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cherryheairt · 8 months ago

Text

Dragon Dreamer pt. III

tags: @beebeechaos

Daenys avoiding her problems per usual

all feedback appreciated <3, I'm unsure how I want to write this longterm, bc the two will have to separate after the wall scene and idk if people would want chapters with just Daenys and no cregan lol

also appearently cregan's actor tom taylor has heterochromia and i think green/blue eyes but for the life of my i cannot find a clear pic of it </3

Daenys woke from her distant dreams only after the sun had risen. While still snowing and freezing outside, Morningstar had done well to warm the pair under her protective wing.

Cregan sat vigil all throughout the night, no complaints coming from the young lord as he did. Protecting the princess was simply a part of his many duties, he mused to himself sometime in the night while she whispered.

She blinked a few times, eyes heavy and body nearly numb. Though warm, she was still only clothed in house slippers and her night dress. A weight around her caught her attention, knowing that Morningstar couldn't wrap herself around Daenys like that.

"You awake, Princess?" A soft voice asked beside her.

Tilting her head up and squinting, "Cregan?" She whispered, voice horse from speaking all night.

"Good morrow, my lady," was all he said, that secret smile of his plastered on his face. She didn't know how to feel. A million things rushed to her mind; shame, humilation, frustration-

He interrupted her thoughts, shuffling to a crouch from his sitting position. Cregan offered her a hand, which she took without thinking. Leading them both out from under Morningstar, Cregan bowed his head respectfully to the she-dragon.

"She allowed you to come near us?" Daenys asked, in awe.

"Aye, I don't know why, exactly. I'm grateful for it, so I will not question a blessing." He told Daenys, reaching down to grab his sword that had been sitting on the snowbank for hours and shouldering it.

"Shall we break our fast, or would you like to sleep?" He turned to her, attentive grey eyes finding her violet ones.

Biting her cheek, she waited for the other shoe to drop. When would he demand answers from their night? Banish her from his house forever and ridding himself of the Velaryon girl.

"You should sleep, Lord Stark. I have kept you from it all night." She decided, looking at the tired expression pulling at his handsome face.

"Sleep often evades me with my duties, this is only another one. I would never sleep again if my Princess asked it of me." He told her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "The day is new. Will you break fast with me?"

Daenys followed the lord into the dining hall. It was more active than the previous night, bustling with the activity of the Keep's servants. It only took a minute of sitting before their breakfast was in front of them, some light bread and oatmeal. Daenys greedily drank the cold water provided for her, the relief for her throat that had been burning the whole way to the Keep.

Cregan watched the display for a moment, smiling to himself before politely focusing on his food, not watching her pick at her breakfast like the previous night. "Do you want anything else? If you don't like the food, just tell me. No one will take offense, as long as you're fed."

"This is good." Daenys answered shortly. She took small bites of the oatmeal, pulling parts of the bread to slowly chew. She felt like her body was going through the motions completely on its own, her brain firing in a million different directions yet going nowhere at all.

"..Princess?" Cregan asked again, stirring her.

He had been talking for a while, she thought. Daenys hummed, gesturing for him to continue. His meal was done already, how much time had passed?

"I said I would like to take you to Castle Black, if you would allow me."

"The Wall?" Daenys furrowed her brow, placing her spoon into the half-full bowl.

"It would be a two week trip on horseback, and you can see what your predecessors witnessed all those years ago. A reminder of what the North protects the realm from."

In simple terms, he wanted to convince her to take the least amount of men to arms as possible. She was not dull. Perhaps he thought she was, just like the court men. He was talking like a Southerner, now. All hidden meanings and pretty half-truths. Disappointing, truly, Daenys liked the straightforward Stark better.

"I would not oppose a trip to see the Wall. It would be much faster on Morningstar, but I'm sure your council would oppose their lord doing such a thing." She said wryly. Daenys didn't want to become curt with the kind lord, but her displeasure with his words made itself clear in her tone

He grimaced slightly before straightening up, bowing his head politely. "I have some matters to attend to before we depart. I will have some things packed for you. For now, get some rest, we'll leave in the afternoon." He left quickly, and it was then that she noticed his fur coat was missing. She could make out his body shape now, no longer hidden and cloaked by the massive fur. When had he left them?

The weight on her own shoulders as she stood solved that question for her. The familiar brown furs surrounded her like a blanket, warm yet drowning. Was it bear? Or even wolf? Daenys wasn't sure, but her heart beated harder knowing that he had sat with her all night, keeping her safe and warm despite knowing her dragon was perfectly capable.

Daenys settled into her chambers, forgoing slipping under the furs already on her bed in exchange for the fur Cregan had provided her. It smelled like him, a deep wood and iron scent that might have been too strong and unfitting on anyone but the Warden himself. The comfort soothed her to sleep quicker than she had in many moons.

🗡

Strong hands guided Daenys through the courtyard of the Red Keep. Ser Harwin Strong, her mother's sworn protector, had become more of a protector for herself these past few moons.

When the nightmares started, the Red Keep was put ill at ease with the little girl, avoiding her like the plague. While most took after Queen Alicent, avoiding her and gossiping about how the girl must be a witch, condemning people to horrible fates with her predictions, the bolder ones like her uncle Aegon had done the opposite.

Harassments, taunts, planting some of Helena's bugs into her bed, even getting physical when no one was looking. Who would believe the mad girl besides her own mother? The prince, of course, never received any reprimanding or punishment. He always got away with everything, per usual. He had the Queen herself in his corner, who defended his vile behavior even when multiple servant girls came sobbing to the Queen's chambers.

Rhaenyra couldn't bare to watch her only daughter be so tormented, especially by her own family. She instructed Harwin to keep a close eye on her, as her escort and guardian around the keep. He had no qualms with this, of course. The girl was beloved by him and Rhaenyra deeply, though this coddling did not go unnoticed by the royal family.

Daenys' one credit as a child was her silver hair and purple hues, an image of her mother. Her brothers after her were not so lucky, born brown-eyed and brown-haired. Ser Harwin was said to be the sire of Rhaenyra's army of dragon-riding bastards, to the obliviousness of Daenys.

When she grew older, she realized that Alicent was right in that one thing. Harwin Strong undoubtedly fathered the boys. She was unclear about her own father, but Harwin's affections for her never differed from her brothers.

She found herself not minding. Ser Laenor claimed the children as his own and loved her mother as a dear companion. But Harwin's love for Rhaenyra was different than Laenor's. She saw the look in his eyes as he gazed upon the heir, filled with devotion and love unmatched by any other wed couple in the keep. Daenys had only seen such a love displayed by them. Even long after Harwin's death, when Rhaenyra remarried her uncle Daemon, Daenys never saw that look in another man's eyes.

Daemon's love was passionate but possessive. It scared Daenys slightly, but she was happy so long as her mother was safe.

This day, Daenys wished to watch her uncles and brothers training in the yard. Ser Criston Cole usually overlooked the boys' training, leaving much to be desired in terms of favoritism. Much like his Queen, Criston despised the bastard boys. Though the four trained together, Rhaenyra's sons usually only watched as Aegon and Aemond practiced with their wooden swords.

Harwin left Daenys at the steps after a gentle ruffle of her loose hair, where she quietly sat and observed. Glancing at a bench overseeing the yard, Daenys spotted King Viserys also overlooking the morning training.

Harwin spoke a few words to Ser Criston for a moment, inaudible to Daenys but clearly pissing the Dornish knight off. Cole intructed that the eldest boys be placed against each other, though it was unfair.

Harwin's protests were thus ignored by the kingsguard, Daenys perking in her seat to watch Aegon and Jace spar. Quite a poor match, seeing their age and skill difference.

Aegon easily beat Jace, knocking the sword from his hand but not giving his opponent any mercy, still stepping forward to attack the young boy.

Harwin grabbed Aegon in a firm hold, tossing him away from Jacaerys. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" Aegon screeched like a banshee, never being put in his place like that before. Spoiled brat.

Harwin scolded Cole, ignoring the eldest prince intentionally. After lifting Jace from the floor, Harwin glanced over the boy.

"Are you alright?"

Embarrassed, Jace only nodded with flushed cheeks and dusted himself off. "Thank you, Ser." He mumbled.

But Cole did not leave the matter, baiting the older knight. "You forget yourself, that is the prince." He said, a smirk on his tanned face.

"Is that what you teach, Cole? Cruelty." Harwin spat back, picking up the wooden swords from the dirt.

"Your interest in the princeling's training is quite unusual. Most men would only have that kind of devotion toward a cousin. Or a brother." He smiled brighter, "or a son."

Without skipping a beat, Harwin strong turned and swung at Cole's smug face. Again, and again until the man was on the floor and not fighting back.

Daenys stood and gasped, calling out towards her protector. "Ser Harwin!" she rushed forward, being stopped only by Jace and Luke, who could also only watch.

Harwin was dragged off of Cole, still spitting insults at the younger whilst the blood-covered man laughed as if he had won.

Aegon laughed loudly, now the loudest sound in the yard as both knights were escorted inside.

"Seems like the Strong bastards won't be so protected anymore." He snickered with Aemond at his side, loud enough for only the three to hear. Viserys took his leave, too, most likely to go settle the fight.

"We're not bastards!" Jacaerys yelled at him. Daenys and Lucerys were quiet behind him. Jace, though a year younger than Daenys, had taken the mantle of the protective one of the siblinge ever since Daenys had started getting shunned.

She was grateful for it, despite the nagging guilt she had for never defending herself or her little brothers.

"Just look at yourself, Lord Strong. Brown hair...pale skin..brown eyes. Perhaps Rhaenyra isn't your mother, either." Aegon said, earning a half-hearted laugh from Aemond beside him.

Ever the quiet of the two, Aemond faced his own bullying from Aegon and Daenys' brothers for being the only one of them to not claim a dragon. Typically, this made him stay out of any spats between Rhaenyra's children and Aegon, out of fear that he would be the next target.

Surprisingly, he even left Daenys alone. He spent much time with Helena, just as she did. They happened to spend a lot of time together in their youth because of their mutual bond, but they never gained a bond between themselves.

"You take that back!" Jace demanded, stepping foward and shoving at Aegon's chest. Being so much taller than Jacaerys, Aegon barely stepped back, only growing more amused.

"Jace.." Daenys urged behind him, tugging at his armor. "Let's go inside, I want to check on Ser Harwin."

Aegon turned to her now, "Its a mystery who your father might be. Ser Strong, Prince Daemon, Ser Laenor. I've even heard rumor of Rhaenyra having a tryst with Criston Cole at one time. Perhaps the cunt herself doesn't even know who your-" Aegon was abruptly cut off with a punch to his face so hard that he was sent to the floor. Shocked, he looked up expecting Jacaerys to have been the offender, but instead met the furious face of Daenys Velaryon. She didn't give him time to get up, punching and scratching at his pink face.

The other three stood stunned for a few moments, unsure if they wanted to let her continue or pry her off. Even Aemond stifled a laugh with a hand, turning away so Aegon couldn't notice.

Eventually Aegon grew out of his shock, easily throwing the younger girl off of him by her shoulders. Wiping his face, he stood and snarled down at Daenys, lifting a foot to kick at her while she was down, but was stopped and tackled by her two brothers. Now, Aemond choose to defend his older brother against the boys, albeit slightly reluctantly. The Pink Dread prank still heavily weighed on his mind every day.

Guards noticed at this point that the squabble of princes and the princess was no mere play fight, punches and kicks being thrown this way and that. The four of them seperated by forceful hands, given no time to walk themselves as they were dragged inside.

"Keep my mothers name out of your dirty mouth, līve!" She screamed behind her shoulder at the boy, who seemed shocked at the insult coming from her mouth. Jace and Luke, not versed in High Valyrion yet, didn't react, although she heard a snicker from Aemond as he was taken to Viserys with Aegon.

The other three were taken directly to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra, quietly resting on her settee with little Joffrey coddled up in her arms, was surprised to see all three of her eldest children in such a state. She stood immediately, "what happened?" She asked the guards, handing Joff to the wet nurse and gingerly cradling her children's bruised faces.

"The princess and princes got into an altercation in the yard. Ser Harwin and Cole have also been sent to the King for their actions." One said, before being dismissed by Rhaenyra.

"I want the truth of it, now." She sternly told them, stress furrowing her brows.

"Ser Harwin beat up Cole." Luke said first, giving no context.

"Because Cole called us bastards." Jace continued, clearing it.

Rhaenyra sighed, putting a hand over her stomach, which Daenys noticed became a habit during her pregnancies as a way to calm herself.

"If Harwin is the one who fought Cole, why are you three all bruised up?"

Daenys avoided her eyes, earning a lifted brow from her mother. Jace stepped in to help, "Aegon started it! He called you.." He seemed to pause now too, not wanting to shame his mother with Aegon's vileness.

The three shared glanced between themselves, not guilty for fighting Aegon but guilty for not defending their mother's honor better. "He called you a cunt. And implied dishonorable actions." Daenys told her, biting her cheek hard after. Her face hurt.

Rhaenyra only sighed, bringing her children to her side to embrace them all. She breathed in to start a surely long speech, but Harwin entering the room disrupted that plan. Daenys was grateful for it.

He closed the chamber doors behind himself, gold Lord Commander's cloak was no longer wrapped over his shoulders. His armor was also off, as if he was taking a leisure day.

"Harwin?" Rhaenyra spoke, confused as to why he was visiting in such a state.

"I am being assigned back to Harrenhall with my father. The King has let me go from my time as Lord Commander." Was his answer. Pretty words for 'fired' from his duty. Just for defending the princes and their mother.

Rhaenyra gasped, hand bringing itself once again to hover over her stomach. "For what offence?" She demanded. Her eyes were glossy with tears, but she could not let herself cry. Princesses do not cry over losing their guards.

Daenys knew then, that they were not merely protector and princess. They were husband and wife, in all but name. Harwin looked down at Rhaenyra with all the softness in the realm. "It is my own fault, I lost my temper." The two stood to the side for a minute, whispering amonst themselves. Daenys respectfully looked away, finding Jace staring them down intensely.

Harwin held Rhaenyra's face for only a moment, tender and bittersweet as they couldn't do anything more to say their goodbyes.

He turned to the children, "Luke, Jace. Keep up with your training, do not let Cole or the princes bully you out from improving. You will be fine knights." He smiled at them proudly, petting each of their heads and turning to Daenys.

Tears welled in her eyes, falling down her cheeks freely. She was not as strong as her mother, unable to control her feelings. "Ser.." She sobbed, barreling into his chest and burying her face into the tunic's material. Gently he held her, soothing her hair down from the mess it had became in the yard. "Don't fret, my dear girl. I will not be gone forever."

The smell of fire invaded her senses as he said that, a suffocating feeling enveloping her as she continued to cry. "I don't want you to leave at all." She told him.

"He must, we cannot change the will of the king." Rhaenyra said from behind her, rubbing her back soothingly. Harwin and Rhaenyra shared another heavy look, both knowing how much Daenys relied on Harwin.

Harwin had to break the princess off of him eventually, pressing a tender kiss to her temple as he did. "I will be a stranger when we meet again.' He told Rhaenyra, who only nodded and smiled solemnly at him.

Harwin Strong took his leave from the Red Keep that day, and never returned to his family.

Jace watched the man walk away, down the hall. "Is Harwin Strong my father?" He asked Rhaenyra stiffly. "Are we bastards?"

Rhaenyra swiftly looked around for any onlookers, relieved to find none. "You are Targaryens. That's what matters," she whispered firmly.

Daenys only stared at the space Harwin had once been, wishing things could stay the same forever.

"I am going to bed," she told her mother.

She wished she had not.

🗡

"My Lady?" The maid from yesterday evening woke Daenys from her deep sleep. Groggily she sat up, stretching out her stiff muscles. The cold affected her more than she thought. "Lord Stark is ready to depart. We have packed all the things you will need for the trip, I just need to get you ready."

Daenys was too tired to talk, only nodding along and allowing the older maid to dress her and do her hair. Pulled in a simple half-up braid, Daenys groaned at the thought of having to do her own braids while in the wilderness. The dress she was put in was a light blue, lined with white fur, softer than any she had felt before.

"All done, princess. He's waiting in the hall for you." She patted Daenys' shoulder in a motherly way, sending the girl off to the dining hall.

Daenys grabbed his fur coat before leaving, finding him standing in front of the hearth silently. He perked up when he spotted her, smiling almost instinctively. "Princess," he nodded. "Ready to leave?"

It was only then that she noticed a giant wolf at his feet, staring at her with bright blue eyes, contasting its brown fur. A direwolf, it must be. Tamed by the Stark? Their sigil seemed to ring true, just like the Targaryen's.

"As I'll ever be." She answered evenly, slightly looking forward to the trip. She'd never been on such a journey, only ever riding horseback for short distances and never once staying outside for more than a night. It would be interesting. "And who's this?"

"Dusk. He mostly stays outside, but I figured we could use his protection on our travels." Cregan gestured to the wolf. He seemed wild in most ways, Daenys would guess that he was when he was on his own, but Cregan being bonded to him and accustoming the animal to human domestication. Quite like the Targaryens and their dragons.

"I'm happy to have him, as long as he can get along with Morningstar." She smiled.

Hopefully she can find common ground with Lord Stark, gaining more men for the Queen.

Cregan offers Daenys his arm, which she takes as he guides her to their readied horses. "I picked out this one for you. He's a young stud, but he reminded me of Morningstar." Daenys felt her heart skip a beat when he said that, the thoughtfulness of the aftion making her smile brightly. She released his arm to pet the horse's snow-white face, greeting it.

"Thank you, my lord. He's beautiful." She said.

"Of course, princess." He kept his eyes on her a moment longer, before offering his hand again to help her mount. After adjusting herself on the saddle, Cregan mounted his own horse, a pretty chestnut mare.

Winterfell gave the two a cheerful goodbye parting, Daenys had to resist rolling her eyes. The same commonfolk who had gossiped about her yesterday were eagerly waving hankerchiefs at her and wishing their beloved princess well.

Cregan seemed amused by her stiff jaw as they walked past the gates. "Do you know what the folk call you?" He asked.

"I could think of a hundred names I've been called. None of them pleasent." She replied, eyeing him.

Above them, Morningstar glided gleefully, happy to be traveling again although she didn't know the destination.

Chuckling, he shook his head. "The Dragon Dreamer."

Stunned, she turns to look straight at him, finding his attention fully on her still.

"I..don't see why." She blushed. Never before had her visions been painted in a positive light of any kind.

"Northerners aren't so out of tune with the magic of this realm, as other kingdoms are. Have you ever heard of wargs?"

"A few times, in fairytales." She sniffed.

He nodded, "do you not believe in them?"

"Anything could be true. In a world where I ride a dragon, who am I to deny other types of magic?" She offered.

"Aye. My ancestors have dealt with magic since the first men. Stuff you wouldn't believe, out beyond the wall."

"What's beyond the wall?"

"Death."

🗡

alicent hightower you ARE the father

Līve - whore

#cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #cregan stark x oc #cregan x reader #dragondreamer

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itacats · 5 months ago

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Butcher Shop Connection

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: DV, abuse, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: When your terrified voice reaches Simon in the dead of night, it shatters the fragile calm he’s barely been holding onto. The chilling sounds of Tom’s violence echo through the phone before the line goes dead, plunging Simon into a storm of panic and rage.

At the hospital, the sight of your battered body tests the limits of Simon’s resolve. Wracked with guilt and helplessness, he sits vigil by your side, promising to be your anchor through the long journey ahead. With every breath you take, Simon clings to hope, vowing that no shadow, no monster, will ever dim your light again.

A/N: Here's your daily does of emotional whirlwind —writing Simon’s frantic desperation was both exhilarating and painful. The tension, urgency, and heartbreak culminate in the ICU, where hope begins to bloom amid the wreckage. Simon’s love and determination shine as a reminder that even in the darkest of nights, there’s always a glimmer of light. 🌌💔

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9 Part 10

Part 8 - The Longest Night

A few more days bleed into restless nights, the heavy silence of the Manchester sky pressing down on Simon like a weight he couldn’t shake. Time moves like molasses, each second dragging him deeper into the dread of not knowing how you were, or if you were even still safe. But that night, everything changes in an instant. His troubled sleep is torn apart by the shrill ring of the phone, cutting through the air like a blade. His eyes snap open, and before he can even comprehend the sound, his hand is already reaching for the receiver.

The voice on the other end, fragile and trembling with fear, nearly paralyzes him. "Simon?"

It's you. And in that one word, in the sheer terror that laces it, Simon’s world tilts, and all the anger and hurt he’s kept buried for so long rises to the surface, hot and violent.

"What's wrong, love?" His voice is rough, half-awake, but the panic is unmistakable. He struggles to ground himself, to make sense of what he’s hearing. "What happened? What did he do?"

Your voice breaks as you speak, barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to rattle him to his core. "He’s going to kill me this time, I know it."

Simon’s blood runs cold. Every nerve in his body goes taut, and his heart pounds in his chest as the words hang in the air between you both. The rawness of your fear is something he’s never encountered before, and it pierces through him like a dagger. He can hear the crashing of objects in the background, the sounds of a struggle. Then, Tom’s voice—mocking, casual, as if your life is some game to him.

“Sorry, but they’re a little busy at the moment,” Tom sneers, his words dripping with malice.

Then, the line goes dead.

The silence that follows is deafening, a hollow emptiness that fills Simon’s chest with a freezing panic. His throat tightens, his stomach churns. In that moment, it’s as if time itself stands still, and Simon’s worst fear becomes a brutal reality. You’re in the hands of a monster. His mind races, each thought sharp, desperate, as the fear of losing you claws its way through him.

His fingers tremble as they dial the police, his voice a mixture of urgency and barely-contained rage as he relays the details. He pleads with them to hurry, to get to your house—now. But the suffocating weight of the night drags everything down, the darkness amplifying the terror of the unknown. There’s nothing he can do until they arrive, but he can’t sit idle. Not when your life is on the line. Not when every instinct in his body screams that he needs to act.

Without hesitation, he slams the phone down and rushes toward the truck. The engine roars to life beneath him, the sound a furious symphony against the quiet of the night. He slams his foot down on the pedal, sending the truck screeching forward. His hands grip the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white, but he doesn’t feel the pain. All he can think of is getting to you, getting to you now.

The road ahead is a blur, the lights from streetlamps slicing through the night like stabs of light in a sea of dark. His mind races with memories of you—your laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you smiled, the warmth of your hand in his. Every moment he’s spent with you flashes before his eyes like a reel of precious memories, and for a split second, he lets that tiny flicker of hope ignite inside him. Maybe, just maybe, he can make it in time.

But as the miles stretch on, that hope feels like it’s slipping through his fingers. The darkened streets pass in a haze, each second a heartbeat that echoes louder and louder in his ears. His foot presses harder on the gas pedal, his breath coming in shallow bursts. He’s already pushing the truck to its limits, but it doesn’t feel fast enough. There’s no time for caution now. Only the desperate need to reach you.

When Simon finally arrives at your house, the scene is chaotic. Police cars line the street, their flashing lights a disorienting mix of red and blue that slices through the night. Officers swarm around, their voices rising and falling in a cacophony of urgent conversations, punctuated by the crackling radio transmissions and the sharp clack of boots on asphalt. The air smells of tension and fear. Simon’s stomach twists, each step he takes toward the house heavier than the last, his body moving on autopilot as his mind tries to process what could have just happened. He pushes through the crowd of officers, each one a physical barrier, until a voice rises above the rest.

“With those injuries, it’s a miracle they still had any blood left in their body.”

Simon’s breath hitches in his throat. A cold, brutal wave of dread crashes over him, freezing him in place. The words echo in his mind, each one a jagged shard that digs deeper and deeper into his chest. He can’t think, can’t breathe—his body is moving on instinct now, his legs carrying him faster as he fights through the crowd, his pulse roaring in his ears.

“Where are they? What happened?” he demands, his voice hoarse and desperate, barely recognizing the rawness in it.

The officer he approaches looks at him, and for the first time, Simon sees the weight of the world in someone else's eyes. The fatigue is etched into the lines of the officer’s face—someone who’s seen too much, someone who’s witnessed the worst of what humanity can do. He opens his mouth to answer, but his words land with the kind of heaviness Simon wasn’t prepared for.

“Looks like it was a bad scene. The victim’s been taken to the local hospital. They’ll do everything they can.”

The officer’s words are a blur, but Simon barely hears them. His mind is already miles ahead, racing toward the one place where he might find you—the hospital. Without another word, Simon turns, his breath ragged, his heart beating in overdrive as he sprints back to his truck. Every muscle in his body is screaming at him to move faster, but the agonizing truth sits like a weight on his chest: he’s already too late to prevent whatever horrors have already been inflicted.

The engine of the truck roars to life beneath him, and Simon doesn’t hesitate, his foot pressing firmly against the gas pedal. The truck surges forward, the tires squealing against the pavement as he drives faster than he ever has, weaving through the streets with the sole thought of getting to you.

When he pulls up to the hospital, the sterile smell of antiseptic and bleach hits him like a slap. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, too bright, too harsh against the darkness of the night that still clings to him. His hands shake as he pushes the door open, the noise too loud, too intrusive. He feels disconnected from everything, as though he’s walking through a dream—a nightmare he can’t escape. He’s gripped by the overwhelming pull of anxiety, guilt, and helplessness, and his heart is a wild, uncontrollable drumbeat in his chest.

A nurse sees him and gestures for him to follow. Her professionalism is almost a cruel contrast to the mess of emotions churning inside him, but he clings to it, letting it guide him through the sterile corridors. She leads him to the ICU, where the air is thick with sorrow. And then, there you are.

You lie in the bed, a quiet warrior in a battlefield of bandages. Simon’s stomach twists violently, and for a moment, he can’t breathe. His knees feel weak as he steps closer, the sight of you a punch to the gut. Your skin is marred with bruises and cuts, black and blue hues staining you like a map of countless battles fought in silence. He sees the way your body is wrapped in white gauze, each bandage a whisper of the suffering you’ve endured, each stitch a testament to the hell you’ve lived through. The enormity of it presses down on him, each breath he takes a struggle as if the air itself has been robbed of its warmth.

"Will… will they be okay?" he finally manages, his voice barely a whisper, trembling with the raw emotion he’s been holding back.

The nurse’s face softens, but her answer is cautious, laced with the knowledge of what recovery truly means. "They’re stable for now, but it’s going to be a long road. It’s going to take time."

Simon nods, his heart cracking a little more, the weight of her words settling deep inside him. Time. He wants to scream, to demand that it hurry, but he doesn’t. He just watches, helpless, as you lie there—your life hanging in the balance, the toll of your suffering written across your face.

He pulls a chair up to your bedside, his hands trembling as he reaches out to grasp yours. His fingers wrap around yours gently, but it feels like you’re a thousand miles away. Your hand is cold, too cold, lifeless in his. His throat tightens as tears threaten to spill, but he holds them back. He promised you he would protect you, and here he is—unable to protect you from the man who’s broken you.

“Stay with me, love,” Simon murmurs, his voice cracking with emotion, a raw promise slipping from his lips. “I promise I’ll take care of you. Every day after this, every moment.”

He watches the faint rise and fall of your chest, the steady rhythm of your breathing a bittersweet comfort. The night drifts on, time stretching endlessly as he sits by your side, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts—thoughts of you, thoughts of Tom, thoughts of the life you should have had. He remembers the cruelty he faced at the hands of his own father, how those scars shaped him into the man he is today—a protector. And now, watching you fight for your life, he realizes that he is fighting, too. Fighting for you in every way he can.

He thinks of his mother, who used to say, when the nights turned cold and the shadows loomed too large, "Love’s light will always pierce the darkest nights."

And Simon clings to that light. He knows it’s what will guide him through the darkest moments ahead, and it starts right here—staying, waiting, and hoping.

Until the moment you wake, he’ll be here. Fighting for you, for your healing, for the chance to give you everything you deserve.

Tag List:

@jessicab1991

@hotaruteba

@daydreamerwoah

@angelic-thingys

@alessias-art

@lilynotdilly

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

#bt extra #call of duty #fanfic #cod fic #cod #simon ghost riley #gn reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost #butcher!ghost #butcher!simon #butcher shop connection

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 1 year ago

Text

Regret

Pairing: DarkTom Riddle x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Lying is a flaw that Tom doesn’t appreciate.

WARNINGS: Toxic relationship.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Dedicating this to @insectgf cause she's Tom's no.1 fan 😋

You nervously wring your hands as you peer around, eyes searching for movement near the dimly lit dungeon entrance.

The way to the Slytherin Common Room.

You've been waiting for just over half an hour, anxiety building up and infesting your thoughts while you hold vigil in hopes of finding Tom.

You should have never behaved like that. An act of pure stupidity and recklessness, that’s what it was.

Going to Hogsmeade in the company of a few girls of your dorm.

It was a rare occasion, something you never did before, and you had only relented after much begging and convincing from the girls. A dumb decision – one that led to a dreadful aftermath.

You should’ve known better. All of your joyful chatter and laughter at The Three Broomsticks immediately ceasing once you spotted the distinct lean figure of Tom seated in a distant table, surrounded by his friends, his brown-eyes fixed on you.

No surprise or shock in his gaze, only cold anger irradiating from his handsome features.

Something almost comprehensible given how you had explicitly told him you’d be spending all afternoon in your dorm, offering the poor excuse of a headache.

And now here you are. Scared, shaking like a leaf, waiting for the chance to apologize and beg for forgiveness.

You're so pathetic.

The time drags by, and you lose track, feeling as if you’ve been waiting for an eternity. But your efforts pay off when the door opens, revealing Tom.

Your heart leaps at the sight and fear clouds your mind when he offers you nothing but a quick murderous scowl that immediately turns into one of composed indifference before walking away past you, barely acknowledging your presence.

You gulp, hurrying after him as he walks with long strides through the empty corridors.

“Tom?”

“Tom…please.”

The boy ignores your numerous calls, but you keep your hasty pace even when it has you short breathed as Tom quickly charges through the stairways and halls.

“Tom, just listen to me.”

“And why should I listen to anything you spew out of that filthy mouth of yours?" his snarl scares you as he suddenly turns. "It appears that lies and deception is all I can expect from you.”

You wince, barely opening your lips before Tom walks away, choosing to stare blankly at a wall.

The confusion in your mind dissipates as a large door materializes on the door and only then you realize that you’ve reached the 7th floor.

The Room of Requirement.

You hesitate for a moment but proceed to follow Tom as he opens the door with a loud bang. Your existence remains ignored and you take a few small steps inside the room, unsure of how to bring Tom’s attention.

“Tom?”

For a moment, the possibility of Tom disregarding you again was present, and you fearfully awaited as the seconds went by without a proper reaction from Tom.

He inhaled sharply, fingers tightening before he relaxed.

But when he finally turned to face you, you almost wished he hadn’t.

The venom that darkened his face had your heart faltering, his eyes narrowing into thin slits that held nothing but anger and frustration. He almost looked like a snake.

You felt yourself turning smaller at the sight, suddenly unsure of how to speak.

“I-“

“Trust is a rather curious thing.” he says with his voice oddly serene, “An invisible yet very powerful bond, one that defines the nature of one’s relationship. That’s how I perceive it.”

“So, tell me. How many times?”

You look at him, confused.

“Tom-“

“How many times did you break my trust?” he repeats himself, brows contorting with annoyance, “How many times did you sneak behind my back to meet up with those filthy mudbloods?”

“I- Only this time.” you tearfully admit, lowering your gaze to the floor as Tom angrily hisses something in that strange snake language of his. “I swear, Tom. I-I’m so sorry.”

“Just this once? And why should I believe your unreliable words? You seem to be very determined in breaking my trust, so tell me why should I consider any of what you say to be true?”

Your lips shake when you bring yourself to look at Tom, tears burning in your eyes.

“But, …” a minuscule sob cuts you off, much to Tom’s irritation, “it is true. It was only this once, Tom, I swear on my life! I never lied to you before, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry, Tom, I really am!”

The intent with which he examines your pitiful face sets you on edge, heart plummeting against your ribs as you don’t dare to say a word.

“Prove it.”

“Prove wha-“

“Prove me that you won’t repeat this act of disloyalty. Assure me how sorry you are.” the way his eyes glint with a new cruel motivation has a shudder running down your body, aware that nothing good will come out of his proposition.

“Perform the Cruciatus Curse. On yourself.” his lips curl at your bewilderment, clearly enjoying taunting you.

This time, the tears overflow and slide down on your face pitifully and you look at Tom, silently begging him with your eyes.

But there’s no empathy in his face. Only a vile purpose.

“Go on, do it.” he takes a step forward, his tone borderline threatening despite how lightly he speaks. “You can either punish yourself or I’ll do it for you.”

“Because I assure you that in the end, you will suffer.”

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere tom riddle #dark tom riddle #yandere tom riddle x reader #dark tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine #imagine tom riddle #tom riddle x female reader #yandere x reader #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle #yandere harry potter x reader #yandere scenarios #tw: yandere #tw.dark content #tw: toxic relationships

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screamlet · 28 days ago

Text

BuckTommy Angst Week - Day 6 - Bedside Vigil

@bucktommyangstweek

notes: cw for parent illness; 500 words

---

Tommy's never thought much about the expression spitting mad, but goddamn if he isn't feeling it now while he and Evan sit in the ICU at Tom Kinard Sr.'s bedside.

"I hate that I brought you here," Tommy says. "I hate that we're here. I hate that he might wake up and I'll have to introduce you because he'll taint you, somehow. I hate that he might not wake up so I can't tell him to fuck off one last time."

Evan rubs their joined hands, then whispers, "Tommy, my hand hurts. Just let my bones breathe for a second." He drops a kiss on Tommy's shoulder and leans on him. "It's okay."

"It's not." Tommy feels like a bull that wants to run horns-first into this man and throw him off a cliff.

"We can leave."

"What, and come back when he's dead? Waste of plane fare and our fucking time." Tommy shakes his head. "You should go. He's my problem."

"Tommy." Evan touches his jaw lightly, turning Tommy's head so he can kiss him. He's gentle in this kiss, probably because he thinks anything heavier would shatter Tommy (and it might). He holds Evan's hand to his cheek, kisses his palm.

"I'm sorry," Tommy whispers. "I'll be better when he's dead."

Evan looks sad. "Will you?"

Tommy nods. "Like letting go of a balloon—but he has to actually go."

It's pneumonia, the third time in as many years he's been hospitalized. Tom Sr. has smoked since he was 10 years old, would probably be smoking right now if he wasn't unconscious in the ICU. That stale cigarette smell still turns Tommy's stomach to this day. He thinks he smells it in this sterile room. It's probably in his dad's hair, or seeping out of his skin. He wants to gag.

"He has a DNR," Tommy says. "He just has to go."

As he says it, Tommy breaks. He wraps his arms around Evan, the plastic chairs a hard barrier between them, but he needs Evan more. Evan soothes him, his hand running up and down Tommy's back, telling him it's okay, let it out. Tommy would never dare in front of his father, but his father's almost dead so he does it. He listens to Evan. He holds him tighter and cries.

Then Evan almost falls out of his seat and takes Tommy with him. The still figure on the bed has let out a huge, hacking cough, and spit something up into his mask. Tommy turns slowly and looks at his dad, who's fucking awake.

"Oh, Tom," his dad says between wheezing breaths. "All those years ago, your mother told me to go to hell and here I am. My gay son crying in his gay boyfriend's arms."

Tommy crosses his arms over his chest, left hand carefully hidden. "Great to see you, too."

#911 fic #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #bucktommyangstweek #my writing #my fic #evan buckley #tommy kinard #cw parent illness

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pupdoc0916 · 2 months ago

Text

Atonement

The monitor beeped its high pitched and rhythmic tone, the only consistent sound in the room aside from soft snores and gentle shifts as bodies moved in sleep. Maddie had explained that the chirp from the small machine in the corner of the room was monitoring Tom’s heart, indicating that the man was still alive, that he was alright.

It set Knuckles’ teeth on edge.

He sat in the far corner of the small, cramped room, knelt on his toes, his back leaning into the bend of the wall. His arms rested on his knees, hands folded in front of him as his tired eyes scanned the room.

Maddie sat at the edge of Tom’s bed, her back facing him. She had her head laying on the bed, cradled in her arms. Her breaths were soft and even as she caught a few hours of sleep. His baby brother had maneuvered onto the bed of the hospital and tucked himself gently next to their father figure, little arms wrapped around the man’s unmoving upper limb.

And Sonic. His middle brother. The brother that broke the vow. The brother that let rage consume him. The brother that found redemption and saved the world. The brother who he had seen himself in - the anger, the uncertainty, the fear - and had allowed him to find his own way, just as Sonic had allowed him to find his. The brother he had already forgiven. He lay on bed, enveloped around Tom’s other side, desperately grasping at the thin hospital gown that adorned the hedgehog's father.

They all slept. Maybe not an easy sleep. Maybe not a sure sleep. But they had found rest. And he was glad for it.

But Knuckles could find no rest and no peace.

The beep continued on, ringing through his ears as he crouched away from his family and tried not to allow his exhaustion to consume him. The pain in his muscles and the burn in his back was a good thing. It kept him on edge, from getting to comfortable.

From failing.

Because he did, didn’t he? He had failed to keep Tom safe, just as he had failed his own father. He had sworn himself the family protector, had sworn to himself that he would never allow harm to come to any family, ever again.

And he had failed.

Knuckles sat, close to the door, isolated from the rest of his family. He was fatigued beyond measure, he and his brothers only arriving from their mission hours before. But he would not rest. He could not rest. He would not fail again. He could not fail again.

And so he sat. Ever still. Ever focused. Ever vigilant.

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

Maddie sighed as she dried her aching hands with the dish rag, letting the fabric massage against each finger before slinging it over the faucet. She stared at the empty sink, all dishes moved to the dishwasher or drying rack. She placed her hands on the edge of the counter and leaned forward, her tired eyes closing softly. She allowed a moment to take a breath, then forced her eyes to flutter back open to her present.

“Mom!”

“Yes, honey?”

“Dad needs a new ice pack!”

“……Are your legs broken?”

“……No…..”

A whoosh through the kitchen, a brief glance of blue as he stopped just long enough to dig through the freezer to find a fresh pack, then another whoosh and she was once again alone within her space.

A hint of a smile hit her lips as her hair settled back on her shoulders with the fading breeze caused by her son’s speed. She stretched her shoulders back, feeling the tension and stress pull up her neck.

They had been home from the hospital for a few weeks and taking care of three boys and her recovering husband had been anything but easy.

They arrived back to Green Hills by ring a few weeks ago. The boys had somehow made it back home after their gut-wrenching escape from the cannon. Their bruised and exhausted bodies had landed in a field near home, one that Knuckles had been able to picture clearly due to familiarity. They told her how they had walked toward home, an overall short but painstaking journey, and were able to grab a few more rings before returning to London to see their dad.

Maddie clutched the edge of the counter as she remembered her overwhelming relief when her three boys came, hesitantly and timidly, through the hospital door. The tears of relief as she swept each one into her arms. How her heart had clenched as the boys saw their father, still unconscious in the hospital bed.

Her whole, sweet, beautiful little family had not escaped without their injuries. She had spent time wrapping and binding the burns, scrapes, and bruises of her three boys. The beautiful children who she adored had once again risked their lives to save the world but did not escape without the wear and tear of heroes.

And her husband, a mortal among super powers and and alien strength, had been grievously injured. But he had made it. They all had made it. And they continued to recover from the harrowing journey day by day, happy to once again be home.

“Maddie?”

She was pulled from her thoughts by the deep voice as it carried through the kitchen.

“Yes, baby?”

“Are you alright? Is there anything I can assist with?”

Maddie’s smile faltered as she turned her gaze to her oldest son. He had materialized just behind her, his penetrating purple eyes looking up toward hers. His bandages had been removed weeks ago but she could still see the healing lacerations over his arms and legs, and could picture the hidden scrapes and bruises still healing over his back from what Tails had described as a terrifying fall to the earth.

She tried to pull a carefree smile back to her lips worried it was more like a grimace. She knelt to his level, taking one of his large gloved hands in hers.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” she started, squeezing his hand within hers. “You’re already doing too much.” She pulled her hand up to his cheek and gently brushed her hand over his muzzle, her thumb running under the dark bag below his eye. “Why don’t you try and rest. We have everything taken care of for the rest of the evening.”

She swallowed hard and tried not to frown as he stiffened at her suggestion and took a step back, breaking the contact of her gentle touch. His eyes hardened under her scrutiny.

“I do not need rest. If I cannot assist you here I will run another perimeter check.” He softened his eyes. “Please, Maddie, you appear tired. I insist that you raise you feet and spend time with the others. I will ensure the home’s safety.”

Her eyes began to burn as she watched his features harden in determination. He took another few steps away from her, pulling his hand from hers. Without another word he turned on his heal and left her sight. She heard the front door open and close, a tear leaving her eye as she felt him pull farther away.

Everyone seemed to be healing. Everyone seemed to be moving on one day at a time. Everyone except him.

He wasn’t sleeping again.

It was a problem they had dealt with at the beginning. When he had first moved in he had struggled to feel safe. He had been through so much before making it to their home. So much loss, so much trauma, so much pain. But they had worked through it. Day by day. Week by week. Month by month.

It caused her pain to see him revert back to the uncertain, traumatized child that he had been before. Their heart-rending task of saving the world for the second time had some how stripped him of his confidence and safety, leaving this poor exhausted shell that haunted the hallways night after night.

Maddie pursed her lips together and pulled her pressed hands to her lips in a silent prayer. Her eyes fell closed and she swallowed down the burn in her throat.

She needed to help him. She had to.

But how do you stop a flickering light bulb from burning out?

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

Her arms were wrapped around her body, hands running up and down her sleeves to create warmth as she stepped from the comfort of the house. She turned to her right, her eyes falling on the moon lit figure that sat alone on the porch swing, the breeze pushing the swing gently in the cool air.

She took a deep breath to steel her nerves, then made her way to him slowly, one step at time.

Maddie took a gentle seat next to him, causing the porch swing to rock back, disturbing the tranquility. His eyes flicked toward her at the movement.

She kept her eyes forward, gazing into the darkening night. The soft pitter patter of the rain struck the porch overhang creating a soothing percussive ambience. The precipitation ran down the shelter above their heads and slid off the edge creating a soft waterfall that became more mesmerizing the longer you stared.

They sat silently together, almost afraid to look at each other lest they break the calm brought by the falling rain.

She sniffed lightly, the first sound either of them had made since she took her seat. It was an almost involuntary reflex against the cool moist air, but it was enough to cause the red child next to her to turn, eyes reflecting the minute halo of the moon. She froze, almost like someone approaching a frightened animal, afraid she would break their tranquil truce.

They watched each other, eyes coming together in a stream of purple to brown. His gaze could be so piercing. It could make even the strongest person feel small. But she withstood his observant stare, giving him a practiced one of her own.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he shifted his eyes back forward to the falling rain. The softest sigh escaped his lips.

“I know why you are here.” his deep voice cut through the ambience.

She couldn’t help the hint of the smile that crossed her lips. She would expect nothing less from him.

“And why is that?” she asked softly.

He sighed and turned his gaze away from her so all she could see were his disheveled quills and slumped shoulders.

“You worry for me.” he said softly. “But you needn’t bother.”

She frowned.

“Honey,” she reached out and placed a comforting hand on his back allowing her thumb to gently run over his fur. “I am the matriarch, as you say. It’s my job to worry for my family and to make sure they’re alright.”

“I understand.”

She continued. “And it is my job to take care of my family, especially my children.” He glanced back at her use of the word, almost as if he was perplexed. She frowned but pushed on. “And it’s ok to not be ok after an experience like that.”

His shoulders tensed and his eyes turned back away from her at her mention of the mission.

It was still a very sore spot for all of her boys. Sonic was working through his guilt for Tom getting hurt (not his fault and she will continue to remind him of that) and breaking the vow of his brothers. He had been frightened with how easy it had been to lose himself and abandon his family and it haunted him.

And her sweet baby, Tails. Though he hid it well, Sonic leaving him behind had hurt and frightened him. His deep fears of abandonment coming to the forefront when his brother and hero had left him behind in the wake of anger. His need to cling to Sonic’s side and be close to his family had increased in the few weeks since the mission. And she was helping him through that too.

But Knuckles had been pulling away from them. He had been almost too helpful, insisting that he assist her and the family with anything he possibly could. And when there was nothing that needed his attention, he would patrol the home almost obsessively. When they invited him to sit with them for movie night, he resisted. He would only sit with them to eat a small meal before leaving most of his food behind and excusing himself to other tasks. It was almost as if he was separate, taking on a more servant role then one of family. And they were all worried for him.

“Sweetie, you’re not sleeping again…” he turned further away almost as if to hid his exhaustion. “You are barely eating. You refuse to rest. You are patrolling constantly.” She bit her lip with worry, continuing to allow her hand to make soft contact.

“I am protecting the family.” he answered simply. “Is that not my role?”

She frowned and let out a soft sigh.

“No, honey…it’s not.”

He turned back toward her slowly, his eyes dark and hard.

“It has always been my role. Since the day you allowed me to stay within your residence it has always been my role to protect those that I…” he paused and swallowed thickly, “…that I harmed.”

Her chest tightened at his choice of words, only confirming her fear that he was punishing himself. She startled when he continued.

“I…I forgot that role. I became complacent and comfortable. Because of this I…”

His voice broke almost imperceptibly, but not unnoticed by her. She remained tense and quiet, allowing him a moment to finish.

He took a deep breath. “…I almost lost another father.”

Her breath hitched and the burn of tears pricked her eyes. He called Tom father. He had never called either of them a parental name. It was implied, the way he interacted with them, especially her, but he had never voiced it. This admission should be a cause of elation and joy, but now it only brought her pain with the heaviness of his voice.

“Honey…”

“No. I will not hear coddling or excuses.” he leveled his stare, expression tight. “I have heard that before. But I will not rest until I ensure the family’s safety…until i have atoned for my failure.”

“Atoned?” Her voice was soft, sad. “Baby you haven’t committed a sin or crime.”

“Have I not?” he bit back, voice like stone. “My failures lead to Tom getting hurt. My mistakes lead to my brothers almost…” He stopped, pulling his feet up and tucking his knees to his chest, making him look small.

She let out a soft sigh and leaned toward him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“Oh, baby, you need to realize that not everything that happens is in your control.”

His muscles stiffened at her words.

“I know.” He said, voice shaking. “But I could have done more…”

She squeezed him harder. “Tom went after the key on his own. You could not have known he would get hurt. You were helping me and your brothers. You can’t be in two places at once. You can’t protect us all the time.”

“I…”

She shook her head. “Things in life will happen. There is no predicting it. There is nothing you can do to stop it. It will just…happen.”

He turned his head and his wide purple eyes met hers. Lost was the fierce gaze from before, replaced with a soft fear.

“But…” he started, eyes not leaving hers. “…that is terrifying.”

She smiled softly at him, bringing her hand up to stroke the soft spot underneath his quills. “I know.” she whispered.

He suddenly tore his eyes from her and began vehemently shaking his head, lips tight.

“No. No I do not accept this.”

“Oh, honey. You must.”

He clenched his eyes shut, almost as if trying to block out the world.

“How can accept this? If I cannot control, then how can I ensure that you all will remain safe? That I won’t lose you like so many others?”

She pulled him closer continuing to gently massage her fingers over his fur. “And that’s the thing.” she started, keeping her eyes trained on him. “That is the thing us protectors must accept.”

At her words his eyes lifted back to hers and she could see the sheen of tears gathered at the bottom of his eyes. She ran a thumb underneath, pushing away the forming moisture.

“We can’t control everything. We can’t ensure safety all the time. All we can do is control what we can and all else must be left to luck and chance.”

She took a deep breath through her nose, allowing the soft smell of rain to permeate. Then released the air slowly through her mouth.

“When I was in that hospital room, when you boys had gone off to save the world…I couldn’t protect you. You were far from me, too far to save you, even if I could. And the one thing I could control, to reassure you boys before the ambulance left, I failed at…so miserably.”

A lump began to rise in her throat, burning and suffocating as she remembered their lost stares, almost begging her for a reaction. Begging her for anything. And she gave them nothing. She left them there, scared and unsure. And then the explosion, so high above Earth. The explosion that saved the world. The explosion so large she could feel the tremor in the hospital room. The explosion that she knew her boys were apart of. Not knowing if they had survived. If she would ever see them again. Out of her control. Oh she knew how Knuckles felt.

She swallowed down her own guilt and fear as it found its way back forward. She would not let it consume her. Not now. This was not about her.

He shook his head again and dropped his gaze. No words came but she could see his struggle. She moved her slender fingers under his soft chin and pulled his head up.

“But what you could control…in those terrible following hours… Knuckles…you did so well.”

He looked her, almost questioningly as he hung on her words like a lifeline. “I do not understand.”

“Sweetie…Sonic and Tails told me everything. About breaking the vow. How you stood up to and for your own family, but in the final moments you chose to protect and trust, even when it meant you couldn’t follow. When Sonic left, you remained with Tails and stayed strong for him. Despite the betrayal that you must have felt when Sonic took the Emerald, you and Tails stayed with him, continuing to find ways to help. And when Sonic fell, when Tails didn’t quite make it, who came to their rescue? Who shielded them? Who saved their life?”

“I did what I must.” He said softly.

“You did great, Knuckles.” Maddie said, running a finger down his cheek. “I am so proud of you.”

The hint of a smile crossed his lips at the praise and she moved her finger to push gently and playfully on his nose causing it to twitch. But the smile drifted away as subtly as it had started.

“But Tom…”

“Tom is going to be alright.” she said softly. “What happened was something out of our control. But he is going to be OK.”

He took a long, deep breath through his nose then released it, slow and steady. He once again met her eyes, but there was something new there. Something stronger.

“Thank you…mother.” he said, the word hanging on his tongue like a snowflake. Her throat once again began to burn, tears welling in her eyes as a loving grin spread across her lips.

“You’re welcome, baby.” She rubbed her finger across his soft cheek once again, causing his eyes to close at the gentle touch. “Will you come in and get some rest?”

“May I stay out for a while longer?”

She huffed as she stood, wrapping her arms around her frame to make up the lost warmth from his body being held close. “As long as you promise to get some rest.”

“I promise.”

She smiled. And with that she made her way back inside, heart lighter as she increased the space between them. As she went through the door she turned to look at him. His eyes were drawn up to the moon, his body more relaxed than she had seen in weeks. And with that she made her way toward the soft snores of her sleeping family and to bed.

@year-of-the-echidna

#knuckles the echidna #knuckles wachowski #maddie wachowski #year of the echidna #atonement

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rippleclan · 2 months ago

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RippleClan: Moon 92

The Witch Hunters find and kill Lemmy, leaving RippleClan in a strange state.

[Image ID: Darkkick, Terracottafoot, and Paleseed face Weevilsight. Paleseed says "Weevilsight?"]

Weevilsight nearly couldn't muster the energy for the Gathering. The last visit to StarClan's Shrine had been exhausting enough; Troutpool nearly cried when Trumpetspore didn't visit her dreams, and Weevilsight forgot her promise to Wolverineheart, to learn if Foampaw approved of her relationship with Mitespark, until just before the tortoiseshell cleric woke up. All the other clerics seemed forgiving of RippleClan's spaciness, yet Weevilsight dug her fangs into her lip and focused on her work. And part of that work was attending the Gathering.

Weevilsight and Honeybuzz were the only clerics accompanying the Clan to the Leader's Stone. Troutpool didn't want to face the official announcement of Trumpetspore's death, and Estherfern had to look after Gingerpaw, who somehow came up with the worst joke possible at Trumpetspore's vigil and was banned from the last winter Gathering. And thus, Weevilsight trailed within the middle of the RippleClan horde, following Downstar and Oilstripe along the SlugClan/WheatClan border. With Anchovystrike, Wolfgaze, and Ravenweaver staying behind, Weevilsight found herself with a duo she rarely got to interact with.

"I don't care how old they get," Paleseed said, adjusting her feather decor as she walked, "Terracottafoot is always going to look like a tiny scared apprentice to me. I can't believe how much they've grown! It's been ages since we had a chance to sit down with them, hasn't it, Darkkick?"

"We talked with them at Harvest Moon," Darkkick scoffed, fluffing herself up against the cold night wind.

"That was five moons ago!" Paleseed pointed out. "Before all… that happened."

"I thought mediators weren't supposed to avoid sensitive topics," Darkkick hummed.

"I'm trying to be respectful," Paleseed said. Even though the gray mediator was on Darkkick's right, and Weevilsight walked on her left, Weevilsight still saw the strained glance Paleseed sent her way.

"Why mince words?" Weevilsight laughed, venom in her voice. "My mom killed our Clanmates, my dad died, my aunt killed herself. I'm sure Terracottafoot can offer you some comfort." Considering Darkkick's short stature, she and Paleseed looked like a stunned, two-headed beast in the moonlight, their gaits evenly matched as they bawked at Weevilsight.

"I'll tell you the same thing I told your friend after the Shardling incident," Darkkick eventually huffed. "You handled that as best you could."

"I know that, Darkkick," Weevilsight sighed, staring at the cloud-lined moon as she walked. "I'm just going to feel like foxdung for a while."

"And that's okay," Paleseed added with a decisive nod. "You do what you need to do to grieve and come to terms with it all. You can always talk to me."

"I think she needs a friend, not a mediator, Paleseed," Darkkick muttered.

"Both work," Weevilsight hummed as the Clan approached the rock wall leading up to the Leader's Stone. It was slick with snow, making RippleClan's approach a slow and methodical process. Rabbitjoy walked along the edge of the path up, guarding Frostpaw from a potential fall. Boughfur took Tallowheart's basket while the rock-footed tom inched up the wall. A clump of snow fell from the grass above and smacked onto Stormjump's head, earning a laugh from her mate. Weevilsight's paws felt lighter. It felt normal, for the first time all winter.

As usual, RippleClan was the last Clan to arrive. Ospreystar, Eelstar, Gentlestar, and Lettucestar waited on the Leader's Stone while their Clans waited for their cue to mingle and share tongues. Downstar climbed to the second-highest platform of the Leader's Stone while Oilstripe took her traditonal place among the other deputies. Weevilsight laid in the half-melted snow and stared lazily at the Leader's Stone. The sooner announcements were done, the better.

The winter had been hard on the other four Clans in more traditional ways. WheatClan lost an overeager apprentice in the cold and an elder to distemper. LynxClan reported on harsh conditions in their rocky territory and gave their neighbors an official plea for hunting assistance. SlugClan and AshClan were a bit quieter, reporting a new litter and a death each, but Weevilsight couldn't help but notice how Eelstar and Lettucestar glanced at Downstar as they spoke.

"Before you begin your report, Downstar," Ospreystar said just as Eelstar finished delivering his news, "I want to say something that I didn't get the chance to last moon, when you announced the death of Mosspounce." The brown-speckled leader stood taller and faced the five Clans. "I want to formally declare LynxClan's gratitude to Mosspounce of RippleClan for killing the cougar that nearly destroyed us moons ago. He delivered the fatal blow, and for that, we hope that his story is honored with the same respect as Cougarstrike, Celestial of Cougars. LynxClan will hold a place in our hearts for RippleClan's brave caretaker."

"Mosspounce! Mosspounce!" the LynxClan cats cheered. Weevilsight sat up. Her ears rang with the sound of her father's name. Some of Weevilsight's Clanmates took up the cheer as well; Carnationspeckle and Asterblaze were particularly vocal. Weevilsight stayed still, unconsciously holding her breath. Her father was a hero.

"Take it with a drop of mouse bile, Weevilsight," Darkkick warned as the cheers began to die down. "I'm sure they are grateful, but this wh ole show is likely planned to win Downstar's favor. I'm sure LynxClan will be asking us for something soon."

"Thank you, Ospreystar," Downstar purred. "It does an old soul good to know that my grandson's fatal wounds were obtained for a good cause. I'm afraid that isn't the end of RippleClan's recent string of loss, however." Downstar shifted and prepared herself for the news. Weevilsight sank back down. Paleseed dipped her head and closed her eyes. "I'm sure some of you have learned of this, whether through meetings at the border or at the historian's gathering hosted by SlugClan this new moon. However, I regret to inform you that Trumpetspore, my granddaughter, took her own life shortly after the last Gathering." Quiet, shocked gasps rippled through the clearing. Eyes pierced the RippleClan delegation. Weevilsight closed her eyes and pretended she was alone.

"I'm sorry, Downstar," Gentlestar gulped, placing a paw on Downstar's platform above her.

"We ask that you respect our privacy surrounding this event," Downstar continued, "and know that Trumpetspore did her best against what can be the worst enemy a warrior fights; their own heart." Mutters of agreement washed over Weevilsight. She prayed no one would pry her for information. "Outside of this loss, we have no Gathering-worthy news to report. I say we get on with the Gathering proper and try to enjoy ourselves tonight." The other leaders nodded along with Downstar's idea. With that, the Clans merged. A wave of friends from other Clans crashed into RippleClan, firing questions of concern and morbid curiosity. Weevilsight wasn't ready; Yellowburst bumped into her flank, knocking her into a WheatClan historian. Weevilsight stumbled back, one of her signature petals fluttering out of her pelt.

"Terracottafoot is over there!" Paleseed called, peering over the crowd. "This way!" Darkkick looped her tail around Weevilsight and gently nudged her toward Paleseed. Paleseed pierced the crowd, leaving a trail for Weevilsight and Darkkick to follow. Questions bounced off Paleseed's pelt. She deflected them with the skill of an expert mediator, offering polite, if not slightly dismissive, answers.

Terracottafoot, as was their habit, prepared a game of moss-ball to the side of the crowd. They set up small "dens", or overturned baskets, on either end of the massive play area and merged loose chunks of moss together. They scented the three RippleClan cats and turned to greet them. Weevilsight tried to imagine what Terracottafoot looked like as a "tiny scared apprentice". Sure, the AshClan cleric carried themself with a constant air of tension; they were always moving, whether through the twitch of their whiskers or the methodical wave of their tail. But they were mature, as well-muscled as a warrior and, much to Weevilsight's embarassment, as handsome as they came (oh how Honeybuzz teased her as an apprentice for that little crush).

"Hi, Paleseed," Terracottafoot chirped, touching noses with Paleseed. "StarClan, I'm happy to see you. I've wanted to say something about your sisters, but I didn't know what."

"I try to focus on the siblings I still have," Paleseed chuckled, licking her chest.

"Keeping out of trouble?" Darkkick hummed, staring Terracottafoot up and down.

"I do what I can," Terracottafoot said. They touched noses with the former AshClan cleric and turned to Weevilsight. "Cleric Weevilsight, you didn't tell me about Warrior Trumpetspore at the half-moon meeting. Is that why Cleric Troutpool was so upset?"

"We didn't want to make the meeting all about us," Weevilsight sighed. Her paw absently snagged Terracottafoot's moss-ball and rolled it under her paw.

"I'm sorry about that, regardless," Terracottafoot said. They glanced past the RippleClan cats and groaned, "Oh StarClan he's already telling Downstar." Weevilsight looked back. Eelstar spoke with Downstar on the Leader's Stone. Both seemed deeply serious.

"Telling her what?" Darkkick huffed.

"I'm not a storyteller," Terracottafoot gulped, "but there were these Witch Hunters at our border and they told us… uh… do you want their story or the summary?"

"Tell us what they told you," Paleseed suggested.

"Well," Terracottafoot groaned. They stared at Darkkick, gaze pointedly refusing to touch Weevilsight. "Apparently Lemmy showed up in the human settlement last moon. One of the Witch Hunters picked a fight with her, and, well, that Witch Hunter ended up dead. The Witch Hunters were really mad at that, I think the dead Witch Hunter just had kits and the humans took them away? I can't remember that part. But, um, the Witch Hunter General ordered them to find Lemmy, and they did… Lemmy's dead now." The words didn't quite reach Weevilsight's ears.

"Say that again?" Weevilsight said, rubbing her ears.

"The Witch Hunters killed Lemmy," Terracottafoot said. "I think their patrol thought we were RippleClan? We didn't get a chance to explain. They showed up a few days ago. I'm really sorry, Weevilsight." Weevilsight's claws pierced the moss-ball. The chatter of the Gathering clawed her ears. Her heart beat faster.

"Weevilsight?" Paleseed whispered. She reached a paw toward Weevilsight, but Darkkick pushed it down.

Lemmy's dead. Lemmy's dead. Lemmy's dead.

Mom's dead.

"Stars damn it!" Weevilsight yowled. She chucked the moss-ball as hard and as fast as she could. It smacked into the basket and sent it rolling toward the treeline. "I want to kill someone!"

"Weevilsight—" Paleseed and Terracottafoot both stammered.

"Shut up, both of you," Darkkick snapped, shoving her tail in front of the pair. "Let her be."

"She made mistakes!" Weevilsight groaned. "Stupid, awful mistakes, it got out of control!" She paced in a circle, as though trying to get comfortable in a nest. "She wasn't a monster! She wanted to keep me safe! They didn't have to kill her! StarClan, she never even knew Dad died! Why did this happen? Why did she have to kill Potterypool? I can't even decide if I love her or hate her! Augh!" Weevilsight sat in a huff, tail thrashing. She stared at the snowy ground, head spinning. Her jaw dug into her head so hard, she thought she'd break a tooth.

Paleseed crept past Darkkick and toward the rolling basket. She put a paw on the basket, stopping its retreat. She plucked the moss-ball from inside and stared at it. Her tail waved gently as she thought.

"Terracottafoot?" Paleseed asked. "Do you have any AshClan cats who'd like to play against RippleClan in a game of moss-ball?"

"I can ask around," Terracottafoot said hesistantly, still inching toward Weevilsight. "Shouldn't we help—"

"I don't need help, Terracottafoot," Weevilsight huffed at the ground, voice monotone.

"I seem to recall you being good with a moss-ball as a kit," Paleseed said. She tossed the moss-ball to Weevilsight. It rolled to a stop in front of her paws. "Want to put that rage of yours to good use? It would be an insult to Clan pride if we let AshClan beat us."

"If that's the alternative, I'm playing," Darkkick huffed, joining Paleseed's side.

"Should I be offended?" Terracottafoot asked.

"Go get your Clan, kit," Darkkick scoffed. Terracottafoot cocked their head, but eventually sighed, chuckling at the same time. They jogged toward the larger crowd.

"For our players, I think we should recruit…" Paleseed hummed, studying the Gathering. "Boughfur, Stormjump, Yellowburst, Shrewflame, and Wolverineheart." Darkkick nodded along with Paleseed's assessment. "So, Weevilsight? Want to join?" Weevilsight gently snagged the moss-ball in her claws. She held it up to the light of the bonfire by the Leader's Stone. Did the color match Mosspounce's eyes? They had been so scarred at the end, Weevilsight almost couldn't remember…

"Let's kill these foxhearts," Weevilsight growled, tossing the moss-ball back to Paleseed.

"Metaphorically, though!" Paleseed chuckled awkwardly. "I'll go get the others." Paleseed passed the moss-ball to Darkkick and followed Terracottafoot's trail. Weevilsight sat next to Darkkick, unable to stop her thrashing tail.

"I'll help you hide the bodies," Darkkick chuckled.

A short time later, Weevilsight stood with her Clanmates in front of one of the baskets. Somehow, it seemed the whole group managed to escape the fog of grief imposed by Trumpetspore's death and laughed like kits as they prepared for the game. A gaggle of AshClan cats guarded the other basket across the clearing, throwing taunts toward the RippleClan cats. Paleseed and Terracottafoot stood in the middle, moss-ball sitting between them. A crowd of apprentices and warriors from the other Clans gathered to watch as they shared tongues.

"If it's been a while since any of you have played an organized game of moss-ball," Paleseed explained, "let us remind you. You are each on a patrol of seven cats, facing off against another patrol. Your job is to get the moss-ball past the enemy patrol and into their den, in this case the basket, to score points. No holding the moss-ball in your mouth, you have to catch it in your claws and toss it to your patrol members. If the other patrol has the moss-ball, you need to either make them drop it or grab it out of their paws, again, no teeth allowed. And no den guarding, you have to give the other patrol a chance to throw the moss-ball in. For this game, let's say… first to fifteen points wins. Any questions?"

"Do we have to be gentle with the cleric?" a dark red molly asked, nodding at Weevilsight.

"I won't be gentle with you," Weevilsight growled, ears tilted back. An excited bark of laughter and cheering rippled through the bystanders. The AshClan patrol laughed and yowled along with them.

"What about Darkkick?" asked a black and white tom, barely out of apprenticeship. "I feel bad fighting an elder."

"Darkkick fought Autumnstar, in the actual Dark Forest," Boughfur laughed, unweaving the blue flowers from her fur and placing them to the side of the game area. "I don't think you should be worried about hurting her, of all cats."

"Ready to run back to camp with your tails between your legs?" Shrewflame called, his tail high.

"I'm ready to feed you dirt, pretty kitty!" yowled the dark red molly.

"Aww, you think I'm pretty?" Shrewflame purred, wiggling his flank. "Why thank you!" Stormjump and Yellowburst laughed at Shrewflame, starting a wave of giggles across the crowd.

"Everyone go at my command!" Terracottafoot yowled, jogging out of the soon-to-be battlefield with Paleseed, leaving the moss-ball behind. All players shifted into battle poses. Weevilsight copied them as best she could. All eyes were on the moss-ball.

"Darkkick, stay in the back," Yellowburst whispered. "You can catch the moss-ball before it gets to the den."

"And miss out on clawing some AshClan fur?" Darkkick snapped in just such a way that Weevilsight couldn't tell if she was mad or teasing. "There's no chance of that."

As the pair argued, the AshClan patrol sparkled in Weevilsight's eyes. Ghostly doubles of the AshClan warriors launched toward the moss-ball. Sparkling premonitions of Weevilsight's Clanmates charged at the approaching patrol in return. Wolverineheart's future transparent form shoved into the dark red molly's shoulder. Her attack gave the black and white tom just enough time to slip around the charging enemy force and snatch the moss-ball in his claws. Weevilsight hadn't even seen that tom in the mass of cats yet-to-charge.

"Attack!" Terracottafoot cheered. Weevilsight's vision popped like seafoam. History repeated itself; the AshClan patrol ran at the moss-ball like stampeding horses. Wolverineheart led the RippleClan charge. No one noticed the black and white tom, running low against his taller Clanmates. He was invisible in the rush of fire-lit pelts. An afterimage of the tom's future position still flashed in Weevilsight's eyes.

Weevilsight lunged toward the empty space. Just as she neared it, just as she began to doubt her sight, there he was; the black and white tom, swooping past Wolverineheart to grab the moss-ball. Weevilsight smacked into him a whisker's length from the moss-ball. Weevilsight and the black and white tom tumbled back into the mass of swarming cats, each shocked at the other's appearance.

Stormjump rolled behind Weevilsight and snatched the moss-ball. She flicked her paw and sent the moss-ball soaring across the clearing. Shrewflame darted alongside the flying object. He jumped as though catching a bird mid-flight. Both front paws wrapped around the moss-ball.

Another premonition flashed within the mass of playful warriors. Shrewflame's ghostly paw launched a purple transparent moss-ball toward the AshClan den. A lilac and cream tortoiseshell streaked past her Clanmates and caught the moss-ball against her shoulder.

"Run with it, Shrewflame!" Weevilsight yowled as the black and white tom finally shoved her off. She fell onto her back, staring at the cloud-speckled night while the rest of the group hurried past her. All of the petals that clung to her pelt rubbed off in the snow and grass.

Weevilsight hurried back to her paws, only to see she was too late; the lilac and cream tortoiseshell stopped the moss-ball with her shoulder, just as predicted. But would Weevilsight let that go? Absolutely not. She had to sit by while her mother was exiled, while her father died, while her Clan suffered not under the claws of some Spirit of Shadow, something Weevilsight was born to fight, but mortals and the dangers of the everyday. She didn't have to let this go.

Weevilsight was not going to lose this game.

Weevilsight scrambled as the AshClan tortoiseshell tossed the moss-ball to the dark red molly. Darkkick thundered past Weevilsight, catching the eye of the dark red molly. Weevilsight yowled and sprung at the dark red molly. Weevilsight's sheathed paws batted the dark red molly's head. The dark red molly swung at Weevilsight, but the moss-ball slipped from her claws in the process. Darkkick swiped it from underneath the fighting mollies and batted it back toward the AshClan den. The dark red molly turned to follow, but Weevilsight shrieked and dragged the AshClan molly back by the tail. Her mouth burned with the taste of cat fur, that awful scent of combat that she still despised after so many moons, but the thoughtless rage bubbling in her throat forced her to remind herself, training grip, training grip, training grip.

A cheer ripped through the bystanders. Weevilsight let go of the dark red molly's tail. Boughfur had jumped into the AshClan den, moss-ball stuck to her claws. She looked like a rabbit crawling into a hole. Weevilsight laughed, but it was more like the cauterwaul of a rabid beast than anything funny.

"Clerics are mad," the dark red molly grumbled, hurrying back to her Clanmates.

Mad? Oh that was the right word for Weevilsight at the moment, as her patrol cheerfully regrouped by their den for the next round. Weevilsight was certain the actual grief would hit her when she got back to camp. But in that moment, with the freedom to run and scream and tackle and fight? Weevilsight could be as mad as she needed to be.

(Weevilsight: 27, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

(Paleseed: 58, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)

(Darkkick: 140, trans female, elder, lonesome, talented swimmer, understands nature)

(Downstar: 151, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Boughfur: 24, female, historian, righteous, great climber)

(Shrewflame: 16, female, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

(Yellowburst: 23, female, caretaker, adventurous, great mediator)

(Wolverineheart: 24, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Stormjump: 23, female, caretaker, charismatic, incredible cook)

Midnightkit is scolded for sneaking outside camp.

[Image ID: Midnightkit and Valleykit face Carnationspeckle, both in trouble. Midnightkit says "Why didn't Rattlepelt come get me?" Under Midnightkit, it says + NEW SKILL: ALWAYS WANDERING. Under Valleykit, it says + NEW SKILL: AVID PLAY-FIGHTER.]

(Midnightkit: 1, male, kit, polite,always wandering)

(Valleykit: 1, male, kit, quiet, avid play-fighter)

(Carnationspeckle: 94, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

SlugClan attacks RippleClan in hopes of recovering Icekit and Pearkit for their newest members, Nimblestep and Quickkit.

[Image ID: Lettucestar, a white tom with a scar, and Lighttrail face Downstar, Wolverineheart, Wildclaw, Yarrowclaw, and Leathermask. Lettucestar says, "I'm sorry, Downstar, but I can't take no for an answer. Nimblestep is their mother, not Puddlewhisper." Under Downstar, it says LIVES LEFT: 1. Under Leathermask, it says LEVEL UP! NERVOUS → CONFIDENT.[

---

Downstar could tell it would be a late spring as she stepped out of her den on the last day of the year and into the thick, dry snow. It had snowed from one sunset and through another without stopping, leaving snowdrifts as tall as cats against the rocks and trees. It wasn't a bitter cold, though, like the one that plagued the Clans a few moons prior. This was a cold that energized Downstar's aching muscles and told the whole Clan to have a bit of fun!

The kits were certainly taking advantage of the heavy snowfall. Pearkit and Icekit dug at the snow like dogs while Midnightkit and Valleykit watched, wide-eyed. Stormjump groomed herself outside the warrior's den in a pale attempt to hide her watchful eye resting on the kits. The clerics cleared snow out from around the medicine den, but there was a shine to their eyes that brought a purr to Downstar's throat. Gingerpaw rambled to Weevilsight as the pair dug a path from the medicine den to the bonfire. Weevilsight laughed at one of Gingerpaw's silly faces, further easing Downstar's heart. If the recent heartbreak of the season could be forgotten, even for a moment, there was hope for RippleClan.

There was no hope of telling the time that day, save for the natural rhythm of day and night inside every cat. The sky was an endless silver expanse. Not a single cloud could be distinguished from another. It was as gray as a clear day's sky was blue. The unbroken bright light reflected off the snow stunned Downstar's eyes. Were it not for her nose, she might have bumped into Oilstripe, who trotted toward the leader's den.

"Good morning, Downstar," Oilstripe reported, ears perking up in front of her leader. "We have a few patrols out already. Vervaincough and Darkkick joined Billowhaze, Whitepaw, and Boughfur on an expedition to study the snow, but they promised to mark the southern border while they were there. Carnationspeckle, Tallowheart, and Drumtooth are fishing along the northern coast. Lastly, Rabbitjoy took Mitespark and Frostpaw to trade with WheatClan. They'll be gone the longest."

"Busy morning," Downstar hummed.

"Everyone wants to be out of camp today," Oilstripe sighed, stretching her front legs.

"I can manage the camp if you want to lead a patrol," Downstar said. She flicked her ears toward the camp exit. "This will likely be our last bit of snow until next winter."

"That's alright, Downstar," Oilstripe said a bit too quickly. "We have a lot to clear out of camp. I should manage that." Downstar grabbed Oilstripe's gaze and didn't let go. She studied her deputy's cyan eyes, so strangely blessed. Oilstripe's whiskers twitched uncomfortably, unable to view Downstar's thoughts as easily as she viewed hers.

"It's no good to have a distracted deputy," Downstar said. She sat in the curve of the Shiprock where the snow was thinner. "You're lingering around camp for another reason. Deputies should be open with their leaders."

"I can't tell if you're teasing me or reprimanding me," Oilstripe sighed. She sat next to Downstar, her focus drifting past her leader. The only sign of Downstar's hesistancy was the shift of her tail; she knew when she chose Oilstripe that she'd have to tolerate her ghost sight and the weird, almost blaphemous intrusion into the privacy of the visiting dead. She was good at that by now, and with a hard blink to wipe her mind, Downstar focused back on Oilstripe.

"It's about Rattlepelt," Oilstripe groaned. "I don't want to leave her alone." Downstar eyed the nursery. The snow's reflected light easily showed Rattlepelt and Wildclaw inside the den, still asleep. Wildclaw snuggled deep into Rattlepelt's fox pelt, and Rattlepelt shifted closer to her mate.

"I hope you remember you aren't the only other member of RippleClan," Downstar gently reminded her deputy. "There's always someone in camp."

"I'm not doubting anyone," Oilstripe said. She flexed her paw, poking tiny holes in the snow. The gentle motion gave her time to find her courage. "I'm scared for her, Downstar."

"Do you think she could harm herself?" Downstar asked. She regretted the question as soon as she said it. She never would have thought something like that a moon ago. But then again, a moon ago Downstar still had her granddaughter. Oilstripe caught her breath.

"No," she huffed. "No… but then again, I didn't think Trumpetspore could, either. I don't think I can truly judge what's in someone's heart."

"Blame is a weight I've borne for far too many circumstances outside of my control. Don't let it crush you."

"But don't I deserve some of the blame? We're leading this Clan, Downstar. When someone dies like this, what does it say about us? And what about Lemmy? Could we have stopped her?"

"You're rambling, Oilstripe." Downstar raised her tail to pause her deputy's spiraling thoughts. "I'm going to tell you something that it took me a long time to learn. If you did the best you could with what you knew, then blaming yourself is useless." Oilstripe breathed deep, nodding along with Downstar's advice.

"I'll try to remember that," Oilstripe sighed.

"So," Downstar huffed, getting up, "do you think Rattlepelt needs an extra eye on her?"

"I think she's struggling," Oilstripe said, picking her words carefully. "It's like what happened after the Shardling incident. I don't want this to hurt Rattlepelt's relationship with Wildclaw or their kits. Rattlepelt didn't even leave the nursery to check on Midnightkit yesterday." Yes, Downstar had noted that; out of the two mothers, Wildclaw was usually the one with an eye on Midnightkit and Valleykit as of late, and when she went on patrol, Midnightkit tried to follow. It hadn't been Downstar's place to comment on Rattlepelt's absence, but everyone noticed it.

"As the mother of your daughter-in-code rather than your leader," Downstar sighed, "don't worry about how Wildclaw feels. I'll take her out. Try not to worry. We'll help Rattlepelt as best we can." Downstar touched her nose to Oilstripe's head. Oilstripe gawked at the touch for a moment, eyes widening. She then purred and dipped her head. Her whole body softened. Downstar's work there was done; now onto her daughter.

Downstar left Oilstripe to her thoughts and entered the nursery. Her paws trapsing through the snow quickly woke Wildclaw. The scarred gray tabby lifted her head off her mate and yawned deeply. Her scar-lined tail swayed lazily.

"Wildclaw, I'm taking a sunrise patrol to mark our northwest borders," Downstar explained in a whisper. "I want you to come with. I'll even let you pick out who we bring."

"I'll be right there," Wildclaw grumbled, still yawning and blinking sleep from her eyes. She crawled over Rattlepelt, stretching her hind legs so high they nearly eclipsed her head. Rattlepelt shifted and threw a paw over her eyes. Wildclaw glanced back to her mate and whispered, "Rattlepelt, I'm going on patrol. The kits are playing outside. Do you need anything?"

"I can get it," Rattlepelt mumbled. She squirmed under her red pelt, but didn't get up. Downstar softly padded back out as Wildclaw whispered something else her aging ears could not catch.

Downstar trailed through camp, navigating around the kits' digging, and waited by the exit for her daughter. A few moments later, Wildclaw emerged from the nursery and jogged to the warrior's den, nodding to Stormjump as she passed. She seemed like the reckless young molly Downstar remembered from so many years ago, but there was a wisdom to her step and a thought in her eyes. Yes, Downstar did not need to worry about Wildclaw. The fierceness her named honored was truly something to respect now.

Some time later, Wildclaw joined Downstar at the exit with Wolverineheart, Yarrowclaw, and Leathermask. Downstar wasted no time leading the patrol into the cheerful winter. Wildclaw slipped beside her mother and pranced through the snow like a deer. Soft winds blew powdery snow off the trees, making it look like a second snowfall. The snow retained the memory of the wind in its swirling, smooth edges and gentle dance across the ground. The smell of Carnationspeckle's patrol drifted past, a soft reminder that they were never alone in RippleClan territory.

"You know who Midnightkit and Valleykit remind me of?" Downstar said as the patrol trekked through the forest. "You and Halibutdusk."

"Really?" Wildclaw huffed. "I don't see it."

"Midnightkit is going to be just as troublesome as you were, I'm certain of it," Downstar chuckled. "Valleykit has Halibutdusk's pensiveness."

"Valleykit just learned what birds are," Wildclaw laughed. "I think you might be insulting Halibutdusk there."

"They fit into our family, that's what I mean," Downstar hummed, studying Wildclaw's face. "You and Rattlepelt have done a good job so far. Just like you did with Shrewflame and Whitepaw. You'll all be alright in the end."

"I know, Mom," Wildclaw assured her. Her ears tilted back for a moment as she added, "I just need Rattlepelt to believe that."

"You've been through worse," Downstar reminded her. She stopped to rub an irritating itch on her back against a pine. "If you keep doing what you have been doing, it will work out."

"Downstar!" The whole patrol paused, ears high. Pale gray markings framed the green eyes of the tom who emerged from the depths of the forest. Lettucestar? His deputy, Lighttrail, walked alongside him, all thick ginger fur and confidence.

"Stop right there!" Wildclaw barked. She dove between Downstar and Lettucestar, lips curled tight and her body slithering like a rattlesnake ready to strike.

"This has to be a joke," Wolverineheart scoffed. "I get you're a Clan leader, but you can't just stroll into our territory without an escort!"

"Do you want to get attacked?" Yarrowclaw growled, showing off her fangs.

"Wait, wait," Downstar huffed. She pushed through her protective Clanmates, tail high to still their sudden fury. "Let me talk to him." Leathermask bristled, back arched high as Downstar approached the SlugClan leader. Wolverineheart and Yarrowclaw kept their claws out, but gave Downstar her room. Wildclaw stayed where she was, face curling in and out of battle rage.

"I know I'm intruding on your territory," Lettucestar huffed, keeping his tail low as a show of peace. "Waiting by the border would have been inappropriate. In a sad way, my purpose here isn't much different from the war patrol you brought to my camp almost a year ago." There was a mild venom in Lettucestar's voice that made Downstar's ears grow hot with old grief.

"Except Downstar's not losing her mind," Yarrowclaw grumbled.

"Yarrowclaw, you will not disrespect Gorgestar's memory in front of me," Downstar suddenly growled, turning on the brown and white molly. Yarrowclaw stiffened under Downstar's amber glare. "He was a good leader and my friend. You of all cats should know better than to make a joke of something like that." Yarrowclaw stared down, unmoving under Downstar's assault. Downstar bit back a hiss of frusteration; why in the world did Yarrowclaw have to make a comment like that? Now Downstar seemed like a weak leader! She would handle Yarrowclaw's coldness later; she had intruders to manage.

"It's once again an issue of miscommunication," Lettucestar sighed. "Lighttrail, you're the better storyteller of the two of us. Explain the situation to Downstar and her warriors." Lighttrail stepped forward, clearing his throat. He looked like a kit in Downstar's eyes. Then again, at Downstar's age, most cats looked like kits.

"Recently, SlugClan encounter a loner queen and her kit by the river," Lighttrail said. "The kit was sick with feather-head, so we offered to provide treatment. The queen grew to trust us, and the pair decided to join SlugClan. They are now known as Nimblestep and Quickkit, though you would have known the queen as simply Nimble." Nimble. So much had happened that winter, Downstar almost forgot that Puddlewhisper was not Pearkit and Icekit's birth mother.

"Wait," Leathermask grunted. "Nimble joined SlugClan? No, she hates the Clans."

"Her mate hated the Clans," Lighttrail said with the patience of a mentor with their apprentice. Downstar couldn't stop her jaw from tightening at the tone. "Nimblestep supported and followed Achilles, but once she understood we only wanted to help Quickkit, she learned to trust us."

"It's not like we didn't try to do that!" Wolverineheart whined. "She wouldn't listen to us!"

"Your Clanmates murdered Achilles in cold blood," Lighttrail scoffed, twitching his whiskers. "Would you listen to yourselves?"

"No more comments, all of you," Downstar hissed, thrashing her tail. This was no time to be debating the details.

"She told us about her other kits, Downstar," Lettucestar finally sighed. "A silver tom and a pale ginger molly. They're Icekit and Pearkit, aren't they?" Wildclaw paced behind Downstar. Her jaw twitched with unspoken words. Her paws crunched heavily into the snow, turning it to slush.

"They are," Downstar admitted. "Nimble ran—Nimblestep ran from our patrol, but only took a brown kit. Quickkit, I assume. She abandoned the rest of her litter."

"A mistake she wants to correct," Lettucestar said, stepping closer to Downstar. "We're here to take Icekit and Pearkit back to their mother."

"Take?" Downstar and Wildclaw yowled in unison. Lighttrail unseathed his claws and crouched into a battle stance. Lettucestar hovered his tail over his deputy's shoulder. Downstar steadied her breath and grounded her paws flat, letting the cold sap her sudden anger.

"Lettucestar, Icekit and Pearkit are RippleClan cats now," Downstar said slowly. "All they've known is RippleClan. Puddlewhisper is raising them. Taking them would be cruel. Nimblestep abandoned them to what she thought would be their deaths. How can we trust she has their best intentions at heart?"

"She's a SlugClan warrior now," Lettucestar said, his words just as slow and restrained as Downstar's tone. "We will help her raise the kits, just as I'm sure your caretakers help Puddlewhisper."

"I'm happy to discuss Nimblestep visiting our camp," Downstar huffed. "If she wants a relationship with Icekit and Pearkit, I don't want to deny her that. But simply taking them? They aren't prey. Do you think they'd ever be loyal to SlugClan if you forced them from their home?" Lettucestar sighed deeply. He closed his eyes and pulled his tail away from Lighttrail. His claws peeked out of his paws. The RippleClan patrol slunk closer to Downstar.

"Warriors!" Lettucestar yowled. The snow behind Lettucestar shifted. Pelts peeked out from the white and gray terrain, shoving off snowy coverings and emerging from behind trees and rocks. The RippleClan patrol hissed and snarled. There was an entire war patrol of SlugClan cats, hiding just fox-lengths away! The SlugClan warriors glistened with snow melting into their fur. Narrow eyes bore into Downstar, ready to tear and bite.

"I'm sorry, Downstar," Lettucestar sighed, shifting into a battle stance, "but I can't take no for an answer. Nimblestep is their mother, not Puddlewhisper. You can't claim her kits. I wanted us to agree on this, but if you won't take us to your camp, we'll just go through you."

"Yarrowclaw, warn camp, now!" Downstar yowled. Yarrowclaw leaped over Leathermask and skidded across the snow. She raced like a rabbit along the patrol's snowy prints, tail weaving between the trees.

"Don't let her get reinforcements!" Lettucestar ordered. Half of the SlugClan patrol bolted after Yarrowclaw, stomping and kicking their way through the snow. Leathermask yowled and launched himself into a lilac tortie, the war-hungry Carvingfur. The pair rolled back behind an ancient pine.

"Wolverineheart, help Yarrowclaw!" Downstar ordered as Lighttrail lunged for her. "We'll hold them back!" Wolverineheart ran after Yarrowclaw's hunters as Lighttrail smacked Downstar into the snow. Downstar raked her claws along Lighttrail's white chest. Blood immediately dripped from his pelt onto Downstar's face.

Lighttrail stumbled off, shrieking, as the rest of the patrol converged on Downstar and Wildclaw. There were three or four SlugClan warriors for each remaining RippleClan cat. At least Lighttrail wouldn't be a problem; he stumbled against a pine trunk and pressed his bleeding wounds into the snow.

"I'd like to see you take me, foxhearts!" Wildclaw cried. She hooked her claws into Carvingfur as she and Leathermask rolled back into the crowd. Wildclaw ripped Carvingfur off Leathermask and dug her teeth into the tortoiseshell's soft ear.

Sharp claws slashed Downstar's ankle. She tumbled forward into a black molly. A cream-colored tom pounced on Downstar's back. His claws tore into her ginger patches. Blinding pain ripped through Downstar's blood.

Lettucestar crouched by Lighttrail as the SlugClan warriors beat Downstar into the ground. The leader and deputy whispered to one another, mute under the screech of battle. With a decisive nod from Lighttrail, Lettucestar hurried past the fight toward the unseen coastline and RippleClan's camp.

Leathermask and Wildclaw fought back to back against Carvingfur and the other SlugClan warriors. They spun to face every blow. Nicks and scratches riddled their faces. Neither could get to Downstar.

The black molly and the cream-colored tom stepped off Downstar, blood staining their paws. Downstar's ears rang. She stared into the now pink snow. Her legs shook. The pain coursed through her back and toward her paws. Downstar couldn't get up. She couldn't help her daughter. Yarrowclaw and Wolverineheart had to get to camp. They had to protect the kits. That was what mattered.

A brown and white mass of long fur flew past Downstar's blurry vision. The figure landed on Carvingfur just before the tortoiseshell could claw at Leathermask's eyes. Carnationspeckle! Her hunting patrol! Drumtooth and Tallowheart dove into the fight behind their patrol leader. Tallowheart pulled Wildclaw and Leathermask out of the mess. Drumtooth whipped around the SlugClan warriors like a fish. He'd land one blow, then kick back at a sneaky warrior.

"They're going for camp," Wildclaw yowled over the ringing in Downstar's ears.

"Yarrowclaw got there first," Tallowheart gulped. The fighting in front of Downstar blurred. Downstar rested her chin on the cold, stained snow.

"Mom!"

It took a while for Downstar to die. From what she could tell, she drifted in a melting mass of dreams and noise until her strength finally left her. She couldn't tell how much time had passed, and could barely hold on to a single thought. The sounds of the battle rose and fell. They blended into orders and questions, making the line between war and peace impossible to see. Were the clerics there? They should focus on the camp. SlugClan would not have those kits!

Summer warmth licked Downstar's pelt. That oh-so-familiar ocean hum replaced the ringing in her ears. Her back no longer burned. Downstar rubbed her cheek on the sand. Oh Downstar had missed the summer. RippleClan needed that light and warmth once more.

StarClan's coastline was the same as ever; mountains far behind the forest, pure salty water nuzzling the shore. Sunhigh glistened at the top of the sky, honey-bright and as welcome as a warm nest at the end of a cold night. Now Downstar didn't want to get up at all. For now, she could breathe.

Yet who would greet her this time? She was never alone on that lovely beach. Locustseeker, Duskkit, Fennelspot, Rustshade, Scrubmask… someone always had a kind word to say. Who would be there this time? Maybe Downstar had to go find them.

Despite the tempting warmth of the sand, Downstar got to her paws. She stood quicker than she expected. Old age didn't plague her in the strange land of Silverpelt. Downstar scanned the shore. Down the coast, paws dipping into the slowly rising tide, a black tabby sat, waiting. Downstar's granddaughter was unmistakeable, even with the newly gained glimmer in her pelt.

"I shouldn't be surprised it's you," Downstar called. Trumpetspore turned at her grandmother's voice. Her ears pressed backward. She snapped her eyes down.

Downstar strolled down the beach. Her heartbeat matched the gentle pull of the waves. She slowed the closer she got to Trumpetspore. Trumpetspore's head dipped lower and lower.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I'm sorry, Downstar. I should have talked to you. I missed them so much, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt anyone."

"Oh, Trumpet," Downstar cooed. She placed her chin on Trumpetspore's warm head. She wrapped herself around Trumpetspore as the ageless black warrior shook. The hum of the ethereal ocean hid Trumpetspore's whimpers.

"I should have hung on," Trumpetspore whined.

"I know, I know," Downstar whispered. "It'll be alright now. I know, you're sorry."

Downstar wasn't sure how long she sat with her granddaughter. Those visits to StarClan rarely aligned with time in the living world, after all. Downstar just let the salt water soak her flank as she offered Trumpetspore a familiar shoulder.

"There are things I need to say," Trumpetspore eventually croaked, "before you go back." The pair pulled away, leaving imprints of each other in their pelts.

"I understand," Downstar sighed. "Tell me first, though. Did Lettucestar take the kits?"

"No," Trumpetspore said, clearing her throat. There was a shift in her starry eyes, a soft dance of light cascading across her glittering pelt. Her gaze drifted to something Downstar could not see. "Puddlewhisper hid them in the medicine den when Yarrowclaw got to camp. She pretended they were in the nursery until Lettucestar's patrol had to retreat."

"As clever as her mother," Downstar purred. Good, the kits were safe. For now, at least.

"Happier moons are ahead," Trumpetspore promised as her focus returned to Downstar. She stiffened and glanced down as she added, "If I had known that earlier…" Downstar had no comforting words for that. Trumpetspore breathed deep and stood taller.

"You're on your last life, Downstar," Trumpetspore said. Her voice gained the sort of regal, knowing tone Downstar had grown used to hearing from StarClan cats. "The next time you wake up on these shores, you will not return to RippleClan."

"I understand," Downstar said. She could feel her body pulling her down. The weight of her many moons flowed back through her muscles. She laid on the sand, which now felt more like moss and leather. Downstar's body was likely in the medicine den. "One thing before I wake up. Can you pass a message to Shadowdrop and your siblings?"

"Anything," Trumpetspore gulped. Downstar purred at the light in Trumpetspore's eyes.

"Tell them I love them."

(Downstar: 151, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Oilstripe: 96, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Wildclaw: 84, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

(Rattlepelt: 75, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Wolverineheart: 24, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Yarrowclaw: 27, female, warrior, cold, fire master)

(Leathermask: 40, male, warrior, confident, good fighter, eloquent speaker)

(Carnationspeckle: 94, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Tallowheart: 28, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)

(Drumtooth: 40, trans male, caretaker, loyal, great hunter, clever)

(Trumpetspore: 52, female, warrior, nervous, makes the best pottery, good storyteller)

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eddiebrockrambles · 6 months ago

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My thoughts on Venom 3:

Warning, spoilers!

I liked it, but there’s a ‘but’.

So. I loved the first half. The dog scene was fantastic! And felt very true to them. The knocking people out part seemed a bit against Eddie’s morals, but was alright. The introduction of other symbiotes was cool. Seeing more of a focus on scientists and Jim as being imoortant characters —not just bodies— was really nice. And horse and FISH VENOM were EPIC!

I loved the ‘Space Oddity’ part, the Van family, and how you could see that Eddie was too hyper vigilant and dissociative to really be able to connect to the ‘fun’ aspects the others were enjoying. It was really bittersweet and made me feel strongly about his arc ending up where they can be happy together, even if it’s after some gnarly things, and even if the threats aren’t entirely gone. This was poignant and could have developed nicely.

But. Compared to the other two, and especially the first, I found the Knull plot to be too large scale, detracting from the two of them. The first film was like an Alien film, rooted in science. It was captivating to me, and an awesome take. I loved the interplay between the characters. Then they made it more like ‘purple man with gemstones and magic’ and maybe if it were directed by Guillermo Del Toro it would have worked, but to me, the based-in-science thing felt more like ‘them’. The Knull thing feels like sloppy writing, and a cop-out.

The Codex didn’t fully make sense, the xenophages were ‘Mary Sue’ characters, it didn’t feel like venom really died (which I’m very glad about, be it cockroach or viral shedding, but just wasn’t as emotive as I expected), the latter half lost the grit and feeling of ‘Eddie and Venom’, the montage music was an awful choice, and the Statue of Liberty scene lacked any real depth.

They coulda taken it further with the grittiness and showed how broken down Eddie would feel. They could have had more of Eddie asking ‘why’ than just going along with Venom’s decision to sacrifice himself. They could have hidden the codex and found weaknesses. They could have had a smaller scale threat, but still uniting humans and symbiotes.

They could even have worked with former ‘Life foundation’ employees to find a way to defeat the xenophages, and explored the conflicting feelings they’d have. They coulda experimented on Eddie. They could have interrogated him or all set out a clear plan. Tom Hardy’s acting is amazing and there were so many routes they could have taken to showcase it.

They needed to fuck off with the production queer baiting and have actually given us some solid romance and moments of closeness for the two of them. Even just Venom reassuring Eddie in a way we haven’t seen before.

The latter half just felt lackluster. There were great elements to it, but the montage and magical or occult elements dampened it for me.

Maybe I just feel like they deserved a PG16/18/R rating, given how beautifully intense and gritty this film could have been.

Venom 2018 captured it wonderfully.

#eddie brock #whump #eddie brock whump #symbrock #venom #venom 2018 #eddie brock is a sub #eddie is so in love #can we talk #headcanon #they should do some sonyverse venom comics #venom the last dance #venom 3 #venom symbiote

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petew21-blog · 7 months ago

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Just a party, part 4

Chris Evans, inside of Robert Downey's body, was now tied up on the bed where that one person inside of Paul Rudd's body was really looking forward to fuck him

Chris:"Is this really necessary?"

Paul:"Oh yeah, Robert. I can't wait to fuck such a bad boy. Can't let you get away"

Chris:"Can you just tell me who you are so I can relax for a bit?"

Paul:"What will you give me if I tell you?"

Chris:"You got me tied up. Isn't that enough?"

Paul:"True, but you could offer me something else"

Chris:"You can fuck me..."

Paul:"Oh great. Amazing then. I can't believe I'm gonna be having sex with Robert Downey Jr."

Chris:"Ok, so now tell me who I am"

Paul:"I'm Jacob. Jacob Batalon"

Chris:"Right. Is that name suppose to ring a bell?"

Jacob:"Mr. Downey? I am surprised you don't know me. We were in the same movie"

Chris:"Dude, you know I'm not him."

Jacob:"So don't ruin it for me. Now. About that promise..."

Chris Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston several hours ago

Tom:"Fuck yeaaaah. I'm so strong!"

Chris:"Oh don't get used to it. I'll be getting my body back"

Tom:"Sure, but I will be in the driving seat for several hours now"

Chris:"Don't you find it strange that Marvel paid for the tickets this year?"

Tom:"I must say it seems a bit odd, but they weren't against it years before. They just didn't encourage it"

Chris:"I just can't shake the weird feeling"

Tom:"Let's be vigilant and use our muscles for good" he said as he flexed in his old face

They each got a different room. Chris was meant to have the room with Sebastian Stan and Tom headed to a room along with Chris Evans's body.

Tom:"Two Chris's in a room"

Robert in Chris Evans's body:"They might kiss?"

Tom:"Or even worse" he said with a seductive tone pushing Robert on the bed. He immediately unzipped his jeans and started sucking on his beautiful hairy dick.

Tom was really good at it. Based on Robert's thrusting and hair pulling.

Tom:"You wanna bottom?"

Robert:"Ah fuck no. You bottom"

Tom:"Well that's gonna limit our options cause I don't want to bottom too."

Robert looked annoyed. "So are you gonna atleast suck me or what?"

Tom got close to him and whipped his hard dick in his face. Robert couldn't help it a deep throated his co-star. His dick hit the back of his throat and made him choke.

Tom pulled him close to embrace him into a hug and to make out passionately. And while they did, his hand slipped into Robert's boxers. His fingers were making his way into his hole. Robert felt it but wasn't fighting it. Chris's body responded well to that. Tom pushed his fingers inside. Robert let out a quiet moan into Tom's mouth.

Tom smiled and threw him on the bed:"So I guess we know who will bottom tonight"

Robert didn't want to admit it, but Chris's body was into it

Tom was making his way over the bed to him. He wasn't sure if his moves were seductive or not, because he didn't know how his body looked now, that he wasn't himself. But he made his way to Robert

They made out again. Taking off their clothes and making out some more

Tom took Robert's legs and pushed them up towards the ceiling. He then positioned his dick to his hole.

Robert let out another moan, but much louder this time. Smiling after letting him inside. "Hold on, wait a sec."

Tom let him wait, but he pulsates his dick playfully, while making tiny moves in his ass. Tom slowly made his way inside of Chris's body.

They were still facing each other while Robert's legs were up in the air and Tom was burried deep inside of Robert

Robert:"Fuck me, Chris!"

Tom:"Oh I'll fuck you all right, Chris"

And then he pounded. Very aggressively, not going easy on him. Robert moaned. Chris's voice made him even hornier. He was trying to balance out the position, but was good enough to jerk off his dick at the same time to finish with Tom.

And he succeeded. While Robert shoot the load all over Chris's abs, Tom filled his ass with more cum.

Robert:"So that's it. Nothing more? You won't tell me who you are?"

Tom:"You know we shouldn't, Robert?"

Robert;"Wait, how did you...?"

Tom:"It's the way you look at me and how you talk. It's obvious"

Robert:"And you're Tom. Am I right?"

Tom looked at him to assure him, that he was right. But he was now finally exploring Chris's body. Enjoying the muscles

While the two were still processing the sex between them, they were interrupted by the employees of the hotel. They stormed in, grabbing both of them. The two Chris's tried to fight, but there were 8 of the employees.

Tom:"What the hell is this?!? We were suppose to have privacy!"

Employee:"There has been a change of plans, sir." he said and after finishing that sentence injected him with sedatives.

Robert tried to scream but he was silenced and sedated as well.

15 minutes later

Chris's body woke up on the bed, now exploring his chest

Employee:"Did it work?"

Chris Hemsworth's body:"Oh Miguel. I can't wait for you to get your body. This is amazing"

Employee:"We're still waiting for Jake to wake up. But we got our bodies stashed in the cellar, before we get rid of them. We should go down to handle out instructions. They'll be happy to see you, boss."

Boss:"Oh and I can't wait to show off"

The boss was now towering over Henry and Ben, already captured by his employees.

Boss:"You're too early, gentlemen. You should have stayed in your rooms."

Henry:"So that you would steal our bodies like you did to Chris?"

Boss:"Steal? Oh no. This is not a theft Mr. Cavill. We have been paid to get your bodies. The demands you actors have these days are unbearable. The ammount off money they have to invest in you and also the strikes. I can't argue. Taking bodies from you is a smart move."

Ben:"Our families will know you are not us"

Boss:"That is a risk we're willing to take. Carl? Take them to the wine cellar. And tell their new hosts to get ready. We got bodies to take over"

Anonymous inbox request, slightly changed it to fit the direction I'm trying to go :D

Maybe a third part of "just a party". Where we find out who is inside Chris and Paul's bodies. Maybe focusing first in Chris Hemsworth' body. Could be Tom Hiddleston in Chris H's body and what they did swapped before the party.

Part 3:

#body swap #body switch #male body swap #gay to straight #celebrity body swap #body swapping #body switching #criminal body swap

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girlactionfigure · 7 months ago

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He told his wife, "I love you," then left for work that morning. He never returned. It was September 11, 2001.

He was a husband. He was a veteran. He was an immigrant. And, he was a hero.

According to the Homeland Security web site, Rick Rescorla is credited with saving 2,700 lives that morning, when he defied official instructions to stay in the building and instead evacuated employees at his company on the 44th floor of the South Tower.

Another hero was Betty Ong, who was one of the flight attendants aboard American Airlines Flight 11, who gave vital information to the ground crew that eventually led to the closing of airspace by the FAA for the first time in United States history.

Flight 93 passengers Todd Beamer, Mark Bingham, Tom Burnett and Jeremy Glick fought their hijackers, preventing the plane from reaching its intended target, possibly the White House or the U.S. Capitol Building.

There were also 412 First Responders who died in the line of duty - 343 firefighters (including a chaplain and two paramedics) of the New York City Fire Department, 37 police officers of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey Police Department, 23 police officers of the New York City Police Department, and 8 emergency medical technicians and paramedics from private emergency medical services and 1 patrolman from the New York Fire Patrol.

There were also smaller acts of bravery, such as Michael Benfante and John Cerqueira carrying a woman in a wheelchair down 68 floors of the north tower of the World Trade Center to safety and Frank De Martini and Pablo Ortiz of the Port Authority who saved at least 50 lives in the North Tower.

They and many others were the heroes of 9/11.

In all, there were 2,977 people who lost their lives on Sept. 11, 2001. The victims were mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, sisters and brothers who belonged to many faiths, races, and cultures, from more than 90 countries.

Of the Americans - they were white, they were black, they were brown, they were red, they represented all the different colors that built this nation. They were LGBTQ, they were straight, they were men, they were women, they were liberal, they were conservative, they were young, they were old . . . they were ALL Americans.

No one questioned whether they stood for the national anthem or put their hand over their heart, no one demanded they show their citizenship papers, no one questioned their love for their country.

I remember 9/11. I remember the names of the victims being read. I remember the heroes who bled. I remember the families who cried. I also remember that for one day, the entire world cried with us, marched in candlelight vigils in support of "America," whether it was in England or Iran -- for one moment the world was one.

I post this each year not just to remember the victims, the heroes, all the people who were directly touched in some way that day, but I also want to post this for those who are still suffering today, the families who had no choice but to continue without their loved ones, the veterans of the wars who were not supported upon their return and represent a majority of the suicides in this nation (on this World Suicide Prevention Day), the first responders who sacrificed their lives and their health and are still suffering today and their brothers and sisters fighting fires this very moment, and, most importantly, all the people of the world still hoping for, still seeking, still dreaming of a world without HATE, a world without fear, a world without greed.

A world instead focused with Love, a world with Hope, a world with . . .

Peace ~

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page

#9/11 #September 11

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salt-clangen · 5 months ago

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Moon 9

Leaf-Fall

I'm sick rn but managed to finish up the next moon <3

It was just before evening when Wolfstar called for a clan meeting. Snowspeckle was the only one who knew what she’d planned as she called Shadowpaw to sit on a large rock adjacent to her and Lynxpaw sat beside him. He must’ve had some idea of what was going as he smiled at her.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, trying to do it like she’d practiced with Snowspeckle.

"It’s time for Shadowpaw to be made a warrior, he’s proven himself to be a vital part of this clan and has passed my assessments.” She began and the small crowd cheered, Snowspeckle had even brought the kits out to witness this. The pair was surprisingly well behaved.

"I, Wolfstar, leader of Saltclan, call upon our warrior ancestors to look down on this Apprentice. Shadowpaw do you promise to uphold the Warrior Code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"

Shadowpaw seemed to preen under her gaze, chin lifting as he answered.

“I do.” He answered with a rumbling purr.

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Shadowpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Shadowdive. StarClan honors your dedication and drive, and we welcome you as a full warrior of Saltclan.”

The clan broke out into cheers.

“Shadowdive! Shadowdive! Shadowdive!”

As the day fades to night, Shadowdive stands atop the rocks bordering camp. Wolfstar joins him for a moment.

“You ready for your vigil?” She asked fondly.

He nodded with a serious look on his face.

“Heh sorry I forgot it’s a silent vigil.” She huffed a nervous chuckle, he flicked an ear at that but still remained focused. “Alright I’ll… leave you to your vigil. See you in the morning.”

He nodded again to her as she leapt down. At the base of the rocks she shoos away Otterkit who was trying to climb to the newly made warrior. As soon as she manages to pry him off, Ripplekit is trying to sneak around her as well.

“Ugh would you two leave him alone it almost time for bed anyways.” She groaned.

“We wanna keep watch too!” Ripplekit shouted, caught under her paw.

“We’re warriors!” Otterkit added, giggling as he clambered over her back trying to jump for the large tom.

“I’m about to delay your apprenticeship if you don’t knock it off.” She snagged him off her back and held him mid air as he wiggled.

“No! You can’t, that’s not fair!” Otterkit cried, tears springing to his eyes. Ripplekit managed to wiggle out from under her and go running back to the nursery.

She dropped the black tom gently onto the sand and watched him skitter off behind his brother. She let out a sigh and rolled her shoulders, glancing up to see Shadowdive watching with raised brows.

“Too harsh?” She asked with a groan.

He flicked his ear, smirked and turned back to the grassy fields.

She sighed, shoulders heavy as she sat for a moment, her temper had been slipping more and more lately. Her sleep was restless and left her irritable most days.

As she walked back to the dens, she braced herself for Snowspeckle’s lecture about scaring the kits into behaving. It was what her mom used to do to make the kits fall in order, all the more reason to break this habit.

A few days after becoming a warrior, Shadowdive accompanied Wolfstar on a border patrol. He’s quiet as usual, but it seems to make his leader jittery today and she tries to fill the silence.

“You know, I had just realized we don’t spend a lot of time together just us since I’ve recovered, so I figured I’d ask you to join me on a patrol.” She chuckled nervously, he gave her a nod and kept walking.

As they took turns veering off to mark along the borders, Wolfstar kept talking. Telling him about the early days of Saltclan, how they found Snowspeckle, what she anticipates for the next gathering. By the time they approached the river, she’d covered various topics, most of which he already knew, but the chatter, though awkward, was pleasant. He liked hearing what she had to say, even if she jumped from topic to topic.

Following the river south, they continued to mark until Shadowdive paused, flicking his tail over her mouth to shush her. It took Wolfstar a moment, but she raised her head and caught the floral scent of Honeyclan. The patrol was across the river, stepping out of the tall grass, they spotted the Saltclan patrol quickly.

It was three lean cats, two tabbies and a grey cat, the grey one waved their tail to catch their gaze. They motioned to come over and when Wolfstar nodded, the three took turns jumping across the nearby stepping stones to meet them.

“Hello this is Wolfstar leader of Saltclan and I’m Shadowdive.” It was the first time Shadowdive had spoken this entire patrol. “What business do you have with our patrol?”

“Oooh very formal,” The grey molly seemed to be the leader of the three. Wolfstar huffed at her comment. “Well this is Shiveringleaf and Windswirl, beekeepers of Honeyclan, and I’m Feathertuft, artisan of Honeyclan.”

Windswirl, the ginger tabby molly, stepped forward excitedly.

“We saw your patrol by chance, which is perfect luck as we have a message from Rookstar.” Windswirl said, chest puffed out.

“Oh?” Wolfstar asked, glancing skeptically at Shadowdive, neither cat believed the patrol ‘just happened to see them.’

“Yes, he said that Honeyclan is willing to trade with Saltclan, your artisan can come over and discuss terms and bring their goods.” Feathertuft cut in, not letting Windswirl speak.

“Oh ok that’s good.” Wolfstar smiled, genuinely surprised. “Let him know we’re excited to trade.”

“Well before our clans can trade he does want to meet with you to discuss the borders.” The grey molly smiled, though it didn’t seem sincere. “Preferably before the next gathering.”

Shadowdive huffed in annoyance and Wolfstar couldn’t help but agree.

“I’d be more than happy too.” She said shortly. “We’ll meet day after tomorrow to talk. Sound fair?”

“Sounds fair.” Feathertuft chirped.

The two patrols quickly departed, the Honeyclan cats swiftly crossing the river and disappearing into the tall grass. The pair waited until they were sure the other clan was gone before speaking.

“Fuck that took forever,” Wolfstar groaned, he chuckled as he followed behind her. “Did they annoy you as much as they did me?”

“Even more.” He quipped.

“Ugh and how they were clearly trying to coerce us into discussing the borders!” She continued with a growl. “I wouldn’t have argued if they’d just asked, they didn’t have to dangle a trading offer to make me agree.”

“They’re tricky and manipulative. We’ll need to be careful at the meeting.” He said more seriously now, she nodded along as they headed home.

“How did you manage this?” Lynxpaw asked, voice pinched as Shadowdive sat before her, holding his paw up.

“I was fishing in the tide pools and I slipped.” He mumbled.

“And were you on a hunting patrol?” She asked, again with a strained voice.

“No…” He ducked his head to avoid her glare.

“So why were you hunting so early in the day, when the rocks get slippery with frost?”

“Wolfstar was talking about how good Burnpaw’s cooking was last night, so I figured I’d surprise her with clams for breakfast since it’s the only thing I can cook.” He felt flustered and irritable.

Lynxpaw sighed and finally began to examine his paw. Quietly she palpated the limb, flexing and feeling it move. She watched for tensing or tightness, but he kept his head turned. Turning to gather a few herbs she finally spoke again.

“You shouldn’t see him as competition, he’s your clan mate now and you need to accept that.”

He huffed.

She took a bowl and a rounded wooden utensil, placed some elder leaves in the bowl she carefully began mashing it down. As she went on she added in some beeswax to help smooth the texture.

He watched as she added in more herbs, stinging nettle and comfrey, not that he recognized either. She slowly mixed everything with circle motions until it was a smooth balm.

Finally done she grabbed some long leaves, applied the balm then motioned for his paw again. He held it out to her gingerly.

“Tell me.” She said.

Sometimes he hated how well she could read him, it was spooky.

“I’m mad.” He admitted as she wrapped his sprained paw.

“At Burnpaw?”

“No…. Well yeah but I’m more mad at myself for getting injured right before an important meeting.” He huffed again, fidgeting in place as she secured the leaves with some strips of leather and twine to tie it.

“Meeting? You mean Wolfstar’s meeting with Honeyclan?” Lynxpaw seemed surprised.

“Yeah, because I was trying to show off, I wasn’t able to go with her, she took Snowspeckle instead.”

“Shadowdive, she wasn’t going to take you.”

He blinked a few times.

“What do you mean?”

“Snowspeckle is her deputy, she was always going to take her not you. It wouldn’t make sense to not bring her deputy.” Lynxpaw explained awkwardly, surprised that this was the source of his bad mood.

“I guess… I hadn’t thought of it like that.” He ducked his head again, embarrassed. “She always has me help with important stuff like that. I just thought… we’d keep doing it.”

“Are you mad Snow is deputy?” She asked carefully.

“No, she’s a good warrior.” He sighed, he started to open his mouth but shut it tightly. They stayed in the thick silence while she finished.

Lynxpaw placed his paw down and gave him a head bump.

"You need to stay off of that paw for a couple days at least. Come back tomorrow after the morning meal and I’ll reapply more of the balm.” She said, pulling back she collected her dirty materials.

“Ok… can I stay here for a bit?” He asked.

“Of course.”

He lied down, mindful of his paw, and watched her tidy up the den and placed the balm in a clean jar. When she was done he turned his gaze to the entrance, waiting for Wolfstar and Snowspeckle to return.

As the new moon approached, Snowspeckle finally felt like herself for the first time since her kitting. Her kits were fully weaned, her milk dried up, and the body aches had gone away. She planned to stay in the nursery until her kit’s apprenticeship, but she felt well enough to return to her full duties.

And first thing on her list was getting back to trading, while she was on partial nest rest she’d managed to find an easy effective way to harvest salt. Rather than boil salt water until the water had boiled off leaving salt behind, which risked damaging the pots and required constant monitoring, she made a very shallow pan out of clay filled it with salt water and set it out in the sun. After a few days of warm sunny weather, she was left with the dry crystals ready to be scraped into jars.

This method wouldn’t be as effective come winter when it’s so cold and cloudy, but for now it was a great way for her to produce the salt without having to devote a lot of time to it.

Leaving her kits with Shadowdive for the day, she loaded up her salt jars into a basket and slipped it over her head. Today would be her first time visiting the Artisan Knoll since leaving Oakclan. She felt nervous and excited, able to finally get her hands on various materials they didn’t have in Saltclan and discuss art with her peers.

Just as she could see the Knoll’s entrance, she took a moment to hide her bundle. Tucked between bramble branches, hidden away from unsuspecting eyes, just in case the meeting went sour.

“Hey Stonefur!” She called out to the entrance guard, waving her tail despite her cringe.

The gray cat gave her a scathing look, a sneer twisting their lips as she got closer.

“Deserter.” They spat, but made no attempt to stand.

Ok, they won’t kick me out, she thought. But they’re gonna hassle me before I can enter. Great.

“Nice to see you as well,” Her smile felt tight, she tried not to glance into the Knoll. “I’m here for the artisan’s meeting.”

“That half baked clan lets you craft?” They scoffed.

“They do, I don’t know if you were aware, but I’m Saltclan’s deputy.” She shuffled her paws, waiting for the gib to let her through.

Stonefur barks out a laugh.

“You don’t even have a cleric and they’re rushing to appoint a deputy?”

Snowspeckle kept quiet now, letting her face drop to a neutral, bored look. She’d never gotten along with Stonefur, they were the code keeper assigned to her case when she left Oakclan. The gray gib was in charge of finding proof of her breaking the warrior code, that way the clan could deny her leaving as punishment. But when they’d come up with nothing, it’d left a sour taste in their mouth.

“I have a right to enter, Stonefur. We’ve been offered trade deals with Honeyclan that I need to follow up on.” She said firmly. “I’ll be entering now.”

“Fine, fine, don’t forget your basket.”

She felt her neck get hot as the gob laughed again, she doubled back to retrieve the salt. Passing by the guard again she walked quickly and kept her eyes forward. In the clearing, she let out a sigh of relief, all around her artisans were working with their crafts.

Some cats glanced at her, some flashed smiles, others looked away quickly.

Setting her basket down by the others, she goes to the one cat that no matter what, would talk with her. Even if he was a little annoying.

"Onebranch!" She called out to the brown tom, his grin widened as she approached.

"Snowspeckle, I was wondering when Stonefur would let you in." He chuckled, pausing his task, she cocked her head as she looked over his unusual tools.

"What're you working on?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"I've been experimenting different ways to polish and smooth out rough materials." He said excitedly, he passed her the tools for her to look over. It was a chuck of wood with a flatten, gritty sort of plant stuck to one side, not anything she'd seen naturally before.

"Is this horsetail?" She asked, sniffing carefully. "You used hide glue?"

"I did! I had to fight the camp keepers for part of a deer hide a few moons ago, they wanted to for den repairs but I wanted it more." He puffed his chest out proudly. "Regular pitch kept seeping through the plant and affecting the grittiness."

"Wow that's pretty impressive, this bone flute is very smooth." She praised, turning the instrument over in her paws.

"Thanks, Snowspeckle." He remained puffed up as she passed the tools back to him. "So what're you working on today?"

"Well I was hoping to work on some instruments, actually. Saltclan doesn't get a lot of big game so I was hoping to get some here or maybe find some plant alternatives." She glanced about the Knoll, feeling like an outsider for once.

"Well here." Onebranch passed her the bone flute. "It's basically finished, maybe needs some paint."

"Oh! Thank you," She accepted it. "I have some things to trade with if you'd like."

"Think of it as a gift for being deputy." He brushed his tail along her side.

"And here I thought you'd stopped your flirty ways. " She joked back, tucking the instrument into her basket. She pulled out a jar, catching a few cats attention.

"If you're done with Cassanova over there," A ginger tabby tom called out. "I'm interested in what you've brought."

"Amberstreak, of course." She felt a bit awkward, talking with Nightleap's half sibling, but at least she could trade.

The rest of the day went well, Amberstreak traded three jars of paint for a half jar of salt. They made small talk about the weather and her kits, while he fired his pottery. Afterwards she got to work on some rattles made of old hide and sand. Loudstripe and Onebranch eventually joined her to talk about the upcoming leaf bare festival.

"I don't know how much we can contribute, but we can make some charms and bring rosemary to burn." Snowspeckle admitted as she cinched the final rattle.

"Tanglefur is still in charge of the festivities so I'm sure he'll be fine with whatever you bring." Onebranch shrugged.

"Oh please you know Smallstep is really the one in charge." Loudstripe joked, the Honeyclan molly nudged Snowspeckle with her half done basket.

"Speaking of, will he be arriving soon? It's way past sunhigh." She asked.

"Nope, he's recovering from an injury, Smallstep and Mousefoot have him on strict nest rest so he doesn't miss the festival." The brown tom said flippantly, obviously not concerned.

"That's a shame." She mumbled, focusing on her next project, a woven mat that could be used as a sled for heavy objects.

The trio chatted until the sun began to set, a few more artisans entering and leaving throughout the afternoon. A few more cats traded with Snowspeckle for her salt, most trying not to seem too eager for the uncommon ingredient.

By the time she left she had traded all but one jar of salt and received a bone flute, 3 baskets, 5 paint jars, 4 jams, some flax oil, and a jar of mullein honey. A very good haul, even if she had to argue a bit to get better deals, she was impressed with what she managed to bring home.

The clan was quiet and about to start the evening meal when she finally arrived back home. Her kits eager to speak about their day and Wolfstar taking the heavy load just as Shadowdive passed her a bowl of stew. She settled into a comfortable loaf as she let the chatter wash over her, content with her decision to stay in the clan.

Moon 0

#clangen #warrior cats #wc #saltclan #saltclan moon update #moon 9

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