed out orders, the others all too ready to comply. "The temple. She needs Spirit Water."

Korra simply nodded. With every fiber in her body, calling upon whatever strength she had left, Korra hoisted Asami in her arms. The heiress's eyes closed, her arm falling from her chest.

Author note:

Let me know if y'all want more😬

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

* * * *

My Grandmother Janet was a devoted cook and baker. Her yeasted rolls are one of life’s marvelous moments of pure perfection. I still remember the look and smell of her kitchen when she got down to the business of baking.

RICH ROLLS

Milk [scalded] 1 cup Shortening [part or all butter] 1/3 cup Sugar ½ cup Salt 1 ½ tsp. Yeast 2 cakes Water [lukewarm] ¼ cup All Purpose Flour [sifted] about 5 cups Eggs beaten [2]

Combine scalded milk, shortening, sugar and salt. Cool to lukewarm. Soften yeast in lukewarm water and combine with cooled milk mixture; add about ½ the flour.

Add the beaten eggs, flour to make a soft dough. Mix thoroughly. Turn out on a lightly floured board and knead about 10 minutes or until smooth and satiny. Put dough in a warm greased bowl and brush with melted butter. Cover and let rise until doubled in bulk. Shape into rolls. Let rise until doubled in bulk and bake in moderate oven. [375]

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Now you know the secret of the best yeasted roll that you will ever eat. Hint for success. Follow the recipe EXACTLY. My daughter-in-law made these, following to the letter vs me, who was a little loose with the facts. Hers were better and rose higher. A Word to the Wise.

[This is from my recipe blog “Continual Feasts” where I share my favorite recipes]

[herbalcosmeticss]

We offer custom formulation and manufacturing of natural and organic personal care products. KAZIMA With 13 years in the skincare industry solutions in India. View Our Products; https://www.kazima.in/

[kazimaharbalproducts]

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[indnwitch]

With everything having chemicals in it, and everything either supporting a genocide or insanely expensive, here’s a list of natural beauty products that work better than chemicals imo;

Acne on face or body use African black soap -

Body moisturizing soap- use Aleppo olive oil soap -

Qusil powder used by African women for years as a naturally exfoliating deep cleansing hair and face wash. You mix the water with powder till it foams-

Rose water toner, it’s great for acne, anti aging, redness, sensitive, dry, and oily skin.

Hibiscus tea is a great vitamin C toner, you can dab it on your face as well as drink it for added benefits. Vitamin C evens and brightens the skin tone.

Pure pomegranate juice is another vitamin c alternative not the stuff you get at the store but the juice that comes out of the pomegranate seeds.

Fig seeds crushed and mixed with olive oil are a great natural exfoliating powder for your face -

Pure African shea butter is the BEST natural full body moisturizer you can get your hands on. It makes you so soft and silky. -

Argan oil is an amazing oil for your body face and hair, it promotes skin cell turn over acting as an anti aging agent for your skin, it deeply moisturizes your hair for long silky healthy strands-

Pomegranate and fig oils are amazing sleep masks if you have acne prone skin and breakouts. Slug with them instead of Vaseline.

Use pure Jamaican black castor oil for your eyelashes and eye brows to promote growth.

Use pure Virgin coconut oil as a natural makeup remover. Shea butter can also be used on the lips in place of lip balms.

Part two is up now

[rabbitcruiser]

33 Flavors Day

33 Flavors Day is celebrated on March 3 every year. Though the reason for this particular date is not known, many believe that it is when the famous Baskin-Robbins ice cream company was founded. Whether that is true or not, people love to celebrate this day as they try out new flavors that they have not tried before. They can celebrate this day by treating themselves to a well-deserved treat or by taking their friends and family along to their nearest ice cream shop. The timing of the holiday, which falls right in the middle of spring, makes it perfect for eating ice cream.

History of 33 Flavors Day

Ice cream originated in China. From there it was brought to Italy by the famous explorer Marco Polo. He went to China with his father and brother in 1271 on a trading expedition. He was surprised to see frozen food being sold from handcarts on the streets of Peking. It was frozen milk, sometimes flavored with fruit juices. Marco Polo was offered it as a gift. He took it with him to Italy.

From Italy, the idea got across France. In the year 1533, Catherine de Medici of Italy went to France and married the second son of Francis I of France. Catherine took with her a large retinue of cooks. It was they who introduced the new delicacy to the French, who soon discovered how delicious it was. Interestingly, it was again a bride who later brought it to England. This was Henrietta Maria of France, who married Charles I in 1630. The secret of ice cream preparation was brought to England by her cook.

Soon, ice cream spread all over the world, including the U.S. The first wholesale factory for ice cream was in Baltimore. The real development of ice cream, and the ice cream business started flourishing only after 1900 with the development of refrigeration. The basis of all ice cream is milk, cream, sugar, and sometimes even eggs. Vanilla, chocolate, berries, fruit ingredients, and nuts are added as flavors. The ice cream usually contains 20% to 25% cream and milk products, 15% sugar, flavor in small quantities, and a small amount of stabilizer. The stabilizer is used to retain the smoothness of the ice cream by preventing the formation of coarse ice crystals. Pure food gelatin is typically used for this purpose.

33 Flavors Day  timeline

500 B.C. A Popular Persian Dessert

Ice cream made with ice and ingredients such as saffron becomes a summer treat.

400 B.C. Persian Ice Cream

Luxury ice cream is invented for Persian royal families — a sorbet made from vermicelli noodles, cherry syrup, and rose water.

1846 The First Mini Freezer

Nancy Johnson invents a portable freezer for ice cream — a manual device cranked by a handle — before fridges are invented.

1851 Ice Cream in Quantity

Jacob Fusselman, a milkman, starts selling ice cream in bulk in Maryland, leading to Maryland’s reputation for some of the best ice cream.

1945 Lovely Flavors

Baskin-Robbins ice cream is created and currently has 2,500 branches in the U.S. alone.

33 Flavors Day FAQs

How many flavors of ice cream are there?

There are over 1,000 flavors of ice cream and many more keep getting each year.

What are the strangest flavors?

Some strange flavors of ice cream include avocado, crocodile egg, octopus, caramelized brown bread, garlic, and licorice.

What are some creative flavors that have been invented?

Some delicious ice cream creative flavors that have been invented are raspberry, coconut, caramel, butter pecan, shrimp, bacon, and pizza ice cream. There is also goat cheese beet swirl and sweet potato ice cream.

33 Flavors Day  Activities

Visit your local Baskin-Robbins

Make your favorite ice cream at home

Share ice cream with your loved ones

Celebrate 33 Flavors Day by visiting your nearest Baskin-Robbins outlet. Try a new flavor of ice cream that you haven't tried before. You can experiment with new flavors, toppings and even try a combination of two or more ice cream flavors.

Nothing tastes better than traditional home-churned ice cream. Celebrate this day by making ice cream at home. You can prepare the ice cream using a mixture of salt and ice to churn the ice cream or use an ice cream machine to speed up the mixing process.

Make your loved ones feel special by sending them a box of their favorite ice cream. You can handpick ice creams from your local grocery store or order them online. Leave a special note with the ice cream and if you want, you can even send them some unique ice creams such as gold and charcoal flavored ice creams.

5 Facts About Ice Cream That Will Blow Your Mind

A healthy dessert

Chocolate coated ice cream

Ice cream and WW2

An expensive desert

Vanilla ice cream

Ice cream contains calcium, proteins, and vitamins A and B.

‘Eskimo pie’ is the world's first chocolate-covered ice cream.

During WW2, the U.S. Military gave ice cream to the troops — for caloric value and morale building.

You will need 12 pounds of milk to make one gallon of ice cream

Vanilla is the most loved ice cream flavor.

Why We Love 33 Flavors Day

We explore different ice cream flavors

You can share your love of ice cream with others

The efforts of local ice cream vendors are appreciated

Whenever we visit our favorite ice cream or soda shop, we try to play safe by ordering those ice cream flavors that are common or have already been tried before. However, on 33 Flavors Day, we are motivated to try out more exotic and unique ice cream flavors that people don't know or don't feel like trying otherwise.

On such occasions, we get an opportunity to share our love for ice cream with others. We can send a surprise package of ice cream to our loved ones or enjoy it with coworkers or at home after a busy day at work.

When it comes to enjoying ice cream in its true essence, nothing beats having ice cream from a local ice cream truck. With more high-end ice cream brands and cafés entering the confectionery market, the consumers must support small-scale ice cream vendors. And 33 Flavors Day is one such opportunity to support local ice cream shops by buying ice cream from them and promoting them online through positive reviews and ratings.

Source

[yogisgift01]

Unlocking the Power of Organic Herb Powders: A Wholesome Journey to Wellness

In a world increasingly conscious of health and well-being, the spotlight has turned to the treasures of nature. Among these, organic herb powders stand out as a testament to the wisdom of traditional healing practices and the desire for natural, wholesome living. Let's delve into the world of organic herb powders, exploring their origins, benefits, and the diverse ways in which they contribute to a healthier lifestyle. Ashwagandha powder bulk

The Essence of Organic Herb Powders:

Organic herb powders are derived from a variety of plants, each with its unique set of medicinal and nutritional properties. Unlike conventional herbs, organic varieties are cultivated without synthetic pesticides or fertilizers, ensuring a pure and unadulterated product. The herbs are carefully dried and ground into fine powders, preserving their essential nutrients and aromatic compounds.

A Symphony of Flavors and Aromas:

One of the most enchanting aspects of organic herb powders is their rich spectrum of flavors and aromas. From the robust earthiness of organic basil powder to the citrusy brightness of organic lemon balm powder, these herbal wonders add depth and complexity to culinary creations. They provide a convenient way to infuse dishes with the essence of fresh herbs, regardless of the season.

Health Benefits:

Beyond their culinary allure, organic herb powders are prized for their health benefits. Packed with vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants, these powders contribute to overall well-being. For instance, organic turmeric powder is celebrated for its anti-inflammatory properties, while organic moringa powder is renowned for its nutrient density. Incorporating these powders into daily routines can be a simple yet powerful way to fortify the body with essential nutrients.

Holistic Wellness:

The use of organic herb powders extends beyond the kitchen into the realm of holistic wellness. Many cultures have embraced the therapeutic properties of herbs for centuries, recognizing their potential to support various aspects of health. From herbal teas to skincare formulations, organic herb powders are harnessed for their soothing, rejuvenating, and balancing effects.

Environmental Sustainability:

Choosing organic herb powders aligns with a commitment to environmental sustainability. Organic farming practices prioritize soil health, biodiversity, and water conservation. By opting for organic products, consumers contribute to a more ecologically responsible and resilient agricultural system.

Exploring the Diversity:

The world of organic herb powders is vast and diverse. Each herb offers a unique profile of flavors, aromas, and health benefits. Whether it's the adaptogenic qualities of organic ashwagandha powder or the calming properties of organic chamomile powder, there is a herbal remedy for nearly every need.

Incorporating Organic Herb Powders into Daily Life:

Embracing the benefits of organic herb powders is a delightful journey that invites experimentation in the kitchen and the cultivation of mindful wellness practices. From sprinkling herb powders on dishes to crafting homemade herbal remedies, the possibilities are as diverse as the herbs themselves.

Conclusion:

Organic herb powders represent a fusion of culinary artistry and holistic well-being. Their journey from soil to powder encapsulates a commitment to purity, sustainability, and the timeless wisdom of nature. As we navigate the complexities of modern living, the simplicity and goodness of organic herb powders offer a flavorful and nourishing path to a healthier and more harmonious life.

For More Info:- Rose petal powder

[darktreeroots]

Palestar’s Trials

Allegiances:

Leader: 

Stormstar - a pure black she-cat with golden eyes and a second star hidden on her stomach

Deputies:

Algaebrook - a dark tabby tom Frogheart- an elderly gray tom Mewlight - an elderly white spotted black tom

Medicine Cat: 

Wavespring - a spotted calico tom

Warriors: 

Adderstripe - a orange tom with a few white spots Sunnystalk - a yellow she-cat Sweetfang - a gray tabby tom

Queens: 

Bubbledrop - a spotted calico expecting mother Quailbreeze - a red tabby queen, mother of Poolkit, Palekit, Lavenderkit, and Deerkit

Elders:

Troutsplash - a beautiful old golden tabby she-cat

9.5k words, tws for ableism, transphobia, misgendering, and deadnaming

Palewince has worked long and hard to get to this point, season after season she had worked herself endlessly to become the best warrior she could be. 

Had it all been for naught? Would she be mocked even now?

No. Palewince thinks to herself, holding back her frown and her voice as the rest of her Clan gave a half-hearted cheer for the newest leader of LaurelClan, No I refuse to let this all mean nothing! Palewince stumbles backwards, wet moss squelching under her feet. The crowd parts behind her in a way they hadn’t for the leader when he emerged through the barrier leading the pack of deputies and medicine cats. 

Palewince turns and runs from camp. They all let her go. 

-

From the first moment that she knew that she could be, Palekit wanted to be leader of LaurelClan. They were the youngest Clan, so that meant that they needed to hold themselves to high standards. LaurelClan needed to prove that they were better than every Clan, but especially MarshClan to show them that they had lost their strongest warriors due to their pride. 

Out of her, Deerkit, Lavenderkit, and Poolkit, it was obvious that Palekit was the one who was going to become leader. She had the good sense to listen to her elders instead of scampering around playing moss ball or anything dull like that. Adderstripe had told her that she had the clean markings of a future leader. 

She had asked then, What about Poolkit? Because they had the same markings, just in opposing colors. Her father had laughed, looking out of the nursery at the writhing pile of limbs that were just outside. Poolkit was covered in muck. Somehow his pelt was covered in dirty water and he was making no attempts to clean himself. 

The markings are yours. Adderstripe had said with a wink, glancing back at the cream diamond on her back, I can imagine your second star going right there. For defense. Ah! Her father said aloud, before rolling over and landing directly on top of her. 

The other queens laughed at her as she squealed for help, clawing her way out of her father’s bulk. Right before she can get free, Adderstripe placed his paw on her head. 

Will this stop a future leader? He had asked her. 

-

It isn’t raining as she leaves camp, but she feels as if it should be.

-

There was a story that Palepaw always loved, no matter how old she was when it was being told. She had heard it first in the nursery from Bubbledrop and it was still Bubbledrop who told it the best. Palepaw doesn't call out before she enters the warrior’s den, carefully keeping to the edges of the weaved fern walls as she approaches the calico cat. 

Bubbledrop rose her head as she approached. Palepaw knew that she would have gotten a stinging rebuke for bothering her if what had kept her from calling out wasn’t the large carp in her mouth. The blood kept on flowing into her mouth and she was salivating after a long day of hunting but she would keep the carp for Bubbledrop. Only if Bubbledrop was in the mood to share would Palepaw get to eat the prey she had caught. 

“What is it you want from me?” Bubbledrop asked, but not unkindly. When Palepaw was a kit, Bubbledrop had barely talked to her and her siblings. Only after they had all left and Palekit was alone in the nursery would Bubbledrop even bother with her. Palepaw understood—kits were loud and annoying and always underfoot. Palekit worked hard to be better than her siblings and it was through that effort that she got so close to Bubbledrop. 

“I want to hear the story of our Clan again.” Palepaw requested, embarrassment prickling under her fur but she didn’t let it show. She had heard this story many times before from many people. Bubbledrop knew this and lets out a small sigh. Palepaw debated the idea of excusing herself and simple leaving but Bubbledrop patted the space beside her with her paw, allowing Palepaw to slide in beside her. 

Palepaw took it all in for a second, the clear air drifting in through the small holes in the barrier. They would need to be patched up with moss and clay and that would be her job. But that can be for later, now is for breathing in the clear air and feeling the soft moss beneath her pads and  pressing her body against the soft fur of Bubbledrop’s side. There is a hunger deep within her gut but if she acted right, she would be free from it. 

Newtwhisker was proud of her, as he always had been. She had just learned that if she flipped in the water that it did not help hunting at all but if there was a fish nearby then thrashing around to try and right herself would cause her to accidentally hook it with her claw and doing all that would look purposeful and impressive. (It wasn’t the former, but it was the latter.)

“I thought you heard this from someone else just the other day.”

“I don’t have many ‘other days’.” Palepaw pointed out. She had only been an apprentice for two moons and is one of the youngest cats in the Clan. She was still yet to learn the names of all her Clanmates.

“Humor the kit.” Purred Sunnystalk who was sitting beside her best friend. 

“I’m an apprentice!” Palepaw squeaked. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sunnystalk replied before stretching, spreading out each of her paws and wriggling her butt like she’s about to pounce, “I’m going to go hunt something. I’ll be back soon.”

“Sure. Just leave me.” Bubbledrop called out. Sunnystalk’s only response as a flick of her tail, “Keep yourself clean. I don’t want you dragging that awful sickness back.”

Sunnystalk stopped for a moment and looks back at them, but the shadows fall over her yellow face and hid her expression. She didn’t say anything else before leaving the warrior’s den. 

“That cat…” Bubbledrop mumbled under her breath before she turned to Palepaw, “I would say that she’s nearly as bad as Wavespring if Wavespring wasn’t just so awful.” Palepaw nodded along. She knew well Bubbledrop’s issue with the medicine cat. After all, she had only been an apprentice for two moons, just a bit longer than Bubbledrop has been reinstated as a warrior. 

She was in the nursery when it all happened. It’s Wavespring’s fault that Palepaw and her siblings are the youngest cats in the clan. 

“Eh.” Bubbledrop took a huge bite out of the carp, tearing away the top layer of scales and revealing the soft pink meat underneath. Palepaw’s hunger doubled, renewed by the sight of food, “Laurelstar again. Fine. I can do that.”

Bubbledrop cleared her throat, “Many seasons ago, there were only three Clans. MountainClan, a secretive Clan that kept to their land into the white-tipped peaks and the caves that tore through the ground. They spoke to StarClan and interpreted their signs before they found the Moonhole and revealed it to all the Clans so that they wouldn’t be the only Clan with such power.”

“Which made them the most noble of the three Clans.”

“I was going to get to that.” Bubbledrop snapped. Palepaw lowered her ears and eyes in apology. Bubbledrop let out a snort before she continued. 

“CloudClan lived under the open sky, and the wind in the air flew inside of them and made them even faster than the breeze. ForestClan longed for the protective trees and settled down underneath them. However, they were the least noble of the three founding Clans and thus couldn’t remain like that. First it was ThinleafClan, claiming that their Clan was too restrictive and breaking off. Then it was MarshClan, due to their inherent corruption and lack of honor they were unable to live within ThinleafClan. 

“There were honorable cats within MarshClan, but many cats were silenced for speaking out and their ideas and lessons were ignored. Once such cat was a she-cat named Laurelpuddle. Laurelpuddle was fox-lengths ahead of any other cat when it came to intellect and that scared her leader and deputy. Being a brave and just member of her Clan she served them as well as she could, but was never even acknowledged by being given a deputy. 

She asked her leader over and over to have an apprentice, but she was refused. Laurelpuddle was mocked and cast aside, even when it came to her own name. 

“Laurelpuddle asked her leader over and over to have an apprentice, but she was refused. She was mocked and cast aside, even when it came to her own name. Laurelpuddle had always been different, preferring the clear waters at the edge of the territory to the swampy marshland that the Clan resided in. Still, because she was endlessly kind, she still decided to train her Clanmates to bear such waters, teaching them skills such as diving for fish and advanced swimming techniques. She trained nearly every cat in the Clan, from the youngest apprentice to the oldest warrior.

“Even so, Laurelpuddle would have been content to living and dying a loyal member of MarshClan had it not been for an appearance of the Rot.”

Palepaw shivered. Bubbledrop paused for a moment and finds nothing to say to her, so she continues. 

“The leader of MarshClan claimed that covering one’s fur with mud could keep the Rot at bay—that covering up the beautiful fur that StarClan blessed us with was the solution to their punishment. When Laurelpuddle disagreed with that horrible idea, she was nearly forced into exile by their leader. The only reason she wasn’t is because the deputy wanted to keep her as an example of what happens when you go against the leader. 

“They forced Laurelpuddle to work with the sick cats without any medicine cat training, fully intending her to become ill with Rot. Even when the ill cats were forced away from camp, Laurelpuddle was forced to go with them. 

However, she returned a few moons later free of Rot and announced that she was going to found a new Clan using the fallen seeds of a rotten plant. Many cats followed Laurelpuddle and she established this Clan, using herself as the first seed for the Clan to sprout from.” Bubbledrop gestures with her paw to the den, “She saw potential in this place, just as she did every one of us. Potential that we have to work hard to live up to every day for—”

A scream rang through camp, high-pitched in the way that only an apprentice’s could be. Bubbledrop was up in a moment, trampling over the remains of the carp. Palepaw’s stomach twisted painfully but she ignored it in favor of following the warrior into camp. 

“What happened?” A cat whose name Palepaw doesn’t know asked. She can only shake her head in reply, following Bubbledrop as they head for the turned over log at the end of camp, nearby a small stream. 

Just as they approached, Wavespring comes out carrying Poolpaw by the scruff who looks completely unapologetic after he’s disturbed the medicine cat. Palepaw smoothed down their fur, an apology ready on her tongue before a cat interrupted them. 

“What happened?”

“Just a kit getting where they don’t belong.” Wavespring tossed Poolpaw to the side. Her brother landed heavily and winces but the proud expression on his face doesn’t leave as he whirled around and shot back a sharp retort. 

“What do you mean, where I don’t belong? It’s the medicine den. The only thing that changed in there is Sweetfang! What happened to his fur? Why is there so little of it?”

“Nothing happened—” Wavespring began but before he can regret his words, Bubbledrop interjected, shoving herself to the front of the crowd with Palepaw on her heels. With every step, Palepaw sunk into the soft moss. With every step, Bubbledrop’s unsheathed claws tore moss out of the ground. 

“What? Happened?” Bubbledrop growled as she comes to stop a few tail-lengths away from the medicine cat who only gave her a derisive glance before pushing Poolpaw behind him, “Wavespring! Answer me!”

“I don’t answer to you.” The medicine cat replied with a bored expression, “I answer only to the leader. I don’t want to deal with your emotions. As far as you are concerned, Sweetfang is fine.” He held his ground with a lash of his tail and bared teeth, “Checking on him will not make him any better.”

“Hmm.” Bubbledrop said, before whipping around to glare at Poolpaw, “Well, since someone wants to lie to me today, I guess I’ll have to look to a kit for the truth.”

“I’m not a kit!” 

“Good. Kits lie like medicine cats do.”

“I’m not lying—”

“Was Sweetfang breathing? Was my mate alive?” Bubbledrop asked him, looming over Poolpaw. With an impossibly smug look on his face, Poolpaw shook his head. 

“You—!” Bubbledrop rose her paw to give Palepaw’s brother a rightful strike but before she could do so a yellow cat raced past Palepaw and lets out a wordless cry as she dove between Bubbledrop and Poolpaw. Bubbledrop stopped herself at the very last moment. She hissed at Sunnystalk as the other she-cat stood in front of Palepaw’s still smirking brother, blocking him from view. 

“Bubbledrop!” Sunnystalk pleaded, “Don’t lose your head. Please, just for a moment—”

Bubbledrop lunged forward, faster than Palepaw can follow. She grabbed Sunnystalk by the neck and in one swift motion, snapped her Clanmate’s neck, tossing her limb body to the side. The yellow cat hit the ground with a thud and even now Poolpaw still looks smug as the raging warrior came to loom over him. Wavespring stood beside her brother, not a whisker out of place. 

“Sweetfang’s blood is on your incompetent hands.” Bubbledrop snarled. 

“I didn’t kill him.” Wavespring replied calmly, stepping away from her swipe, “But it seems as if you will believe in whatever you want instead of listening to reason. As always.”

“You’re no brother of mine!” Bubbledrop leaped on top of the medicine cat, and it takes only a moment until they’re a ball of hissing and claws, holding onto each other so tightly that neither of them could escape. Only when a cat leaped between them, getting clawed by both sides do they halt. 

A yellow cat—Sunnystalk?—stood between them, fur wet and with blood running down their sides. 

“For once in your lives can you two get a handle on yourself! Dealing with your constant drama is ridiculous. It’s exhausting, it’s—”

“What is that sound?” Poolpaw said from beside her, ears perked, not paying attention to the situation that he so crudely caused. They all paused for a second, listening to the soft sounds and the three adults turn back to the medicine den in horror. 

Hack hack hack. 

Hack hack hack. 

Hack…and then silence. 

As Wavespring ran into the medicine cat den with Sunnystalk and Bubbledrop right on his heels, Palepaw looks at Poolpaw. He still looked unconcerned. 

Rage bubbles in her stomach. Her claws unsheathed. She kept them pressed into the moss. 

-

This can’t be! Palewince tells herself as she paces in a small pool of water. It barely comes up to her stomach, weighing down her fur. She feels it with every step she takes, the wrongness close to the added water weight. There’s no way that StarClan truly let this happen!

No. Palewince tells themself as they look up at the moon in the distance. It’s normally dim during the day but Palewince cannot find it. For a moment, she believes that this is a sign, that it means the new leader was chosen against the will of StarClan—but then she sees it again. Dimmer than usual, nearly eclipsed by the sun. 

…Is this your sign for me, StarClan? The moon, being swallowed up by the sun? Are you telling me that I am being blocked away? 

Palewince digs her claws into the wet muck under the pool, staring up at the sky, Are you telling me to do something—no, you must be. There isn’t a chance that you want me to stand aside. I won’t believe it!

Or are you telling me that I must become the sun and overshadow the one chosen by the moon? Is this a call to action or a cry of despair?

She hisses, And it’s not as if I can ask Wishstream to interpret. She’d just tell me that it was just the sun or something inane like that. 

Is that why your directions have been so muddled? Is this why you let him become deputy in the first place—an incompetent medicine cat that wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a sign and a fish’s scales?

“So I cannot trust her.” Palewince tells herself.

“Who can you not trust?” Replies her daughter as she strolls up. Palewince takes a moment to berate herself—of all the scents to miss!—and turns to face Cypressfire. Her daughter keeps a calm, level stare as she strolls up as if she expects her mother to explode at any moment. Not an incorrect assumption, but Cypressfire should know better than to expect such a reaction from her mother. 

Whether wind, fire, or rain, Palewince would keep calm. 

“Wishstream.” Palewince says curtly. Cypressfire quickly bows her head in agreement. How much their medicine cat was lacking was a widely known secret. Palewince didn’t know what she was expecting from the apprentice of Wavespring, but she didn’t think she was expecting things to get even worse than a kin-killer. 

“I believe that I’ve just gotten an message from StarClan.” Palewince says, “But I cannot trust her to interpret it.”

Cypressfire tilts her head, “And of course making it to the Moonhole is impossible.”

Palewince pauses, one paw in the air. Water drips down her paw and hits the water in droplet. She pays it no mind.

“No. StarClan is on my side.” She turns around, heading toward the deep end of the pool. This place connected to one of the major rivers. Once she got to the Gathering Island, she knew where to head. And when she was lost? StarClan would guide her the rest of the way. 

“I will be back. With answers.”

Palewince dives into the water, confident down to every last hair on her pelt. 

-

“Do you want to take a nap? It’s been a stressful half-moon.” Newtwhisker asked, almost nuzzling up against her. She didn’t pull away from her mentor but she did shake her head, still staring at the turned-over and hollowed out tree trunk. Her parents were fretting inside, it’s basically become their second home. 

“I’m fine. I’m going to ask Stormstar if I can go out on a border patrol.”

Newtwhisker shook his head, “Algaebrook wants to bolster up the fresh-kill pile a bit. Ah—” Newtwhisker looked back toward the already large pile of prey. Palepaw had just eaten and she swore that some things were about to go rotten soon. She lamented the stupidity of the deputy who is also the leader of her family. 

She flicked her whiskers, “Is Stormstar still insisting that we don’t try take some land from MarshClan?”

Newtwhisker shuddered down to the tip of his tail. Palepaw wondered how such a conflict-averse cat was allowed to become a warrior. It seems likely that he would flee in the face of battle like MarshClan’s Asternewt. There have been many times that Palepaw wished that she got a senior warrior as a mentor, she can only guess that it’s because she was leagues ahead of her siblings and the young warrior needed to have an apprentice sometime. 

“Yeah, and for that I’m glad. You’re too young to see battle yet. Training is more than enough for you.” Newtwhisker pressed his muzzle to the top of her head, “So, want to hunt with me?”

“I was thinking of going out with Crimsonpaw, actually.” She lied. 

Newtwhisker let out a happy purr, “Oh, let me not come between young love then.” Her mentor slipped away and she’s thankful for it. There’s not a doubt in her mind that Crimsonpaw would agree to go out hunting with her without any complaints, but it was better to avoid any complicated questions like when they had time to plan this out. 

Someone yowled in the hollowed out tree trunk and something came stumbling out. 

A stupid mistake made flesh and fur. 

Palepaw rose to her feet and sought out her siblings. At the very least she knows that Deerpaw and Lavenderpaw haven’t been consumed by the newest trend of worrying over a cat that caused all of his problems. 

Deerpaw was missing, but Lavenderpaw was sticking across camp from the medicine den. She looked worn out and haggard, fur clumped in some places as she stared at the small hollow that held their parents. Palepaw remembered that Lavenderpaw had been the one to scent MarshClan scent past their border lines and had started the whole argument between Stormstar and his deputies. She remembered that Lavenderpaw was so excited to tell their parents about what they had found. 

Palepaw looked at Lavenderpaw and is overwhelmingly aware of the cleanliness of her own fur compared to her sister. She turned to find Crimsonpaw instead. 

-

The Gathering Island is as beautiful as it always is, but Palewince doesn’t pause as she reaches it, climbing onto the bank and shaking out her fur before she continues onto MountainClan territory. 

-

“It was such a shame to lose such a loyal warrior so early.” Stormstar told her privately. Their leader is pure black except for the jagged scar down her shoulder. Her second star is hidden someone that no cat can seem to find, “But I have faith that you are able to adapt to this situation and come out stronger for it.”

Palepaw nodded. She wondered if she’s supposed to look penitent. She wondered how to do that. After all, Newtwhisker’s death was not a surprise, nor was it a great tragedy. Newtwhisker had no potential, he had barely risen to the occasion of being her mentor and heavily relied on the senior warriors despite being an apprentice himself only a few moons prior. She wouldn’t be surprised if he died during an attempt to flee. 

“I won’t disappoint you.” Palepaw told her new mentor, chosen via convenience because there was only about a half-moon until she was required to train under her leader anyhow. Stormstar nodded, amber eyes turning away from her and back to the raging river in front of them, “How many fish do you want me to catch?”

“More than you can carry.” Stormstar said in return. 

Palepaw jumped into the river and drowned. 

-

She’s been this path before, seasons ago. Back then their last true leader lead Palewince and her siblings all the way to the Moonhole after Palewince’s insistent requests and ability to tell which cats would be the most likely to have mercy on a grief-stricken apprentice and pass the message onto to Stormstar. 

Palewince pushes back her ears and bears the cold wind as it comes down the mountain. Her paws hurt just as much as they did when she was an apprentice—LaurelClan land was wet and soft, nothing like the dry grasses and hard pebbles under her feet. 

Not many LaurelClan cats made this journey these days, for while they are one of the closest Clans to the Moonhole, it just was never highlighted. The only way Palewince learned of it was from a few BroadleafClan cats, proudly cawing like ravens about the experience. Palewince had wanted to take it not for the simple reason of becoming a warrior—she had wanted to know her destiny. 

Clearly, she was greater than her siblings. She had been since birth. There had to be something waiting for her—and there was. An unknown cat had come down from the sky, stars laced in her pelt. The brightest star was the one on her back.

Laurelstar had told her that she was going to do great things for her Clan, that she must never let her head fall. They would be trials, but she would succeed in every last one of them. 

Palewince lowers her head to brace herself against a particularly harsh wind. She ignores the pain that lingers in her body and pushes herself further forward. This is only another trial. And I will succeed. 

-

Palepaw raised her head and breathes in the clear air. The scent of sickness that had lingered nearly her entire life had dissipated just a moon or two earlier and she had learned what it truly meant for the air to smell like home. It was like ferns and and clay and water and prey. It was like every cat she had ever known. 

“I, Stormstar, leader of LaurelClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as a warrior in their turn.”

She sat taller.

“Palepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

“I do.” Is there any other choice?

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Palepaw, from this moment on you will be known as Palewince. StarClan honors your intelligence and skill, and we welcome you as a full warrior of LaurelClan.”

The entire Clan started calling out their names and Palewince basks in the attention while thinking to herself. Wisdom and skill. Were those the traits that stood out most for me? Though I guess that Lavenderswallow got honesty and energy which aren’t that positive. I mean, what does it mean if someone compliments you on being energetic? 

Commitment doesn’t describe Deerspots at all, nor patience, but I guess Stormstar was trying to instill those in her instead of actually describing her. 

…

Palewince glanced over at her only brother. She had noticed the brief look on his face when he was given his warrior name, but he doesn’t know why he even bothered to be annoyed at it. It fit him after all—giving him a different name would be a mistake. Cats like Rockstep and Graymoon and Scorchtree and Snowdance may complain but really, what else was Stormstar supposed to do? Give them LaurelClan names?

They weren’t LaurelClan cats, they were barely better than parasites. MountainClan didn’t want them, why should they?

Halfleg looked back at her, but Palewince had already moved onto the vicious she-cat glaring at her from the other side of camp. Floodburn didn’t even try to conceal her hatred. Palewince looked back and winked. 

Resilience and dedication really are the only words to use for you, Halfleg—and really it’s only one word!

-

Palewince doesn’t know where to go, but does not admit it. Instead she prays and hopes that someone will show her the way. 

-

“All cats who are old enough to catch their own prey, gather under the HighWillow for a Clan meeting!” Stormstar yowled just as she enters camp. Palewince flicked her tail, irritated. The border patrol that she had been leading separates. Flameback paused for a moment, aiming a long look at his former mentor. 

Palewince shook her head. She had no clue what this is about—she had only spent two moons as Stormstar’s apprentice but had made an effort to stay around the leader and listen to her complaints. She wouldn’t be surprised if she was closer to their leader than Algaebrook was and he was one of her deputies. 

If there was going to be a Clan meeting, then surely she would have been told ahead of time. Especially so since she would have missed it entirely if she spent any more time on the border patrol. 

The clan collected slowly—it’s midday and many warriors were taking naps while apprentices worked on their duties. There is so little movement from the elder’s den that Palewince catches an apprentice’s eye and quickly jerked her head toward them in a sign that they need to be woken up. 

“Hurry up.” Stormstar snapped, lashing her tail, “Or do I lead a lazy Clan?”

“Of course you don’t.” Palewince called out as she comes to the front of the crowd. 

“I’d like to debate that idea.” Muttered her brother. Palewince quickly unsheathed a claw and pressed it into their remaining front paw. Halfleg winces but doesn’t cry out. He’s used to the tactics she used to keep him quiet. It’s for his own good really—a cat as lacking as he should know when to not cause trouble. 

It takes a few minutes for the Clan to collect in numbers enough that Stormstar is satisfied with. Her eyes blazed gold. “After many many moons of being undermined and talked back to and given advice so horrendous that at times I’m not sure that I’m speaking to a cat or one of the Rotten, or even a wolf—but no longer! Algaebrook is no longer a member of LaurelClan—”

Immediately there’s noise. Loudest of all is Algaebrook, loudly protesting their sudden expellment.

What does she mean no longer a member?!

“Stormstar! Did you forget what it means to be loyal to your elders! I’m appalled!” The dark tabby yowled, using the same arguments that Palewince would overhear in front of the leader’s den, “I have served you for seasons—”

“Poorly.” 

“And I have earned—”

“Nothing.”

“You—!”

“Get off of LaurelClan land.” Stormstar leaned down, leering at the former deputy—the former LaurelClan cat, “If you are seen here by the next sunrise, then you will be killed on sight. I don’t need weak cats like you.”

“Please! Please Stormstar!” Troutflash called out. Apparently the elder was fully awake now, awake enough to fall on her stomach in front of the HighWillow, “I beg of you. My mate will not survive alone.”

“I won’t—” Algaebrook started, indignant before Troutflash turns to him. It’s a quick look, accompanied by words that Palewince is just far enough to not hear but somehow it’s enough for Algaebrook to stop mid word. And after a few moments, he lowered himself as well, bowing in front of Stormstar. 

The smile that she gave is one that only a leader can truly have—the look of a cat who has gotten everything they wanted and the last thing in their way has bowed its head and let them have their way with it. Palewince basked in its light. 

She cackled, “Well if you’re going to bow and beg for forgiveness I guess that I can’t be too harsh on you, can I?” Stormstar stretched out her paw, rhythmically sheathing and unsheathing her claws, “But I can’t just let you get your old position back, can I?”

“The new deputy of LaurelClan has already been chosen!”

Algaebrook opened his mouth, Troutflash closes it with her tail. She looked up at Stormstar, expectant. 

Of course it’s not going to be you. Palewince thought, mind flying, She hates Algaebrook, why would she ever chose his mate to replace him? No, Stormstar needs a cat that was under Algaebrook, someone related to him but not so closely kin as to be under his influence. 

Adderstripe’s mother was from the same litter as Troutflash—and my family is under Algaebrook’s deputyship. She needs a cat who has already trained an apprentice! Deerspots and Lavenderswallow haven’t trained one yet and Halfleg has only been training Mistpaw for a moon! 

There’s also Hollowbass and Goldenhaze, but there’s no way that Stormstar would chose HalfClan kits as a deputy!

So it must be me!

Stormstar turns and looked directly at her. Oh her eyes as so gold. 

“Halfleg will be the new deputy of LaurelClan!”

W h a t?

Palewince looked at her brother, who is smugly looking back at her. 

-

The winds are harsh, but she can be harsher. 

-

“It’s your fault.” Palewince snapped, voice choked with grief, “It’s your fault our sister is dead!”

Rain had descended mid-way through the vigil, so Stormstar had cut it off early. He had slunk out of camp and Palewince had followed him, unwilling to let her thoughts go unheard. The rain has grown heavier but that doesn’t hide the furious look on Halfleg’s face when he looked back at his sister and snarls. 

“Are you saying this because you’re sad she’s dead, or because you just want to piss me off?” Halfleg snarled at him, “It’s not my fault that she died. She should have known better than to try to take her own leg off. Her death has nothing to do with me.” 

Palewince stares at her brother, cruel words ringing in her ears. 

“She died trying to be like you.”

Halfleg stares at her, golden eyes slowly narrowing, “And that was her mistake. Not mine. Look at me,” Halfleg raises up their partially missing leg. It has long grown fur over the wound, but he can never regrow the limb. 

It had, in a way, redefined Halfleg’s life. 

In a way, it had changed nothing at all. He was still the crude, unrefined, headstrong cat that he had been as Poolkit. There was still nothing that phased him, no matter how much worse he made life for all the cats that were around him. Still, when Palewince told him all of this Halfleg would deflect and turn his back on her. 

“I wish that you had tried to hack your leg off instead of Lavenderswallow.” Halfleg growled as he ungracefully slinks toward camp, “Leave me alone. I’m going to bed. It’s been a long night for every except you apparently.”

“It would have been better if you had died that day.” Palewince said truthfully. Halfleg stops. 

“Well, isn’t it such a shame that I didn’t?” Halfleg lashed his tail, “But StarClan hath not stricken me down so I guess that I am acceptable enough.”

-

Palewince may be lost, but she was right when she was depending on someone to come and save her. She just didn’t expect it to be someone that she recognized. MountainClan cats rarely came to Gatherings, the only time they could be counted to come was when they had a change in leadership. It was moons ago that they last appeared, the same moon that their false leader had gotten Mistpaw as an apprentice and a few moons before Mistpaw’s death. 

This cat, though? Well their appearance must be a sign. 

“Palewince of LaurelClan, correct?” Says the former leader of MountainClan. Choruswhisper’s head barely comes up to her chin but there’s a clear air of command about them…though that might be the cat that stands beside them. Palewince doesn’t know their name, for she only learned the names of the deputy and the leader. 

“Correct.” Palewince nods before shivering, “I need to speak to StarClan.”

The cat beside her sighs, “And I presume that you are unwilling to hear them through us?”

Palewince shakes her head, in part to say no and in part to get out the light whispering that seemed to surround her head. 

The cat sighs again. 

“Stonecall, don’t sigh like that.” Choruswhisper presses their head into the larger cat’s mane, “It’s not like we have much to do now. We can try and help her at least.”

The cool-faced Stonecall looks between them before whishing their tail against the thin layer of slow on the ground. Apparently that’s is a Okay I guess I’ll lead her with you because that very neutral expression was enough sigh for Choruswhisper to visibly brighten, curling their tail toward Palewince. 

“Let’s go then. Just keep close to me.” Choruswhisper winks, “And if you hear whispers in your ears, ignore them! The dead had their chance, they get no do-overs!”

The expression (at least Palewince thinks it is an expression) is slightly worrying, but she is in no position to argue. Even without snowstorms, MountainClan territory is not one that she could survive on her own. Every cat that lived here needed to have so much fur that they were more fluff than cat—every unfortunate litter that had a short-haired cat was immediately cast down the mountain to warmer lands. 

The words of StarClan are never to be ignored, but Palewince is not in a position to argue that. Definitely not after her long day of travel. 

She bows her head and follow after them. 

The ground is scraggly and hurts her paws, but she follows Choruswhisper’s footsteps the best she can. There’s no pools of water as far as the eye can see, but she knows that if there was one that it wouldn’t be like home. It would be freezing cold and drag her under in moments. 

Not like this place isn’t already cold enough. Palewince thinks as the wind begins to blow full force. 

Choruswhisper glances back at her. They aren’t even shivering. 

“We’re going into the tunnels.” They say curtly. Stonecall throws them a quick look—Palewince knows that Choruswhisper stepped down after a disastrous cave-in—but Choruswhisper doesn’t meet their eye and instead changes direction. Palewince follows because she must, even though there is a second of hesitation as the former leader disappears into a tunnel.

“Do not be scared.” Choruswhisper tells her, voice bouncing against stone, “I will keep you safe.”

Palewince glances back at Stonecall, but the angry glare that she gets in return startles her. Apparently daring to question Choruswhisper is a sin to them. 

I will be fine. StarClan led me here. I am here with the former leader of MountainClan and a cat named Stonecall. I am being called here. I will be safe. 

The darkness swallows her up. 

“Keep your nose on the tip of my tail.” Choruswhisker commands so Palewince does so, pressing her face into their fluffy tail, “I know that you’ve had a long journey. It’s not much farther.”

It definitely feels like that to Palewince. The cold has eased under the tunnels but the hard ground has not. Every step is painful, but she cannot stop. With every moment that passes an undeserving cat rules over LaurelClan for a moment longer. 

LaurelClan is a young and honorable Clan. They cannot have someone bring them down. 

“Is this it?” Palewince asks hoarsely as the tunnels begin to light up for something other than the glowing mushrooms that dotted the walls. The two MountainClan cats had been having idle discussions between each other which Palewince had kindly participated in for every moment that she could before she was just too exhausted. 

“Yes.” Stonecall replies curtly. 

“All your exhaustion will be gone by the next morning.” Choruswhisper tells her, “And we will stay by your side that you can leave safely the next morning.”

Palewince nods with responding, pushing past Choruswhisper to take the front of the back. The glow grows stronger for every step that she takes, until she’s in a small clearing so stunning that Palewince is irritatingly aware of just how much her body hurt. 

She takes a step forward, paws on the blissfully soft grass. 

And then she’s asleep and her dreams are full of stars. 

She opens her eyes, blinking the stars out of her eyelashes and looks out at a camp that is hers but clearly is not. For one, the HighWillow is much larger and the leaves have turned an ethereal silver. The moss on the ground glitters with starlight. 

There is Laurelstar, looking down at her. 

Palewince starts to scramble to her feet. 

“Be calm, child.” Laurelstar says, “I do not blame you for being on the ground. That is how all cats enter without a specific calling.”

“Let her get up.” Remarks another cat. As she gets up, Palewince looks along the branches of the HighWillow. Near the outside edge there is a pure black cat with golden eyes and two glowing stars. “She always surprises me. Let her continue to do so.” Stormstar says. 

Palewince bows her head in respect.

“See?” Stormstar says. 

“It does not matter if she surprises you or not.” Laurelstar snaps, “You surprised me but I wouldn’t call that a good thing.”

Stormstar gives Laurelstar a level stare but does not respond.

Laurelstar sighs, “As you know, my Palewince, it was a mistake to let Halfleg become leader. The bigger mistake was allowing him to become deputy in the first place, but that was not an error that myself or you made.”

“I still can’t believe you let that half-cat become your deputy.” A tortoiseshell tom remarks. 

“I still can’t believe that StarClan sought fit to let three completely incapable deputies remain for as long as they did.” Stormstar replies calmly, “Don’t dare try to tell me that you would have let Algaebrook become Algaestar.” She shudders.

…They said that Halfstar was a mistake? So why are they now speaking as if the other two deputies do not exist?

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Laurelstar snaps back, “But could you have not chosen any other cat to replace that oaf as deputy? A good replacement is right here and has clearly wondered why she wasn’t chosen dozens of times herself.”

“I needed a cat who would truly show Algaebrook just how easy he was to replace? What does it say if you’re replaced by a cat that’s missing a leg and can barely hunt or fight?”

“You needed a cat who could be your successor. Why did you replace him moons ago?” Laurelstar snaps at Stormstar.

She shrugs, “I mean, I had two worse deputies. It was worth keeping him around. It’s not like he wasn’t qualified or anything like that.”

“Mistpaw died.”

“Mistpaw was alive at that point.” Stormstar placidly licks her paw, “And I didn’t expect much from him to begin with. I doubted that he could ever become a warrior.”

“Mistpaw was only partially deaf.” Another leader replies, “If he was fully deaf then that treatment I could understand.”

“Mistpaw was partially deaf and fully dull.” Stormstar replies, “If you had been watching as much as you talk back then you would have noticed that. Giving them to any other warrior would have been a disservice.”

“Quiet you two.” Laurelstar snaps, “Not in front of our guest who has traveled so far to hear from us. We only have her for the night, and even that can slip away from us so easily. What is it you came to ask from us, traveler?”

“I believe you already know.” Palewince says, head lowered in deference, “But I was going to ask you if Halfstar was really the righteous leader of LaurelClan? He has not earned the position.”

“Brightstar earned the position by being the best worst option.” Laurelstar replies dully, “And yes, I do honor that name. Like it our not, StarClan did willingly bestow on him all nine lives.” 

Laurelstar sighs, “The situation was as thus that Lichentail and Whirlnose were both wildly incapable. Nevermind the amount of times they had gone behind their leader’s back or broken the code, both of them should have been put in the elder’s den seasons ago. Giving them nine lives is just begging for LaurelClan to fall.

“The issue came with Halfleg being chosen as deputy. There were many cats better suited to that position. However, considering current events…there is no doubt in my mind that you have been very badly insulted by not being chosen as deputy that day or any day after that.” Laurelstar glances back at Stormstar. 

“If the great leader will allow me to interrupt,” Stormstar says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Laurelstar reveals her teeth but allows her to continue, “I have to agree with her. Making Halfleg deputy to spite Algaebrook was a mistake. While he didn’t make enough problems to make replacing him something I needed to do immediately, it’s clear that a cat like himself cannot be leader. 

“You would have been the better choice. There is no mistake in my mind that you could have lead LaurelClan into an era perhaps as bright as mine.”

A cat scoffs. 

“If you want to deal with Heronstar and Fawnstar, then be my fucking guest.” Stormstar snaps behind her, “...Although.”

“You’re having an awful thought.” Laurelstar says. 

“It’s only awful if you’re looking at it the right way.” Stormstar says with a wink that goes by so fast that Palewince thinks that she imagined it, “After all…both Heronstar and Fawnstar are in our ranks despite what they did. Heronstar led a violent coup and Fawnstar killed his own father yet it’s not uncommon to see those three playing like kits together.”

Stormstar chuckles, “I mean…it is only right, right? This mistake must be fixed. And look who has delivered ourself right to our doorstep to fix it.”

Palewince is quick to calm their expression. She was already aware of the violent coup, it had happened midway through her apprenticeship. It is part of the reason why her first mentor perished, in battle against MarshClan when they tried to take advantage of their supposed weakness. 

But Fawnstar killed her father? Fawnstar was killed barely two seasons ago but no one protested her leadership. If Palewince had been told this by another other than a StarClan cat, she wouldn’t have believed it. If Stormstar was alive then she simply would not have believed it. Palewince wasn’t aware of Fawnstar’s family line other than his disgraced siblings but…wasn’t there a deputy that disappeared under strange circumstances once? Or was it a medicine cat?

Even so, Fawnstar was made deputy after Asternewt stepped down, right? Did she kill the former deputy to threaten Asternewt into stepping down? That would make sense as to why Asternewt is still deputy now, despite her cowardice. She must feel like she has earned the position after all that she went through. 

And then, playing like kits?

Palewince moves on from that thought quickly. It doesn’t interest her. 

Then comes the final thing. 

This mistake must be fixed. 

A solution has delivered herself right to our doorstep to fix it. 

“Are you telling me that I should become leader?”

One leader sighs an all-suffering sigh, “I thought you said that she was going to be surprising. Why is she questioning us?”

“She’s questioning us because asking if we want her to kill her brother nine times and become leader is too straight-forward.” Laurelstar says, looking down at her with slitted eyes. Palewince knows that her every reaction is being judged, even the ones she tries to suppress, “Which is smart of her. If we have misinterpreted her, then we would simply never let her leave our skies.”

…If?

“Congratulations, Palewince. Well, soon to be Palestar,” Stormstar crows, barely trying to suppress her laughter, “Now you get to fix the error that these ones have too little on their plate to try and forget.” She lies down on the branch, gesturing with her paw. 

“I guess that the elegance and wisdom is learned with time…” A she-cat says, a bit closer to Laurelstar. Stormstar glares at her. She gets no look back. 

“Ignoring them,” Laurelstar begins, “The choice for deputy to replace him is obvious. After that, simply kill Brightstar nine times over. Do not worry about consequences, StarClan has given you the blessing to go and do this. So go forth and put the leadership of LaurelClan in four good paws.”

-

Go and retrieve everything that is owed to you. 

Laurelstar’s words still linger in her ears as she strolls into camp. After visiting the Moonhole she felt revitalized and the trip that took from sunhigh until late night only took from dawn to just before sunhigh. When she steps into camp, she keeps her head held high.

“Brightstar!” She calls out, strong voice ringing through camp. Most cats stop to turn and look at her, activities halt completely as she stalks up to the leader’s den and pokes her head inside. 

Palewince barely misses the unsheathed paw that took a swipe at her muzzle and moves away to allow her sibling to get out of the den. He seems to have perfected a look between smug and irritated. He bares his teeth at her. 

“What are you doing here? I thought that you had finally stopped being a thorn in my side.”

Palewince starts to respond but the second cat that comes out of the leader’s den speaks before she can, “I can make her stop.” Floodburn snarls, “Just give me the word.”

“I’m not going to let you kill my sister.” He says, exasperated. 

Floodburn shrugs, “One of us has to be open to the idea.”

“So you let your mate threaten my life? What kind of leader are you?” Palewince snaps, looking between the two cats, “I am here after making a visit to the Moonhole to speak to StarClan myself. LaurelClan, listen to my words!”

Palewince crouches to pounce and climb up the HighWillow, but her brother shifts to stand in front of her. A clear sign that she would not be allowed up, even if she took a different approach. Palewince was confident that she could get around her brother, but Floodburn? Well she wasn’t going to risk her image to chance it. 

“StarClan has made it known to me that Stormstar wishes to fix an error of hers! Lichentail and Whirlnose may have too much respect to admit it—” Ha! “—but both of them were chosen as incapable of becoming leader for reasons I will leave up to StarClan on their day of judgment.” 

Palewince doesn’t look at either of the two deputies. She knows that they’re looking at her.

“Any cat who was deputy would have been chosen as leader over them, from the youngest kit to the eldest apprentice! It—”

“So you’re saying that Lichentail and Whirlnose have broken the warrior code?” A cat calls out. Palewince sends her strongest glare in their direction and lashes her tail. A few cats start to whisper and she slams her paw on the ground, a signal for silence. 

“As I was saying, it was not because of his virtues or any of his attributes that Brightstar was made leader! I went to StarClan and Laurelstar herself told me that I should have been made deputy in Brightstar’s place!” 

A gasp, shared by the entire Clan. 

“But since I know patience, I have come back with StarClan’s blessing that I should become deputy to replace Brightstar after his ascension to leader.”

And then soon become leader after that~

“That is all.”

Palewince turns to her brother. 

Brightstar looks back at her and then lurchingly climbs up the HighWillow. There are several points where he nearly falls and at one point Palewince swears he does. 

“Cats of LaurelClan!” Brightstar calls out, “The new deputy of LaurelClan is Floodburn. That is all.” Brightstar leaps from the HighWillow and lands on his face. His body slams into the ground and all of his bones shatter. Then Palewince goes back to the Moonhole and is given her nine lives because there’s no way that StarClan would ever allow Floodburn to be made leader instead of her. 

Brightstar leaves camp, Floodburn in tow. Palewince steps on their heels, hissing lowly. 

“You can’t make your mate deputy! That’s against the rules!”

“Ah yes, those wonderful rules.” Brightstar says bitterly. A few cats follow them out of camp but seem to have the good sense to quickly disperse after the false leader and false deputy glare back at them and tell them to beat it. Palewince gracefully asks them to leave them alone, “Those wonderful rules that have served me so kindly.”

“Have you forgotten the code?” Palewince snaps.

“Has the code forgotten me?” Brightstar snarls in return, “The code that has been so kind to abandon me ever since my accident as an apprentice? But I guess you don’t care about that, you’ve hated me since far before that, haven’t you?”

Brightstar’s fur is spiking, rage deep in her eyes, “Not once since I lost my leg have I been treated as a worthy member of this Clan, much less a cat deserving of respect. No, every one looks at me like I’m going to fail, like it was a mistake that I was allowed to make it this far, like it would have been better if I died that day!

“But I didn’t! I didn’t die and so if my survival is every one else’s problem then so be it. I don’t care how many cats my existence hurts—I am not going to apologize for the crime of being alive!” Brightstar’s chest heaves and this all is a horrible show of emotions but he doesn’t even try to compose himself as he continues. 

“There’s not a doubt in my mind that you did actually go to the Moonhole. And that you did actually speak to Laurelstar and Stormstar. And that they did actually agree that you should have been made leader instead of me. But you know what, Palewince? I don’t care what they have to say? They’re dead and gone!

“And I might be their mistake, but I am their living mistake. A mistake that will live and die and continue on.”

Brightstar turns away from her, smacking Palewince in the face with her tail. 

“Oh, and also I’m never going to make you deputy. First off because Laurelstar and Stormstar can swallow rocks and toss themselves in a river, secondly because there’s no doubt in my mind that you would try and take my life to become leader. Didn’t you just reveal to the entire Clan that not only was I an unfit leader, the other two are so incompetent that whoever the third deputy would be would confirm that they become leader.”

Brightstar smirks at her, “And well, it’s not like I don’t trust you not to kill me or anything like that. Or am I wrong to?

“Don’t bother to answer.” Brightstar says before he stumbles his way back to camp. His camp. The camp of his Clan.

Palewince lowers her eyes and doesn’t see red. Instead she simply turns away to hunt. If she wasn’t going to be able to succeed Brightstar the normal way, well, then she would just have to build up favor within the Clan. 

-

“What in StarClan’s name are you three doing?” Palewince snaps at her Clanmates who she’s been following since sunset. Streambreak and Ripplepaw apparently believed that they were just fine to stroll out of camp with Hollymask, one of the loudest cats in the Clan. It was truly a disgrace that more cats didn’t notice their loud escape. 

The three of them jump. Hollymask yowls. Palewince cuffs her over the head for daring to be so loud. She lost them for a short while but picked up their trail going into MarshClan territory. What in StarClan compelled them to not only be in MarshClan territory but also scream? 

Palewince should have these three severely punished once she dragged them back to camp. In fact, she should have the ringleader exiled for such a dangerous exercise. While not being a deputy, she had nearly as much power as one. Just because Brightstar never let her sit beneath her at Gatherings didn’t mean that she didn’t hold enough power to.

“Well?” Palewince snaps, looking between the three young cats. 

“We don’t have to explain ourselves to you! You aren’t a deputy!” Ripplepaw pipes up to say. 

Palewince lashes him across the face, claws out. Ripplepaw recoils, releasing a quiet yowl of pain as blood flows down his face, getting stuck in his fur. She was careful to avoid soft spots. He would be fine. She may be getting on in years but that didn’t mean that she was incapable. 

“We’re going home.” She snaps and quickly leads them all home. Ripplepaw, who was currently training under Brightstar, is made an apprentice for three more moons and Hollymask was put on apprentice duty for as long as possible. Streambreak, the one who had put the idea in their heads that they should go to BroadleafClan in the middle of the night. Probably whatever thing that rouge and Vaststar were getting up to but it wasn’t in Palewince to care. 

All she had to do was keep on working hard, just as she had her entire life. 

She slumps to the ground in a pool of warm blood, BroadleafClan scent filling her nostrils. With every breath she takes, more of her blood colors the ground. She cannot deny this reality. 

Palewince tries to look at the cat who attacked her. Hollymask looks horrified. Then her vision is taken from her in a flash of red that makes her yowl out with pain. 

What…wasn’t I supposed to become leader? I have a great destiny! A destiny for things greater than this! I can’t—I can’t die here!

And then—claws to her chest.

[quinntheebrain]

TUYO

Pairing: South x Reader

Summary: You and South dance to one of your favorite songs on vacation.

Warnings: suggestive themes, South spits in your mouth lmfao, 18+, Minors DNI.

Author's note: Something short and sweet for my precious bby South. I know the primary language in Brazil is Portuguese, but he's speaking Spanish today so :). This song made me think about him for some reason. Tuyo - Rodrigo Amarante (I added the Spotify and Apple Music links too because idk where y’all listen to your music and I’m thoughtful like that lmfao)

Soy el fuego que arde tu piel

“I am the fire that burns your skin,” he translates as if you aren’t well versed in Spanish. It’s insulting, but also charming — the way he wants to woo you with his words. His smooth voice is more enchanting than the music, coaxing you to keep moving to the rhythm he’s creating. Your head rests gently on his chest, eyes closed as he guides you across the marble floor. You trust him, letting him lead you through the intricate maze of tables adorned with roses and candles. One wrong step could send you crashing to the floor or stepping on a table cloth, starting a fire similar to the one burning in you. There is not a hair, a muscle, an organ that does not feel in the inferno coursing through your very being. You’re the oil wick and his hand pressed firmly against your back, the match — sparking a flame that is so warm but so very comforting.

Soy el agua que mata tu sed

“I am the water that kills your thirst,” your eyes shoot open as he dips you, a cocky smirk sneaking onto his face as spectators clap for the two of you. He leans in to place a quick kiss on your lips but it does the opposite of the lyrics he's reciting — leaving your mouth dry and wanting more. With parted lips and longing eyes, you beg silently, but like always, South does what he wants. He smiles before opening his mouth and letting the spit pooling near his bottom lip overflow — a beaded string of saliva falling onto your tongue. “Good girl,” he says as you swallow, patting your thigh as reassurance.

El castillo, la torre yo soy

“The castle, the tower I am.” his muscles bulk, hoisting you back up and forcefully holding you against his body. Castle, tower — truly the right words to describe the mountain of a man in front of you. Broad shoulders and barrel chest, he’s a force to be reckoned with. A brawler with nothing but intent to kill. A divine fighter that can stand on his own, no need for followers besides his pure desire to rule and incite fear on a large scale. But now, at this moment, he is not the head of one of Japan’s most feared crime syndicates. Instead, he is a man moved by music — flowing through the room with an elegance that leaves you in awe.

La espada que guarda el caudal

“The sword that guards the treasure.” his step back is your step forward, flush against each other as he purposefully grinds his hips — eliciting a sinful moan that makes you so grateful for the music. But he hears because he is always listening — paying attention to your every word, your every desire. You and you alone are South’s treasure. The one thing he feels he’s done right. The one person he is willing to die to protect, which is the reason he’s whisked you away on this vacation. South doesn’t want to feel like he’s running away from a fight, so he’ll never tell you that his enemies have advanced and are threatening you as collateral — but you’re smart enough to know that. And you’re also smart enough to realize that he was willing to run because he can’t imagine his life with you in it. Of course, soon you’ll return to earth — to a hell where he can be snatched from you at any moment. But before that, you want to be good for South and he feels the same — abandoning his hard demeanor and being ever so gentle with you, the love of his life. He wants you to make memories you’ll never forget, to smile every time you think of him.

Tu el aire que respiro yo

He casts you out, red ruffles fluttering as you spin away from the comfort of his arms. He quickly reels you back in with a twirl, instantly missing the feeling of your arms flung over his shoulders — dainty fingers absentmindedly drawing circles on the nape of his neck. His large hands cling to your waist, keeping you steady. “You’re the air that I breathe.” you try to beat him to punch, but the words leave your mouths simultaneously. South laughs, shaking his head as he begins to move to the rhythm of the music and you follow. You’re not as skilled of a dancer but South makes it so easy to keep up — practically puppeteering your stiff body, commanding you to match his speed. It’s one of the many things you love about him — the way he naturally takes the lead, making love and life with him effortless.

Y la luz de la luna en el mar

“And the moon’s light on the sea,” he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. South means every word he whispers in your ear, but these words mean the most to him. Once the sun falls, stripping the land of its brash light and only leaving the blackness of night, there is the moon — the beautiful celestial body long known for shifting tides and accompanying sinners through the night. Unlike the sun, the moon is not judgemental or revealing. She is a confidant, good for keeping secrets and comforting lost souls. South has seen it all — bloodshed and death — and he let it consume him. When he is lost in the darkness that is his life, you are his moon, guiding him to tomorrow and every day after.

La garganta que ansío mojar

“The throat I yearn to wet.” a hand makes its way to your neck, fingers gently caressing the tattoo behind your ear. ‘South’ — it's simple and small, but it’s significant. You are his and his only — no man could take you from behind without the reminder that you belong to Unparalleled South (as if you would ever allow that). The thought alone fills him with rage, but instead of dragging you to the nearest restroom to fuck you relentlessly, he kisses you. It’s unlike the teasing kiss he gave you earlier — quick and fleeting. No, this one lingers — the sweet taste of tequila resting on your lips. He doesn’t care about the people watching, slipping his tongue into your mouth and groaning at its warmth — hands clenching your waist as lewd thoughts fill his mind. You pout as he pulls away, blinking at him with those pretty lashes, but the dance has to continue — despite his growing erection straining against pants.

Que temo ahogar de amor

“But I fear I’ll drown in love,” his large palm moves to caress your face, eyes softening as you smile up at him. One hand falls from his neck, tracing his tattoo on its way down his chest. When it lands on his clothed cock, a breathy moan passes his lips. “You’re too much,” he laughs, throwing his head back. South can’t contain himself anymore, gripping your wrist and guiding you out of the restaurant. He’s sure of it — you’ll be the death of him if his enemies don’t kill him first.