#This will be much less confusing if you have read warrior cats but have not watched Outsiders SMP

[apprehensiveacorn]

Guys, I’ve written a thingie for my warrior cats au. Hell is deep and hot as creation.

Anyways, I tried writing it in past tense like the books are, but I think I’d actually kill someone if I had to do that, so present tense it is! Like, seriously, someone could hold a gun to my head and say “write your fic in past tense” and I’d literally shoot myself, with my own gun. That is how great my shame is, here

ANYWHO X2, I wrote an Owen & Rasbi interaction! Meetin’ at the border at midnight to talk w/ your homeboy abt life and stuff, sweet sweet fluff, no angst here!

My secret past as a Warrior Cats kid is being revealed. I used to write so much fucking warrior cats, y’all have no idea. I was OBSESSED

Names

Owen - Fernspark

Rasbi - Monarchwing

Apo - Minnowbark (Mentioned)

Quick Rundown

Lake territories <3

Leaf-bare is the cat word for Winter

Moon is the cat word for month

Starclan is Cat Heaven

Halfclan relationships? BAD

Close halfclan friendships? BAD

Halfclan kits in your clan? OSTRACIZE THEM

Words: 1,356

Holemabier - The Arcadian Wild

Fernspark, carefully, noses along Thunderclan’s river border, watching the trees for any sight of his friend. He’s careful with his paws, and makes sure his tail isn’t brushing against the ground and making a racket. The soft moonlight filters down from the sky, streaming through trees and falling freely on the moors. He can see his breath in the late leaf-bare air.

In an arbitrary spot, a spot that would rise no alarm to any other cat, he crosses a shallow portion of the river, as quick as his paws can take him. On the other side, he shakes himself off, staring at his soaked paws in distaste.

The purr Monarchwing starts up at his misery is as loud as thunder, the cat padding out from a thicker bush, her movements mildly disturbing the thinner layer of snow resting on top.

“The river fun this moon?” They tease, giving a friendly touch of their nose to Fernspark’s cheek.

Playfully, Fernspark bares his teeth, lazily swiping at her shoulder with sheathed claws. The Thunderclan warrior escapes his reach fast, stepping away to bare her own teeth in jest as well. “I feel like I’ve fought one too many wars to get caught so easy by a Windclan cat,” she goads, tail waving lazily, fur flat and still keeping up that steady purr. Unthreatened, not angry.

Exasperated, Fernspark tries to groom his wet fur, a low purr in his chest as he grumbles, “If I get sick because of this, Monarchwing, and I happen to die first, I’m going to haunt you in Starclan.”

“Oh, no,” Monarchwing dispairs, “What would I do without you bothering me?”

“Oh, that’s it.” Fernspark pounces on them, playfully bowling them over into the forest, starting a play fight, as if they were two apprentices having fun after a long day of training. As Fernspark nips and backs away and steps over foliage, he is reminded that, under normal circumstances—if Windclan and Thunderclan had never been at war—he, as a Windclan cat, would be tripping over vines and breaking sticks and running through thorn bushes, because in no world should a cat who lives in the moors be so comfortable with playing in the forest, and in no world should a cat who lives in the forest be so good at avoiding rabbit burrows and messing with tunnels, unless they had to, for one reason or another. He shouldn’t be good at this. But there was a war.

It ends when Monarchwing gets Fernspark on his back. Fernspark had been backed against a tree, and he almost turned and tried to climb, before he forced himself still, because this was not a real battle, just a mock one.

“I concede,” He breathes, tail tip twitching happily.

“I win,” Monarchwing sing-songs, stepping off of him to groom her snow-covered fur, leaf-bare thick as it is. Fernspark got to his feet and shook himself off, tapping his tail tip against Monarchwing’s flank playfully.

Thankfully, they’d had the mind to keep their tussle confined, and quiet.

“You seem to like fighting,” she said, randomly, out of the blue. Not unkindly, and with a caring tone to their voice, almost teasing.

“Not really, and not as much as my father did,” Fernspark sighs, giving up with himself and starting to help Monarchwing with her fur. He swears he pulls a twig or something out of it every time they meet.

He has to admit, it’s almost refreshing to have someone talk about his father. His clanmates don’t mention the old leader around Fernspark, much less try to insinuate they’re similar, not after Fernspark had gotten tired of it and shouted at them.

He didn’t like yelling much. Despite his father's bloodlust, he hadn’t either.

The sting there is still at home, when he thinks of the cat his father had been, but it is less painful, a little more fond now that there is no more blood spilt in the old leader’s name.

When Monarchwing is content enough with their fur, they touch their nose to Fernspark’s shoulder, leading them under a cloistered group of bushes, where the ground is cold and free of the thin layer of snow fallen around the lake, where they curl up together like kits in a nursery. And secretly, Fernspark thinks that, if his actual sister had survived long after birth, she’d be a little like Monarchwing.

“Should our next meeting be near the outer edge of our territories?” Fernspark asks. “Or should we go by the lake, so Minnowbark can join.”

“Hmm,” Monarchwing contemplates, resting their jaw on Fernspark’s flank. “Yeah, I’d— I’d like to hang out with Minnowbark next time. We could speak with him next gathering to let him know.”

“Yeah. Usual spot by the lake, then?”

Their usual spot by the lake was a sheltered spot of sand in Thunderclan territory, only safe to stay dry in during low tide. It would be warmer next time the three meet, so it’d work. No snow, at least.

Monarchwing nods, “Yeah.”

Suddenly, after a moment of silence, Monarchwing says, tail twitching anxiously, “I feel like… I feel like Aldercloud is hiding something from me.”

Fernspark blinks. “Really? Your sister?”

“I— yeah. I’m trying not to pry but I—... I’m real worried for her, you know? She’s jumpy and scared and,” she barely stops to breathe as she rambles, “she just, isn’t like that. I am, I guess, but she’s never been.”

Fernspark’s tail twitches apprehensively. “I’d be worried, too,” he says. “But I’m sure she’ll be okay. She can take care of herself, can’t she? Maybe you should have a little more faith in her.”

“Maybe, yeah,” the Thunderclan warrior concedes. “I’m still worried, though.”

Fernspark takes a moment to think, watching as his breath mists over. “Try to help her, but don’t push too hard if she doesn’t actually need it, maybe?” he offers.

Monarchwing, after a moment of hesitation, nods, relaxing only a bit. Fernspark isn’t surprised, Monarchwing always worries. He’s content to bask in the silence, starting to groom his friend’s fur comfortingly.

He tries to keep track of how long they’ve been here, starting to worry about returning to their respective camps. It can wait a little longer, though, for just a little more time with one of his best friends.

Monarchwing buries her cold nose into Fernspark’s leaf-bare coat. “Thanks,” they mumble, eyes starting to, inexplicably, droop.

Fernspark whacks them with his tail to wake them up, purring as she jolts. “No problem,” is what he says in reply.

Normally, friendships between cats of different clans are restricted to passing moments at gatherings or border patrols, and in the beginning, Fernspark had meant to keep it that way. But after spending so long knowing Monarchwing and Minnowbark, he realized how much he trusted them. He realized how much he enjoyed their presence, their words, their reassurance, and one day he’d asked to meet Minnowbark by the border one day, because Minnowbark had been hurt and Fernspark had been worried, and Minnowbark had agreed, and had actually been there.

He had realized it was an option.

And really, they weren’t exchanging secrets.

Still, they know what they've gotten themselves into. All three of them. It’s worth it, to them.

So when they finally have to leave, Fernspark crosses the same stretch of river he came from, hopping into his old pawsteps and continuing on, downwards towards the lake, now in hunt, carrying through the large, looping pattern he’d started when he embarked.

And Monarchwing walks back and forth, dragging their tail across the snow, overwhelming Fernspark’s Windclan scent with her own Thunderclan one as much as possible, mildly reinforcing the boundary markers around their hangout. And he knows that, as they have agreed, she’ll hunt for however long it takes to bury a few pieces of prey somewhere Fernspark has stood, to not make Monarchwing’s extended presence suspicious.

And, it’s always the night after the half moon, so if all else fails, the scent of Windclan on Thunderclan’s border could be written off as the medicine cats, goofing around, and taking a second to talk.

[lovesick-joey]

Hey! I’m not in the Warrior Cats fandom, im just aware of it. But I can appreciate a good “cats AU”. And you are DELIVERING! I love them all so much!

And your OC? Sneakers the Valiant Crusader? Peak!

If it’s ok to ask, did Sneakers ever join the Justice League? If so, how did that happen? And what were the JL’s impressions of him?

aaaa thank you!!

yes, at some point, Sneakers did join the Justice League. But he's not very active - he's more like an part-time member and isn't really included on a lot of missions/tasks with the Justice League. before joining the Justice League, Sneakers have heard their team's name thrown around. He's seen them from time to time but never actually got the chance to meet them properly.

he meets Booster Gold while out hunting down a criminal that they were coincidentally chasing together, and it was hard for them to communicate since, well, Sneakers is a cat and Booster Gold doesn't understand him. but regardless of that Booster knew he was a fellow crime-fighter, and he found him adorable. he took the cat after the criminal was taken down and carried him around as he resumed his Booster Gold shenanigans (Sneakers was confused the whole time but he enjoyed the ride). eventually, Booster took him to the Justice League Watchtower/Satellite, and that's where Sneakers gets to meet the Justice League.

during this time, Sneakers the Crusader Cat is already pretty well-known, maybe not as much as the other superheroes and the super-pets, but he's definitely popular in Gotham. there have been a few articles/online posts made about the cat, so Sneakers wasn't just a stranger. this makes a few heroes in the Justice League recognize him. they were mildly surprised that he was inside the watchtower but he was overall a welcomed presence. they were very fond of the little guy. they knew he fought crime just like them so, after a background check and some research, the League recruited Sneakers to the Justice League.

I feel like the League wouldn't be too surprised by Sneakers, since they've already got Krypto, Ace,....and especially Streaky the Supercat. not to mention there's plenty more super-pets. They're probably very familiar with the concept of animals fighting crime. anyway, Sneakers spent time with the League for a while, helping them and fighting alongside them. though he became less active as time went on, as he started focusing on himself, Gotham, and also becoming a father for the third time. he still hangs out with the Justice League whenever he feels like it.

and that's it! sorry if there's any grammar errors or spelling mistakes - english isn't my native language. I'm pretty giddy to know people are genuinely interested in this silly oc haha

the full Sneakers origin, if you want to read abt it: link

[gougarpaw]

Thoughts on the Star spoilers? Mine are below the cut.

I mean. It looks interesting. I probably won't read it bc erm I'm a boring adult now.

On Splashtail... I'm very tired of the "villain leader immediately starves the elders and queens" trope that we see over and over and over and over.. I think Tigerstar was the only villainous leader who didn't do that. He only did murder. Splashtail to me seems like Hawkfrost + Brokenstar, but without any nostalgic benefits.

I don't like the kit-kidnapping. Just, why? Siblicide/Infanticide seems a bit out of character for Splashtail. I thought he was just some kid in over his head. But nooo, suddenly he has a blood lust. This might be weird but I wish there were less murders in warrior cats. However, Frostpaw getting to kill Splashtail was ok imo.

Speaking of her, Frostdawn is a cool name, I guess? Graysky and Mistpool are kind of boring names imo, it seems like they were trying to emulate Graypool and Willowbreeze but also not because the erins have probably forgotten who Graypool is. If I were in charge, I'd have named Graypaw Grayjay, in memory of his dad, and because it sounds funny. Idk what I'd call Mistpaw. Maybe Mistwing after her mentor, Icewing? Mistice?

Also, are Beetlepaw and Beepaw going to be apprentices forever? I feel like they should've been warriors by now, but the wikia says they're still 7 moons old? Same with Stempaw + co, they're only 6 moons? Am I finally losing it?

Then about Lizardtail and Gorseclaw trying to join ThunderClan. This was pretty cool, I suppose. The leaker didn't really give much build up to this plot point, so I'm assuming the book doesn't give any build up either. I could be wrong though. I do like this last sentence in the wikia: "Three of his kits died in their adulthood—Dappletuft by the impostor, Softpelt in battle, and Harelight by Splashtail—leaving Gorseclaw as his last remaining kin." But also?? Where did his wife go?? Lakeheart if you can hear this please come home your husband misses you.

Also, the leaker seems to confuse Mosspelt and Havenpelt, saying that Mosspelt is Splashtail's mother. Probably just the leaker's misreading, and hopefully not a canonical contradiction in the book. Same with them confusing the pronouns of Gorseclaw. (Although I'm one to talk..)

Ok and finally onto the leadership changes. Icestar is a good choice for leader. Lots of fans wanted this, so I give the Erins a polite thumbs up. But Owlnose? I don't care about him. He didn't need redemption. The only way to fix this is to have Icestar die immediately in The Elder's Quest and force Owlnose to become leader haha. Just kidding.

These are just my thoughts please don't take them as gospel holy moly I am just Some Guy. Disagree with me or don't, it's your life.

Before people ask, here's the leaks: https://wcrpforums.com/thread/96415/spoiler-thread-chapter-summary-update

[itisme-rosie]

-- together again; takes place before the canon events of the show. you left switzerland and by extension, beatrice, but you're back now.

cw: hurt(ish?)-comfort!! written with female!reader in mind; mentions of death / loss (unmentioned character); religious themes; reader with a family like lilith's but less intense

[ if i don't watch the last episode, warrior nun hasn't ended yet 🤩 ]

masterlist | rules

i had always known i loved to live.

it was the little disasters of the outside world - a sudden downpour of rain after a hot summer day, a damned dip in the ground i didn't notice when i was skipping down a sidewalk that had me sprawling to the ground and scraping my knee - now those moments made me feel alive, telling me about the world and beyond more than the 'spiritual journey' going on inside the school haunted by its mundane nature of routines and rules could ever teach me.

i don't think i had meant to leave at first. as much as i didn't love it there, i sort of came to terms with the fact that i'd never ever be allowed to leave - my parents were initially very firm about keeping me in there to train and eventually join the legacy the rest of the women of my family began by stepping into the OCS. until they weren't.

i don't remember much of the day i had left. i had gone to sleep after beatrice knocked on my door to greet me with a happy birthday and the next thing i know, i had been woken up and whisked away, and the OCS - the church in general, as a matter of fact, just wasn't that important to my family anymore. too much sacrifice, too much loss; i didn't need to be another notch on a board of how much we gave up.

all connection, anything that linked back to the church had been severed and i never saw them again, not even during the funeral during the week that followed (i just knew it was them who had knocked on the door, i had never heard my father sound so angry). i may have regained a bond with my family, but in doing so, i left behind the family i made for myself. i left bea. by the time i was old enough to go looking for her, beatrice wasn't where i left her.

which brings me to now.

the littler version of me would be baffled. here i was, standing in front of a convent in spain of all places - the only reason i should be in spain right now should be for a vacation for crying out loud, there wasn't any good reason for me to find myself in a place associated with a time in my life i had been trying to avoid for years.

but here i was, despite how much i vehemently argued with my parents of how 'religion and faith were and have never been my strongest suits', protesting a fate where i could potential lose myself, my identity, my life at such a young age. my mother would lament about how i had come 'round a full circle, right back in the steps of a life i was trying to escape. i would have agreed with her had i not come here on a very specific mission not even vaguely connected to re-joining the ministry.

after thanking and paying the elderly cab driver that, to the best of his abilities, told me stories of the roads and lands we drove past in broken english, i steel myself for what i would find in the old building that loomed over me and i, rightfully, felt very small, the paper that read 'the cat's cradle' with its address and a name in barely comprehensive cursive crumpled in my sweaty palm.

i must have been standing and staring for a long time, because i didn't notice the sister who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere standing beside me with a polite, practiced smile - "what brings you here?

a brillant question with a very simple answer, one that had stayed stuck in the back of my throat and the sister waited patiently for my answer.

i give her a last name first and at the confusion in her eyes (though that might have been because my voice was as quiet as a mouse), i clear my throat, "i was told i could find, erm..." i hesitate for a second, my throat goes dry and i had half a mind to turn and run. spit out excuses of a wrong turn, a wrong address, that i was a nosy, lost tourist that stumbled upon the building on google maps, god - anything!

"miss?" the sister asks softly and i assess her expression for a while - concern with a bit of apprehension behind it.

"beatrice," her name falls effortlessly from my lips, and by effortlessly i mean breathless and like it was forced up my throat and out my mouth - gutteral and rushed, "i'm looking for beatrice? i was told i could find her here?" i give her my name and the lady nods in understanding, perhaps recognizing my surname. there was some surprise she tried to hide, i roll my eyes at the thought.

"sister beatrice is indeed here," the sister smiles, "allow me to take you to her," she gestures towards the building as she takes brisks steps towards the large double doors, gesturing for me to sit on a pew at the very back, "i'll be back with her shortly - we don't get much personal visitors," she explains with a smile, hurriedly walking away to lord knows where.

i sit pin-straight, my eyes scanning the images and statues around the hall and i let out a shaky exhale. as much as i found them beautiful, they terrified me.

the sister was gone a while. my head would snap up at every set of brisk footsteps only to lower after smiling politely at the sisters who were passing by with curious eyes and i opt not to look up when i hear two sets of hurried footsteps - one stops and walks away, growing fainter the further it got and the second set walks closer towards me, until i saw a pair of shoes beside my feet and i felt very conscious of how exposed i was in a place of worship. perhaps the sundress would have been a better suited outfit for my tasks today instead of shorts and a cotton button down shirt. in my defense, the weather felt like i was about to be cooked alive right on the concrete sidewalk.

"never pegged you as the type to pray so earnestly unless you were held at gunpoint,"

i was not as steeled as i wanted to be, my heart felt like it had stopped. as much as i didn't want it to, a familiar warmth washed over me; it was so comforting that the pit of dread clawing at my stomach silenced itself for a while for the quickest moment and i laugh dryly.

"i still think that you pray enough to save the both of us from eternal damnation," i shake my head, only lifting it when she settles down beside me and even then, i keep my eyes on anything that wasn't her, "you...suit the habit better than i ever could have, beatrice," i glance at her, my lip quirking in a small smile, "that color does nothing for your complexion though,"

it was a joke made in an earnest attempt to diffuse the tension between us. she huffed out a laugh and i smile a little wider at the sound, "nice to see i can still make you laugh,"

silence. soft pitter-pattering of shoes on tile as a group of sisters walk past us.

beatrice hums softly when they've left, "it's been a while,"

"did you expect it'd be me when you heard you had a guest?"

"i was definitely hoping for a familiar face, but..." she murmurs with a resigned sigh, "truthfully, i was not expecting it'd be yours," beatrice folds her arms over her chest, "but i will not deny that you've crossed my mind over the years,"

"really?" i pick at my nails, "i honestly didn't think you'd even remember me,"

"why'd you come then?" out of the corner of my eye, i see her face me and i huff softly, rubbing my sweaty palms on the rough material of my shorts.

"...i don't know," i mumble truthfully, or rather an attempt at sounding truthful. of course i knew why i was here, of course i had a purpose in getting on a plane to spain, struggling and travelling alone to get to this place, to see her and talk to her. when i glance at her, she has that look on her face.

her lips are pursed in a straight line, jaw set, most of her face is unreadable, save her eyes - oh, god, her eyes. soft, persistently trained on me and ever-moving to hold my gaze and no matter how much i tried to avoid them, i ended up looking right back at her. there's a look that - i won't lie - i have missed. so much emotion i can't decipher, but i knew that if i looked hard enough, somewhere in that look was the reassurance that she'd always still be there, whether i choose to tell her the truth or not. beatrice sits there, waiting and expectant.

"you are still a terrible liar," she deadpans when it was clear i have no plans on telling her why i was really here.

"it is the truth," i grumble defensively "you're still so suspicious of everything i say when i'm trying to be honest."

"well, your lower lip keeps twitching,"

my eyes narrow in confusion and i huff, suddenly aware of how tense i was, "and?"

"that's your tell," beatrice says as though it is the most obvious thing in the world and she faced forward, hands folded on her lap.

"my tell? my tell could have changed, genius - we haven't spoken in -" i shrug, "5? 6 or 7 years?"

"6 years, 2 months, 11 days," bea's voice quietens.

i glance at her, also silencing myself as the tension and defensiveness ooze out of my body and i slouch against the pew with a scoff of disbelief. she remembered, she counted it down to the day, though wouldn't be surprised if she had it down to the minute, beatrice was good at remembering details like that. it was both endearing and infuriating.

"'course you remember,"

"it was 12:07 am, the morning of your 16th birthday, the day you left switzerland," bea continues to speak only to falter slightly, her voice weakens and she looks down at her lap to fiddle with her thumbs - that, to me, was her tell. her tell that she was about to start a very difficult conversation, or ask a very awkward question.

"they never told us why you left, you know," bea's voice is small, smaller than my fuzzy memories tell me she has ever sounded, even during late nights having the hardest of conversations, when we both had our hearts bared out to each other, during our secret embraces as we cried with each other she has never sounded quiet as small as she is now. i wished for nothing more than the ground to swallow me whole, "and you never came back,"

"i wished i did," i say immediately in a soft voice, "god - sorry - i really wish i did," my heart pounds painfully in my chest, "and i'm sorry i didn't, and i know that isn't enough, and no amount of grovelling and asking for your forgiveness will fix that," i swallow thickly, "we -" i second-guess what i'm about to say, clearing my throat, "- were each other's greatest friend, and regardless of that fact, you don't have to forgive me,"

it's hard to gauge her reactions when beatrice keeps her face turned away from me but i could have sworn there was an almost imperceptible look that shifts her features briefly.

"there are absolutely no excuses, beatrice," i sigh heavily and the speck on the ground by my shoe was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, "and i've just turned your whole world upside down by showing up unannounced - jesus - sorry again - i'm so sorry, bea,"

"you still haven't told me why you left," she says a little more clearly, her stare stony as she looked right at me.

"does it matter?" i mutter, nails digging into my palms, "does it still matter bea? i'm here right now, isn't that what should be focused on?"

"you left me," bea sounds exasperated, "dare i say, you owe me an explanation? after you disappeared for years - you think i don't have questions? my own versions of why you left? my own doubts? i still don't even know what you're doing here,"

"i wanted to find you! by the time i was allowed to do things on my own, you weren't in switzerland anymore and nobody would tell me where you were - they all thought i would be a terrible influence on you -" i wince at how my voice echoed around the room and i hear her take a deep breath in and out when another trio of nuns walk past us. i shrink back into the pew with crossed arms, tucked against the corner.

"do you hate me for it?" i ask softly, "have you ever regretted being my - my friend?"

"what kind of ridiculous question is that?" is her answer, spat out like the thought was poison, the mere insinuation was a heavy boulder i just hurled at her. or maybe i was reading too much into things and this was just her regular anger, a normal amount of disdain she had for an old friend who left her behind without looking back - overthinking has always been a terrible habit of mine just as repressing how she truly felt about something was hers.

"...you know, i don't think i have it in me to hate you," my head lifts to look at her when she continues and i'm alarmed to see her eyes grow misty, "even when i really, really wanted to,"

beatrice sighs and i echo the sound, a shared sentiment between us. i also think that hating her was an impossible thought, no matter the sin she commits. my fingers drum against the wood of the pew, slowly and hesitantly reaching for her hand.

"i'm here now, bea," i whisper reassuringly, squeezing her hand tightly when she links our fingers together, "this time, i won't leave you hanging, yeah?"

"i'll hold you to that," she says weakly.

i smile softly, holding out my free hand, pinky lifted. beatrice lets out a watery laugh, sniffling before she mimics the action, locking our pinkies in some unbreakable promise and suddenly, we were back in our spot at the school in switzerland, vowing to be friends forever and ever, making plans to join the same convents, or if the Lord willed it, the same university, maybe the same apartment to live the rest and best of our lives together.

"we've got the rest of forever to catch up, and forever is a lot of time,"

[blimbo-buddy]

Hey I hope this doesn't sound rude, but if you don't like the warrior cats clans then why do you read warriors? I think it's understandable for people not to like them but it still confuses me, you know?

Nah it's not rude at all man, I completely get it. I think I would hate the warrior clans less if their hateful, jingoistic, and cult-like society wasn't put up on a pedestal so much by the narrative and viewed as a "proper" way for characters to live. I like the clans as an antagonistic force as seen in both Sasha and Scourge's graphic novels (PineStar's Choice to an extent too), I don't like seeing everything constantly praise and worship these cults in one way or another.

I still enjoy the clans, don't get me wrong, but I like an antagonistic clans instead of the usual ones we see in the books, because these are from the povs of clan cats, of course they'll see their society as great and the only right way to live, the authors see it that way too. Little bit of a messy explanation but hopefully I made just a little bit of sense through my confusing ramble. I have plenty of other gripes with the clans and their way of life but that's for another ramble in the future Tldr: I prefer the clans being the bad guys or an antagonistic force and trying to write/see them otherwise is very hard for me to do because of this

[juliettedunn]

The Surprise Party (Part 3)

Part 1 can be found here

Part 2 can be found here

Part 4 can be found here

Part 5 can be found here

Author’s note: Hey everyone! Sorry for the incredibly long delay, I was on a roll with this and then got super overwhelmed during the holidays, which threw me off and then I hadn’t returned since. 

That said, now that I have gotten back to it, the next updates should be a lot faster; I have the last two chapters all planned out. This one was always going to be the hardest chapter for me anyway because it’s so hard to figure out how to make this satisfying, especially given the poor handling that the show did of it.

***

Amity had no issue coming up with her gift for Hunter. From the moment Willow had explained the idea, she knew what it would be. It all stemmed back to a conversation she and Hunter had a few weeks ago.

Amity had been reading a book, and she didn’t realize she had gasped out loud until Hunter flinched, eyes darting wildly around the room. “What is it? What happened?”

“Sorry!” said Amity. “Just something I’m reading.” 

Flapjack chirped and emerged from Hunter’s pocket. Hunter promptly scooped up the bird and held him to his chest, rhythmically stroking his feathers to calm himself. “Reading? For help with the portal?”

“No, for fun.” Amity held up the book, but Hunter only looked more confused.

“Warriors? Is that cat a Palisman?” He perked up.  "Is that a textbook on Palismen?"

“No, it’s a book from the human realm. It’s not real.”

“Oh.” Hunter let himself relax, an embarrassed blush tinting his cheeks. “Sorry. Don’t know why I overreacted to that gasp."

Amity knew, but she didn’t say. She knew what it was like to react wildly to the slightest sound or touch. Back when she wasn’t used to it, Luz simply laying a hand on her shoulder was enough to make her  flinch. She was always grateful that Luz let her bring it up on her own time, so she’d do the same for Hunter.

Amity wasn’t quite sure how she felt about Hunter. She had noticed similarities between them when she first encountered him at Eclipse Lake, but the fight and the way he threatened Luz had certainly driven a wedge.

Now, of course, he had realized how he had been manipulated. Amity was proud of him. She knew better than anyone how hard it was to make that kind of change, especially when you lived with the constant threat of your guardian’s disapproval.

She wanted to tell him she was proud of him and that she understood, but she had never found the best opportunity. And she could tell Hunter did his best to avoid her; he was probably guilty, and she liked to think that perhaps he was embarrassed too, given how thoroughly she had beaten him.

“It’s okay,” she said in response to his apology. “I…overreact to stuff too sometimes. Less now, but it happens.”

Hunter hesitated. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“What?”

“You’re being super nice. Why?”

“You mean why am I not kicking your ass again for threatening my girlfriend?”

Hunter gulped. “Yeah.”

“I could. But honestly, I don’t have much room to talk. I did terrible things too. And I think we have more in common than you think.”

“Like our...overreactions?”

“Yeah.”

Given the awkwardness, she was surprised when Hunter spoke again. “Well…why did you gasp? If it was fiction?” 

“Oh, just a plot twist.”

“Plot twist? What happened?”

Amity side-eyed him. “I don’t want to spoil it.”

“Psh. I’m not going to read that anyway.”

Amity rolled her eyes. “Fine. My favorite character just found out she’s been lied to and the people she thought were her parents aren’t really her parents.”

“What?”

“Yeah. She’s super serious about the Warrior Code and her dream is to be clan leader, and now she just learned her parents broke it, and-” Amity did her best to explain, despite her being in the third arc of a series with so much going on even the authors got confused.

She couldn’t help smirking as she saw Hunter’s eyes get wider and wider. “And these are cats?”

“Yeah!”

“Where did you find these?”

“On Luz’s bookshelf.”

Hunter was practically vibrating with excitement. “Wait, don’t spoil anything else!”

“Why? I thought you weren’t going to read it.”

“W-well I…I might check it out. In the future. At some point. Who knows?”

“Just ask Luz to borrow it! I’m sure she’ll let you.”

“...Okay.”

---

Amity had now finished the entirety of the third arc, though Hunter had only just started the second. Luz didn’t have anything past the third arc, so Amity knew exactly what to get Hunter. Even if it was partially a gift to herself.

Amity hadn’t expected the mall to be so big; it was a giant, towering building, and according to Vee, there were a bunch of smaller places inside.  Looking at it, Amity started to understand what Luz had said about it being “dangerous.”

She grabbed the hem of her skirt, fidgeting with it for comfort. “Wow. This is a really big place, huh? There are a lot of people.” She looked over at Willow and flashed her a smile. “Remember when we went to that amusement park as kids? I got overwhelmed and started crying, and then you comforted me?” Amity laughed. “Before you got sick, obviously. Then I had to comfort you."

“Yes, I was there.”

Amity thought there might have been a harshness in her voice, but then Willow smiled warmly at her and Amity dismissed it. “So, what are you thinking of getting Hunter?”

Willow frowned. “I don’t actually know yet. I want it to be something really special.”

“Of course! Well, I know what I’m going to get him. Which way is the book store?”

“Uh…” Willow and Amity stared at each other. “I think Luz forgot to give us a map.” They giggled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find us one,” said Amity.

“Amity. Uh…remember at Hexside.”

“Huh?”

Amity looked back to see Willow looking a bit hurt. “What we talked about?”

“Oh! Yeah.” Amity rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. Over the past two months or so, she had been growing more accustomed to seeing Willow as a powerful witch. Her plant magic was genuinely terrifying, and rivaled Amity’s abominations. But sometimes she still found herself slipping up. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Willow was smiling once again, so Amity, reassured, turned back to her mission.

She blinked at the crowds of people, and thankfully spotted a large billboard with a map on it.

“Okay, we can do this,” she said, squinting at the confusing assortment of dots and lines. “The bookstore is on the second level.”

---

Willow watched as Amity confidently strode toward a set of stairs. Willow's gaze fell on them, and a bolt of fear hit her when she noticed they had serrated teeth sliding over their surface. "Amity, wait!”

Amity jumped nearly straight into the air. “I thought Luz said there weren’t any predators here!”

“She must have been mistaken,” said Willow. “It’s some kind of human realm monster. Let’s look at how the humans get past it.”

Amity, recovering from her shock, approached warily. “I know we’re supposed to be under cover, but let’s get our magic ready.”

Willow flexed her hands, prepared to use her magic if it was necessary. She saw Amity preparing as well. It was a nice feeling, the two standing together, ready to take on a challenge as one. For a moment, Willow could almost forget the past, and see the present Amity as she was. 

“Excuse me,” someone said, and brushed past the two, quickly ascending the serrated staircase. Willow and Amity held their breaths, but nothing happened. 

“Oh…is it safe?”

Willow placed a foot tentatively on the step, then leaped back. “It’s still moving...” 

But several other humans were climbing on, and Willow soon figured out the pattern. “Okay, I think we just have to ride it.”

She stepped on, and held her breath. The teeth failed to cut into her and she began to ascend. “It’s safe. Come on!”

Amity furrowed her brow, then hopped onto the step, legs splayed awkwardly like a frightened cat. Willow couldn’t help giggling at the sight. 

When they reached the top, Willow stepped off, then looked behind her to see Amity still frozen stiff on the steps. She reached to pull her to solid ground and Amity smiled gratefully. “Thanks. I don’t know why Luz didn’t warn us about that. That was…not pleasant.” She shuddered. “Okay. Next stop, bookstore.”

It was so eerily similar to old times. As kids, the two had always looked out for each other. Willow was insecure, awkward, and an easy target of bullying. Amity was usually the one to help defend her. But despite Amity’s more natural ability, she was sensitive and easily overwhelmed; Willow was the grounding force she needed when she was anxious or upset.

A lot had changed since then, but Willow could still recognize the signs of Amity’s anxiety, and she still moved instinctively to help, even as she tensed around Amity whenever an old mannerism or expression reminded her of their troubled past. Reminders she couldn’t seem to escape.

Ever since Amity had come to her house and Willow had made an attempt to break the ice by asking her to braid her hair, Amity had leaped on anything that reminded them of their childhood memories. Camila had bought them all ice cream and Amity had brought up a time they had had ice cream as children. On the trip to the beach, Amity had asked Willow what she thought it was like in comparison to Lake Lacuna.

Willow tried her best to indulge Amity, but it hurt. Not because she never wanted to think about the memories again. They were happy,and they mattered. But because there was such a painfully obvious element that was missing.

Willow knew how much Amity valued their friendship, how fragile she understood it was. She could see Amity clutching the hem of her shirt whenever she approached Willow. But instead of saying something, she aggressively acted as though everything was fine, that things were the same as they had been in the past. And Willow was sick of it.

“Willow?” Amity’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Are you okay? You seem a little off.”

Willow tensed. “What?”

“You seem upset about something. But I can’t really tell what.’

Willow sighed. Amity wasn’t being passive aggressive this time. Her expression was open and genuine, and that was why it would be rude to say something. Willow couldn’t be the jerk here, not after how much Amity had been doing for her.

“I’m fine.”

“Okay…” 

Willow quickly looked away, and caught sight of a window display filled with countless different books. “There’s the bookstore!”

When they went inside, Amity gasped. “There’s so many books I haven't even heard of here.” She darted from stand to stand, and Willow could see her ears wiggling through her hair. 

“Oh, Amity-”

“Hmm?”

Willow gestured at her ears, and Amity hurriedly clapped her hands over her ears and hid them with her hair. “Ugh, they wiggle so much now. I used to be way more controlled.”

“I think it’s a good thing. You always were a wiggly-eared kind of witch.”

“What does that mean?”

Willow laughed. “You’re expressive. When you feel at home. And these past few months you’ve been more comfortable. It suits you.”

“Oh…” Amity laughed nervously. “I guess I have. I miss Ed and Em so much, but…” Her expression shifted and her ears drooped. “I don’t know. I’ve been enjoying myself. Maybe I shouldn’t be. It’s not that I don’t want to see them and Dad again, but it’s just been so nice. Camila is…she’s really cool. But I worry that’s selfish.”

Willow couldn’t truly relate to how Amity was feeling. As much as she was enjoying herself, she had no hesitation about wanting to go back. Even the mention of family brought back the ache she had at separation from her dads. She missed them so much, and she couldn’t imagine not missing them.

But Amity’s situation was unique. When they were kids, Willow remembered Amity begging to stay “just one more night” at Willow’s. All kids did that, but Amity’s pleas had always seemed more urgent, and the moment Odalia appeared to pick her up, she would drop them instantly, retreating into a cool, composed expression that confused Willow. Even now, Willow didn’t really know what went on at Blight Manor, but she knew it was bad, probably worse than Amity let on.

“It’s not selfish. You have somewhere you feel safe. It’s okay to appreciate that.”

Amity nodded, though the guilt didn’t leave her face. “Thanks, Willow. And oh! Here they are.” She hurried to a display of books and grabbed a few, looking happily at the covers featuring different cats. 

“So…what exactly are these books?” Willow asked.

“Warriors! Luz only has the first three arcs, but there's been a bunch since then. I’m getting Hunter a super edition.”

“Super edition?”

Amity launched into an animated explanation of the Warriors series. It was so reminiscent of how things used to be. When Amity would ramble on about various fandoms to Willow, and Willow would happily join in, though she struggled to match Amity’s passion for some of them. Willow was glad to see this return.

“So that’s why I picked this one for him!”

“Awesome!” 

Willow looked around the bookstore while Amity continued to ramble. Could she find a gift for Hunter here? Not a book, but perhaps one of the cute little keychains or figurines? 

“I’m going to check out the stuff over here, okay?”

Amity nodded and Willow walked to a display of keychains and collectables. None of them were quite what she was looking for, though. She needed to get Hunter something really special. Something that would make his birthday memorable.

She was looking over the display one last time, when she heard a passing conversation that made her tense up.

“I mean, it’s not going to do any good. You’re kind of hopeless.”

She peeked around a display case to see two kids who appeared to be no more than eleven or twelve.

“Hey I’m practicing! I’ve gotten a lot better!”

“Yeah, moved from an F to a D maybe. Look, I’m not trying to be mean, I’m just being realistic. You’re kind of, well, dumb.”

The other kid tried to speak, but shut his mouth and nodded. Willow was so focused on them, she didn’t feel the rush of power from within her, nor notice the vines creeping steadily across the floor.

“Willow, your magic!” Amity’s hand landed on her shoulder and Willow jumped, vines facing Amity instead of the kids. For a moment, she expected Amity to join in the mockery, and she tensed, waiting to fight her off.

Then the startled look on Amity’s face registered, and Willow came back to the present, quickly dispersing her vines. Thank Titan no one had seen. She had almost caused a scene over a stupid memory.

“What’s going on?” Amity said, but Willow shook her head. The kids were already moving away. It wasn’t anything to do with her, she shouldn’t have been so bothered by it.

“Nothing. I just…l-let’s get out of here.”

Willow thanked the Titan that Amity listened to her, and they got out of the store without further incident.

What had even happened? This wasn’t the first time Willow’s magic had reacted to her emotion like that, but ever since she switched to the plant track, she thought she had it under control. And even if it wasn’t perfect, she certainly shouldn’t have freaked out over something so small.

For a moment, she hadn’t seen those two kids, but her and Amity from a year or two ago, and she was scared to think what could have happened.

How could this be happening? Had she been wrong before? Was she not as adept with plant magic as she thought? 

But the idea was horrifying. Willow was strong, she was. Amity herself had admitted that. Luz had called her the second most powerful witch she had ever met. Gus was always talking about how strong and reliable she was.Had the bullying impacted her so much, that all of that confidence could vanish at any reminder?

Amity reached out to her. “Hey, I-I saw your vines-”

“And?” Willow snapped.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. That didn’t seem intentional.”

“I’m fine.”

Ugh, why did her voice sound so harsh? This wasn’t like her; she was supposed to be calm and gentle. But the way Amity was looking at her - she couldn’t stand it. 

“Willow, I’m sorry if I’m doing something wrong. But I can’t…I don’t know how to fix it.”

Willow clenched her fists. “That’s just it, Amity. You can’t fix it. Can we please just stop talking about it?”

“I understand if it’s not something I can fix. But can I at least be aware of it? If it involves me?”

That wasn’t an unreasonable request. Willow really hadn’t wanted to get into it, but what was she supposed to do now? 

“I’m sorry,” Amity continued. “I shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have volunteered to hang out with you. I thought it would be a nice opportunity to hang out but I didn’t ask and I-I’m sorry. I should have let you hang out with Luz and Gus.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to hang out. I’ve been having a good time with you.” She realized, surprisingly, she had. It had been fun to figure out the toothy stairs together, and explore the bookstore. She hadn’t been faking her laughs and smiles.

 “It’s actually been really nice,” she continued. “But it’s been going too fast. It’s not that I don’t want to be friends again, but you act like nothing ever happened.”

“I don’t want to bring it up. I thought you would want to move past all of that as soon as possible. I know I do. I hate thinking about what happened.”

“Well, it happened.”

Amity looked down, all but strangling the hem of her shirt. “I know. I’m so, so sorry. I understand if we can’t be friends.”

“But I want to be friends!” Willow sighed. “I don’t want things to be like this. I want things to be normal. But you never asked if I was ready. You kind of did, at the very start, but ever since then you and Luz both just act like things are fine. The very first time we hung out on our own in years, you just came in and started talking about your relationship issues. Why would you do that?”

“I…I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I thought it would be best to act normal because I didn’t want to make you relive those memories. And, well, I didn’t want to relive the memories. But you’re right, that was stupid of me. I should have actually asked what you wanted. How can I do better?”

That caught Willow off guard. What could Amity do? There was no erasing the years of bullying Amity had done.

“Just…stop pretending like this can be fixed right away. Let things be weird. Stop trying so hard to make things normal again and just…let’s see where things go.” Let things be weird. Yes, that sounded right. 

She enjoyed hanging out with Amity, but there was always that pressure to move on, to act like they were just two best friends, nothing weighing them down. If she could have time, if she could choose when she was ready to act friendly and when she needed space…She hadn’t planned on this conversation, but maybe it was for the best.

“I’m glad we hung out today. But next time, please ask if I’m ready. Sometimes I need space from you.”

Amity nodded. “That…makes a lot of sense. I’ve been acting selfish. I was just so excited at the chance to be your friend again. I admired you so much as a kid, and then I somehow let myself forget how cool you were. And now that I’m seeing that again, I wanted to move past the bad stuff so much, I didn’t ask if you wanted to. I’m sorry for being a bad friend.”

“Hey, compared to the last few years, you’re the best friend in the world.” Willow clapped her hands over her mouth as soon as she said it. She had been trying hard to keep any snarking like that inside.

Amity winced. “Yeah, I…kind of walked into that.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Willow nervously chuckled. “Yeah, you did.” The tension broken somewhat, Willow could feel her fight or flight response ease. “You…admired me as a kid?”

”Are you kidding? You were the coolest person ever! You were so mature and wise about people, you knew how to calm me down and you understood so much about things that I didn’t. I didn’t realize you were skilled at magic, but everything else…” Amity laughed. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know that.”

“Wow.” Willow truly hadn’t known. From her perspective, Amity was always the cool one, Willow the wimpy half-a-witch. She had always been so impressed with Amity’s magic, she spent hours practicing to try to make something that might measure up. 

She told Amity this, and Amity looked away, embarrassed. “I placed too much focus on that. Don’t ever think I didn’t see strength in you. I did, back then. Before my parents really got to me. The beginning of my horrible mistakes was believing my parents when they told me you were weak.” 

Willow closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. The words meant a lot to her, maybe more than they should, given it didn’t truly matter what Amity thought of her. “Thank you. It’s to hear that. And thank you for listening, I really needed to get that all out.“

“It’s really not something you need to thank me for. I should be thanking you. I think we both were kind of avoiding our honest feelings about this. I know you always like to keep stuff in. Which isn’t good but...well, I get why I’m not the first person you come to with that sort of thing. I know I haven’t exactly been a ‘safe person.’ Though I hope to be. One day.”

“One day.” Willow sighed. “We have a lot of time to build new memories. I don’t know how long it’ll take. It’s not…it’s not going to be fixed all at once. But, I’m looking forward to it.”

“I understand. Thank you, Willow. For your friendship when we were kids, and for giving me another chance now. I’ve been given more chances than I probably deserve, and I’ll always be grateful for that.”

There was another long silence. Willow wasn’t sure how to get out of this conversation, so she settled for another joke. “Annnnnd I think that’s enough trauma unpacking for the day.”

“Yeah, neither of us are the best at that. Actually, none of our friend group is.”

“I’m sure that won’t come back to bite us at any point.”

Amity tensed. “What? What won’t come back to bite us?”

“Figurative language, girl.”

Amity slapped her palm over her face. “Right. Sorry. I am all out of sorts right now. Which, uh, you are too. Are we…are we still good to talk? We can be silent for the rest of the trip, if you’re not ready.”

“No, I’d like to keep talking. Just maybe not about this.”

“Okay.” Another lengthy pause as they both struggled to come up with an easier conversation topic. “Uh, did you decide what you were going to get Hunter?”

“No. I still don’t know. I want it to be really special. He deserves that.”

“I think that-” Amity stopped. “Oh. Actually, are you okay with me sharing advice? It’s okay if you’re not.”

Just that simple statement made Willow relax. She didn’t have to talk to Amity about this if she didn’t want to. Though, she realized, she did want to. She could use the input. “Yeah. What’s your advice?”

“Well, when Luz and I try to do something special for each other, we both always get super worried about impressing each other, and then when it actually happens, it’s fine. We’re just happy the other took the time to do something special. Honestly, some of the best gifts I ever got were random leaves and rocks Luz found me.”

“That’s really sweet. I hope it’s like that with me and Hunter. I mean!” Willow blushed, realizing the implications of what she had said. “In a platonic way. Obviously you and Luz have a romantic relationship. And Hunter and I don’t. That doesn’t need to be said. You know what I mean.”

She wasn’t usually this flustered; why was she acting so ridiculous? Well, she knew why, but why did it have to be so obvious? Why did-

“Willow?”

For a moment, Willow was scared she had somehow been speaking aloud; she had quite a frequent habit of talking to herself. “Yeah?”

Amity smiled. “Whatever Hunter means to you, I can tell he’s going to be happy with what you give him. You two are really good for each other.”

“Yeah?” Willow could feel herself blush again, and Amity smiled.

“Yeah. And just the party itself is going to thrill him.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, even though Hunter was nowhere around. “Honestly, if it was too exciting he might actually faint. Or his eyes might fall out of his head.”

Willow giggled. “Yeah, he does get those huge sparkly eyes.”

They laughed together, though Willow noticed Amity watching nervously for signs of distress. She wished that wasn’t necessary. She wished they could just laugh with no baggage attached to it.

But now that they were both acknowledging there was baggage, she felt lighter. And had hope that maybe one day, that could be true. Maybe one day they could laugh, and it would just be two silly best friends laughing, a wholesome and beautiful scene.

But what made her even happier was that there didn’t have to be an expectation of that. Their friendship was not a perfect painting. It was built on the shreds of a violently ripped canvas; small, salvageable scraps of its prior beauty blended awkwardly with new, inconsistent splashes of color.

Maybe one day, as the new moments of inspiration and beauty began to outnumber the old wounds, it would be restored to its prior glory. Maybe (perhaps more likely), some of the cracks and tears would always show. Either way, it was their messy creation, and Willow wanted to see what came next.

***

Part 1 can be found here

Part 2 can be found here

Part 4 can be found here

Part 5 can be found here

[cartoonishvendor]

hello tumbel-er dot com user CARTOONISHVENDOR, give me more Maggotblood lore. I am insatiable

well, welcome to my tumblr, anon possibly here from my art fight account!! for anyone confused, we're talking about this girlie today:

i haven't posted about her or Long After StarClan on my tumblr once, not as far as i remember. that stuff is mainly in my head, on my art fight account and my youtube, even the starting phases of the story went to my priv twitter (rip in pieces), so im actually really stoked to talk about her now!!

last disclaimer before a read more bc i fear i may make this super long: details of her story are subject to change, since Long After StarClan doesn't exist as a tangible fanfic or comic or anything yet!

that's all, let's go!!

let's start at the beginning: Maggotblood was born to the ShadowClan warrior Blaze (orange tabby shorthair, green eyes) and the kittypet Nellie (white singlecolor shorthair, blue eyes), as the only kit of her litter.

Blaze was part of a sort of ShadowClan youth sub-culture, one a little inspired by RiverClan. this might make absolutely no sense, but it will when you take a look at the differences between Clans in the Long After StarClan universe. the TL:DR here is that LAS RiverClan is a haven of toxic, battle-obsessed behaivor, and some young warriors in ShadowClan either found that really cool, or felt so provoked they decided to start mirroring that exact behaivor (more of the latter, none of them really liked RiverClan). So, Blaze was this really abraisive, over-confident and bloodthirsty warrior whom always bragged about how good he was at everything. naturally, very little other cats in the clan liked him as a result of that. thus, he began seeking admiration from other sources. enter: Nellie

Nellie might not have seemed like it at first, but she matched Blaze's arrogance quite well. she was stuck-up and though she only ever deserved the best, which she thought she found in Blaze. So basically, think Onestar and his kittypet fling and you kinda get Blaze's and Nellie's story. but their whole flirtery grinds to a halt abruptly when it turns out Nellie is pregnant. at first, Nellie isn't really against the idea of kits, knowing but not telling Blaze she knows her twolegs will jsut take them away anyway and they can focus on her again. but Blaze is horrified (not that he'd admit to that of course). tension against outsiders was, for ambiguous reasons, at a bit of a high at that time, and if anyone found out he had kittens with a kittypet it would be a severely blow to his reputation (or the reputation he thought he had). Nellie catches on to this pretty quickly and she's kind of furious when Blaze more or less accidentally admits he only her saw her as a fling, not as the great cat she thought herself of as. when she gave birth to her single kitten, she felt not a single ounce of motherly care for it and decided instead she'd punish Blaze for lying to her. she marches straight into ShadowClan camp, drops off the kitten, and explains who the father is, which Blaze tries desparately to refute, but the resemblance of that kitten and Blaze was just too clear, she even had the same forehead markings as him! so yeah, now everyone knew Blaze did that and he was so butthurt that he never took care of his kit and instead left her in the care of an unrelated queen who didn't care much about her either.

the queen, as well as the rest of the Clan, including Blaze, never made a really big secret out of the fact that Maggotblood was not related to the queen raising her. one day, she felt so starved for motherly attention that she begged Blaze to take her to see her real mother. I did a short PMV about this scene, basically they get to Nellie's twolegnest, Nellie and Blaze fight and then Nellie says really hurtfult things about Maggotblood, practically disowning her a second time.

so they go back, Maggotblood feels absolutely horrible, and at one point, when she was still a kittten, she tried to run away from camp. she got herself hurt and wound up in the medicine den. now, that encounter in there was not the first time she's seen Giantcloud, her future mentor, for more than a few moments. time to get into a LAS specific ritual, yippie!!

so, if you may have noticed, it seems that no clan cat has a canonical clan name, apart from the medicine cats. theres a reason for that!! LAS plays around the Lake territories with the vaguely recent canonical territoy distributions. and the lake territory has the Moonpool as the primary connection hub to StarClan, right?

in Long after StarClan it's uh. it's fucking dried out!!

(scene from this video)

the Moon's Deep is still the meetup spot for medicine cats every half a moon in this universe, but it's also ground for another ritual: when a kitten is between the ages of 1 and 6 moons, on a half moon, they are brought to the Moon's Deep once, in company of the clan's medicine cats (and maybe the parents too, case by case basis). there, they are expected to spend a night sleeping in the gigantic drained pool. and whatever dream they wind up having can and will determine their future role in the clan.

you see, the reason Long After StarClan is called that is that StarClan is absent in the story for the most part. a secondary role medicine cats play here is lorekeeping which includes finding out whatever they can about StarClan and the past, but it's very much in the background of this story. and without StarClan, you can't really have cats with a strong bond to it, making this the centralized way clan cats decide who will be fit for being a doctor and who won't.

Maggotblood, as her dream determined, was also fit to be one. but at that point in time, ShadowClan already had a medicine cat apprentice. Hawthorn, this girlie:

she hated being a doctor and she wanted to be the leader instead, and she was really relieved when it turned out Maggotblood could replace her, but until she could be apprenticed, Hawthorn had to stay in the medicine den.

By ShadowClan tradition, cats are allowed to give themselves their name once they hit 6 moons and are apprenticed. Maggotblood, just a nameless kitten back then, decided to name herself Jasmine, after the flowers in Nellie's garden. until that point, she only really had one cat occasionally looking out for her, whom she considered a friend, and that was Misty. but as soon as she became the medicine cat apprentice, it felt like a whole new world had opened it's doors for her. Jasmine met the other medicine cats for the first time and they were all nice to her, respected her, and she became really good friends with Runner (later Lakerunner), the apprentice of WindClan. and Giantcloud became the cat she trusted the most, he was like a father to her.

during her apprenticeship, Blaze died in a badger attack. Jasmin did not know how to feel, or how to talk about this. surprisingly, she wound up bonding with the RiverClan medicine cat, Waspvenom, over it, since he had a complicated relationship with his biological family too.

the six moons of apprenticeship, the best six moons of her life, ended with her and Runner's final naming ceremony. much like how a dream determines your role, for medicine cats it also determiens your final name despite all rules your Clan has for naming. Runner become Lakerunner, after a dream of him running across the lake. Jasmine, however, had a terrifying dream about carcasses, those of hundreds of cats, swarming with maggots. shaken up, she tells her fellow medicine cats that her new name is Maggotblood, whether she wants it or not.

was it a dream or was it a vision? could have been both, considering what happens next in her story. but this is already so long and if you ever want the TBC it'll have to be another post, sowwy!!

[l0velyinc]

ooo, i'd love to hear 3, 8, 10, 13, 20 for the ask game. whichever questions you feel up to answering with however many of your stories/worlds you want to answer with because they're all so good ;w;

THANK YOU!! For the questions and my first asks <3

I’ll respond with all my stories, (minus any of the ARPG folders (technically not my lore haha.))

3.) ANY RECURRING IMAGES/ELEMENTS?

Almost all of my stories have similar vibes: found family, animals & biology, religious & cult-y vibes, psychedelics, etc. Specifics include:

. VIAJE : EYES, Diseases & Curses, Hearts, Stars, The Moon & Sun, Tarot Cards, Lots of Birds, Aliens & Cosmic Horror Vibes, Oh and religious imagery… lots of it… too much of it…

. SACRELIGIOUS : Dogs & Cats (obviously), Scars? Scratches?, Trees, Islands, Books, Candles, Calligraphy

. LAKE SHORE DRIVE : 1970’s to Early 2000’s Music, College? Small Town, Rivers & Lakes, Scientific Latin Names for animals??? I dunno like Saturday morning cartoons but with hidden jokes parents would enjoy. And music, lots of music.

8.) WHAT INSPIRED YOUR WORLD BUILDING, IF ANYTHING?

OOOH SO MMUCH!! I wish I could just say: EVERYTHING but I feel like going into specifics would be best!!

. VIAJE: Religion, I love learning about other religions & cultures & traditions! “Anthony Bourdian’s Parts Unknown” was surprisingly a huge inspo!

“Mad Max (Fury Road)” & “The Haunting of Tram Car 015” had some light inspiration to it, the latter of two made me discover the whole Afrofuturism genre, the former helped me realize I wanted this world to be after an apocalypse!

RECENTLY I have been inspired by Jordan Peele & Wes Anderson films, Peele for themes & storytelling, Wes Anderson for well… visuals?? Colors??? The obvious stuff.

. SACRELIGIOUS : I watched a youtube video about the genre of talking animal books. Ones like Plague Dogs, Watership Down, Warrior Cats, & Guardian of Ga'hoole (for clarification: I have read none of these books…)

BUT I did end up liking the youtube video and I do intend on actually reading these types of books… But that’s the main inspo behind this world. Animals can talk to each other, they are confused about human lore, and they read the bible- oh no-

this one is also based on religious themes (less so than Viaje, ironically)

. LAKE SHORE DRIVE : Look, I watch Zootopia once and hear me out- I LOVE worlds with talking animals so any world with talking animals is an inspo here: Sing, Robin Hood, Spongebob, (and very very very very minor inspo includes: Smiling Friends & Bojack Horseman…again very small amount)

Also did I mention 70s to 2000s music?

10.) IF YOUR STORY IS TITLED, WHY DID YOU CHOOSE THAT TITLE?

. VIAJE : This one has been through SO many changes. GLORIOUS would technically be its “true” name, it’s the name of the overall lore Viaje takes place in. It was inspired by both a song lyric & from a show I was watching where it was just part of the dialogue. I thought it was a super fitting word!

VIAJE used to call Urban Renaissance, but I couldn’t find a good way to shorter it (don’t like long names) so I had called it Sacreligious at one point (but again, too long, didn’t fit well), then I looked up words in Spanish (made sense for the lore) and VIAJE just sounded perfect (it is “Journey” in Spanish),

I could also shorten it to “Via” which still fits. Technically the FULL title is: “Buen Viaje” (“have a nice trip”).

. SACRELIGIOUS : Was originally gonna call this story “GOD” (cause, y’know, dog spelt backwards). But that was around the same time I changed Viaje’s name so… they stole it… I still call it “GOD” for short (or DOG in certain places to prevent questions)

. LAKE SHORE DRIVE : Both the most fitting and most unfitting name out of all of them. Was originally gonna call it “Animalia”, but a few people on toyhouse had the same idea… so I wanted to make something more fitting for myself. And I was listening to the song at the time and uh…. it’s LSD. and I have the humor of a 12 year old.

13.) HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WORKING ON THIS PROJECT? WHAT HAS CHANGED FROM THE OUTSET?

. VIAJE : Oh since 6th grade I think? Okay technically GLORIOUS was made towards the end of highschool, BUT THEN a few years ago I merged it with a story I loved dearly. So it still technically is the same story I had in 6th grade, although extremely different. The bones are still there! *stare at Eve & Adam*

. SACRELIGIOUS : Lol I think, not even a year? I mean I’ve had bits and pieces for this story here & there, but the complete story I’ve only very recently started writing.

. LAKE SHORE DRIVE : Same age as Viaje. Whoever didn’t fit in that story was turned into a furry and thrown into this small town! (or they just… were always a furry and started here.)

HOWEVER the character of Nora is fairly recent? I always knew I wanted at least one human in the story, but I didn’t come up with the full story of Nora until a year or two ago! In fact, she was named THIS YEAR! Before then, she had many “fake” names.

20.) YOUR OCVERSE JUST GOT A MOVIE TRILOGY (A LA HUNGER GAMES STYLE). HOW HAVE THEY HORRIBLY MANGLED YOUR MESSAGE/THEME SO THAT THE MOVIES ARE NOW A SHOWCASE OF WHAT THE ORIGINAL WAS CONDEMNING?

This is THE best question!

. VIAJE : Any pro-capitalist, pro-controlling religion, pro-patriarchy, status quo following trash. Dear god, if they give Jesus’ dad any redemption arc, make Deja straight, or worse… white wash… I would DIE, like actually. Any merch would kind of go against the vibe too? (there is no currency in their world) If any large studio got their hands on this I’d be MAD.

If it were made into a trilogy… actually that might work there’s a lot of little small stories. But Deja & Jesus would probably only be in one movie. The rest would HAVE to be other characters, those two got one goal and would not span a trilogy lol.

. SACRELIGIOUS : Any life action adaption would kill this story, Old Yeller Style. It would never be trilogy material because this story is extremely short. It’s a very clear beginning, middle, and end. Stretched out like that would make it so unwatchable. 

I feel like, if it were to be really cringe, they’d throw Church into a love triangle or give them a musical number (I’d start crying, for many sad reasons)

I also feel for this story, and Viaje, the religious aspect (like the warning of cults and the negative commentary on evangelical christianity) would get destroyed, which would make me sad as they are both sort of a callout on toxic behaviors in religious spaces I’ve seen growing up. 

. LAKE SHORE DRIVE : There’s no way this could be a movie (or at least an interesting one). I’m thinking this might turn into something like Sing or Secret Life Of Pets? Jukebox musical, pop culture references, family friendly cartoon movie. It’s meant to be a “meh” story, but seeing it produced by a studio would make it extra mid (and thus me extra mad)

Also any romantic relationship for Nora, dear god, the implications. OR WORSE one of those carnivore vs herbivore stories (ugh I can’t take anymore bad racism allegories.) OR EVEN WORSE they have Nora look for her “human parents” (any storyline like that would make me gag, Sadia & Russell will always be her parents and are the only parents that should matter.)

A POSITIVE NOTE:

Thank you for the questions and I can’t wait to finish the profile codes for these stories’ characters so I can show off more lore!!! >:)

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

(reads tags) Ahh so I misunderstood the prompt a bit. I think the deities would be like the founders of the clans who got mythologized as time passed. Palkiacat being said to see anywhere across space and while Dialgacat was able to see anywhen across time. As for the wardens and the nobles, my first though was make them cats (and I like the idea of Sneasler being Ingo's mentor when he first joins Pearlclan), but if we really stretched the wc rules [1/5]

[ The nobles could be like other animals that are living in the area that have developed a mutual relationship with the clans for several generations. The wardens have similar roles to pla canon, but with slightly less of a religious bent. They're more ambassadors than attendants. There's a friendly badger that speaks cat in later series so it could work. And other predators are implied to be similarly sapient as the cats (sometimes) [2/5]

Canon warrior naming styles would be the most fun but just sticking to pla canon would be less potentially confusing. I don’t think Ingo would be super comfortable being renamed though. It’s like the one thing that he remembers and gives him a sense of identity in the aftermath so I don’t think he’d give it up even if it would make things easier for him. [3/5]

Hardest part of translating hisui to a smaller scale would trying to figure out how to make the alabaster icelands and the crimson mirelands work right next to each other. Though i guess you could rely on seasonal weather to do the heavy lifting. Winter and summer would be the times of year the respective regions most resemble their ingame counterparts. [4/5]

Also, its funny mentioned the leaders not being chosen and having only one life because in the current arc one of the clans is going through a succession crisis after the death of their leader and deputy and due to starclan being contactable right now due to events in the previous arc that's actually a pretty pressing concern. Sorry for the spam I saw your answers and was turning them over in my head during work. Worldbuilding is fun :D. [5/5] ]

oooh mythologized clan founders (pearlstar and diamondstar?) is really fun. and then by extension would they also be like, the Founders of starclan? admittedly my recall for the starclan lore is not super fresh but maybe in this au there's something where like. they were the first cats that went to starclan when they died bc their souls like, created it, and subsequently all the clan cats got to join them in death. and the NOBLES BEING NON-CAT ANIMALS... that's very very fun i like that. i remember the badger i liked the badger this is fun. and then the wardens being like, apprentices/assistants to the nobles in whatever task they work with the clan for... but then it's also kinda hard to assign all of them to their own unique animals. like some of them are obvious but what about electrode? lilligant? avalugg? and idk abt the vibes of having these ten different animals all involved it might get to be a little Much on top of the regular warriors stuff

otoh sneasler being ingo's mentor at first is VERY fun yes. and that's an ez warrior name like she's direclaw bam done. idk if dire is a valid prefix but i also dont really care considering i already said "iridistar" earlier so i think we're past that point. i DO think warrior cats-ifying their names sounds like a fun challenge esp. if we want to pull occasionally from the fact that a lot of the pla names are derived from different plants. melli is now tea-something. sabi is spicepaw. and like... ingo being a clan cat but keeping his old name is kind of an interesting reverse ravenpaw thing BUT if we want to REALLY angst him up, and considering pearlclan would probably really prefer if he took a "normally" formatted name, we could just. say that he forgot even his name. and then eventually Remembers it later and gets to have that crisis

that's true abt the climate shift hmmm. WELL if it's similar to the regular landscape of hisui, we could say that they live on a mountainside and the climate shifts are due to verticality, w/ the "icelands" being the highest-up point that the cats usually venture to? which you still probably wouldn't get AS dramatic as canon hisui is, but you can get a pretty significant temperature change by moving up and down. and then you can maybe have diamondclan runners vs pearlclan climbers too.

MMMM the one thing i like more than worldbuilding for stupid things: interpersonal political drama. so juicy to me. and dont apologize this is very fun!! this is what we're here for! kicking ideas around!!

[these-posts-arent-real]

warrior cats dash sim anyone?

#no canon characters #sorray guys thats too much #im just gonna do some made up dudes

0 notes

🔲 yourfave-tunnel-guy-deactivat

Guys I hate tunnellers. Lmao.

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

By StarClan, I hate this mindset. Tunnellers are such an underappreciated part of WindClan society. Just because we don't do as much running or typical hunting doesn't make us less valuable than you. Op and cats like him are so stupid.

🌻 l1llyst3m Follow

Crow-food-worth reading comprehension lmao. It was satire (the url clearly states "tunnel.") Also, her*

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

Ok I see where that was probably satire (OP should have made that more clear though) Where are you getting "her" from though lmao. OP's url is "yourfave-tunnel-guy"

🌻 l1llyst3m Follow

I'm getting "her" because I'm OP. This is my new account. I'm trans. Hope this helps.

#i said so in the tags of the last addition #but as i said. crow-food-worth reading comprehension #prev probably didnt even read my tags lmao

2,209 notes

🌾 barncat-vibes Follow

I am goingto fucking kill Jadestar. Lmao.

🌾 barncat-vibes Follow

WRONG BLOG

🐱 berrrrry-o Follow

Clanblr user barncat-vibes is from rc confirmed??

🏞 trouttail-prefers-bass Follow

Haha I already knew that, I'm mutuals with them on their main, plus we're IRL friends. Forgot that wasn't common knowledge.

🐱 berrrrry-o Follow

tbh I always assumed they were wc since thats the clan closest 2 the barns...

🪵 i-eat-moss Follow

Uh sorry ar ewe just glossing over how @barncat-vibes and @trouttail-prefers-bass are IRLS???!!!!?

#mutuals i can understand since they have the same ideas on like #social justice stuff... they both post trans stuff sometimes #but #IRLS? #SOMEONE is fucking with me #i met trouttail once at a gathering #nice dude #suuuper weird to imagine him knowing barncat-vibes

27 notes

🌅 kit-names-inspo Follow

I've decided to make a full post on this, since I've noticed this issue a lot lately. So let me make this clear:

I am NOT comfortable with "transgender" cats using my name suggestions to pick out new names. The service I provide is to help queens who have or are having kits, not confused males who think they're mollies.

STOP using my blog for your delusions.

🌅 kit-names-inspo Follow

Go ahead and unfollow me. I didn't want you 200 transgenders on my blog anyway.

🛤 carnation-stem-02 Follow

Anyone else find it funny how after this post OP lost 200+ followers? Anyone?

Anyway for a better source of names for trans mollies, toms & enbies, @name-lists-by-theme has much better names, sorted much more cleanly, AND she's not a transphobe.

#trans #fuck transphobia #fuck transphobes #fuck terfs #<- kit-names-inspo is a self-proclaimed radfem&terf btw

17,092 notes

🔁 🐍xviper-the-fagx reblogged

🤍 snwtl Follow

I can't believe we're being told to "normalize" cats becoming kittypets now. Do you have any idea how many cats would just abandon their families if it became socially acceptable to run off and live with the twolegs???

🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow

Honestly (as someone who left the Clans because I had a mate in the twolegplace), I haven't seen this to be as true as you're saying. I've seen one cat who "abandoned" his family to become a kittypet, if you count his abusive ex-partner, but for the most part, the cats we leave behind are understanding and okay with the fact that we have to move on. I wasn't meant for warrior life, and I left it, and I'm happier for it.

🤍 snwtl Follow

The fact that you would even imply it's okay to abandon your family for a life as a kittypet only serves to prove my point. You make me sick.

🪺 robbbinpaw Follow

Crow-food-worth reading comprehension

#yeah #snwtl (snowtail i think?) needs to use their eyes lmao #starclan this place gets on my last nerve #thinking of taking a break from clanblr because of shit like this

847 notes

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

Uhh... where am I. My dash looks weird...

[spidermanifested]

somewhat puzzled that you reblogged this 11 note post at all if you disagree with it so much (not Mad just. confused) but also i dont know if you read it very closely because i did not ever say that its weird or wrong to like a story with a bad plot for the characters, or that less people should like things for the characters alone. i was comparing the amount of people who said they can enjoy a story with both a bad plot AND characters, to a good plot but bad characters. trust me i know the feeling of liking the characters more than the plot. i am a transformers fan

but also, i feel like your examples are kind of skewed because do you have any idea how many people are obsessed with warrior cats to this day. it has a huge fanbase thats lasted decades whereas i havent heard about detroit become human in years. and keep in mind ive never played or engaged with it personally, but i think contrasting those 2 characters is flawed from the get-go because one of them is white and one of them is black and i dont think its rocket science to presume there are. other factors at play in the discrepancy between fandoms response to them

saw a poll the other day asking people if theyd prefer to watch a show with a bad plot and good characters or good characters and a bad plot. and honestly the premise And results were kind of puzzling to me (bad characters good plot was losing majorly even below "i can enjoy a bad plot AND bad characters")

on the one hand i understand the "i could do so much better with these character concepts" phenomenon, ive felt it myself, but havent people on here enjoyed stories with characters you arent supposed to blorbify. im not going into a junji ito comic expecting groundbreaking character work im here to see some weird shit happen around and to them. i think what people are imagining when they think "good plot bad characters" is like. intricately woven worldbuilding but its boring. Which is not what good plot means, to me,

& to expand on that, the gap in common understanding between "good/bad" and "boring/interesting" seems worth being more clear about in the first place, because if a character is flat on their own but serves their narrative purpose i wouldnt consider them bad. and if a character sucks to experience so much that im not interested in following them through the plot, i wouldnt really consider that plot Good? i dont know i think this website just has very low standards for media maybe. or everyones lumping in "plot was good when it started and then got bad" with "bad plot"

[ailuronymy]

Thoughts on the new discourse? Warrior cats naming conventions and rank names being straight up stolen from native American people? So many people seem to be... Straight up leaving the Fandom or changing all of their fan content and it feels very performative and, people not actually thinking critically and just being scared of getting "cancelled"? I feel like your opinions on these matters are very informed and well written so I wanted to ask given that this blog main theme is, well, warrior cat naming system and that seems to be the main issue of the new discourse.

This is probably going to get long, since there's sort of a lot to say about it in order to talk about this whole thing fairly and constructively, because from what I’ve seen there’s a lot of hyperbole happening, and panicking, and disavowing this series and fandom, and so on, like you say, and also some people genuinely trying to have complex meaningful conversations about racism in xenofiction, and also probably some bad faith actors in the mix--as well as some just... stupid actors. Kind of inevitably what happens when two equally bad platforms for having nuanced discussions--i.e., twitter and tumblr--run headlong into each other, in a fandom space with a majority demographic of basically kids and highly anxious, pretty online teens. I don’t mean that as a criticism of fans or their desire to be liked by peers and “correct” about opinions, it’s just the social landscape of Warriors and I think it’s worth pointing out from the start.  

If I’m totally honest with you, if not for this ask, I wouldn’t actually be commenting on it at all, because none of this is going to impact this blog or change how I run it in any way. But since you’ve asked and frankly I do feel some responsibility to try to disentangle things a little for everyone stressed and confused at the moment, because I know a lot of people look to this blog for guidance of all sorts, I’m going to talk about what I think has happened here, and how to navigate the situation in a reasonable way. 

Quick recap for anyone blissfully unaware: from what I understand, this post (migrated over from a presumably bigger twitter thread) has got a lot of people very worried about Warriors being a racist and appropriative series, and now are trying to figure out what ethically to do about this revelation. The thing I found most interesting about this screenshotted conversation is that it makes a lot of bold claims, but misses some pretty surprising details (in my opinion). If you do look critically at what is being said, here’s a few things to notice--crucially, there are two people talking. 

Person 1 says that a lot of animal fantasy fiction + xenofiction (fiction about non-human/”other” beings, such as animals) is frequently built upon stereotypes of First Nations and Indigenous people, and/or appropriates elements of Indigenous culture and tradition as basically set dressing for “strange” and “alien” races/species etc., and this is a racist, deeply othering, and inappropriate practice. This person is right. 

I’ve spent years researching in this field specifically, so I feel pretty confident in vouching (for whatever that’s worth) that this person is absolutely right in making this point. Not only is it frequently in animal fiction/xenofiction, but it’s insidious, which means often it’s hard to notice when it’s happening--unless you know what you’re looking for, or you are personally familiar with the details or tropes that are being appropriated. Because of the nature of racism, white and other non-First Nations people don’t always recognise this trend within texts--even texts they’re creating--but it’s important for us all, and especially white people, to be more aware, because it’s not actually First Nations’ people’s responsibility to be the sole critics of this tradition of theft and misuse. Appropriation by non-Indigenous people is in fact the problem, which means non-Indigenous people learning and changing is the solution. 

Person 1 offers Warriors as a popular example of a work that has this problem. Notably, this person hasn’t given an example of how Warriors is culpable (at least in this screenshot and I haven’t found the thread itself, because the screenshot is what’s causing this conversation), only that it’s an example of a work that has these problems. And once again, this person is correct. We’ll look at that more in a moment.

Person 2 (three tweets below the first) offers, by comparison, several more specious insights. Firstly, it’s really, really not the only time anyone’s ever talked about this, academically + creatively or in the Warriors fandom specifically, and so that reveals somewhat this person’s previous engagement in the space they’re talking into re: this topic. In other words, this person doesn’t know what has already been said or what is being talked about. Secondly, this person explicitly states that they “[don’t know] much about warrior cats specifically but from what I see it just screams appropriation,” which as a statement I think says something crucial re: the critical lens this person has applied + the amount of forethought and depth of analysis of their criticism of this particular series. 

I’m not saying that using twitter to talk about your personal feelings requires you to research everything you talk about before you shoot your mouth off. However, I personally don’t go into a conversation about a topic I don’t know anything about except a cursory glance to offer bold and scathing criticisms based on what it “just screams” to me. By their own admission, this person isn’t really offering good faith, thoughtful criticism of the series, in line with Person 1′s tweet. Instead, Person 2 is talking pretty condescendingly and emphatically about--as the kids say--the vibes they get from the series, and I’m afraid that just doesn’t hold up well in this court. 

So now that there’s Person 1 (i.e., very reasonable, important, interesting criticism) and Person 2 (i.e., impassioned but completely vibes-based opinion from someone who hasn’t read the books) separated, we can see there’s actually several things happening in this brief snapshot, and some of them aren’t super congruent with each other. 

Person 1 didn’t say “don’t read bad books,” or that you’re a bad person for being a fan of stories that are guilty of this. They suggested people should recognise the ways xenofiction uses Indigenous people and their culture inappropriately and often for profit. My understanding of this tweet is someone offering an insight that might not have occurred to many people, but that is valuable and important to consider going forward in how they view, engage with, and create xenofiction media.

Person 2 uses high modality, evocative language that appeals to the emotions. That’s not a criticism of this person: they’re allowed to talk in whatever tone they want, and to express their personal feelings and opinions. However, rhetorically, this person is using this specific language--consciously or subconsciously--to incense their audience--i.e., you. Are you feeling called to action? What action do you feel called to when you rea their words, despite the fact their claims are not based in their own actual analysis of or engagement with the text? It’s, by their own admission, not analysis at all. Everything they evoke is purely in the name of “not good” vibes. 

Earlier I mentioned that Person 1 is correct that Warriors is absolutely guilty of appropriation of First Nations and Indigenous people and culture. I also mentioned that they didn’t specify how. That’s because I think the most egregious example is in fact the tribe, which in many ways plays into the exact kind of stereotyping and appropriation of First Nations Americans that Person 1 mentions, and not the clans, contrary to Person 2′s suggestion. For instance, in addition to the very loaded name of “tribe”, there’s a lot of racist tropes present in how that group of cats is introduced and how the clan cats interact with them, as well as the more North American-inspired scenery of their home. It’s very blatant as far as racism in this series. 

When it comes to the clans themselves, though, I think it’s muddier and harder to draw clear distinctions of what is directly appropriative, what is coincidentally and superficially reminiscent, and what is not related at all. Part of this difficulty in drawing hard lines comes from the fact that, on a personal level, it actually doesn’t matter: if a First Nations person reads a story and feel it is appropriative or inappropriate, it’s not actually anyone’s place to “correct” them on their reading of the text. Our experiences are unique and informed by our perspectives and values, and no group of people are a monolith, which means within community, there will always be disagreement and differenting points of view. There is no one single truth or opinion, which means that First Nations people even in the same family might have very different feelings about the same text and very different perspectives on how respectful, or not, it might be. 

I’m saying this because something that gets said very often when conversations of racism and similar oppressive systems present/perpetuated in texts comes up, people frequently say: “listen to x voices.” It is excellent advice. However, the less pithy but equally valuable follow-up advice is: “listen to the voices of many people of x group, gather information and perspective, and then ultimately use your own judgement to make an informed opinion for yourself.” It means that you are responsible for you. The insight you can gain by listening to people who know topics and experiences far better than you do is truly invaluable, but if your approach to the world is simply to parrot the first voice, or loudest voice, or angriest voice you come across, you will not really learn anything or be able to develop your own understanding and you certainly won’t be making well-informed judgements. 

In other words, one incomplete tweet thread from two people who are each bringing quite different topics and modes of conversation (or perhaps gripes, in Person 2′s case) to the table is not really enough to go off re: making a decision to leave a fandom, in my opinion. In fact, I think in responding to anything difficult, complex, or problematic (which doesn’t mean what popular adage bandies it about to mean) by trying to distance yourself, or cleanse of it, will ultimately harm you and will not do you any good as a person. It is better, in my opinion, to enter into complex relationships with the world and media and other people in an informed, aware way and with a willingness to learn and sometimes to make mistakes and be wrong, rather than shy away from potential conflict or fear that interacting with a text will somehow taint you or define your morality in absolutes. 

So. Does Warriors have racist and appropriative elements, tropes, and issues in the series? Yes, of course it does, it’s a book-packaged series produced by corporation HarperCollins and written by a handful of white British women and their myriad ghostwriters. Racism is just one part of the picture. The books are frequently also ableist, sexist, and homophobic (or heteronormative, depending how you want to slice it, I guess), just to name some of the most evident problems. 

But does the presence of these issues mean it’s contaminated and shouldn’t be touched? Personally, I don’t think so. Given the nature of existing the world, it’s not possible to find perfect media that is free of any kind of bias, prejudice, or even just ideas or topics or concepts that are challenging or uncomfortable. I think it’s more meaningful to choose to engage with these elements, discuss them, criticise them, learn from them, and acknowledge also that imperfection is the ultimate destiny of all of us, especially creators.

I’m not saying that as a pass, like, “oh enjoy your media willy-nilly, nothing matters, do what you want, think about no-one else ever because we’re all flawed beings,” but rather that it’s important not to look away from the problems in the things we enjoy, rather than cut off all contact and enjoyment when we realise the problems. That doesn’t mean you have to only criticise and always be talking about how bad a thing you like is either, publicly admonishing yourself or the text, because that’s also not a constructive way to engage with media. 

As I said, there’s a lot to say here, and believe it or not, this is honestly the shortest version I could manage. There’s always more to say and plenty I haven’t talked about, but pretty much tl;dr: 

I don’t find Person 2′s commentary particularly compelling, personally, because I think it’s a little broad and a little specious in its conclusions and evidence, and I also suspect that this person is speaking more from their feelings than from a genuine desire to educate or meaningfully criticise, unlike Person 1. That’s not to say Warriors isn’t frequently racist and guilty of the issues Person 1 is discussing, because it is, but I don’t think this tweet thread is a great source of insight into the ongoing history of this problem in xenofiction, or Warriors specifically, on its own. I would recommend exploring further afield to learn more from a variety of sources and form your own opinions. I hope this helps. 

[pleckthaniel]

Honestly to see the world "gaslighting" in a WC fanfiction did at first confuse me, but it it understandable, there is no really another word that can describe a certain situation better than this one, of course "lie" could have been used but "lie" does not hold the weight, meaning and exact definition as "gaslighting" does. So I understand that, just, please don't make one of the Cats say something like "Firestar that's cringe" /jk :-P

yeah it's all weird bc like I've mentioned before there's kind of an inherent conceit in fantasy fiction that you're translating this from the Original Story Language and so any word that feels too modern or too obviously rooted in real history is gonna stand out strangely. for example I had a similar problem in the chapter that introduced Longtail and Mousefur's QPP. in the original draft of the chapter they had to explain to Sandstorm about their relationship much more in-depth and I was like. okay I can't use the word queer because that like heavily implies a whole history of homophobic oppression that I don't want to deal with. And I can't use the word platonic because then that implies that there was a cat Plato?? who had the same teaching philosophies as human Plato???? so. yeah it's rough

Someone in the discord server (sorry King if you see this I would have @'d you but I do not know your tumblr url if you even have one) also said that it stood out to them less than the word 'week,' because while 'gaslighting' has a pretty distinct, specific meaning and in the aforementioned conceit can probably be understood as a very direct translation, the meaning of 'week' relies on the idea that the cats have a similar calendar and cultural idea of time and how to mark it to the US, as a 'week' can mean different things in different places. which I just thought was a really good point hahaha

What it really comes down to for me is that when I'm reading the cat books I basically just direct translate any 'warriors' words in my head to the nearest equivalent thing already. I do the same thing with ages which is why you'll frequently see me referring to apprentices as middle schoolers/teens depending on their age, or saying that young warriors are 'in their 20s' or whatever. These are admittedly just shortcuts to understanding, and may be limiting, but that's just the paradigm I view the series through. Ergo I don't feel the need to translate it back into cat words when I'm writing because it feels unnecessary to me from the perspective of me as a reader. The BF cats also use real swears for pretty much the same reason, and also because words like 'mousebrain' read as silly to me in a way that felt like a bad fit for this kind of story lol

I do find it hilarious how much discussion that one word choice has sparked though. In a good way. I'm ready to read some dissertations on cat linguistics

[applepawbot]

Raves and Reviews for A Starless Clan

I just finished up my journey since June to reread the entire series, finishing up with A Starless Clan #2: Sky! I was lucky to get it delivered early from Indigo, and I've got to say, the newest arc is shaping up to be juicy. Spoilers under the cut!

So, I will admit I haven't fully read through River and Sky. Once I finished TBC, my uni semester started up, and I've been a bit busy. However: Nightheart is one angsty boy. I feel like it's a bit crass of Bramblestar to have named him Flameheart, initially, because we all know how he struggled with being named Brambleclaw. This whole series has revisited the concept of legacy and familial burden a lot through the years, and I just thought Bramblestar would've had more sympathy for poor Flamepaw. I guess not.

I was a bit taken aback by the Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde transformation we see Finchlight go through. In River, she'd been defending Nightheart at his warrior ceremony for rejecting the name, and in the first few chapters of Sky does a complete 180 and starts belittling him. Way to be a supportive sister!

Something I have noticed, though, as I've been in the business of naming cats for 4 years, is we're getting up there with -heart suffixes all around. We have Brightheart, Cinderheart, Lilyheart, Alderheart, and now Nightheart. I already thought having Cinderheart and Lilyheart as sisters with the same suffix was... interesting, it wasn't totally brand new, we'd seen it with Bluefur and Snowfur way back when. But it can start to get confusing, with the sheer number of dialogue-less background characters. Not to even mention the other Clan cats with -heart names: Berryheart and Grassheart of ShadowClan, Blossomheart of SkyClan, and Breezeheart of RiverClan. Don't get me started on the number of cats with -tail suffixes.

Can we appreciate for a second how cute the names Finchlight and Sunbeam are? My middle school oc-creating self is dying of happiness.

In Sky, I was surprised by the ending, when Nightheart asked to join ShadowClan and become Sunbeam's mate. I saw that coming a mile away, but I didn't think the Erins would do something so easily predictable. In this house we dislike Blazefire.

Imo, it's not Lightleap's fault that Blazefire chose her over Sunbeam, but she could be less... snotty about it. In Sunbeam's chapters when they're first travelling to the twoleg nest for catmint, some of her internal monologue is downright snotty too. These cats need therapy.

Frostpaw my beloved. I know Mothwing doesn't believe in StarClan but it isn't fair to put all that on Frostpaw's shoulders. All this "oh we can't let the other Clans know we're weak. We must be strong" garbage is too much for an apprentice to handle. It's okay to admit you need help, RiverClan. My god.

I hope Frostpaw's full name is Frostwillow, in honour of Willowshine, and cause Frostwillow sounds banger. Here are my thoughts:

Frostshimmer/glimmer (a bit out there for Warriors, even though we've had names like Ambermoon and Billystorm)

Any suffix starting with s, -shiver, -stone, -storm, etc (the sts sound can be a bit hard to pronounce)

Frostpebble (sounds super cute but unlikely)

Frostbite (imagine the pun potential)

Frostfern (sounds super cool but I doubt it as we have two living cats with the Fern prefix, Fernsong and Fernstripe of ThunderClan, and one cat with the -fern suffix, Fallowfern of SkyClan)

Frostfur (SEVERELY DOUBT they would do this, but we've had cats with the same names before, ie Ashfur of ShadowClan vs Ashfur of ThunderClan, Larksong I and Larksong II, both of ThunderClan, but the former being an elder in Bluestar's Prophecy and the latter being Sparkpelt's mate)

I can make some more of these analysis posts if they're your thing, let me know!

[yeenybeanies]

i cannot imagine jaskier being afraid of geralt himself, but being spooked of the newly-gigantic world he’s found himself in? & knowing that geralt isn’t always the gentlest of people could be a lil nerve-wracking :>

the witcher | geralt of rivia & jaskier

1274 words

no warnings

reblogs > likes!! thanks for reading!!

It’s times like these when Geralt is forced to face things he’d really rather not face––things like the fact that he cares ( quite a lot, actually ) for his bard’s well-being. Despite the constant exasperation and headaches he suffers, Geralt finds himself appreciating––perhaps even welcoming––Jaskier’s presence.

Right now, though, he has never wanted to be closer to Jaskier, or further away. Right now, Jaskier stands not much taller than a rat on its hind legs, and weighs about the same in his fist.

Geralt had grabbed him in confidence, but, now that he has the bard, now that he sees the discomfort on his features, he isn’t so sure.

“ Geralt––– ”  Jaskier bows his head, his tiny hands pushing against theWitcher’s gloved thumb.  “ Geralt, you’re––I can’t breathe very well. . .. ” 

A spike of . . . an emotion he can’t ( or won’t ) quite name surges through Geralt; he suppresses the initial impulse to drop the little bard, recognizing that the fall would likely injure him. Instead, after a moment of hesitation, he brings his other hand up under Jaskier and releases his squeeze. The gasp Jaskier makes sends another spike through his brain.

He can smell fear. It’s a sharp, sour stink in his nose, and Jaskier reeks of it.

Many people fear Witchers. Jaskier has never once been afraid of Geralt. This is new. ( And he still doesn’t want to think about how it’s making him feel. )

“ Jaskier . . .. ”  Silvery brows knit tighter together.

The bard, after a moment spent catching his breath, waves a hand.  “ New rule! I am instating a new rule, Geralt, okay? So you don’t end up accidentally squishing me like the handsome beast-killer you are. ” 

Geralt blinks.  “ I am not going to squish you, bard. ”

“ Not intentionally, maybe, but you are a bit rough. Um . . .. ”  He glances down to see that he’s sitting in Geralt’s palm.  “ Um. Actually, if you could put me down . . .. ”

Geralt notices another wave of that smell. His frown deepens. Obliging the tiny man, he lowers his hands to let him off, then quickly pulls back. His jaw is set tight.  “ Are you hurt? ”  Did I hurt you? 

“ No, no, I’m––– ”  Jaskier waves again, though Geralt can still see some pain in his face. He hadn’t realized that he was squeezing so hard . . ..  “ I’m fine, Geralt. Thank you for asking. ” 

Liar. There is no lying to a Witcher this close. Cat-like pupils narrow on the bard.

Jaskier is too fragile in this state. Geralt can’t touch him without risk or fear of harming him more. Briefly, he glances around them, a low hum sounding behind closed lips. This is not an ideal place to set up camp for the night, but they wouldn’t get very far with Jaskier’s stature in what remains of the daylight.

Geralt stands and takes a step back. To his surprise, Jaskier’s heartbeat speeds up, and the little man scurries a little nearer to his boot. Now Geralt is just . . . confused. Muscles tense like he means to move further away, but he remains still. Holding Jaskier brings with it a risk of crushing him in his hands. Leaving him on the ground means he’s at risk of being crushed underfoot. There is no winning, no way to quell the Witcher’s only-growing concern.

He hates this.

Jaskier hates this.

The bard feels similarly lost with his situation. Everything looks even bigger from the ground. It doesn’t help either that Geralt—brave warrior and beast-slayer Geralt that fears nothing and no one—looks very uneasy. It’s not a look he’s ever seen on the Witcher before. Jaskier swallows thickly. He should say something. Talking usually helps him when he’s nervous. His mouth, though, feels terribly dry. The words are dusty as they reach his tongue.

��� So . . . um. Well—looking on the bright side of things, I’ll be able to reach new high notes that would otherwise be impossible. ”  Focus on the positive. Geralt’s sharp gaze falls back to him, a hint of annoyance cutting through the new unease he wears. Faint as it is, it’s familiar. It makes Jaskier smile. He claps his hands––a sound that reaches Geralt’s ears as a tiny pop.  “ Anyway! Back to that rule I mentioned! I think, moving forward, it would be best if you didn’t suddenly grab me with your big, strong hands. I’m positive you have it in you to be gentle–– ”  he gives the Witcher’s boot a kick, which Geralt wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t looking at him  “ ––but I would appreciate not being man-handled. Open-fists only. ”

Geralt breathes out a sigh through his nose.  “ Right, ”  he growls. As it stands, he doesn’t want to handle Jaskier at all. 

“ That being said . . . ”  the bard glances over his shoulder to the humongous world around him and shudders,  “ I do think I liked it slightly better when I was high up. ”  He looks back to Geralt with his hands on his hips, expectant. When Geralt does not move, he huffs.  “ Oh, come on. Just put your hands down and let me climb on. ” 

Still the Witcher hesitates. He spares a glance to his hands––the very weapons that only a minute ago held Jaskier too tightly. He did say that he wouldn’t squish him, but did he believe it?

“ Geralt. ”  The bard pulls his attention back to him.  “ I know I just asked you to put me down, but I’ve changed my mind. Being down here makes me nervous. And it’s cold. ”  

The smell of fear lingers, quite strong. Swallowing his own nervousness, Geralt takes a knee before his shrunken companion and lowers his hands to the dirt, palms up and fingers flat. Jaskier, now faced with what he asked for, does feel some apprehension about this. He’s sure his ribs might be a little sore for a while yet after Geralt’s first grab ( not that he blames the man ). However, alternatives are in short supply. He takes a breath to steady himself––which does not go unnoticed––and climbs over the dark leather. He settles himself back into Geralt’s palm, legs crossed and tucked close. The difference in temperature is immediately apparent.

“ See? Not so hard. ”  He puts on a smile, though it’s a tad bit forced. Geralt says nothing as he gingerly lifts his hands and the little bard.

“ We need to find shelter, ”  Geralt says, pointedly ignoring Jaskier’s comment. The second time around does not make this any less strange, holding an entire person ( his friend ) in the palms of his hands. Every tiny movement Jaskier makes, Geralt can feel.

“ Right. And . . . you’ll need both of your hands. So, erm . . .. ”  For a moment, Jaskier looks around.  “ How about you put me on your shoulder? What with how broad they are, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of room. And I can always hold onto your luscious hair! ” 

Well, that sounds just awful. Geralt’s grimace expresses as much. Jaskier does have a point, though: he will need his hands to set up their shelter for the night. He would also just rather have both of his hands readily available in general, should something be foolish enough to attack them. ( That would end poorly, now that Geralt has a tiny bard to protect. ) With a reluctant sigh, he brings his hand up to his right shoulder so Jaskier can climb on. Little hands immediately grab hold of his hair for balance, pulling another growl from his throat.

“ Don’t fall, ”  he says. To anyone else, it would sound like a warning. Jaskier knows better; it’s affectionate. He settles down into sit on the Witcher’s shoulder, one fist loosely gripping a silvery lock.

“ I know you’d catch me. ” 

“ Hm, ”  is all the Witcher has to say. Of course he would.

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

warmth

Then her shoulders fell, the inky shadows deepening across her face as Katara sighed and pulled her knees into her chest. “I just—I have to know you’re okay, Aang. That’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

Aang blinked, her words sinking into his heart like a stone into quicksand. “Know I’m okay,” he repeated, “or know I’m alive?”

When Aang falls, Katara is always there to catch him. But maybe that’s part of the problem.

(Written for Day 5 of Kataang Week 2021: Healing, hosted by @kataang-week. Read here on AO3 or continue reading below.)

Aang loved Katara. Plain and simple. Under only the watchful eye of the moon—hope all is well with you, Princess Yue, Sokka is doing just fine—Aang might even be willing to admit he was in love with her. It wasn’t a secret, per se, but to love was to be vulnerable and despite the infinite lives he contained as the Avatar, Aang was still only human.

All the same, Aang had no shame in acknowledging that he liked having Katara’s attention on him, and moreover that he liked reciprocating her attention with his own on her. He liked how they were touchy-feely with each other in a way they were with no one else, liked how they would stay up together to count the stars and talk about anything and nothing, liked how they could make each other smile at even their lowest points.

But ever since Ba Sing Se…

Something had changed.

For better or for worse, Aang wasn’t quite sure. Because now, now it seemed more of Katara’s attention was on him than before. And at first, Aang thought he’d understood why. He’d died, he’d been in a coma for weeks, he’d flirted with death while Katara had been the one keeping constant vigil at his bedside. Though his outward wounds had long since healed into scars, there were lingering aches and pains below the surface that still could make him stumble.

Katara was always there to catch him when he fell.

But that was the—that was the problem, for lack of a better word on Aang’s part. Katara was healing him all but constantly, never letting him out of her sight for more than a few minutes at a time. The only exceptions had been his time at the Fire Nation school and her secret trips to Jang Hui as the Painted Lady. She’d almost burst into tears when he’d gotten the smallest of scratches across his thumb the other day, and that? That was not normal.

Whatever was going on, Aang knew he couldn’t let her face it alone any longer.

One night during their usual stargazing, lying down with their backs against the grass on the flattest ledge in their camp, Aang seized the moment.

“Is there a reason you’ve been so… protective of me lately?” he asked, trying to keep his tone as even as possible. It was like trying to approach a baby deer-cat—he didn’t want to spook her by storming into the subject.

Katara stiffened, and though she didn’t flee, Aang idly wondered if he’d underestimated how painful this conversation might be. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Aang tried to reassure her, turning in the grass onto his side so he could face her properly. “You’ve just seemed a little on edge the past few weeks. Talking about whatever’s on your mind might—might help.”

“Doubt that,” Katara muttered bitterly, keeping her eyes averted from Aang’s own as she picked at a blade of grass. The moonlight breaking through the tree branches to their right cast dark shadows across her face, like rivers of ink winding down her cheeks. “I prefer not thinking about it, much less talking.”

Well, at least she’d admitted something was bothering her. Aang counted that as a small victory. But her aggressive resistance did mean he would have to prod a little more to get her to open up.

“I know you’re worried about me,” Aang said after a pause. He sat up, bracing himself with his hands behind him. “I don’t know why, but I know you are.”

Katara sat up and opened her mouth, probably to argue, but Aang pushed forward, not giving her the chance to disagree. To lie, really.

“I can tell because you’ve… you’ve been healing every little scratch I get. Which is kind, but”—he pursed his lips, shaking his head—“I can’t be your priority, Katara. Not all the time. Not over healing Sokka or Toph or yourself, when someone else’s injuries are worse. Okay?”

Katara’s jaw was tight, a clear sign Aang had struck a nerve. Hopefully not one that stung too sharply, bit too deeply, because hurting Katara was the last thing he wanted to do. What he feared more than anything.

Then her shoulders fell, the inky shadows deepening across her face as she sighed and pulled her knees into her chest. “I just—I have to know you’re okay, Aang. That’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

Aang blinked, her words sinking into his heart like a stone into quicksand. “Know I’m okay,” he repeated, “or know I’m alive?”

Aang had only the faintest memories of Ba Sing Se, of waking up for but a few seconds in Katara’s arms as the most radiant, most relieved smile he’d ever seen had graced her lips. The relief hadn’t matched the exhaustion—the terror—in her eyes, though. After that, he’d… disappeared, vanished somewhere into the depths of his own mind for more days than he could count.

Katara chuckled, the sound tinged with a deep-seated weariness. “Maybe a bit of both?”

“Katara—”

She silenced him with an icy look. “Don’t. Don’t use that pitying tone with me, Aang. I know it’s an irrational fear, I don’t need you to tell me that.” Katara huffed, throwing her hands up and shaking her head. “See? This is why. This is why I don’t like thinking about it.”

Aang bit his lip. Tempted as he was to swear up and down that no, he hadn’t meant to strike such a tone, he hadn’t meant to invalidate her concerns, there was a far more important direction their conversation needed to be taken in.

“It’s clearly not irrational if you can’t shake it off,” Aang said after a pause. He hesitated, then placed a careful hand on top of hers, which had returned to resting on the grass. When she made no move to pull away, he continued. “But if you’re really worried… why don’t you explain it to me?”

That offer caught Katara’s attention, and she stared at him with a mixture of shock and confusion permeating her features. Furrowed brow, head tilted at a slight angle. “What?”

Aang shrugged. “Tell me what’s making you so anxious, and then I can confirm whether or not your fear is rational.” He suspected it would be somewhere on the perpetually sliding scale between rational and irrational, as most fears born of traumatic experiences were. He had a few of his own. No shame in admitting that.

Katara hesitated, her gaze flickering over his face from top to bottom, as if searching for any hint of doubt or suspicion or—spirits forbid—pity. But Aang knew she wouldn’t find any, and he was right.

“Okay,” she murmured, averting her eyes from his own to stare at the grass they still sat upon. “Maybe I do need to”—she shook her head—“maybe that would help. A little.”

Katara’s current discomfort was clear to Aang, and he hated seeing her like this. Shaken, weary, broken in more ways than one. But what he hated even more was to see Katara terrified, and terror was the only expression written in her eyes each time she watched him get hurt, no matter how minor the injury. So if she would talk, Aang would listen, and he would do whatever he could to reassure her.

“This war has been going on my entire life,” Katara said after a pause. “So I’m not—I’m not unfamiliar with death”—a low chuckle escaped her lips—“although not for a lack of trying on Sokka’s part.” She heaved a shuddering sigh, picking at a blade of grass with her hand that wasn’t beneath Aang’s. “But warriors died in battle. Babies didn’t always survive birth. I—I saw my own mother’s corpse when I was only eight years old, Aang, so burned up you could barely recognize her—”

Katara snapped her jaw shut as her voice neared a fatal crack, and she blinked back tears.

Before he could lose his nerve, Aang turned Katara’s hand over, the one still beneath his own, and carefully laced their fingers together. I’m here, he tried to say, not knowing how to say it. His touch seemed to do the trick, though, as Katara exhaled a shuddering breath and moved to rest against his side, their shoulders pressed firmly together.

“I was never… never close, though,” she murmured, her voice having regained stability. “Never touched the bodies. Not even my mom’s.”

The note of grief in Katara’s voice rang sharper than a wind chime, and Aang had to fight down the urge to pull her into his arms then and there. He couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she was finished, not until she was ready. So though Aang’s heart ached with an identical loss—You turned your back on the world!—he said nothing, and he let her continue.

“But I… I caught you, Aang.” Katara’s grip tightened around his hand, but Aang didn’t pull away, not even when her nails began digging into the skin just below his knuckles. “When you fell, in Ba Sing Se. After Azula. I caught you, I held you when you were—”

“Gone?” Aang supplied when her voice vanished, and Katara nodded, rubbing her eyes with the back of her free hand.

“Yeah.” She took another slow breath, clearing her throat. “And, you know, people always say that death is—that death is cold. It’s life, energy, stolen from the body. But Aang, you were”—Katara shook her head, eyes brimming with tears that glowed like droplets of liquid silver in the moonlight—“you were so warm, I could almost believe you were sleeping and would wake up in my arms any minute.”

Aang swallowed a lump rising in his own throat. “And I did wake up,” he said gently, once a beat had passed. “Because you saved me, Katara. You brought me back.”

Katara gave him a sorrowful smile. “Don’t you get it, Aang? That’s the problem.” Her free hand clenched into a fist, and she slammed it a single time against her chest—right over her heart. “I had the water from the Spirit Oasis. I had control, that was why I was able to heal you then, that was how I was able to make everything okay. But now?”

Katara’s hand uncurled, falling weakly to her side as she shook her head. Another silver tear traced the edge of a shadow that still haunted her cheek, the drop trickling downward. “Now, I don’t have miracles to rely on for help anymore. The only control I have is me, my own abilities, and Tui and La, Aang, I can’t—I can’t lose you again!”

Her voice broke, and Aang threw all forethought to the wind, releasing Katara’s hand to pull her into a hug fiercer than any they’d ever shared before. He didn’t care how her tears wet his shoulder, he didn’t care how desperately her arms locked around his body, no, all he needed was for Katara to know that he was there.

“I’m so sorry,” Aang finally whispered, pathetic and useless as the three words were.

Katara shook her head, face still buried into his shoulder. “Not your fault.”

For the first time since they’d met in the South Pole, Aang had no idea how to comfort her. It won’t happen again, I’ll always be there for you, you’ll always be there for me, we’ll both make it through this—they were empty promises, cheap vows he had no way to guarantee.

“We’re here now,” Aang murmured, pressing the lightest of kisses to the top of her hair. A new three words, a different but still simple action—something about the combination of gestures must have soothed Katara, as Aang could feel her exhale and her body relax against his own. “We’re here now.”

The present was all they could count on.