#The Rat Leader wc

[bonefall]

BB!MALICIOUS ENTITY: Ancestor Rats

A cruel fate that can befall a shattered pantheon, and the enemies of Firestar's Quietus

With SkyClan homeless and exiled at the end of the Skyfall Era, StarClan itself was in chaos. 1/5th of their ranks broke from the sky to walk with their descendants into exile, with only some of the most powerful ancestors staying behind.

Skystar himself, Patron of War, was one of them. He scoffed that a Clan that couldn't hold even a sliver of land had failed his teachings, and deserved nothing.

Scores of cats died in exile, starved, exposed, killed by predators. Cloudstar desperately tried to keep his cats together as SkyClan dwindled. Soon, there were barely enough cats to maintain a Clan, let alone such a large pantheon.

When Cloudstar died, his successor Spiderstar found herself facing a new threat. One she couldn't defeat.

Over and over, there were rats who would attack the camp. Horrible, twisted creatures of many colors, with sharp claws like a cat and jaws full of needle teeth. They swirled like a storm around a central point, wound so tightly that it was impossible to see what lay at the eye.

While watching baby spiders fly away from their mother on little silk balloons, Spiderstar devised a Great Plan. SkyClan would live apart but connected, loosely, like a web. The Rats could not kill what they could not find.

As she watched her Clan disperse, some to humans homes, some to live as rogues, the blood roared in her ears. It pounded, throbbed into a rythmn, until the words of a prophecy became overwhelming,

"EEK SHARRARRAM SSARSHAIWO!"

[Rat ancestors disastrous-they-will-kill]

Could this be true? Would their ancestors save them from the rats, someday?

(Below the cut; a guide to Ancestor Rats and how they are dealt with in Firestar's Quietus. CONTENT WARNING: BODY HORROR, GORE.)

Firestar's Quietus; The Secret of the Rats

Exactly as before, when Firestar and the spirit of Brokenstar gathered the SkyClan web together, the rats had one point of attack. They washed over the soon-to-be warriors in a wave, but they were able to fight them off.

Skywatcher laid on his side in the clearing, trembling and wide eyed, covered in horrible bites. At first they could barely get a word out of him, too shaken to speak. When he was finally able to force a word out, he could only mumble;

"I saw Lowbranch. That was my mother..."

And then, someone else came forward, sharing that one rat had the same stripes as their brother. Another recognized their son's tufts on another's ears. The camp buzzed with tension as the stories bubbled forth.

Everyone recognized something in the rats.

Something had happened to their ancestors. Something terrible. It became clear why they had never answered their prayers or sent a hero to save them. Brokenstar tried to reach them, but he could only hear a command echoing in the darkness.

"Neek urrspeekorreen urrsnyarhak, karrl urrsnakochya." "THAT WHICH CANNOT BE FIXED, MUST BE BROKEN"

It was only later, when they went to confront the rats once and for all, that they realized what those words meant. Stumbling out into the dim light out of the barn, they saw them.

Those weren't just rats!

And the most horrible thing of all was the atrocity behind it all, the creature at the center of the swirling, agonized mass, the eye of the storm...

The Rat Leader; Cloudstar

He promised to keep his Clan together. So he did.

As each life wasted away and his Clan dwindled, smaller and smaller, as their heaven crumbled above them and became too tiny to hold their ancestors, Cloudstar kept them in one piece.

When he died, that mission continued. Trapped as this cursed creature, Cloudstar was mindlessly commanding his cats like a storm around him, dragging in both the dead and the living in a desperate attempt to save the Clan he'd vowed to protect.

SkyClan could not mend until this curse was broken. These fallen angels needed to be released, by force, to rejoin a new heaven of modern making. Slipping into the body of Firestar, Brokenstar was able to lend all of his talents for one final fight. It was just like being back at Carrionplace.

With his purpose as the fallen 5th tree, a guardian spirit, fulfilled and the rats freed from their prisons, Brokenstar's soul grew sleepy with peace. Firestar buried the acorn necklace that he had used to channel him overlooking the gorge, where it quickly sprouted into a new oak.

Rat Ancestors; Tome of Beasts

When an afterlife is destroyed, through mass death or supernatural attack, and the spirits within it cannot peacefully fade away or join a new pantheon, all of its souls can become earth-bound.

There are many types of entities and curses in this world, each one completely unique. Ancestor Rats are the form that this pantheon took.

From a distance, an Ancestor Rat could be mistaken for an odd, escaped domestic rodent. Their faces were an unsettling mix of rat and cat, with teeth laid out like a cat's but endlessly growing like a rat. They had the blade-like claws of a Clan cat, tearing through the skin and laying at various angles.

They had no physical needs, but were unable to handle being separated from their leader. Cloudstar himself, however, did need to rest in some way, returning to the barn where he died every day.

When one was killed, it would flash blue as if briefly turning into a shard of the sky, before leaving a completely standard rat corpse in its place. As long as Cloudstar was alive, the pulsar of each spirit would simply be dragged back into another rat after some time.

There was no escape until he was killed.

After the defeat of the Ancestor Rats, the spirits moved on to SkyClan's special heaven; Skypelt. Even after moving to the lake, Skypelt maintains its independence from Silverpelt, judging its own souls and staying separate (but connected) to StarClan-Prime.

With an abundance of rat bodies on their paws, SkyClan started a morbid tradition for a very special celebration. "The New Day" is celebrated every year with a grand feast, where a traditional rat meat dish called "Roasted Grandpaw" is served.

[warriorcatsunveiled]

Skystar, Sparrowstar and Spiderstar

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Astray far away, towards the lands of the enemy.

Adar x reader | SMUT🔞 | Ch.2

When orcs cross your lands you choose survival. After that you choose selfish desire which makes for a nice turn of events.

WC: 2.2k

Part one of the Lets make Adar a dad fic

Waldreg was a rat, always had been.

But nowadays, with evil lurking he was making quite the points to assure survival. 

After Bronwyn gave her speech about fighting and Waldreg had countered it with bowing down for survival you had followed him out of the gates of Ostirith, and during the night, bowed down before your enemy.

Before you, Waldreg made a speech of loyalty but was ignored by the orcs' leader.

Ignored until he had called him Sauron. 

You watched Waldreg be grabbed by the throat and thrown to the ground, still offering loyalty to whoever the man before you all might be.

Again he was ignored, as the man took Rowan who stood right before you and was dragged to face the crowd, forced to kneel as the orc leader tossed a dagger at Waldreg's chest. Finally speaking.

"Only blood can bind." 

Before your eyes, in the torch lit town you watched as Waldreg did as instructed, and killed your friend to pledge his loyalty.

Next thing you knew you were following along with orders, listening to Adar give his speech to the Uruks he called his childen. Abd then trying to hide from your now enemies, praying the Uruks recognised you as their ally.

Only the Uruks weren't the biggest of your worries as another troop came in on horseback to aid the oposing forces.

So you hid with the remainder of the troop that managed to escape. You hid in the woods until the ground shook and fire rained from the sky and by the time the enemy fled you were back with Adar and the others and the start of building a new home was done.

The Southlands were no longer, from now on you were citizens of Mordor.

Scouts were sent off and remaining troops arrived with all belongings, ready to build.

But first it was time for celebration.

Uruks howled and feasted on fallen soldiers, even offering you some meat but you politely declined. 

Instead you found the other humans, all getting drunk off whatever survived the onslaught. So you moved on from them too, not feeling like drinking after all that happened. Your last stop was somewhere off at the edge of the town's remains where you stared at the smouldering ashes and low dancing flames on the edge of dying out.

That too didn't bring your mind peace and quiet, so you moved on again. Wandering around until you almost ran into someone after turning a corner. 

"Not of the celebrating kind, child?" Adar himself stood before you, two mugs in hand. He offered one to you as he went to sit on some fallen support beams.

"I'm not really one for getting drunk or feasting on my enemies' flesh, no." You joined his side and sat down. "Don't take me wrong, I am glad your Uruks have a home now." Your words ended with a smile, buried behind the drink. It was bad how you wanted to stare at the man for as long as you could. You had wanted it since you first watched him throw Wardreg and had Rowan killed. No one should look that good doing all of that.

"You know your eyes speak enough. No need to hide, I can read you." His gloved hand raised to lower your mug.

"This is good, what is it?" You tried your best to change the topic of conversation with a genuine question.

"A simple Uruk made red wine the last group brought in. Is it that different from what you served here?" He gestured to the tavern that you sat behind and looked at you with a curious look. 

"It's so nice and warm." It brought you comfort so you sipped away at it, the nerves of everything happening today finally leaving you. "So strange, it's so much nicer than ours." 

This time it was Adar changing the topic again. "Shall we go join the others? Surely you'd warm up to my children quicker that way." His offer was a kind one, filled with elven charm he still possesed even after becoming what he was now. 

"I think I prefer the less chaotic energy here, in all honesty. Being able to talk and drink wine, it's nice." 

And it was nice, even Adar agreed. Now that he and his children had a home there was no need for endless planning and strategizing to keep him busy anymore. 

"I admit, you are right. Having a quiet conversation just for the pleasure of it is something I have not done in a long while." He watched you place your mug down, impressed with how quickly you had downed the wine for a mere mortal who claimed not caring about getting drunk. 

You placed the mug down and thanked the wine for silencing the voice in your head as you sat straight up and murmured something. Adar didn't catch what it was, and questioned you about it.

"I said," With a swift move you flung your leg over his lap and straddled him. "There is probably other things that you have not done for pleasure in a very long time." 

Adar followed your quick movements with ease, hus gloved hand ending on your hip. Metal digging into your skin to steady you as his other hand came up to rest at your jaw.

Your actions intrigued him. "You assume right." His gloved hand sqeezed a bit harder, making you squirm in his lap as the sharp edges pressed deeper against your bones. "Now, what did you have in mind now that you have sat yourself so selfishly onto my lap?" He wasn't actively moving you off him so you took your chances to move along, inching closer to his face and pressing a swift peck to his jawline before nuzzling his neck. 

You only got a confused grunt in response, which had you decide to think more as an Uruk, and bite down on his flesh and grind your hips against his. It earned you a low growl and a sharp pull of your hair that disconnected your lips from his throat. 

"You wish to be rough, little mortal?" His gaze changed into an amused grin, taking your hip and shoulder in hand as he manouvered you onto your back, legs still over his as he moved himself atop of you. 

His legs on either side of the fallen structure with your hips pulled up against his, a sharp metal hand pressing into the soft plump of your cheeks prying open your jaw to push a finger past your lips. 

His ungloved hand went to find the ends of your garment and tear it off your lower half, exposing you to the night air while you struggled to move against the iron grasp on your jaw and the metal digging into your tongue.

"How good of you, to wet your master's fingers for him.." His lips barely an inch from your ear, returning the act of biting down on your earlobe with a soft growl and licking the sensitive flesh. 

You mewled as his gloved hand left your face, sharp fingertips dragging down over your clothed torso as he sat back up, untill it reached bare skin. You gasped as he continued south, two fingers moving just off your centre, pulling a soft plea from you. "P.. please, no.."

 He watched in amusement as he pressed the flats of his fingers against your mound, just the leather of his glove on your skin. He drank in the fear that mixed with your arousal, adding to his own fire and exposing you further, leaving your body bare to see for anyone who'd wander past.

You could feel his hard length press against you as he rutted his hips against you, his hands toying with your chest making you moan out in pleasure. 

He groaned in return, moving to undo his trousers and free his cock, wetting it with your slick. 

"It's been long since I have felt this warmth." He breathed out, postitioning his tip at your entrance. You whined with every inch of his length stretching you open, wrapping your legs around his waist as best as you could. The sounds of the Uruks ans men partying drowned out more with each roll of Adar's hips, forcing a moaned breath out of you each time. 

He stilled as he bottomed out, hips slotted with yours in a near perfect matter. Leaning forward on his hands his hair framed his face, lust blown eyes staring deep into yours. There was a slight pant in his breath. "I will keep you." His gloved hand moved to your chest, metal fingers toying with your nipple making you whine out. "Y.. yes Lord Father.." Pain and pleasure mixed in the best way. "You are mine to seek pleasure with howevever I wish." 

Your hands moves to clas at his thighs in an attempt to make him move. "My body belongs to you, Lord Father." 

Your words spurred him on and with a hand on your hip he started moving, cock leaving you almost fully before thrusting back in and setting a steady pace. 

Cries of pleasure filled the ashen air, groans and pleased grunts joining the choir behind the tavern. "L..lord Father.. Adar.." Your voice was barely abouve a whisper. " your hand found his hair, fingers scratching his scalp. "Plant your seed.. Use me to continue your bloodline." 

His thrusts became more harsh, forcing a gasp from you each time his hips came in contact with yours. "Would you.. truly give up your body.. like that?" He panted between breaths, he hadn't bred in Ages, not feeling the need to produce more offspring. The concept of having a family of his own beside his Uruk children was foreign to him. 

"Please.." You pulled him in closer with your heels pressed into his back, moaning as his cock hit just right inside you.

"Make me a mother." 

Adar's hips stilled entirely as he looked down on you, a grin spread wide on his faceas he lifted his gloved hand and brought a fingertip down below your chest hard enough to break skin. You could not see what he did, only feel the carving of flesh obscured by the plump of your breast.

He did not speak, nor try to show you. Instead resumed his rough pace as if nothing had happened.

"You will bear my children, yes? For as long as I please. Until your body is no longer fit to carry offspring." His raspy voice was right at your ear, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin on your neck as he bred you. 

"Ahh..Adar.. hah.." Your moans increased the closer you got to the edge. They were music to Adar's ears.

Not like the animalistic howls and roars of thr Uruks he had gotten so accustomed to. No, your sounds were addicting. 

Your hand found his ungloved one, guiding it between your legs to press two fingers down on your clit, silently begging him to pull you over the edge. On contact you cried out, pleading over and over until the coil snapped and you came, walls clamping down on his cock in extacy.

With no chance to catch your breath your cries turned into begging for rest, a moment to come down but instead Adar kept playing with your clit, fucking into you at the perfect angle that hit every right spot inside of you. The display amused him, filing it all away for if he ever found himself alone and in need of relief.

Before you he panted, chest heaving and mouth hanging open. His tongue rolled out past his smiling lips, a string of drool lowering and disconnecting from the tip of his tongue, dripping down right above your core. His already slick fingers gathered it and spread it all over where his cock disappeared into your folds. 

It reminded you that you weren't producing a child with an elf. You were being bred by an Uruk. 

Adar's growls and sighs got more frequent along with his thrusts becoming less rythmic. He was as close as you were again.

His hinistrations continued, fingers dancing over your sensitive bundle of nerves as his cock stroked thr spot that had you see stars from the inside. 

You threw your head back with one last gut wrenching moan, squeezing your walls around his cock once more and pulling him over the edge with you. With a low growled moan he spilled deep within your womb, stilling to catch his breath.

As he tucked himself back into his trousers he watched your close to unconsious form, eyes closed and breaths evening out.

In your current state you could no longer register the Uruks that had gathered because of the noise, watching their Adar who mated with one of the new women. 

He was unsure how long they had been there or how much they saw, but from the howls and cheers he figured they had seen enough. 

With a glare in their direction, Adar sent away his children and covered your bare skin to the best of his abilities. You needed a new set of clothes. 

With you wrapped in his arms he set off to find a place for you to sleep while he sent others on a hunt for clothes. 

[moomuzan]

‘til ⠀the───misery do us “apart”

arranged marriage⠀ req. ft. fyodor ⸝⸝ dazai ⸝⸝ chuuya warnings. forced relationship ⸝⸝ angst wc. 1.8k

f.d.

Like a silent threat, its silver strands delicate yet unyielding, glimmering with the kind of beauty that concealed destruction, the necklace gleamed in Fyodor’s hand. You stood before him in his dimly lit study, a statue carved from defiance and fear, yet his gaze made you feel like glass — fragile, transparent, breakable. With an eerie calm, he stepped closer, his shadow reaching you before his body did, the weight of his presence enough to still the air in your lungs.

“For you,” he said, the words brushing against your skin like frost. His voice was soft, almost reverent, but every syllable carried a quiet cruelty. He reached out, his fingers cold as they grazed the curve of your neck, and clasped the chain. The weight of it was slight, but it sank deep, an anchor tethering you to him. It wasn’t jewelry—it was a sentence. A final act of obedience, a symbol of submission, and you couldn’t tear it away even as your entire being screamed to fight.

You didn’t dare speak. Silence had become your armor, though it was one Fyodor pierced with ease. His lips curled into a faint smile then, the kind that spoke not of joy but of quiet triumph. “It suits you,” he murmured while his fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary, tracing the silver as though ensuring the chains were secure. “A symbol of what we are to each other.”

The words twisted in your chest like a dagger. You weren’t anything to each other. You weren’t partners, weren’t lovers, weren’t equals. He had taken that possibility from you the day he sent that letter—the one with pristine handwriting, promising union or annihilation. The marriage was not a choice. It was a strategy, a transaction written in ink and sealed with your silent screams.

At first, you had fought. You were born into power, raised to lead, and rebellion had coursed through your veins as naturally as blood. On the day you were told of your engagement, you had stormed through the halls of your father’s office, your anger loud and blistering. The letter sat on his desk like a gravestone. Fyodor’s terms were clear: marriage would forge an alliance, but refusal would mean war—war your organization could not survive.

Your father, always a man of control, had looked tired in a way you had never seen before. His hands trembled as he passed you the letter, his voice weak when he said, “You don’t understand. If we resist him, it’s the end of us.”

And so, you had been handed over, a lamb to the slaughter. The man you met on your wedding day was everything you feared he would be. Fyodor Dostoevsky, the enigmatic leader of the Rats in the House of the Dead, was a vision of contradictions. His face was elegant, his voice velvet, but his eyes—God, his eyes—were endless voids, bottomless pools that swallowed light and spat out despair. From the moment you met him, you knew he was a man who moved through the world unchallenged, untouchable, as though every soul he encountered was a pawn waiting to be played.

Of course, you had tried to resist. In those early days, you refused to meet his gaze, refused to play the role of his obedient spouse. You pushed back at every turn, but Fyodor was patient. He didn’t demand your submission outright—no, he dismantled you with the precision of a craftsman.

Slowly, precisely, he turned your silence into a weapon against you. He took your rebellion and reshaped it, twisting your anger into futility. He unraveled you piece by piece, his manipulation a quiet, creeping thing that seeped into your mind until you began to question your own thoughts. His control was suffocating yet intangible, a noose you couldn’t see but always felt.

“You think you’re still free, don’t you?” he had said to you once, his voice soft, almost pitying. He had stepped closer then, much as he was doing now, his presence overwhelming as he brushed a stray hair from your face. “You mistake your stubbornness for strength. But all it does is amuse me.”

Now, as he took a step back to admire the necklace, his grin sharpened, his satisfaction cutting through the air like a blade. “You’ve come so far,” he said, tilting his head as if observing a masterpiece he had carefully crafted. His dark eyes glinted, and you shivered beneath the weight of his gaze. “Though I must admit, I do miss the fire in your eyes. It was… entertaining.”

As he stepped forward again, his movements were slow and deliberate, a predator circling its prey. His hand rose, pale fingers brushing your cheek, tilting your face toward him until his presence consumed every inch of your vision. His touch was cold, calculated, and unbearably gentle. It was the kind of gentleness that spoke of power, of control, of a man who knew he didn’t need to raise his voice or his hand to destroy you.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered, his breath ghosting against your skin. His lips curved into a smile so cruel it felt like a knife against your throat. “Do you fear me that much? Or is it something else entirely?”

When your breath hitched, his grin widened, sharp as broken glass. He leaned in, so close you could feel the chill radiating from him, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you. But no—Fyodor Dostoevsky never granted anything so human.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, the words coiling around you like chains, binding you tighter than the necklace ever could. “Body, mind, soul. And you will learn, дорогая, that there is no escape from me.”

The moment he finally stepped away, the room felt emptier, colder, as if he had taken all the air with him. The necklace burned against your skin, its weight a reminder of what you had become—a piece in his game, a pawn bound to his will. And as the door closed behind him, you realized that the chains weren’t just around your neck—they were inside you, woven into every corner of your soul.

c.n.

Gilding the air with an unnatural warmth that mocked the cold weight in Chuuya’s chest, the chandelier’s fractured glow cast delicate patterns across the room. Here, the hum of murmured negotiations and polite laughter filled the space, a symphony of half-truths and manipulation dressed up as civility. He sat beside you, his polished image immaculate, the perfect embodiment of devotion, his every movement orbiting around your presence as if it was the only truth he’d ever known. And you—you were stunning. Draped in shimmering silk, you moved like light itself, effortlessly drawing attention to your every gesture. The world seemed to revolve around you in that moment, and Chuuya, against his better judgment, let himself fall into its gravity once again.

Soft and melodic, you laughed, as though you truly found joy in his words, yet the sound was merely a blade twisting between his ribs. He felt the faint brush of your fingers against his arm, light as a whisper, and for one foolish second, he almost believed it. Believed you. But then his eyes found yours, and the illusion shattered.

Those eyes—unwavering, sharp, and devoid of the warmth your laugh so convincingly promised—were the heart of your performance. No one else saw it. To the room full of strangers, you were the doting wife, perfectly attuned to the man at your side. But to him, your gaze was ice, a silent reminder that every touch, every smile, every soft word was nothing more than part of the facade. And in that moment, the bitterness surged, hot, cruel, because Chuuya knew he had no one to blame but himself.

He hated how his heart still leapt when you leaned closer, how his breath hitched at the faint scent of your perfume, or the way his chest ached with longing for something he’d known from the start was never his to have. Though, most of all, he hated himself for falling in love with you. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was never supposed to be more than a duty, an arrangement dictated by the cruel logic of no one else but the Port Mafia. You were his spouse in name, his partner in deception, nothing more. Yet somehow, against his better judgment, against every warning he’d given himself, he’d let his heart betray him.

From the moment you’d stood beside him on your wedding day, your hand cool and distant in his as you exchanged hollow vows, he’d understood the nature of your bond. Yes, it was a means to an end, a calculated move to consolidate power, to present a united front to the world. Yet, clinging to the depths of his heart, there had been a part of him—a small, foolish part—that had hoped. Perhaps it was the way you tilted your head when you were lost in thought, the faint crease in your brow that appeared when you believed no one was looking, or the rare moments when the mask seemed to falter, revealing the faintest glimpse of something raw and unguarded beneath. Those moments had been his undoing, and now, sitting beside you in this gilded prison of duty and pretense, he couldn’t decide wether he despised you for giving him those glimpses or himself for clinging to them.

Ghostly so, the meeting dragged on, your laughter weaving seamlessly with his as you leaned closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered something for him alone. Chuuya didn’t hear the words, though, couldn’t focus on anything but the pounding in his chest and the bitter truth echoing in his mind: it was all a lie. Intertwined in a game he surely didn’t know how to win, he played the fool, and every moment he spent beside you only deepened the ache.

When the meeting finally ended, you stood gracefully, slipping your arm into his without hesitation as he guided you toward the exit. To anyone watching, you were perfect together, the embodiment of a partnership built on unshakable trust and devotion. However, the truth was a cold, unyielding weight between you, a chasm he could never hope to bridge. Spiralling like a lie—a cruel mockery of the intimacy he longed for but could never claim, his hand rested lightly at the small of your back, a gesture of possession and protection.

Only then, he finally spoke, low and sharp. “You’re good at this, aren’t you? Playing the perfect partner.”

“And you’re good at pretending this means anything.”

Chuuya stopped in his tracks, his jaw tightening, as you continued walking ahead, then. Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he stared at your retreating figure. wondering how he had allowed himself to become this. How had he, Chuuya Nakahara, a man who had carved his way through blood and chaos, been brought to his knees by something as simple, as cruel, as love?

He pitied himself for it, for the way his heart still reached for you despite knowing it was futile, for the way he let himself dream of a future where you might look at him with something other than indifference. It was a tragedy of his own making, and he bore it silently, playing the role of the devoted husband to a wife who would never be his, locked in a story that was never meant to have a happy ending.

d.o.

The night you discovered the truth about Dazai Osamu, the fragile scaffolding of your carefully constructed reality collapsed in on itself, leaving nothing but a cold, hollow emptiness in its wake. The marriage, the smiles, the fleeting moments of tenderness—they were all a facade, a cruel play in which you had been cast as an unwitting participant. At first, you convinced yourself he was just another victim of circumstance, bound to this arrangement as unwillingly as you were. He played the part of the devoted husband effortlessly, his easy smiles and warm laughter drawing you into the illusion he so carefully curated. You almost believed it. Almost. But now you realized how deeply you had underestimated the man who had promised you nothing and yet had taken everything.

That evening had been unremarkable at first. Draped in an almost serene stillness, broken only by the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, the house was quiet. You had wandered to his study, intending to retrieve a book he’d borrowed—a trivial task, an innocent excuse to enter the space he kept so meticulously private. You hadn’t expected anything more than shelves of leather-bound books and perhaps a glass of unfinished whiskey on his desk. But what you found instead was a different kind of story, one written in blood and shadows, laid bare beneath the sterile glow of a desk lamp.

First, your eyes wandered to the photographs spread across the polished wood, stark black-and-white images of faces you vaguely recognized—politicians, businessmen, people whose names carried weight in hushed conversations. Then to the documents, dense with codes and schematics, annotated in Dazai’s elegant handwriting. And finally, to the symbol stamped in the corner of the pages, dark and unmistakable. The Port Mafia—a dark, ominous emblem you recognized from whispered rumors and hushed conversations.

Shallow and panicked, your breath caught, while your mind scrambled to process the enormity of what lay before you. This wasn’t just a secret; it was an entire life, an identity, concealed beneath the surface of the man you had called your husband. The realization was like a blade slicing your very own flesh, slow and excruciating, as the memories of his quiet smiles, his light teasing, his unshakable composure rearranged themselves into something darker, something insidious. Every moment with him suddenly felt tainted, every glance laced with a hidden agenda. Still, worst of all was the crushing weight of your own blindness—how you had let yourself be lulled into a sense of safety, of trust, when all along, he had been playing you like one of his carefully chosen pawns.

It was the soft creak of the floorboards that snapped you out of your daze, and as you turned sharply, the room spun with the force of your movement. Dazai stood in the doorway, his figure framed by the dim light from the hallway behind him. His expression was unreadable, those dark eyes fixed on you with a calm that made your heart race in fear. He stepped inside, then, the door clicking shut behind him, sending the sound to echo in the heavy silence between you.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said softly, his voice devoid of its usual lightness. There was no humor in his tone, no playful edge. Just quiet inevitability, as if this moment had been preordained and all you had done was stumble into it.

Although your lips parted, no words came out. The knot in your throat was too tight, the emotions too tangled—shock, betrayal, anger, fear, all warring for dominance. Finally, you managed to force out a single, trembling accusation. “You lied to me.”

Tilting his head ever so slightly, his lips curved into a faint, almost wistful smile. “Did I?” he murmured, his voice as smooth as silk. “Or did you simply believe what you wanted to believe?”

The question struck you like a physical blow, your chest tightening with a fury that burned hotter with every passing second. “How long?” you demanded, your voice breaking under the weight of the question. “How long have you been using me? Was it all a lie from the beginning? Every word, every touch—was any of it real?”

For a moment that, ultimately, felt like a lifetime, Dazai said nothing, his gaze steady, unyielding. Then he stepped closer, his movements deliberate, almost predatory, until the space between you was suffocatingly small. “What does it matter?” he asked, his voice low, each word dripping with a cruel, almost philosophical detachment. “Reality is nothing more than perception. You wanted to believe in the husband who smiled at you, who made you laugh, who held your hand. That was real to you, wasn’t it?”

Your breath hitched as his words twisted in your mind, tearing through the last fragile threads of your composure. “You bastard,” you whispered, the tears burning hot against your cheeks. “You ruined everything. You—”

Silently, his hand reached out, and for a moment, you thought he might touch you, might offer some kind of explanation or apology. But instead, he brushed past you, gathering the documents from his desk with the ease of a man who had nothing to hide. “I never promised you a happy ending,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “And you never asked for one.”

With a growing sense of despair, the full weight of what he was sinking in, you watched him. This was who he truly was—a man who danced on the edge of chaos, who played with lives as if they were pieces on a chessboard. And you, unwillingly, had been drawn into his game. The room felt colder now, the walls closing in, and as you stood there, staring at the man who had become your greatest fear, you realized you no longer knew where you ended and his web of lies began.

join my taglist @amvpk01 @sophistication-as @ezzyrainrunaway @plutouran @xumyuii @cultluvin @cryptidfuckerofficial @dazaistn @dietcolavape @grayshadeofpurple @naviiq @vasarii @poekaryote @cheriboom @lurulu-ru @unlikelyfoxunknown @baldgirl212 @akutagawasprettygirl @rottenstawberrygirl @akutagawasinhaler @liv1ng-de4d-g1rl @loveyjjuliana

A/N: this req. has been sitting in my drafts for SO long and due to me being stupidly self-conscious i didn’t want to finish / post this fic but well, here i am. writing for fyodor enhanced my spirits. will definitely do that again ! oooo ! back on my angsty bullshit

ahi don’t even know if this is what yall want to read huh

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Obscuary's monster catwalk

Obscuary ghouls as cats

Wc: ~700

Ed

The sleepiest chartreux ever. He is always on the cat tower or in his bed.

Maybe it's because he is older than the other two and you see the contrast, but when Rui and Lyca chase each other or play he prefers to lay in your lap and make biscuits.

He used to play fight with Rui but once he acted really hurt to go back to sleep and Rui now feels guilty and still licks him to ‘make up’ for it.

His laziness is such that if you make him walk to his food and not carry him there/ serve him closer he will act as if he has a limp or meow as if he was pained enough for you to feel sorry. Either you or the vet are sure if he is in any real pain but you give him supplements for his bones and joints either way. You do notice he doesn't meow sadly while walking until he sees you and starts the whole melodrama.

What gives him away is how quickly he jumps up the platforms on the wall when Lyca tries to play with him and how smug he looks down on him when he can just meows him to go down.

Either way he is so sensitive to your emotions! When you cry in bed he will hop on your chest and lick your tears. (totally not him liking the salt in them)

Just like Ren you have to control his screen time, he might not like playing but he does stay totally still and has his eyes wide when you put on a conspiracy theorist on the tablet or TV.

Rui

A blond American shorthair.

The sweetest cat that purrs and meows so sweetly and contorts his body trying to ask for cuddles and kisses but as soon as you step a little closer and attempt to catch him he starts sprinting to the hideout. It isn't only you, the few female cats that seemed interested in him made him retreat too.

No matter how many times you chime at him and even spritz him he keeps biting pieces of your plants and flowers and keeps them ‘hidden’ in his hideout.

He is such an innate hunter! And he always brings you his victims, still when he brings you a dead ladybug or bird his appearance is closer to that of an apologetic child than a prideful hunter. It's almost as if he wants you to fix his mistake and return the little thing's life.

He seems to meet up with Romeo and Haru every night on your dining table as they meow (principally Haru, he is such a whiny baby)

He has a habit of picking up small pieces of clothing like socks and underwear and bringing them to the laundry room, even if it's helpful to already have them on the floor when you go load the machine, he sometimes opens your drawers and grabs clean ones to feel he is doing something productive. He did put Ed there once when he was nasty enough for him to refuse to help groom him.

Lyca

A messy and stiff haired Lykoi.

He was a rescue found between wild dogs that you fostered but decided to keep as his forever family.He still has some dog-like mannerisms, like wagging his tail when happy.

He is in kitty confinement jail (cat carrier) until he stops swatting and hissing at you or his brothers. Luckily Subaru was brave enough to stand beside him until he calmed and he behaved enough for you to free him under parole.

The first few days, even though he wasn't hitting anyone, nobody dared to approach him unless Subaru was besides him.

Speaking of, Subaru is the one who took it upon himself to teach him how to behave like a cat again, teaching him how to groom himself and jump high, much to Ed's chagrin.

He likes to stalk Ed, wanting to imitate what he thinks is the leader of the pack. He even annoys him trying to fight him but he just huffs and climbs up furniture or up the cat tree.

Unlike Rui, he is good at hunting and proud of it. He might be one of the few, if not only, who will bring you dead rats to show off. Once you even got a baby bunny that luckily was still alive even if scared.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

snippet from the starter pokemon ofa au, ft. duo holders & their dragon-turned-fat hedgehog mole thing (Cyndaquil!). wc: ~550

a/n: Cyndaquil Community Day 2024, I will never forget you being timed for a literal 108 F heat wave. THREE SHINY CYNDAQUIL, AND NOT A ONE OF THEM 3-STARRED.

//

The first thing Kudou realized was that Yoichi’s big fucking dragon was gone. The second thing Kudou realized was the tiny, stubby-limbed thing squirmed between him and Yoichi, whose snores were being unusually muffled. And the last thing Kudou realized before he would bolt upright was the spattering of open flames that flickered on and off in quick succession.

“Fuck--! Yoichi--!” he yelled, and instinctively shoved Yoichi away. His alarm woke up the creature, who let out a tiny screech and wobbled up on all fours, whose back ignited into a steady flame this time.

“Charizard!” Yoichi gasped, and then froze. One of his long-fingered hands clutched for his belly. Quick calculations went on behind those green eyes, and he nearly was too late to prevent Kudou from yanking his gauntlet on and training its sights onto the creature. “No, wait! Kudou, wait!”

They wrestled for the gauntlet’s straps.

“Get your meta ability to eat it!”

“That is my meta ability!” Yoichi exclaimed, and Kudou was so stunned, he accidentally let Yoichi clip his jaw with a pointy elbow. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry--”

“It changed forms again?”

“Well, I…” Yoichi hesitated. He was sprawled over Kudou, limbs comically attempting to wrap him up, and from this angle, Kudou could hardly read the man’s expression. They heaved for breath; Kudou thought his head was ringing, just a little. “Um… Leader… do you feel alright?”

“No?” Incredulity colored his response. “There’s some kind of rat in our bed, and it’s on fire, like your… meta ability…”

“My brother’s meta ability--”

“No. No. Don’t tell me.”

The creature stumbled in the sheets, attempting to approach. Its squat stature did not permit it to overcome one particular crease, and it tripped with a piteous little wail. Seeing it sprawled out on its belly, frustratedly squeaking, stirred some measure of sympathy in Kudou’s heart.

“It’s so cute,” Yoichi cooed, apparently enthralled.

“Why is your meta ability now mine, that’s the bigger issue!” Kudou cringed away from Yoichi as his now-lover scooped up the creature with zero fear, and plopped it on Kudou’s chest. It felt like a fuzzy hot water bottle. It squeaked again.

“What’s its name?”

“How’d you know Charizard’s? Bruce and I could guess how you got Charmeleon out of the lizard’s sounds, but Charizard’s were way more incoherent.”

“Mm,” Yoichi hummed, and carefully rubbed the creature’s fine-haired scalp with a finger. “I suppose it came from the bond. Do you feel it? Between you and… whatever One for All is now?”

Kudou frowned. He closed his eyes, and tried to isolate his immediate feelings of shock and worry from… aha. It had been so difficult to explain to Yoichi what meta abilities, naturally-appearing ones at least, felt like to their users’ innate senses. Gearshift was something like a gust of air, exhaled with deliberate attention, paired with a twinge in Kudou’s temple as he focused on a specific object.

One for All, apparently, felt like a crackling warmth in his core, and instantly, Kudou knew that he could replicate that otherworldly red bolt that Yoichi used to recall his meta ability to a different dimension. And then, he knew the creature’s name.

“Cyndaquil,” Kudou said aloud, and the fat little thing squeaked in acknowledgment. It nestled firmly by his collarbone. Never before had Kudou felt so gratified that Yoichi’s monster--Yoichi’s evidently transferable meta ability--wasn’t subject to mortal indignities.

“So cute,” Yoichi said again.

[blahblahblees]

maybe lab rats bionic island chase x reader in which chase trains reader at the academy and over time they spend more time together training and start to fall for one another? (reader is in the red category) thank you!

ヽ｀、☁ヽ｀─── kiwi ミ chase davenport

✎ ·˚ ༘ ─── passionate about being the best and proving herself, chase davenport helps her train even more and falls for her in the process.

wc: 714

chase davenport x fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns)

tw: kissing (?)

a/n: ngl i had to do some research 😔 but to add, this prompt didn’t have any preferred pronouns used… in the future if it’s not stated if it’s a fem or masc reader i’ll use they/them pronouns :) in this case she/her is used

molecularkinesis — to have limited control of physical forces and to move and otherwise interact with objects and people of a certain number, size, speed and weight without physical contact and from a distance

THE DAVENPORT Bionic Academy had seen success in the few months that it’d been opened. Mr. Davenport had seen great progress with several of the students with the help of Adam (surprisingly), Bree, Chase, and Leo (another surprise). These students would soon follow in the lead of the siblings and help save the world with training they had received.

But one students wanted nothing more than to be the best. To prove herself. She wanted to be the one who stepped out of this academy with great success. She wanted Mr. Davenport to see her a someone worthy of being sent out on missions and coming back as successful.

Which is why she trained for days. She would train herself with the lessons prior and ranked up to be label in the red category. She was practically at the top of the leaderboard and she wasn’t going to let that slip from her fingers.

She would take the lessons she learned from Adam, Bree, Chase, and Leo, and continued to train without their guidance.

But one day, Chase happened to make his rounds around the academy and saw her training by herself, using her bionic against no one else but the practice dummies they continuously had sent out to them.

“What are you doing?” Chase called.

She turned quickly, sweat dripping down her skin as she faced him.

“Practicing.” She answered quickly.

Chase stepped further into the room, placing his tablet on a nearby ottoman and grabbed her hands and kicked her feet apart.

“When sparring, you never want them to know your next move.” He said, adjusting her hands. “Don’t be afraid to use your molecularkinesis. It’s a powerful thing that not many bionics have.”

She sighed, shaking her hands from Chase’s grasp.

“I’ve never used it before.”

Chase nodded. “Then we’ll practice, you and I.”

AND OVER time Chase found himself training her more than Adam, Bree, and Leo and that’s because he wanted to spend time with her.

She seemed timid, but confident in her own skills. And she was a great fighting. She had the agility and strength that most of the others had gain with the help of others, but she had it come to her naturally.

She was a great sparing partner and the flexibility that made for great combat. She could find herself becoming a leader like himself in no time.

But he didn’t really want that.

I mean, he did want that for her. She wanted that for herself. Time and time again, she proved to herself and the others around that she had the ability to be a leader… but becoming a leader meant that she didn’t really need the training anymore.

But Chase would push that aside when it came down to actually training with her overtime. His focus would be on her and her only.

“Remember what I said.” Chase said. “Never let them know your next move.”

She nodded, holding the staff the two of them weee using for today and took her position. She took in one last deep breath and stepped forward, the two of them now sparring.

She was able to sideswipe him with her staff. She stepped forward, jabbing the staff towards his as he swiftly dodged her shots.

He was able to tuck and roll his way around her, but as he began to stand, his back had been turned towards her.

She took the opportunity to take her staff and use it to knock the boy back down towards the ground.

Chase rolled over on his back, his hands up. “Good job.” He smiled.

She returned the small smile and held his hand out for her to grab.

He took hers in his swiftly, but used that as an opportunity to pull her down towards the ground, rolling the two of them over. Chase now laying on top of her.

“Never let them know your next move.” He muttered.

They were both breathing heavily, adrenaline still pumping through their veins from the mock fight. But as Chase looked down at her, his eyes intense.

Without a word, Chase leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was a gentle, tentative kiss at first, but as he pulled back, he started to apologize for his actions.

But before he could finish his sentence, she broke leaned up and pressing her lips to his once again. This time, the kiss was more confident and intense, as though she was trying to prove a point.

As they finally pulled away, both of them were breathing heavily.

"You don't have to be sorry.” She smiled.

Chase smiled back at her, relief flooding through him.

You never let them know your next move.

— lucy has something to say !!

i like this i think :)

but regardless, my requested are opened!

you should check out my rules and such before requesting and check out my masterlist to see who i write for!

[randomnameless]

Do you think Edelgard perceives herself as a victim? I’ve been thinking and I can’t decide myself, on one hand she clearly hates the idea of people being victims or helpless, and constantly reframes the victims of the war as “necessary sacrifices” instead of, y’know, tragic causalities of a war she started. She plays up her sad backstory to try to get Byleth to join with her in WC, but then she does all these things to concentrate as much power as possible on herself. On the other (other) hand, she pushes the culpability of the war on everyone except herself, and has trouble taking accountability. She’s obsessed with controlling everything but she doesn’t want to be blamed for the problems she’s created. What do you think?

Oh!

(sorry for replying one literal month later lol)

I find Supreme Leader hard to write because of this, but in a way, I believe that yes, she does.

However, for all the flak Faerghus gets for "ToXiC mAsCuLiNiTy" and "Chivalry BaD", there's something very toxic with the way some Adrestian victims (often women... blame the writers I guess?) deal with their abuse.

I'm not going to spend a lot of time on Doro because I already typed a lot about her, but while she still sees herself as a victim from what she endured and suffered in her childhood, she adopted the toxic mindset of "this suffering is a thing of the past and I grew from that/beyond that to become the person I am now" - which we can also see in Manu who suffered from, roughly, the same traumas.

Petra also follows this pattern, being a hostage and treated like shit, but she grow "beyond" her status of a victim to become the strong person she projects and believes she is - it's only out of House that she realises more accutely her status within the Empire, the reality of her situation and, in Houses, refuses vassalage to Adrestia to make her country independent without having to "ask the Emperor".

It's the same pattern : "I was a victim" but "I became strong" so "I am not a victim anymore, this is something of the past".

Applied to Supreme Leader...

Well, trying to ignore the Agarthans and her dad's own infuence on her character (which is kind of hard, since the games try their hardest to make Agarthans responsible for everything BaD and we're not clear on how much they had an influence on her), I think Supreme Leader believes she was a "victim" of abuse.

But - through further abuse and surviving said abuse - she became strong* enough to "not be a victim anymore".

Which is why her line of "if the weak remain weak it's their fault" feels like it echoes part of her mindset : she was a victim but became strong enough, maybe by hardening her own feelings to become "strong", so she is not the same helpless "victim" she once was.

If she managed to do that, then everyone can do the same.

As for the "necessary sacrifices", since early 2019 someone theorised that "the people" she pretends the fight for as seen as some general "concept", much like the "greater good". So if some people are sacrificed, it's for her ideals - the goal and aim of her newfound strength - , and it piles on her drive, she must realise them otherwise those people would have died (and she would have suffered) for nothing.

However, despite acknowledging her past self as a victim, and because she's now "strong", she's not above using her past trauma (but actually, still present! Remember the rat scene?) to reach her goals, because, at her core, Supreme Leader is soemone who is very determined. Maybe it's her only drive to grow beyond the trauma, or her own illusions, or a mix of everything, but AM made it clear, Supreme Leader is not above, well, using herself if it means seeing her goals come to fruition : unlike Lobotogard from AG, AM!Supreme Leader willingly transforms in Hegemongard.

This is the cost she's willing to pay, so while the memes about Lord Farqaad were on spot, I still think that Supreme Leader is ultimately willing to sacrifice** herself for her goal (but only when there's no other way to ensure her future will come to fruition, and in a way, I guess she thought she would survive the Hegemon transformation, jury's out on what she meant to do in AM's finale, but imo, she still tried, even beaten and battered as she was, to claim Dimi's head).

Ultimately I think everything's a bit muddled by the fact that, as @fantasyinvader pointed out, Supreme Leader is a liar and knows the importance of maintening good PR.

She lies and manipulates the truth to reach her goals (which again, is a red flag when CF claims to want to restore the "distorted history" of Fodlan!) and for all the flak I give them, the devs managed to scrap enough material to give us a peek in Adrestia's mindset (or at least its top nobles), they're not people who self reflect, they are salty because they aren't ruling the world anymore, and they feel like they are better than the rest of Fodlan.

Put everything in the mixer, and you indeed have Supreme Leader (but also her court, especially Ferdie in SB who dares to say, as he is invading and trouncing people who don't really like and accept the idea of being invaded, that the fear those people feel are only in their mind, or something like that? Like, dude, you're rolling over their people and country, of course they'll fear and hate you!) giving her weird rhetoric lines (why are people opposing me if they are going to die?), victim blaming (something Treehouse swallowed like honey, if their lolcalisation is anything to go by, remember, it's Rhea's fault for not offering her head on a platter that is the reason why the War continues in CF!) and so on.

IDK if the devs wanted to bank that much on the Dany parallel with her "if I look back i am lost", but again, I don't know if her drive to make a "better Fodlan" is motivated by her trauma, Adrestian revanchism, Ionius telling her dumb things or Agarthans agarthaning, but her goal and vision are everything to Supreme Leader.

So she will do anythign to see them realised, even if it means sacrificing her people, starting a war, tweaking "the truth" or using her own trauma to motivate and recruit powerful people who might assist her with her goals.

To reply to your question, IMO she sees herself as someone who had once been a victim, but won't let that stop her from reaching her goals, even if it means creating thousands of "hers" in the process, because, in her mind, reaching her goal is more important than anything else.

*I know, she refutes Dimitri's claim that she is "strong" or laughs at it, but imo, it was more in the sense of "I was weak and became strong" so everyone can "become" strong.

**I don't think she wanted to throw away her life, but more something in the lines of "putting my life on the line" or sacrificing her precious (and to see how precious it is, just play CF lol) humanity.

[wc-confessions]

Since it's disability pride month I am dedicating this confession to lesser known/underrated disabled WC characters!

Everyone knows and loves cats like Briarlight and Brightheart, but there's quite a few others that aren't talked about as much

First off, One-Eye and Halftail, the two first arc elders. They don't show up much due to being in the Elder's Den, but when they do, they're a delight to see. I love One-Eye's bickering with Smallear and how she helps Brightheart a bit in A Dangerous Path! They're also the parents of Mousefur and Runningwind! One of whom dies fighting Tigerclaw in the same book Halftail dies of smoke inhalation after the fire. I like to think Runningwind rushed into battle against Tigerclaw impulsively since his father had died not long ago. Mousefur, on the other hand, takes after her mom in the new prophecy and onwards as a grumpy old lady lol. Very great characters, I love them a lot!

Speaking of the 1st arc, Brokenstar. He's honestly a really entertaining and threatening villain, and people don't talk about him much or his disability. Him and other cats with damaged tails like Berrynose and Finleap aren't really talked about in conversations about disabled characters. I find Brokenstar very interesting, not because of his motivation (or lack there of lol) which is pretty generic, but because of his lasting effects on the clans. His reign directly or indirectly led to several key events in the first arc or beyond. Tigerclaw becoming the deputy of ThunderClan was caused by Brokenstar killing Lionheart (canonically, we don't know who killed Lion, but I think it was Brokenstar), him being still alive led to Nightstar not getting nine lives and dying in Rising Storm. Which led directly to Tigerstar taking power. He directly killed several cats, but his orders and actions led to many more that wouldn't have happened had he not been leader, which I will not list out because this confession would be way too long. Another thing I like about him is that he is a fantastic villain in OOTS. People often depict the main leader of the Dark Forest being Tigerstar or Mapleshade, but in reality, it's actually Brokenstar. Tigerstar is more of a secondary leader to him. Brokenstar was the first Dark Forest cat to cross into the living world, and he later seemingly detects StarClan cats at the border to the Dark Forest somehow and confronts them, so Jayfeather and Spottedleaf have to sneak in, and he leads Flametail into the Dark Forest so Ivypool can ghost kill him (but this plan was foiled by Tigerheart), and in The Darkest Hour, Ivypool refers to the plans as "What Brokenstar is plotting". So yeah, he's the leader of the DF, not Tigerstar, and Tiger wouldn't have gotten very far without him lol. Crazy how we got multiple disabled leaders and deputies in the first arc and then not ever again, unless you count Berrynose lol

Next is Volewhisper! Who has quite a few parallels with Cinderpelt! One of their back legs were both injured by a villain's scheming (Tigerclaw's trap for Bluestar and Brokenstar making kits fight rats), they were both then inspired by a senior clanmate (Yellowfang and Nightpelt), and Cinderpelt chooses to become a medicine cat while Volewhisper chooses to be a warrior instead. I find him very fun and he's one of my favourite characters in Exile From ShadowClan!

The next cat I wanna talk about is a bit controversial due to some pretty bad writing choices by the team. Finleap. I really really loved him in Darkest Night and River of Fire. He and Twigbranch had a really sweet relationship, and I love how he follows her to ThunderClan. I also hate Sandynose, but that's besides the point. They were really cute and I liked them a lot... but then The Raging Storm happened. Where instead of focusing on the actually interesting plot of Twigbranch struggling to be a mentor, they decide to make her nice, sweet, and sort of goofy boyfriend... a jerk. He's rude he gives her the cold shoulder, it's awful, and so out of character. At least he actually does apologize for it and improve his behaviour, which I admit was a sweet moment in an otherwise pretty bad plotline. Then, after that, he's sort of a background cat. He briefly stands up to The Impostor after Twiggy is punished. In Sky he has a sort of friendship with Nightheart. He and Lionblaze laugh at Nightheart after he gets bit by a Squirrel, but later in the book Nightheart thinks of him in a positive light and he's one of the first cats that Night thinks of telling about Sunbeam. Overall fun guy, nice character despite one really bad book (which is basically every warriors character lol)

Some other underrated disabled cats who I don't really have as much to say about:

Fallowfern (deaf)

Shrewtooth (PTSD)

.

[foundedroses]

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. “Tea isn’t the only thing thats hot”

Pairing: Ivan x f !reader

Plot: When you adapt at working for the Rats In The House Of The dead, one of your subordinates manage to catch your eye…and maybe more than just your eye…

Cw: smut mdni obvi, f !reader, pet names like “my love”, fingering, slight making out, possible grammar errors bc my ass cant be fucked to edit, freaky ivan.

Wc: 2.1k

a/n: Ivan my princess. I dont know why I struggled so hard to write this one, considering Ivan is my favourite character…i struggled with ideas for 4 days. After 3 panic attacks, 4 crises and 2 rage attacks, I finally finished it. I’ll try write smt more yk, extra? If that made sense, idk lol

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆

Rats In The House Of The Dead. Also known as RITHOTD, an organisation formed by Fyodor Dostoyvesky himself, the man who was in conjunction with the Decay of Angels. You knew that name all too well. The Decay Of Angels. It felt almost like yesterday when you met that man, Fyodor; he had also asked you to join the RITHOTD in order to affiliate with the cannibalism virus. 

You weren’t the type of person to cause such problems and mess with something just so dangerous, but hearing what the Russian had to offer, you could not say no. So, the RITHOTD was now the place you resided, and the place more problems would start, perhaps something more…intimate? 

ʚɞ

Being a part of RITHOTD was so much more than causing the hectic chaos you were taught to, it involved treating the main admin, Fyodor, superior to others, including the other members of the organisations. 

Tea. Something that the Russian man heavily enjoyed, also something you had to basically master how to make to perfection. It was a simple task, something you surely couldn’t have screwed up, but apparently, there was a lot you could mess up when making tea. “No, my master specifically requests for his tea to be made with a teaspoon and a half of sugar, and let set for at least five minutes before being served to him.” That was the third cup of tea that had been poured down the drain, thank gosh tea wasn’t expensive, or you’d be up for a fortune already. “That is exactly what I did?” You tried to reason but Ivan seriously wasn’t having it. “No, even a few extra sugar granules can entirely mess up the beverage.” Ivan reached for a new teabag and dropped it into the teacup. 

You thought he was being utterly ridiculous. “I don’t think it will…” You mumbled under your breath. ‘I doubt Fyodor would even notice.’ Ivan ignored your snide answer with a blissful smile to his lips, almost as if he was forced to maintain such a cheerful demeanour. You watched as he prepared the cup of tea for the fourth time, taking care in each motion and step. How dramatic. Tea is tea, it does not have to be prepared so meticulously. 

That is how you thought though, Ivan’s belief was entirely different. After the tea had been made and sitting peacefully on the table, Ivan turned his head to face you. “It is not that difficult.” He smiled, even though his expression was joy-filled, his tone sounded almost mocking. And you heard that; you faked a smile and snatched the cup of the table, holding it with the china saucer underneath it. “Thanks a lot.” You muttered, your voice laced with sarcasm and annoyance at being almost spoken down upon. Ivan’s lips curled into a smile and he nodded his head almost gleefully. “You are most welcome.” He clearly did not sense the sarcasm that rolled off your words. With the cup of tea in your hands, you slowly and steadily made your way to serve it to your leader. Specific way to prepare tea…he must be losing his mind. 

You returned back to your original outpost, Ivan remaining in the same place as you were. You tilted your head to one side and raised your arms in a way that said what the hell. “What are you doing?” You approached the long haired man, who so joyfully stood by the table, the radio playing a classical Russian piece. 

“Hm?” Ivan gazed his eyes towards you as you strided towards him. ‘I’m just happy to be in such serenity right now.’ Serenity? Your top lip curled to a look of confusion mixed with unintentional disgust, you glanced over at the radio which the music emitted from. Tchaikovsky. That is what was playing on the radio. To be honest, you never really cared for classic music, nor did it ever pique your interest, but the man beside you seemed to be enjoying it immensely. “Tchaikovsky?” You didn’t disconnect your focus from the stereo. ‘That’s what's playing.’ You pointed out.

“You recognize Tchaikovsky? That’s beautiful.” Your eyes made their way up to stare at Ivan, who had answered you with a peace of mind. “Yes, I do.” You said and leaned your arms up against the edge of the table, staring at the radio. ‘Not a lot though, I just hear his music here and there.’ “Hm.” All Ivan did was hum in response, his mind totally detached from whatever you were saying. 

The sound of the music engulfing the silence around you, you glanced up at Ivan, arms still crossed over the table. You couldn’t help but notice his most distinctive features; lengthy silver hair, long eyelashes, icy silver eyes, you didn’t know how you hadn’t noticed how beautiful he was, it was almost as if you were drawn to him, your eyes unable to leave his view. Your e/c eyes pierced his direction in uttermost quietness, focus capturing his appearance and physic physique. 

The man must’ve sensed your eyes glaring at him because he slowly turned his focus to you, eyes narrowed slightly and the same joyous smile plastered to his lips. “You are staring at me so intensely right now…it’s almost unnerving.” His voice didn’t falter as he spoke so happily for somebody who was supposedly unnerved. ‘Almost as if you're admiring me.’

Your eyes opened the tiniest bit when Ivan proclaimed his assumption, there was no way his ability helped him read the emotions of others; “no, that’s not it.” You chuckled awkwardly and shook your head as you denied, “No…you’ve got it wrong.” You quickly tried to cover yourself up as if what you had done was nothing less than a sin. 

Your attempt to knock back his accusations must’ve amused the man, because Ivan simply laughed joyfully. “I think it’s cute.” Cute? That was the last thing that you were expecting to hear. You found your cheeks becoming a little warmer and your heart beating a little faster, it’s probably because you’ve been overworking yourself, definitely not because Ivan’s remark had flustered you immensely. “Cute?” The word managed to leave you mouth unbroken and as clear as it could be as you tried to hide back your blush by covering the lower half of your face with the palm of your hand. 

Ivan smiled and nodded his head, a bit amused by your reactions. “Yes, it’s cute to see you becoming so flustered. I never knew that I had that effect on you.” He spoke out loud and reached out to shut off the music playing from the radio. ‘I also never knew that you have that exact same effect on me.’ The man took a few steps closer to you, his eyes tracing your expression that flaunted your face. 

What? You quickly removed your hand from face, when your eyes gazed down to the man’s lower half, you knew exactly what he was talking about. That blush that once grazed your cheeks had reappeared, but this time stronger, you felt your body heat up and your heart beat a beat or two faster. In all fairness, you didn’t know how to react, you worked with the RITHOTD for the leader, Fyodor’s sake, not for anyone else’s and especially not for your subordinate, yet all you could muster was something more absurd than you thought. “Would you like me to assist you with that problem?” Your eyes gestured down to the tent that strained against the crotch of his trousers. 

The long haired man gave you a blank stare, the same unnerving smile painted to his lips as if he had no care in the world. “I would very much like that.” That sentence is what you thought you imagined, there was no way that you heard the man correctly. You raised an eyebrow, your eyes slightly wider than usual and you muttered back, “What?...what did you just say?” Ivan chuckled, amused. “I said, I would very much like you to solve this predicament.” 

It seemed you were not imagining things, and what you heard is exactly what was said. Your face faltered into something fused with both eagerness and embarrassment; quickly that embarrassed emotion left your body completely when Ivan snatched your wrist and pulled you towards him, slamming his lips against yours in a heated and passionate kiss. ‘What the actual fuck?!” Is what you were thinking, you wouldn’t dare speak it out loud, and especially as you didn’t want to end the kiss you were currently stuck in. 

A soft moan slipped past your lips and your arms made their way up, coiling around Ivan’s neck and you neared your body into his. The latter slowly wrapped his arms around your waist as he deepened the kiss, lowly groaning into your mouth when he felt your arms tighten around his neck. “Come ~...” Ivan slowly took your hand in his and drew his lips from yours, strings of saliva connecting the two of you together. “We can’t let anyone, especially my master, see this ~”

ʚɞ

You had no idea how you had gotten into the current situation that you were in, one moment you were learning how to prepare tea for the leader of the RITHOTD, the next you were pinned up against a wall down the most vacant, most darkest hallway with Ivan peppering your neck with soft but rough kisses. Your breath kept hitching every time you felt the man’s lips come in contact with your skin, your arms snaked around his neck, one leg around his waist to draw him in closer to you; the sight was beyond scandalous. 

“I-Ivan? ~” You let out a raspy moan, your cheeks flushed a light pink hue and small beads of sweat trickled down the nape of your neck, the ever-growing arousal that pooled between your thighs was getting harder and harder to ignore. Ivan stopped kissing you and lifted up his head, his light-coloured eyes gazing into yours. “Yes, my love? ~” 

Your eyelids fluttered, your eyes threatening to close each time you tried to blink back your hazy vision. Your hand made its way to the back of the man’s head, your fingers entangling with his soft hair. “Fuck me already ~...ruin me…right here, in this hallway ~” Your tone was more than desperate, your grip against his hair tightened, forcing a silent moan from the man. “I don’t care who sees us ~...”

The last sentence that left your mouth was all Ivan needed to hear, his hands tightened around your waist as one left your hip to pull down both your bottoms and panties. “Oh, my ~” The man tilted his head with a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes studying your wetness that slicked down your inner thighs. “You really are desperate for me ~ That pleases me ~” 

Your eyebrows furrowed and your lust filled eyes pierced into his. You suddenly grasped the man’s hand in yours and shoved it between your desperate, shaking thighs. “Now, Ivan…fucking destroy me ~” Your words came out all slurred and muddled, you couldn’t even hear how pathetic you sounded, begging like some desperate whore. Who did you think you were?

Desire lingered in the man’s eyes and reflected into your own, the same smirk plastered to his lips, Ivan then grabbed and lifted one of your legs, giving him a wider capacity of access to your now exposed pussy. “My love ~ I’ve been dying to be able to do this to you…and now I can finally die in peace ~”  both his index and ring finger slowly traveled past your folds, taking extra time when teasing at your entrance. 

You panted out hot and heavy breaths, your hand shooting up to his shoulder to help you keep your balance. You were over agitated, breathless, and just blatantly desperate. “Just fuck me already!” A seductive and sultry chuckle left Ivan’s mouth when he gave a small nod of his head and just so suddenly slammed two fingers into your slick moistened cunt. The moan that exited your mouth was broken and shaky, your legs felt like they were about to collapse on you, all you could do was tighten your arms around the man’s neck and take in all that he was giving you. 

The sound of your heavy breathing and soft moaning could’ve been heard throughout the dark corridor. Ivan observed your fucked out, delirious expression with a visibly please smirk across his face. “It’s alright, my love ~” He neared his face closer to yours, fingers pumping deep inside of your warm, tight cunt that was convulsing around his lithe digits, he softly hushed into your ear, his warm breath tickled the side of your face as he spoke. “If you can quiet down…just maybe I’ll give you something more ~” You knew what more meant, it was painfully obvious, your eyes peeper open and you slowly glanced down. With the sight before you, you definitely had to keep it down. 

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆

[mrsjellymunson]

If You Go Down to the Woods Today…

Summary: Strangeness occurs in a forest

WC: ~2.4k

CW: Suitable for all. Implied threat, very mild innuendo, food mentions and consumption.

A/N: Okay this is a total departure for me because this is not Eddie or ST-related, but I thought it would be fun to share a little Halloween tale that I wrote for my small offline gaming group. Before I stumbled into this place I would never have imagined I would write anything, let alone an actual sort-of original story, and much less share it, but here we are, and it’s all thanks to you guys. Happy Halloween!!! 🎃👻🦇🤍💀🖤🍄🧡🕯🕷🌲

Background (please read so it makes even the smallest amount of sense 😆): This is a medieval murder mystery. The characters have been thrown together to investigate, and have recently met for the first time in a tavern. Flavia is a low-ranking soldier who’s been unexpectedly promoted to de facto mission leader. Blossom is a chef and knife enthusiast who has a penchant for ‘charming the gentlemen’. Amelia is an inquisitive, rational alchemist with limited social skills and an intelligent/trained rat companion named Pancetta. The orphans, Ursula and Urchie, are two young street urchins who have recently become acquainted with the party. The story is wielded and guided by our Games Mistress/GM. The group is discussing heading into the forest, parts of which are said to be dominated by the mysterious Fae, to commence their investigations.

The noise and general clamour in the tavern steadily increases as the afternoon wears on, as more and more soldiers, guardsmen and assorted military types finish their duties and seek refreshment and relaxation.

Amelia is feeding Pancetta some small pieces of cheese, sharing the remains of their lunch, and Blossom is cutting up more cake, the others wondering quite where she’s managing to keep it all stashed. The latter comments, as nonchalantly as she can,

“So, does anyone have any thoughts about these forest people rumours?”

Flavia hefts her new weapon in her strong hands, feeling the weight and inspecting the workmanship.

“I think it’s just old customs. Tradition, y’know? I heard something about hangings, and a few most likely over-embellished stories regarding…” She clears her throat and tries to say the next two words as quickly as possible,

“blood sacrifices. But I’m sure it’s all gonna be fiiine.”

She spreads her arms wide, forgetting for a moment that she’s still holding her sword. Amelia ducks, narrowly avoiding receiving an accidental haircut, and the alchemist eyes her companion sideways, before stating,

“I do hope you’re right. One really shouldn’t undertake potentially dangerous investigations without at least a modicum of accurate information.”

Blossom speaks through a mouthful of cake, spraying crumbs across the faded tablecloth.

“Yes, I’m sure it’s all bluff and bluster. They’re just trying to keep outsiders away from their villages, that’s all. I’d be the same if people wanted to study me, or saw me as some kind of… curiosity.”

Flavia and Amelia eye each other briefly, before eventually nodding in agreement.

The three continue their discussions as Pancetta hops off Amelia’s forearm and makes her way to Blossom’s side of the table. She gathers the largest of the abandoned cake crumbs before settling into a crouch near the cruet set and beginning to feast with gusto, squeaking happily.

— — —

Myths forgotten and wheelbarrow packed, the investigators make their way into the forest. It goes reasonably well at first, barring unfortunate altercations with some shepherds, a boar (which did, advantageously, provide the party with a welcome addition to their rations) and the much-mourned loss of said wheelbarrow.

The intrepid band bed down for the night under the forest canopy, after a good meal of roasted boar meat and foraged berries.

A light mist is rolling in, chilling the air, and Amelia and Blossom offer to shelter an orphan each to share body heat, Ursula curling up with Blossom and Urchie lying next to Amelia, with Pancetta snuggling between them. All the blankets are put to use to help keep the party dry, and Flavia piles the fire high with wood to keep them warm overnight.

All is initially quiet and uneventful, save the snuffling of a few diminutive woodland creatures and the hooting of nocturnal birds.

But then, there’s some peculiar and unexpected noises.

Rustling.

Giggling.

The shuffling of feet.

Flavia rouses first, her finely tuned soldiering senses alerting her to the peculiar changes in their surroundings.

She’s quick to rouse Amelia, however, when it becomes clear that they’re not alone amongst the shrubs and trees.

The alchemist awakes from Flavia’s shove to the sound of low laughter and screeching and she sits bolt upright, taking the blanket with her, much to the disgruntlement of a grumbling Urchie.

Blossom is the next to rouse, blearily rubbing her eyes and absent-mindedly pulling a piece of cake from her tunic and starting to munch lazily as she murmurs,

“Woss goin’ on? Is it breakfast already?”

The noises continue. More shuffling, more giggling, rapid footfalls.

The adventurers glance between themselves, as Amelia states as assuredly as she can,

“Now, everybody just stay calm. I’m sure there’s a perfectly rational explanation for all of this.”

Her voice is steady, but the furrow between her eyebrows and the speed at which her eyes are flicking around their surroundings belies her rational and confident exterior.

The shuffling seems to come closer, and Blossom, ever one to state the obvious, mutters,

“It’s… it’s getting louder…”

Amelia’s eyes are wide as she clutches the blanket, Pancetta now taking refuge beneath it. Her pouch of alchemy supplies is just out of reach, but she reasons she could feasibly lunge for it in an emergency. Flavia fingers the hilt of her sword, and Blossom's palm rests instinctively over her tied roll of kitchen knives. Ursula and Urchie seem more intrigued than troubled, the others surmising that their years of living on the streets in the city was likely quite often scarier than this.

Suddenly, the form of a bipedal figure darts past, illuminated just enough from the firelight to momentarily be seen. It looks like a small creature with a pumpkin for a head, and it’s laughing maniacally.

Following it, there’s a slightly taller figure, covered in what appears to be blood, screaming and pursued by two others brandishing a carving knife and a small hatchet. Yet another figure is covered in fur from head to toe, has raised, clawed fingers, and is growling.

The small figures head in all directions and seem to encircle the small camp. Some are dressed in black with tall hats, others are in rags, yet more are wrapped in what look like torn sheets.

They move towards the camp and begin to chant, low at first but building to a disturbing crescendo,

“Trinkets or Trunks. Trinkets or Trunks! TRINKETS OR TRUNKS!!”

Suddenly, everything stops.

In the silence, and much to her embarrassment, Amelia lets out a small,

“Eep”.

Someone else lets out something different. It’s silent, but deadly…

One of the figures is the first to speak, and in a discombobulatingly light and high voice, asks,

“Come on, it’s Galloween! What’s it to be then? Trinkets? Or Trunks?”

Amelia sits stock still, unmoving, and Blossom takes another nervous bite of cake. Flavia’s communication skills are on top form, as she mumbles,

“Errrrrrr..?”

Two of the figures move closer, striding confidently into the firelight.

The taller of the two states quite matter-of-factly,

“You know, Galloween! Oh, don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it?”

It’s Amelia’s turn to attempt language now, as she looks between the two small figures and mumbles,

“Ummm…?”

Blossom swallows her mouthful of cake, and, suddenly the most eloquent of the three, murmurs,

“Erm, is this a forest thing?”

The smaller figure speaks with the voice of a small boy, as he shifts happily from foot to foot.

“Oh, so you’re not from around here? Now it makes sense! It’s All Gallows Evening of course, where we celebrate all The Outsiders that we’ve put to death on the gallows!”

He cackles and claps his hands, dancing in a small circle, and a few of the other figures cheer.

The taller figure, apparently an older girl, steps across and shoves him lightly on the shoulder.

“Shh, Bobbin! We don’t do that anymore. Do we?”

The boy looks suitably chastised, and clasps his hands in front of him.

“No, Mumpkin. Not anymore… But we still like to have fun! And we shorten it to Galloween now because it’s easier to say.”

Various other figures step forward now, and the party sees that they’re mostly, if not all, children. They speak over each other in a rush to explain.

“Trinkets means you have to give us something fun.”

“Like a toy, or a bell.”

“Or a nice rock.”

“I got a hat once.”

Some of the younger children pipe up,

“Or a scone!”

“Yeah, a scone!”

”Especially one with fruit or bugs in… mmm.”

All the children hum in agreement, and there’s much chatter amongst them all about who’s received the absolute best Trinket prizes.

Ever the inquisitive one, Amelia eventually asks,

“So, what about Trunks? What’s that?”

The small boy, Bobbin, speaks again.

“Well, if you don’t give us a Trinket, we get to take one from your trunk! Or, we hit you with a stick. It used to be tree trunks, but they’re way too heavy to carry around, so these days we just use sticks. See?”

He pulls something from his belt and brandishes a not-very-scary-looking tree branch, swishing it in front of him, making it whistle through the air. The other children ooh and aah, glancing at the boy’s twig like it’s a deadly weapon.

The three adventurers consider this for a moment. Sure, a stick like that could probably do someone a mischief, depending on how close it came to an ear or, especially, an eye. But generally speaking, none of them feel terribly… threatened.

Smirking at each other, they decide to play along.

Amelia screeches, voice comically high-pitched,

“Oh, brave sir, don’t be waving that in our direction!”

Blossom interjects,

“Gosh, I’ve never before seen one quite that big…”

But the pièce de résistance is Flavia, who, still dressed in her amour and imposing military finery, throws herself onto the ground in a shivering crouch and pretends to cower, shielding her face and head with her arms and whimpering,

“Oh, never have I faced such a formidable foe! Please, please, small guardians of the forest, take pity on these weak and lowly travellers. We shall choose Trinkets, and hope and pray that you will allow us to spend just one night beneath your mystical and protective canopy!”

The boy with the stick looks at it aghast, and his friends cheer and clap, one or two slapping him on the shoulder, and Flavia’s performance garners chuckles and even a smattering of applause from both the camp and the conglomeration of figures.

Discussion turns again to trinkets, and Flavia decides to make something, searching the undergrowth for a sturdy stick and using her dagger to whittle a simple pattern on its surface by removing some of the bark and exposing the pale wood beneath.

As she works, Amelia roots in her satchel, pulling out a small, semi-opaque stone. Its internal facets are slightly iridescent, and the children marvel at the multiple colours and the way it reflects the dim light. She spins an improvised tale about it being gifted to her by a powerful alchemist master, and that the children should be careful not to awaken its devastatingly powerful magical aura, to which they nod furiously, taking everything very seriously indeed.

Blossom offers a small object carved from bone. It looks like it could be an animal, possibly a horse, although it’s not entirely clear how many legs it has. Nobody asks and nobody comments, reasoning that only having kitchen tools available for such artistic endeavours not only limits one’s dexterity, but also allows the creator access to myriad forms of weaponry, should any offense be taken. The children don’t seem to mind, and immediately begin racing it up and over each other's shoulders and across the moss-covered rocks, making a variety of similarly unidentifiable noises.

Tension entirely dispersed, Amelia spends some time talking to the children and making notes about their costuming and customs in her leather-bound book. There’s much chatter as Pancetta feels brave enough to come out and perch on her shoulder, and the children delight in sharing some of their already-accumulated treats with her.

Flavia finishes her crafting by carving a smooth divot into the top of the piece of wood, turning it into a thumb stick, and Bobbin, still holding his twig, casts it aside without a thought as she offers it to him. She explains that it’s not for hitting, but rather for walking and trekking and going on journeys to make great discoveries.

He beams so hard it splits his face in two, and he stands up straight and marches around the clearing as if he’s leading a grand expedition. Some of the other children stride behind him, swinging their arms and chanting some variation of ‘hup, two, three, four’ but in a language none of the three women have heard before.

The children seem more than pleased with these simple offerings, passing them amongst themselves and cooing. Even Ursula and Urchie have been accepted into the throng, laughing and dancing and making animal noises along with them. The three travellers look on fondly, wondering quite how long it’s been since they’ve behaved like this. Like children.

As Bobbin strides past once again, he huffs, slightly out of breath,

“Next year you’ll have to come back to the village and have some special Galloween food!”

Blossom perks up significantly at this, and the children are excited to tell her all about the spread that awaits them. There’s candied turnips, mashed swede, onion and honey sweet biscuits, and if they’re especially lucky, squirrel burgers.

They explain that there’s also a special drink made from rotten fruit that only the grown ups are allowed to have, the children commenting that it smells weird and ‘makes them all dance funny’.

It all sounds delightful, and the three investigators decide there and then that wherever the next year takes them, they’ll reconvene to make a special journey this time next year. They’ll bear trinkets aplenty, and are already planning to justify it to their various superiors as a fact finding mission and cultural exchange.

As the children are winding down their antics and Ursula and Urchie are beginning to tire, there’s a bellow from within the forest.

“Gracie Groggington and all the rest of you Grogglets, you get your backsides back to camp this instant!”

One girl in an especially pointy hat gasps loudly as all the other childrens’ eyes widen, and they all leap to their feet as Amelia questions,

“Who’s that?”

Mumpkin explains,

“That’s Jiemme, she organises our playtimes, but we kinda went off track a little bit tonight…”

Bobbin adds,

“She’s good fun though. Comes up with all sorts of cool adventures for us.”

Another boy interjects,

“Yeah, she sometimes takes our Trinkets off us, mind you.”

Mumpkin continues,

“Well, to be fair Old Man Groggy did give Tiny Pete a flick knife for his third birthday, soooo.”

Bobbin nods knowledgeably.

“Yeah, you usually have to be at least 4 to get one of those.”

He turns and begins running into the darkness of the forest, waving as he goes.

“It was fun meeting you, and thanks for the Trinkets!”

The other children follow suit, and soon the clearing is as quiet as it was before, the only evidence of this most unexpected of shenanigans being some packed earth bearing small footprints, and a moderately impressive twig discarded off to one side.

Just as the weary adventurers are settling back down into their blankets, there’s yet more rustling from the foliage, and the exhausted team are almost too tired to care, assuming it's one of the children coming back to find a lost possession, or perhaps to play a practical joke.

Until there comes the disturbing rumble of a very loud, very guttural belch…

Afterword: this leads on to another adventure where we meet a drunken NPC with digestive issues… 😉

As always, I’d love to hear what you think of this. Especially as it’s so far removed from what I usually share 😙

Tagging my general list (open), but feel free to ignore if this doesn’t interest you 🤭 @joejoequinnquinn, @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @sassidykassidy @richter-raccoon @1deverland @bettyfrommars

[bonefall]

WAIT THE RATS ARENT CANONICAL SKYCLANS ANCESTORS?? ive literally read that book so many times and yet a few months of following you and i forget its not canon hdkbdkbs

NOPE! THAT'S ALL BB BABEY

It feels right though, doesn't it?! But no! Canon actually never explains what the hell was going on there! Rat Leader is literally just a talking rat who hates SkyClan so much he has a rat army.

(and btw if you shit talk about rat leader im stealing something out of your hosue. i love him. WC should do weird shit more often. i desperately miss how TNP-era WC just had weird shit happen. Cougar in England? ok lmao what the hell)

Rat Leader fills me with questions

Is this the SAME rat that killed SkyClan in the first place?

If so, how has he lived for like 20 years?

If not, then how do the rat leaders pass on leadership? Rat inheritance?? Rat elections??? Do they have trial-by-combrat???

How do they practice? Are they a Clan?

It seems that they use little tiny movements to work together, how coordinated ARE these rats? How intelligent are rats, generally? Because they have a level of training waaaaay beyond Clan cats

Why is Rat Leader so hateful? Is it because they hunt him and his people? Or are rats just like... born evil gsgsdfgf

Canon!Rat Leader has no explanation. He simply is. The Rat Ancestors are from BB.

I went hunting out of curiosity for where the idea first came from btw, if you'd like to compare the first draft to the new draft, check out this ask I got back in February and watch the gears of my mind turning in real time lmao

[houseofwomn]

Sempervirens

If all else fails, write some letters.

emily rose

teen | wc: 1.1k | cw: mentions of grief

a/n: first drabble of 2024. sorry it took so long. hope you enjoy ♡ banner credits from airidescence

It’s been ten years and I still don’t know where to put all this grief.

Uncle Tommy suggested I see a shrink, so I told him to fuck off. I promised him I’d write these stupid letters instead. Journaling, mindfulness, yoga - all that does nothing for me. This shit better work. Anyways. Here’s a list of things you never got to see.

I stopped playing soccer after a broken ankle - it was gnarly. I remember crying in the hospital all night.

My grades got somewhat better. I graduated high school. Somehow became the youngest person in the city to make the Homicide Division. It’s shit work. The captain is a bit of an ass. Tommy met her at a few holiday parties and it did not go well.

By the way, Tommy misses you too. A few weeks ago, we looked through the attic and found a bunch of old photo albums and VHS tapes. We spent all day looking through them. There was a picture of us sitting on your old couch - the black leather one with all the cigarette butts in the cup holders.

My head hurts writing this. We still have nothing for you. No evidence, no lead. Not any fingerprints. The files don’t have anything. I’m pissed. There has to be something. It’s been ten years without you and all that I have left are some old photos and beat-up jackets.

You need justice. I need answers.

We miss you so much. I’m going to stop writing before I throw up.

Always surviving, Emily Rose 09/10/19

* * * *

I had a fluffernutter sandwich this morning and thought of you.

Don’t know why I love it so much. I probably have a dozen cavities. I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter - so much has happened.

I quit the NYPD, how shocking. I found so much - probably enough to fire every cop in my precinct - but HR turned on me. Dead rats in my lockers. Side eyes from everyone. So I left. I spent two weeks on my ass, bartending at the Drunk Tank until Tommy made me chat with an old friend of his. Mafalda. I think you knew her too. It’s better here, if not way more chaotic. We have a computer guy named Luke, he’s pretty awkward. A bit pretentious. Terrible cook, too. But he lost his mom around the same time I lost you. There’s a forensic analyst named Ruby who stops by. She’s sweet, always reminding me I can talk to her if I need to. We went out for drinks last night and I honestly can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.

Also, I got rid of that stupid couch you loved. It was all ripped up and probably full of mold. Uncle Tommy and I spent a whole day looking for a new couch. I landed on this velvet green one with some fancy fringe at the bottom. Very bougie, I know.

You know, it’s annoying funny how people enter your life and insist on staying there. His name is Trystan Thorne and you’d love him. Uncle Tommy does, but I think it’s cause he buys him fancy donuts every morning. I wish you could meet him. I barged into his penthouse, beat his ass, and now we’re partners. Isn’t that weird? He’s infuriating, but it’s nice to have him around. Don’t tell him I said that. I told him some stories about you today and it felt so good to talk about everything.

Finally, some good news. We might have something for you. Some mafia leader named Big V. I told Tommy and Mafalda about her and they both think there’s a chance she did it. I hate that it’s taken so long to come up with just one possible lead. But I’d do anything to know what happened to you.

I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you more. I miss you so fucking much. Here’s to fifteen years without you.

Always surviving, Emily Rose 10/08/23

* * * *

It’s been only a few months since my last letter and so much has happened. Trystan was put on trial for a murder he didn’t commit. We had to fly half the team to Drakovia as a hail mary. Ended up playing a lawyer for a few minutes. it was weird.

I messed up so many times. Trystan and I fought over something we both knew the answer to. Sebastyan...Fuck. Vasili is dead. Every time I remember that look in his eye, I want to throw up.

Fuck.

It’s three am and Trystan is sleeping right next to me. He always listens to me talk about you. I keep imagining all the dinners and talks we could’ve had, just the three of us. You could’ve told him all your stupid jokes - like the one about eating a clock.

Tomorrow is my twenty-ninth birthday. Tommy told me he had something planned. I bet you ten bucks it’ll be a party at the Drunk Tank. I remember growing up, you guys would spend the entire night decorating the apartment with balloons. I hope Tommy isn’t doing that this year.

You’re here everywhere I go. I was doing laundry earlier and saw one of Tommy’s button-downs that used to be yours. It still smelled like you. I make coffee just the way you did - black. I have your small, round nose.

I hate that your life was taken from me. But I will find you at the end of mine. I love you, Dad. Come visit me sometime? Please.

Always living, Emily Rose 3/31/24

* * * * I’ve missed writing. I wrote this all in a day after I found the most devastating YouTube comment and just had to write something. Also, if you didn’t notice the start of the 2nd letter is a little reference to this fic. Anyway - there’s definitely more writing coming from me soon...Hope you enjoyed this angst xx

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[ralexsol]

PD characters but I give them wc names and Clans and lore and oh god this spiraled into so much more than it was originally meant to be ENJOY!! Characters listed by Clan & position <3 Lemme know who I missed and I'll add them in a reblog, can be as obscure as possible

THUNDERCLAN:

Dakota (Redblaze): ThunderClan. Yeah there's no nuance for him Dakota is just straight fucking ThunderClan. Parents died when he was a kit and he's determined to be the best warrior the Clans have ever seen

Summer (Greenspirit): ThunderClan. Was an apprentice with Dakota. She would sometimes see him sneaking out and follow along, revealing herself if she saw the pd getting into bad trouble. A lot of cats think it likely that she'll end up as deputy eventually due to her responsibility and quick thinking

Alan (Boulderscreech): ThunderClan. There's not much to say about Alan tbh, but Dakota enjoyed training with him when they were both apprentices together (only for a short time before Alan became a warrior)

Tide (Tidestorm): ThunderClan. I know he's water themed but this guy's code of honor is stronger than fuckinnnn idk some bitch from the og arc before everyone started getting mates in other Clans. Dakota's mentor

Seismic (Dustspring): ThunderClan. Idk enough about him to give him a storyline. Aspiring to be deputy but not doing the best. Littermate of Tide, obvsly

Doug (Flamesplash): Medicine cat apprentice of ThunderClan. Originally a warrior, an accident costed him the use of his hind legs. Determined to still be useful to the Clan, he decided to be a medicine cat, despite finding a lot of the work boring. Unfortunately, he doesn't actually believe in StarClan

Elle (Eagleflight): Medicine cat of ThunderClan. Littermate of Tide. Doesn't talk too much, very focused on her work. May or may not have been the secret cause of Shockwave's untimely death during the first pd arc. Looking to somehow take over the Clan, as she thinks her special connection to StarClan makes her the only fit cat to lead

Ms. G (Twilightstar): Leader of ThunderClan. She's always very observant of the apprentices and makes sure they're getting their proper training and their opinions heard. Dakota was originally devastated that she didn't make him her apprentice before learning to love Tide as the father he'd lost as a kit

Harlem (Slinkshade): Deputy of ThunderClan. He was a big part of some previous prophecy, think a super edition set before the pd's first arc. That's when he had to prove himself and he earned the respect of Ms. G, now he's the deputy

WINDCLAN:

William (Wispbreeze): Medicine cat apprentice of WindClan, but he thinks he's ShadowClan at heart (he's half-Clan <3). Think Breezepelt but not a fucking bitch. The only reason he chose to be in WindClan with his dad is because he did NOT want to be in the same Clan as David. He's the medicine cat only because right after he became an apprentice he fucking died and had some crazy vision from StarClan before coming back to life. Oh he's also like Leafpool cause he's got the stupid double forbidden relationship thing going on cause of his crush on Vyncent

Jimmy (Brambleface): WindClan. As apprentices, he often bullied William for no good reason. Ratted William out whenever he caught him sneaking off. They even got into a physical fight at one point that Lightspeed interrupted before William could get his ass handed to him

Whirlwind (Whirlwind!!): WindClan. Littermate of Magma. Nearing his time as an elder, but remains one of the senior warriors for now. Regular guy, nothing special

Le Frog (Frogleap): WindClan. He somehow can escape any situation. Whenever William sneaks out of camp they somehow run into each other and William is just about ready to kill him

Pretender (Ripplesight): Medicine cat of WindClan. If anyone gets visions from StarClan, it's him. He's not the most present mentor for William, but he's good enough. Often thinks there are omens in anything he comes across

Magma (Scorchstar): Leader of WindClan. A very strict leader and punishes harshly those who violate the warrior code. He's not a big fan of William because of this, and often lectures him about trusting other Clans too much. Littermate of Whirlwind

Lightspeed (Lightstreak): Deputy of WindClan. Not much to say about her except that she's caught William sneaking out of camp one trillion times and she's getting tired of it

RIVERCLAN:

Vyncent (Sparksoul): RiverClan. Really good at adapting to different situations. Also just a guy who's there sometimes. Wasn't originally born in the Clan, but was found as a kit and saved. While he feels accepted and loved by his Clanmates, he still wonders where he came from and who his real parents are

Cantrip (Tripclaw): RiverClan. Big reason why William was jealous of her was because she's in the same clan as Vyncent. She thinks their shenanigans are stupid

Jax (Duskwing): RiverClan. One of the more arrogant warriors, constantly arguing with Mynerva, who he thinks stole the deputyship from him. Likes to pick on the apprentices for no good reason other than the fun of it

Flow (Shimmerhaze): RiverClan. Unnaturally good at a lot of stuff and nobody knows how she does it. Very quiet swimmer too

Cross (Lightningwhisker): Medicine cat of RiverClan. As eccentric as any good medicine cat. Another cat that gets pulled into the pd's antics, but usually loves helping out. Believes a lot in the next generation of warriors. Nobody knows how old he is but everyone's pretty sure he was around even before the last leader of RiverClan. Also shares crazy stories of quests he went on during his youth, probably a part of some old prophecy

Jason (Orchidstar): Leader of RiverClan. He's on his last life and the rest of the Clan is starting to doubt his ability to lead. He's THAT RiverClan/WindClan leader that's always super annoying and won't agree with the main leader because the plot needs some political opposition

Mynerva (Mistyfrost): Deputy of RiverClan. Vyncent's mentor, but wasn't happy about it. She believes in strong Clan blood, and is in fact one of the only Clanmates to dislike Vyncent because of his outsider origins. Jason made her his mentor to train that attitude out of her, in preparation for when she'd eventually become leader. Otherwise, she's an extremely intelligent deputy, and everyone's just waiting for her to take Jason's place

SHADOWCLAN:

Bookworm (Wormpaw): ShadowClan. Wordsmith's apprentice. Loves joining in on pd adventures. He doesn't really like it in ShadowClan and often voices this to them

Xavier (Stonepelt): ShadowClan. Hot-headed new warrior, likes to pick a fight with other border patrols. Often told off by Wordsmith. Often seen with Cantrip and Alan at gatherings, despite his dislike for other Clans

Mr. Wilson (Moonsong): ShadowClan. This guy is plotting to cause a revolution and depose Mal, but hasn't actually recruited anyone yet. He has trust issues

David (Webmist): Medicine cat of ShadowClan. He's William's older brother obvsly and half-Clan, but chose to stay in ShadowClan with their mother. Always gets others to do his dirty work. Lies about prophecies and such for his own purposes. Often mocks William when the medicine cats gather at the Moonstone

Mal (Silentstar): Leader of ShadowClan. What else do you expect. This guy is basically Tigerstar tbh but without the Clan change. Known for manipulating other leaders at Gatherings. What he would give to take over the whole Forest

Wordsmith (Thornwhisper): Deputy of ShadowClan. This guy has his eye on the pd simply because he keeps finding them sneaking around ShadowClan territory investigating. Begrudgingly has been working with them on occasion because he's become aware of the corruption in the Clan and he wants to change that

CATS OUTSIDE THE CLANS:

Ashe: Kittypet. Sorry but this guy got accidentally roped into the shenanigans of the pd (all apprentices during s1 ofc) and then StarClan went hmm actually let's make him part of the prophecy. Can use the powers of dead cats

Mark: Rogue. This guy originally was raising his son in the wild but eventually left him at some twoleg's place so he'd be safe. Visits from time to time but would never fucking stay. Hates the Clans because they're a bunch of obnoxious pricks, yada yada (he secretly was once a member of RiverClan but shhh he left or got kicked out depending on who you ask. Warrior name was Wavestrike)

Tony: Loner. He lives near ThunderClan territory and Dakota has run into each other a couple times (during his secret rule-breaking expeditions). They both agree not to tell ThunderClan about where they've been (Tony being near the border and Dakota being over it) if the other doesn't

Overlord (Jaggedtooth): Exiled ThunderClan warrior. He was the one who killed Dodgeboy for good. He's currently plotting his revenge and takeover of ThunderClan. Currently working with Mark

Shockwave (Shockwave lmao): StarClan spirit. He's Tide's littermate, killed during the first pd arc (imagine him having the dramatic death of a first book). He and Dakota were good friends before his death. Often secretly tries to help the pd despite StarClan's wishes

Dodgeboy (Dodgestar): StarClan spirit. He was the last leader of WindClan, recently deceased. This is the guy who gave William his first prophecy as an apprentice

Kemuri (Smokestep): StarClan spirit. Former WindClan warrior. He often helps William out and guides him through visions. This guy is old as fuck, from a whole different era

The Trickster (TrickSTAR ahahahha): Dark Forest spirit. Who the fuck knows what Clan he was originally part of. He is 5 different guys after all

[anormalf1sh]

Hello fellow human being, would you like to hear me rant about my Onestar’s confession AU where he isn’t a stinky rat? :3

Admittedly I’m not the best at writing detailed plots for AUs but anyways.

Onestar is born to Wrenflight and Stagleap, and is surprisingly the only kit in his litter, gaining his name of Onekit.

He is apprenticed to the deputy Deadfoot.

The story starts with just like the original super edition, Onepaw, his fellow apprentice Ashpaw, Mudclaw, Wrenflight and Deadfoot are on a patrol. They find the kittypet Bailey with her two kits; Melody and Leo, trespassing on their land and proceeds to escort them to the border. During the walk there, Leo expresses interest in a warrior cat’s life, while melody thinks it sounds unnecessarily dangerous. They spot a badger same as in the original book and tries to fight it off. Ashpaw showcases courage during the fight and Onepaw thinks she is very brave. Bailey helps fight the badger off after it lunges to attack her kits. She then asks to join the clan after seeing how the cats worked together to fight off the badger, admitting their house folk abandoned them and they needed a place to live. After escorting the kittypets to camp and explaining the situation, Tallstar lets them stay. Melody doesn’t want to but has no choice as the rest of her family decides to live here. She talks about the badger and how dangerous warrior cat’s life is. Meanwhile Leo is very excited to become a warrior cat. They are given the names Tansypaw (Melody) and Brushpaw (Leo).

Timeskip. They train and soon it’s time for their warrior ceremony. However, Shadowclan attacks. Onepaw notices how the SC apprentices are all itty bitty tiny kits and tries not to go to hard on them. However, Tansypaw and Brushpaw don’t notice and Tansypaw accidentally hits one too hard, killing him (yes this is Badgerfang guys). An angry SC warrior (Fernshade) charges to attack Tansypaw but Bailey charges in to stop her, and is killed. Onepaw sees Tallstar being surrounded by SC warriors and runs over to help him. The two work together to fight off the SC warriors and Onepaw gets one his his whiskers sliced right off. Then Deadfoot alerts Tallstar that there are too many SC cats and they can’t fight them off, so WC makes a run for it. When they stop running, Onepaw tries to find Brushpaw and Tansypaw to comfort them about Bailey’s death, but he realizes Brushpaw is missing. Tansypaw ignores him the whole time while the clan is trying to find a new place to live.

The clan settles down at the sewers and despite all the losses and the tired and injured cats, Tallstar tries to lighten the mood by naming the apprentices warriors. Ashpaw become Ashfoot and is honored for her bravery. Onepaw is named Onewhisker in honor of him losing a whisker to save his leader. And Tansypaw was gonna get a name but she quits. She tells the clan it is their fault her family has died and she doesn’t want to be a clan cat any longer. The clan lets her go, but not all cats (especially Mudclaw) are happy about her choice. And Onewhisker feels upset and thinks this is his fault. So at night he sneaks out of the clan’s new camp and heads towards where he thinks she went, following her scent trail. He soon approaches a twoleg-place and loses her scent. A gray she-cat named Smoke comes out and asks him what he’s looking for. She helps him find Tansypaw, who changed her name back to Melody, and Onewhisker asks her to return to WC. However, Melody is FURIOUS at him and they argue wether or not are the clan’s responsible for her brothers death. Onewhisker gets really heated and yells that it’s Melody’s fault her family is dead. He then leaves. After that he realizes Smoke has heard everything and felt ashamed. He wants to go back and apologize to Melody but Smoke tells him to come back when the both of them has felt better.

During the day Onewhisker tries his best to hunt for prey with his fellow warriors and interacts with the rest of WC. And he also plays with Gorsekit quite a bit. A few days later at night he sneaks out again, and goes to the twoleg-place. He meets Smoke again and she takes him to where Melody is, and he apologize to her. She still doesn’t want to return to the WC and also hasn’t forgiven the clans yet, but is much nicer this time. Onewhisker then leaves, feeling down, and is comforted my Smoke. They have a nice chat then he leaves to go back to the clan.

Time skip. Fireheart saves WC from the sewers, and after learning about Fireheart’s kittypet origins, Onewhisker feels that he is just like Brushpaw, and how they even looks similar and is around the same age. He catches a rabbit for him to eat. After returning to WC camp, Onewhisker decides to visit the twoleg-place again to tell Melody because he still haven’t given up on getting her to rejoin the the clan, especially now that he met Fireheart, a kittypet who joined the clans. He sneaks out again, and heads for the kittypet place. He sees Smoke and Melody talking, and finds out they are friends. He tells Melody what happened and again tries to convince her, and while Smoke is interested and intrigued by his story, Melody doesn’t care and tells him she doesn’t want to join WC again. Onewhisker turns to leave, and Smoke chooses walks with him for a bit and the two have a chat. The two become close.

Timeskip. Gorsepaw is now apprenticed to Onewhisker. Onewhisker sees the excited apprentice and again thinks of Brushpaw. They go on a border patrol together with Mudclaw and other Wc background characters I don’t care about. During the patrol they meet Smoke, who is excited to see Onewhisker again. Mudclaw acts hostile towards her, but Onewhisker is nice and introduces her to Gorsepaw, which makes Mudclaw very sus. Smoke then chats with Onewhisker again, and then goes back to the twoleg-place. Mudclaw is very mad about the whole thing, and warns Onewhisker. Who thinks that he is right and he shouldn’t be so close with non-WC cats.

Timeskip. Onewhisker is teaching Gorsepaw to hunt, and he is learning very quickly. He spots a rabbit and races towards it, and after a chase he and Onewhisker almost lost it, but gorsepaw grabs it before it could vanish. Onewhisker hears a noise behind him and turns around to see Smoke walk towards him. He is shocked and tells her she shouldn’t be here, on WC territory. Smoke says she thinks warriors are cool, but Melody wants her to stay away from the clans. She wants to continue talking to Onewhisker but he tells her she has to leave. Gorsepaw asks him who she is and he responds that she is a friend of his, but he can’t tell this to the other clan cats cause kittypet xenophobia. Gorsepaw agrees and says he thinks hse’s nice. They then head back to WC.

Timeskip. Tigerstar lead SC over and kills Gorsepaw. The rest is onscreen things such Scourge killing Tigerstar, Mudclaw becoming deputy, preparing for the war with BC and all that, but from Onewhisker’s perspective.

All of windclan are exhausted after the fight with BC and goes back to WC camp to rest. At night Onewhisker is trying to fall asleep even though he can’t help but think about the death of his former mentor and apprentice. And the war with BC and all that happened. He then hears someone calling his name and goes to check. He spots gray fur just out of camp, so he goes outside and sees Smoke. He is very shocked and asks what Smoke is doing here. She tells him she is carrying his kits because in the world of warrior cats you can just magically get pregnant for having a good relationship with someone. Onewhisker is shocked and don’t know what to do. Smoke says she wants her kits to join WC and be like its’ father after it’s born. Onewhisker hesitantly agrees, though he isn’t sure how the clans will react to this. He asks her why she won’t join and Smoke tells him Melody doesn’t want her to join the clans, and since she is Smoke’s good friend she decides to listen to her. She really wants her kits to be warriors though, so Onewhisker agrees, and Smoke leaves. Onewhisker goes back to his nest and has even more trouble falling asleep.

Timeskip. Twolegs are acting weird, And Crowpaw has went missing. Onewhisker is dealing with a lot of troubles rn. While he is out hunting alone to clear the troubles from his mind he encounters Melody, who is angry at him again. She tells him Smoke is giving birth to his kits and for him to follow her. He goes with her feeling nervous. And when he gets there smoke has died giving birth Silverstreamed-style. Melody is visibly upset and snaps at Onewhisker this is his fault. He is also upset about Smoke’s death and mourns her. He then tries to take the kit to WC but is stopped by Melody, who says that she will not let the clans cause the death of another cat now that they have taken three cats who were close to her from her. She tells Onewhisker that she will take care of the kit. Onewhisker agrees, feeling useless, and heads back to WC thinking how he didn’t eve get to know the kit’s name.

The clans cross the mountains and Onestar becomes deputy then leader. Ashfoot is named deputy for her courage.

Whitetail and Onestar become mates, and Onestar thinks it is time to move on from his ex-mate’s death.

Mudclaw makes Onestar doubt his decisions on being friends with the other clans. He become more and more hostile, especially towards Firestar.

Mudclaw starts a rebellion and is struck by lightning. He dies.

Whitetail gives birth to Heatherkit, and Onestar is very happy. He thinks of his first kit and swaers he’ll take good care of this one.

More on-screen things happen. Skyclan happens.

During the fight with Darktail and his followers, Darktail revels to Onestar that he is his son. Onestar makes WC retreat in fear.

Onestar tries to hide in his own clan, but eventually comes to the conclusion that he must confess the truth. But then Curlfeather and Duskfur arrive with the news RC is taken over, Darktail and his followers attack WC. However the other clans join to help, and Darktail leaves, but not before revealing he has a connection with Onestar, who tells all the clans the whole story. Naturally there are cats who are mad at him, but Whitetail chooses to forgive him seeing it’s not his fault, though Heathertail is less forgiving.

The clans fight Darktail the following day, while a storm rages. Onestar and Darktail fight once more, and their fight takes them to the lake, where Onestar sacrifices himself to stop the problem he has started, dragging darktail into the water with him and refusing to let go as they both drown.

Hopefully my AU version of Onestar’s confession is better than the original, but since I’m not really a writter, it’s hard to tell.

[dreemurr-fever]

TELL ME ABOUT YOUR DANM WC AU YOU RAT/LOVINGLY PLATONIC

When I meant to ask me about my Warrior Cats AU I was hoping for more specific questions but fuck it we ball

Disclaimer: If some stuff sounds familiar it's because I took inspo from dragonskulls' designs.

Here's the high commands for both factions

Sparkclan (Autobots)

Leader: Dawnstar (Optimus)

Deputy: Prowlheart (I'm sure you can guess)

Third-in-Command: Ironhide (help I don't have a cat name for him)

Medicine Cats: Owlglare (Ratchet), Twitchfur (Red Alert)

Wielders (you'll learn about these later): Wheeljack (also no name yet)

Darkclan (Decepticons. Fun fact I was gonna call them the Decepticats but it's dumb)

Leader: Darkstar (Megatron)

Deputy: Shrikescream (Starscream)

Third-in-Command: Soundwave (He already has a warrior name)

Medicine Cats: Knockout (I think it fits a clan cat name)

Wielders: Shockwave (same as Soundwave he's already perfect)