#also i just realized it looks like i gave wade paws-

[star2stop]

THE TWO DEADPOOLS EVER <3333

[snowflake-apocalypse]

“English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though.”

“You need to stop.”

It’s been six months since the formation of Global Justice’s new aces, “Team Go-Possible”. Though, the rhyme and reason of it was wrong, Shego was actually enjoying the partnership with her former rivals. Dare she ever admit it out loud. The three grew to have a good dynamic, she thought. Between conversations about world events and the audacity of Club Banana creating a brach-off store, to the double-edged sarcasm they dished out to their adversaries in combat.

Team GP’s missions took them near and far around globe. This time, it was a nuclear power plant in the blustery Netherlands. Some madman claiming the greed of the world has grown to great. That he was the salvation it needed. His answer to said salvation? Implode the richest nuclear power plant in the world to prove his point.

This has got to be the seventh extremist kook we’ve taken on this month.. though the dude’s not wrong..

Kim and Shego are in route to the mountain side factory. Shego landing their sleek jet on an empty field with concentrated ease.“Okie dokie, let’s go get Mr. Doom Gloom before he turns the mountain side into a mushroom cloud-.” Shego powers their craft down, switching various instruments this way and that.

“-Don’t know about you, Kimmie but I’m looking forward to the bocca coffee. No stupid avalanche is going to ruin that.”

Double checking her equipment, Kim spares the woman a glance. “Heh, glad to know where your priorities are, Shego.-” Kim directs her attention to their mission control via comm link.

“-Hey, Wade you got a lock on our position?”

“Always do.” From GJ headquarters, the tech wiz of the team zooms his screen in on their target.

“That is the most creepy, heartwarming thing I’ve heard from you, Load.” Shego quips, donning her green and black cold weather apparel. When she accepted Betty’s offer, the one thing she swore is that she was keeping her colors.

“Uh..thanks? Anyway, I’ve scanned the interior of the facility, the reactor is located in the south side of the building.” Through the wrist-worn Kimmunictor, a holographic layout of the factory appears. Detailing the whereabouts of their target, only one heat signature appears on the layout. The reactor, they assume.

“Wade, this guy is working alone?” Kim quizzical asks, zooming in on the projection.

“From my latest update, yes. The building has been evacuated for safety. No other intel I’ve collected suggests multiple culprits.-“

Wade swipes through the limited file he has on their perp. He had an uneasy feeling about this caper, but couldn’t justify it from a hunch. “-But, please still be careful, you two.”

Shego, after getting one last solid look at the diagram, closes her hand on the blueprint. “Will do, dad. Thanks.”

——

Approaching the bolted door of the factory, Kim still voiced her concerns., “Y’know, I just wished we had more information on this guy.”

Shego directs a small concentration of searing plasma at the deadlock, freeing the door. “Yeah, well I wished they’d appear at GJ’s doorstep. Or just stayed home.”

Cautiously pushing the door open, Shego scans the left side of the interior, while Kim covers the right.

“Okay, Wade. It looks as empty as you said.- Wade? Wade.” Kim, only being met with silence, tries and fails to reach their partner. Somewhere along the trek, the so-called incorruptible signal was lost.

“Fan-freakin’-tastic. Guess the altitude is the weakness.” Rolling her eyes, Shego marches on. “Let’s just shut this joint down before we get any more surprises.” Despite her quiet tone, Shego’s voice echos throughout the vast building.

Creeping through the corridors, the women stay on alert. Passing abandoned offices, break rooms, only Kim’s quiet chatter fills the space. “Hey, about that coffee, you also want to stop at Portugal of the Little Ones?”

“Are you serious, Possible? You want to visit a tiny replica city in Portugal?” Shego raises an eyebrow in Kim’s direction.

“...Yeah.”

If you don’t stop making that damn face...

“..Okay, fine. Portugal.” Shego huffs in faux annoyance. The pair rounded the corner to the vast power center of the facility, the two spot the ticking time bomb.

“Bingo!” Shego exclaimed, running up to the reactor. Which had been armed with specialized munitions.

“This is new.. Newer. What the hell kind of explosive is this?” The younger agent puzzles.

The device, almost cybernetic, jet-black with a single blinking blue light. Upon closer examination, Shego makes out a faintly marked two-pronged arch on the surface. Gaping at the realization, she snaps of her shock.

“No.. No way...”

“What’s up? What is it?”

“This looks like a prototype product of Gemini’s splinter cell scientists. Before he broke off to W.E.E. It’s not on a timer, it’s remote detonation.”

“Gemini? Hold on, then how is some random guy get a his hands on-“

Before Kim could finish her statement, a man’s honeyed voice breaks through the atmosphere.

“Well, you always were the most observant of the team, Shego. Bravo.”

On the grated deck before them, stood a man. Medium build, piercing blue eyes, a mop of brown hair turning grey. All pulled together by a navy trench coat and tactical cargo slacks.

“Sorry, don’t think we’ve met. Unless I’ve taken you hostage or saved you from a flooding city before.” Shego deadpanned, hands resting on her hips.

Leisurely leaning on the rail of the balcony, a shiftiness displayed in his eyes. “Oh no, I didn’t expect you to be familiar with me. But I have been following the folly of Global Justice’s new dream team. I must say, you are quite the force to be reckoned with.”

“And we really don’t want you to find out why.” Kim interjects, conviction lacing her voice.

“-So if you could hand over the remote, shut down the detonation, then maybe we can reach an agreement.”

“Possible. Kim. Of all the people in the bloody world, I thought you would be one to know.. it’s never that simple.” Faster than her reflexes, the man draws a sleek laser-gun from his coat and fires upon the unsuspecting woman.

Center mass.

Direct hit.

“Gah!” With a cry, Kim covers the wound with her hand, bracing herself on her knees.

“Hey!” Shego booms. Hands ablaze, she charges their suspect... no, enemy now.

Kim, biting back the shock and pain, rises to her feet.

Damnit... Sloppy. Get up, Possible.

Kim averts her concentration back to the reactor. Without Wade, she scrambles to find a bypass way of disarming the bomb.

Firing scorching blast after blast, Shego dodges the rounds aimed at her. The room being filled with the leaden smell of burning metal, as the balcony gave way to the force of plasma.

“I swear, that god-forsaken organization is more concerned with the stock market and shiny toys than actual global security-and you! You radioactive madwoman, turn your back on your very profession! The Emerald Rage can’t even decide who’s side she’s on!” Anger and outrage boiling from the man the closer she got.

“Yeah.. y’know your twenties when you’re trying figure shit out... a lot of grey area and robberies in there.” Flipping onto the grate, Shego faces the man with a controlled fury.

“Oh, also I’m on my side and no one else’s. Which, coincidently is the side that doesn’t want a giant crater in the middle of the Netherlands!” Weaving between a few more shots, Shego disarms the man. She restrains him in a firm, plasma-fortified grip. Not enough juice for a second degree burn, but it sure wasn’t comfortable.

“Hello.” The welcome rolling off his tongue like an invitation.

Abruptly Shego is met with a viscous head-butt and a solid tungsten bracelet around her wrist.

“Grrr-! What the hell-!?” Collecting her wits, Shego paws at the metal. Kicking up the intensity of her powers in hopes of liquifying the substance.

Her foe stands back in smug satisfaction, watching her ferocity slowly turn to languid effort. Her flames spasmed, then doused like a candle in the wind.

Shego lightheaded and pale, collapses with heavy bang on the cold metal.

Crouching next fallen woman, he gingerly strokes her raven hair. Conceited grin never leaving his face. “Oh, my my. Did dear Mother Director not tell you about the adverse correlation between tungsten and the Aether comet? I don’t blame her. Must’ve been frightening for her to raise super-powered children, especially if she had no way of controlling them.”

The clamber drawing Kim away from her task, horror at watching the strongest person she knew hit the floor. “Shego!”

“No, no.” Motioning to the button on the detonator remote, he actives the explosives. Sending the entire right side of the structure up in blazing destruction.

Kim instinctively covers her head, in an effort to shield herself from the blast. Evading wooden beams and falling debris, Kim steels and drives on towards her ally.

Producing a small syringe from his coat, filled with a concentrated supply of the fatal alloy. He methodically pushed back the sleeve of Shego’s fleece, carefully injecting the liquid into her bloodstream.

“My father, Jeremiah Asbell had so much passion for his work. So much drive to create a better world. What did he receive for his endeavours? Scorn and betrayal by the very people he supported!-“

Jeremiah Absell.. Absell.. Dr. Absolute. Wait, he had a kid?

“-All to be handed back by some punk children who should’ve been left in a crater.”

As the tungsten courses through her system, melds with her mutated cells, Shego braces the pain gripping her body. She clenches her teeth, fighting for some kind of spark of her dwindling power.

Thanks, Betty. Chalk this up to another ‘I got your back, kid.’ move. Trust sure ran deep there.

With a flicker of ginger hair catching her attention behind a wall, Shego arduously motions her head to face Kim. Olive meets emerald eyes.

After all of the years they spent trading blows, like scorpions in a bottle, after the late night discussions they’d have when neither could sleep... they both knew that look. The look of unwavering determination meeting one of unabated stubbornness. With all of the unknown wild cards revealed, Shego couldn’t afford both of them being killed.

Mustering as much strength as she could, Shego discreetly raises her hand, stopping Kim in her tracks.

Don’t you dare.

[bates--boy]

One would think that in such a restaurant bar such as this, -- a branch-off of a four-star tourist-trap hotel, a hub of travel-weary businesspeople and high school socialites with fake IDs, all in top-brand suits and casuals and shoes -- the drinks would be the nectar milked from the teats of whatever deities represented alcoholic drinks.

But they’re shit. They’re absolute shit.

Still, Peter sat hunched over his glass of gin, musing without amusement how it would be no different if he just went to any old convenience store with a medical shelf, buy a bottle of rubbing alcohol with a high isopropyl content and down that, instead. No, there would be one difference: it wouldn’t taste as watered-down.

He planted the slice of lemon in his mouth, nibbling it to mitigate some of the taste of disappointment, scrolling through his home feed to stave off the awful mood of being wrung dry by the bearded, buff barbarian in a sleek black button-up, and the faceless corporation that he worked for. But some part of him was looking to feed his foul mood, or maybe he was feeling adventurous, because he mulled over whether or not he should order a glass of champagne and keep the train of minor bad decisions going. It was the weekend, after all, and he wouldn’t need to be back to work for another week.

When he forced another sip of the gin down his throat, Peter was ready to decide against it when a flute appeared before him, anyhow. “Er...” Peter said, reaching for the waiter’s arm to stop him from popping open the bottle. “I didn’t order this.”

The waiter across the room. “Courtesy of the gentleman over there.”

Furrowing his brow, Peter turned his stool in the direction the server pointed out, ignoring the gentle pop of the undone cork and the hiss of bubbles.

Immediately, a hand rose above the crowd, the crystal whiskey glass capturing what light it could in this dimly-lit cave and twinkling many colors like a beacon in a gray sea.

Either the distance and the low lights must be to blame, or Peter must be forgiven for being mean, but the guy looked like a bore.

Average rectangular frame, his receding and lackluster dark hair snipped into a budget hair style, slacks that were reminiscent of the private high schools of every wild child’s nightmare. Only thing about the man that stood out (at least from across the room) was the well-worn leather jacket with its tarnished buckles, a vintage beauty that spoke to Peter’s tendency for nostalgia.

But a jacket ain’t enough to impress, so Peter turned back to the server to order him to take the drink back, only to find that the man had already disappeared, leaving the filled flute and the open bottle on the bar table. 

“Ah, shit...” Peter mumbled. He picked up the flute and lifted it, lips curled in a half-assed grin to the “gentleman”, whose own face seemed to brightened. And then...

“Ah, shit!” Peter hissed under his breath as he watched the other man rise out of his seat god fucking damn it. And despite his attempt to look casual, the guy sure was legging it, a quarter of the way to Peter’s table by the time Peter had drained half the flute. And maybe the bubbles were getting to Peter’s head, because in the blink of an eye, the gentleman was easing himself onto the seat next to Peter, resting his elbows on the table, giving an oozing, schmoozing smile as Peter hurried to refill his glass. 

“I had a feeling you’d like the top-quality stuff,” the gentleman said.

The “top-quality” stuff tasted like diet off-brand grape soda two years past its expiration date, but still... “Thank you,” Peter murmured. His gratitude was genuine; at least he wouldn’t have to waste money on what he knew was going to be an awful drink thanks to the generosity of the other man. That didn’t change the fact that he kept his head down, eyes on his phone screen, his voice soft from immediate withdrawal of this conversation. 

Of course, the gentleman took it as modesty, and leaned in a bit closer. “You know, it’s been pretty hard finding a lady so refined around here.”

Peter almost choked on the drink, barely catching himself. He cleared his throat, reaching for the folded napkin left with the bottle to dab away the drops on his lips. Thank god for Vice lipstick. 

Peter knew he could never hope for the rich baritone of James Earl Jones or Vin Diesel, but he had something, so he used it when he lifted his head and returned the gentleman’s grin. “Why, thank you, sir.” Then, he waited for the not-all-that-feminine deep voice to register on the other man’s voice, for the man’s eyes to go clear and see all the subtle masculine traits hidden underneath the fashion, like the beginnings of an angular jaw despite the youthful plump and rosiness of Peter’s cheeks, or the broadness of Peter’s lean shoulders to make up for the lack of bodybuilder muscles, or a chest that was flat beyond bee-sting A cups. He waited for...

Well, Peter didn’t know what reaction he was waiting for -- confused, maybe over-the-top like the man apologizing profusely or toppling from his chair to get away, or red in the face and foamy at the mouth, as if Peter’s mere existence in a dress was to cheat him out of an unrequested drink -- but he didn’t expect the heat in the man’s eyes to burn brighter, or the flash of white teeth as the man briefly nibbled his bottom lip. 

For a moment, Peter froze, his mouth cinching close, his jaw locking, something besides the cheap grape juice curdling in his gut. He lowered the glass and tried to wade through the conflicting storms of his hunger for attention and the electrical fright that made him want to zap right out of the room. He gazed around, telepathically calling for an adult, any adult, to come intervene.

The man curled his fingers around Peter’s chin and tilted his head back to him, taking in Peter’s wider eyes and, once more, mistaking it for whatever Peter didn’t even want to know. The man’s brow quirked. He lowered his hand to Peter’s forearm. How can a hand be so dry yet so clammy? “I guess you don’t really do this often, do you?”

When Peter slowly and silently shook his head, something alit even brighter in the man’s eyes. “Wait... would I be the first?” 

Peter would have answered, would have said “no”, not because he had experience with this before, but because he had no experience with this before and he wasn’t planning on doing so ever. But he was frozen further with shock, stunned at the eager in the question, as if the gentleman wanted a resounding “yes”. He swallowed against the tightness of his throat. 

The gentleman chuckled before Peter could say anything. “Wow.... well, alright, then! Don’t worry, I can make your first time here splendid, so you know how to do this right. Do you want to name your price here, or over dinner, or in the room?”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t want--” He blinked, feeling his mouth fall open. “Wait, what?”

The gentleman reached over Peter to get the napkin. He flicked it open, and both of them watched as the plastic card with the hotel’s blue and lavender logo landed on the surface. The man picked up the key card, and the gleam on the man’s wrist finally caught Peter’s eyes. A large, silver watch studded with diamonds around the face. What also hadn’t passed Peter’s notice was the twinkle of the golden band around the other man’s finger.

The storm in Peter’s head brewed more violently, as fire burned under his skin and spread all over his face. He wondered what part of his ensemble -- a brown cashmere jacket, a baby blue skater dress, and black boots no taller than his ankles (wait, was it the fishnet stockings?!) -- gave this guy the idea that Peter was in that part of the field. He imagined that somewhere out there, a wife and two and a half kids were tucked away in a picket fence property, waiting for the return of this piece of shit. And enthralled by the fury that the last thought wrought, Peter developed an urge to throw the drink into this man’s face, followed by a fist with the full force of four tons of steel and concrete.

And centered in the wild storm, still and resolute like a shelter promising protection from the lethal weather, was another bad idea.

Peter kept his eyes wide, holding on to some semblance of his dissipating shock and confusion to help sell the act. He took another tentative sip of his drink. “Oh, well, okay. We can just go to your room, if you want. We can also make it a party if we have another one of these...” He picked up the open bottle and slowly swirled it, tilting his head.

The man nodded and raised a hand to grab the waiter’s attention.

---

Excitement set Peter’s fingertips tingling.

It came not from the bottle of champagne passed between himself and John (not really the guy’s name), nor from the smacking wet lips and the pawing hands John pressed against whatever part of Peter’s body he could reach (at least he had enough decency to not try to kiss Peter’s mouth). It came from the idea taking root within Peter’s skull. Through the buzz, Peter realized that the idea was a fuzzy picture that needed further development. So, he sharpened the image, turning it over as the two men stumbled arm-in-arm out the elevator and down the hall. A familiar stoicism settled in his chest as he tried to work out all the kinks, thought over the many ways this could go wrong and how to prevent them or weasel his way out of them. He felt like he was on the battlefield again in trying to make this foolproof.

That stony, removed feeling crumbled to dust when John stopped in front of a door and fumbled to stick his keycard in the slot with drunk hands. Oh shit, came the sobering thought once again. I’m really going to do this.

The door beeped and John reached behind him to grab Peter’s wrist. Peter let out a series of yelps as John tugged him inside, slammed the door shut, shoved Peter against the door, and locked him in place by tangling his legs with Peter’s legs and wrapping an arm around the small of Peter’s back. And then, to the Sealander’s utter, stomach-dropping horror, came the humping. 

It shouldn’t have surprised Peter, since he knew what John was after, but to so suddenly be thumping against the wooden door while some drunkard ground...pound...rubbed? What was John even thinking he was doing? He was doing something with his pulsing ere..ction against Peters pelvis, and whatever it was, Peter’s body was stunned, the lights above them blinding his eyes as he tried to turn his head away, with a thought ringing loud:

I can’t do this.

Ican’tdothisIcan’tdothisIcan’tdothisIcan’tdothisIcan’tdothisIcan’tdothis

And his fort called to him, ready to put some force in his fight whenever he was ready, reminding him that he had no need to succumb to the sickening, sinking terror and regret. And, oh, how much easier it would make things, to just bash John’s nose in or throat punch him, watch him struggle to breath until he fell unconscious, or punch him in the chest and hope that it was the right moment, the split second between heartbeats...

Then John’s other hand slid up the wall, and Peter caught the shine of his wedding band before John tangled his fingers into Peter’s hair, tugging to angle his head and expose his neck. The fear rot into anger, the anger into dogged and vengeful determination, as Peter felt John reach down to tug at his skirt, and slobber against his neck, “So, how much?”

Peter grabbed onto that moment of clarity, calmed himself with it to think clearly, and began wriggling and shifting his body until John was dry humping Peter’s outer thigh. He let out a flat p.or.n star moan, louder and more strained than John’s muffled grunting, and tugged at the shell of John’s ear with his teeth. “That depends, sweetheart: what do you want, and how long you can go.” And because he was feeling silly, he dropped one of the bottles -- it was mostly empty, anyway -- and used his free hand to smack the tragically tiny bump through John’s slacks that must have to pass for John’s ass cheek. It felt like hitting a brick wall.

But it worked. John backed off enough for Peter to guide them away from the door and to sit his gentleman caller on a nearby chair. He then mounted John’s lap with enough space between them that Peter wouldn’t feel John’s enthusiasm between his legs again, and wrenched the cork out of the second bottle with his teeth. John laid out his demands in a tone that sounded like suggestions, snaking a hand up Peter’s skirt. Peter tossed out some high bullshit numbers to demands he forgot the moment they were spoken, putting the bottle to John’s lips and taking John’s hand off his thigh to suck on one of his fingers (and hoping that the bathroom had complementary mouthwash). With the deal made and already forgotten on Peter’s part, Peter slid off John’s lap and unlaced his boots.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Peter said, toeing his footwear off and shrugging out of his jacket, “I’d like to get freshened up for you. Get the stuff ready for us?” When John tugged out a condom and packet of lube from his pocket with a nod, Peter skipped off to the bathroom.

He closed the door and went to the sink. He turned the water on, and then began the shakes. With trembling fingers and unsteady hands, Peter tried to splash cold water on his face, multiple times, and only stopped once the temperature made his teeth chatter worse and after getting water all over the sink top, the floor, and some of his hair that fell to his face. He straightened, yanking a hand towel from the rack and patting his face dry, then wetting a corner of it to wipe down his neck and collarbone and legs, not caring that it was wetting his stockings as long as the feeling can be scrubbed off. 

The towel dropped to the floor; Peter searched frantically for the mouthwash and, finding it, guzzled half the tiny bottle and swishing it until it burned into his gums. He spat, and felt so awful for the housekeeper who will have to come in and clean his mess, but when he straightened from the bowl and looked at the mess reflected in the mirror, Peter’s focused was on one thing:

He was going to do this.

He was already nauseous, still stunned by the feel of another man’s erection to the point of being dizzy, but he was in a foul enough mood to want to go through with it. 

So, he left the bathroom, finding John standing in the middle of the room, holding a phone to his ear.

“--sweetie, I’ll be home in a couple days, then we can take that vacation.”

Peter approached John’s back, feeling a twinge of satisfaction as he pressed himself against John’s jacket, nestled his chin on John’s shoulder, and ran his palms up and down John’s thighs (not exactly touching anywhere near the pitch tent) then his hips, and then the brick wall that was his ass. It felt mechanical, like Peter playing airport security, but the grazing hands were enough to draw out a sharp gasp from his... client.

“Listen, I’ll have to call you tomorrow, I need to get some rest for tomorrow’s meeting. Love you, bye!”

John tossed the phone on the bed. He gave a shiver as Peter’s hands roamed higher and massage his chest through his shirt. 

Peter kissed John’s shoulder through the jacket. “Hey, you promised me that you’ll make my first time doing this splendid, right?” he murmured.

“Mhm,” John moaned.

Peter nuzzled his nose along the back of John’s neck, breathed on it, whispering, “Well... what if I don’t want splendid? What if I want real? What if I want...” he disguised the chuckle over this utter bullshit as a breathy, needy moan. “Wild?”

John furrowed his eyebrows. “Wild?”

Peter grabbed the jacket’s lapels and yanked them back, wrenching the fabric down until it bunched messily around John’s wrist and bound them behind his back. This could have gone south quickly; maybe John wasn’t into bondage, maybe he was repulsed by it. Maybe he found the idea infuriating, that some fresh-faced streetwalker new to the game and too stupid to ask for money upfront thinks he’s so special, thinks he’s so cute, that he can just change up the terms and, worse, dominate? And maybe Peter was hoping for that, hoping that John would be so turned off that he’d throw Peter out.

But then Peter grabbed a fistful of John’s hair and yanked his head back. The man let out a choked whimper, his hips twitching forward.

“How much would you cough up to make this unforgettable for me?” Peter grunted, toying with John’s belt and holding in a shudder as he felt the cock push against the fabric.

John opened his eyes, and Peter could see them rolled to the back of his head. “You can clear out my bank account.”

It would be a lie to say that Peter wasn’t tempted, to reverse course and make this a real transaction. Why the fuck should he care about some faceless woman far away, it wasn’t Peter’s marriage in the ruins. And maybe a night of getting laid would do his foul mood some good; probably not a good  lay, but how the hell would Peter know the difference? 

Plus, who wouldn’t want to be swimming in coin for a night of feigned passion?

Then the phone started to buzz, and the groan John howled out wasn’t pleasure. “God, I hope that bitch isn’t calling me, again.”

Peter pressed his tongue to his cheek. Nope, none of that was worth it.

He unfastened the belt and trailed enticing kisses along John’s shoulder, up to behind his ear as he worked the button and fly. He tugged the pants down to the ankles, ordering John to step out of them. He led John to the bed and pushed him facedown on the mattress, and went back to take out the belt from the discarded pants. When he returned to the bed, Peter looked down on the sprawling figure with his ass in the air. If he pulled down John’s unremarkable undies down to his ankles, Peter could just leave him like that, since by the time John hobbled his way to the door and managed to get it open, Peter would be long gone. But Peter had to be careful, see how far and how much he could take this.

Standing beside the bed, Peter freed John from his temporary restraints and flipped him onto his back. A hip jutting out, with his teeth biting on his bottom lip, Peter wound one end of the belt around a hand and yanked, snapping the belt. He’d think that with all the times he’s posed like this in front of the camera, it would come easily to him now, but maybe it’s too different when the viewer was right there, and could see his face. Yet, for all the awkwardness Peter felt, John didn’t seem to sense it, gazing up at Peter with glazed-over eyes.

Peter moved John’s hands up to the bed post. Once the watch and ring came off and were set on the bedside table, muscle memory took over, and Peter could almost smell the salt of the sea and the rust of his fort as he looped the belt around the wrists and the wooden post like the many times he secured items to his platform. One final tug, and the leather was biting into John’s limb, already rubbing the skin red as John squirmed to get comfortable. Peter’s hands trailed down John’s arm, down his torso, going to his lap and digging fingernails into the flesh, feeling nothing when John’s breath hitch and came out in a low hiss, still feeling removed when he released John’s thigh and left nail marks.

‘Oh, god,” John rasped, his head lolling to the side. “Oh, please fuck me, Mistress.”

Peter wanted him to shut up, so he stepped back, hiking his skirt up to tug off his boxer briefs and stockings, overly aware of John watching him. He separated the garments, balling the underwear up in his fist. “Open your mouth. Now.”

John’s mouth dropped open, his eyes rolled back once more at the taste of Peter’s fabric being stuffed inside. Surreptitiously, Peter tucked his skirt between his thighs to add another layer of barrier between his own exposure and John as he half-straddled the man’s lap. He hooked his finger through John’s neck tie and undid it, forcing his shaking hands to steady so tying the accessory around John’s eyes wouldn’t be sloppy. He leaned down until he was cheek to cheek with John.

“I’m going to make the next few hours worth every cent, my filthy little slut.” Oh, how Peter was glad John couldn’t see his face twist with self-degrading disgust. He sent out an apology to all the stars of his old favorite stag films for failing them. “Let me get the lube warmed up and the condom ready, then you can make me cum as many times as you can before I even let you.” 

He swung his leg back over John, leaving the bastard shivering with glee as he backed away from the bed. 

The timer was set.

Peter skipped over to the pants, crouching and digging out the wallet he felt in the back pocket. He pulled out the pink wads of kronor and shoved it in his pocket. He stared at the corners of the credit cards poking out of their sleeves, and looked towards the panting, writhing mess on the bed.

You can clear out my bank account.

But he shook his head clear of the temptation and stood up, returning to the bedside; might as well minimize the potential jail time as much as possible. With great care, Peter picked up the watch and ring and placed them in the pocket so they wouldn’t clink. He stared at his client, taking a deep, quiet breath.

And finally: insurance.

He hooked his fingers in John’s waistband, his face twisting up once more. Do it like a band-aid... like a band-aid... Pursing his lips against the rising bile, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his face away, Peter whipped the underwear down. He filled his lungs again, holding it in as he cracked an eyelid open and pulled his phone out.

It’s the same equipment that you have, Peter. The reminder did next to nothing to help quell the screech as his eyes met the swollen and stiff member, uncomfortably pink against the pallor of John’s legs, oozing precum.

“Holy fucking shit,” Peter cringed. He tapped on the camera, made sure that the shutter feature and the flash were both off, and aimed at the sad view that made his skin crawled. He bent down to plant a couple more kisses along John’s calf. It was an odd place to show affection to, but as long as John thought it was still leading to something, and Peter didn’t have to touch his genitals, it would do. He rose from the bed and swiped the leather jacket, draping it over his arm and picking up his own jacket and boots.

In the next breath, Peter was out the door, feeling the coldness within him snap and fall into pieces when it clicked closed behind him.

He did it.

He turned and walked off, leaving behind the muffled noise from John as it turned from confusion to protestation to outright fury, but growing ever softer as Peter legged it. His free hand patted the bulge in his dress pocket as he rounded the corner, and the shakes returned, making the air coming into his lungs shallow, making his skin prickle and his vision tunnel and sway.

When something pushed up his throat, Peter feared it was vomit, or a scream, or a cry. It definitely had to be a cry, as the sensation of John’s dick between his legs burned all over. But it was a laugh. He laughed. Because it shouldn’t have been that easy, but he did it! And --

He stumbled to the nearest trash can, knocking the top off and emptying his stomach in the refuse.

When it was over and Peter came up for air, he wiped his mouth and looked around, feeling so separated from this plane. This called for a celebration.

He rummaged through his jacket pocket, the cashmere one he came in, and pulled out the shades. Then he clipped on the watch and pulled out the wad of cash, setting the jackets and boots down on the floor next to his feet. Raising the phone up, he tilted his head and stuck his little tongue out.

[pinnithin-writes]

I Realized. Then I Couldn’t Stop Realizing.

Chapter 9: C-53

Depending on – what was he doing, still looking? It was right there in front of him, plain as day.

C-53 shifted through boxes indiscriminately, scanners peeled for a very specific rectangle. Bargie’s file trees may be well organized, but her cargo hold wasn’t nearly as meticulously maintained. The crew’s fault, he allowed. He would have to come back and sort things out once he found what he was looking for.

He hadn’t seen Pleck in the several days following their last conversation. The tellurian slunk into the kitchen for food only at night, when he was certain C-53 was powered down, and spent the rest of his time barricaded in his own room. They were back to square one, and the frustration C-53 felt probably was lending to how haphazardly he pawed through boxes of cargo.

How someone could be just down the hall and yet so very absent astounded him. He missed Pleck. Deeply. Limited as he was by the size of his frame, C-53 might as well be across the entire galaxy from him.

Something had clearly rattled the tellurian to his core, enough to force him back into hiding, and C-53 had resolved to cross that yawning chasm between them. He waded through the cargo hold, wiring frayed, cube in flux. It was somewhere around here; he was sure Bargie hadn’t actually gotten rid of it.

Pleck’s absence somehow hurt worse this time around. Now, C-53 was intimately aware of how deeply the tellurian feared, how fiercely he loved. He knew how hard he fought every day just to keep his mind intact. Pleck had entrusted that part of himself to C-53. He was not about to let himself betray that trust.

Since they started working together, C-53 had rescued Pleck from an impressive array of dangers, but it was time now for the droid to tackle a new threat. He had to protect Pleck from… Pleck.

“Aha,” he said, scanners finally landing on what he was searching for.

A three foot tall frame, fitted with vents and a water tank. Never before used on account of it being, unfortunately, filled with sand. C-53 gingerly picked up the dehumidifier in his clamps and carried it back through the path he’d made in the sea of boxes. He felt slightly guilty for the thin trail of sand he left in his wake, but this was important.

The pathways in his code were shivering like violin strings as he made his way to the bridge. In the days Pleck had been gone, he realized that separating how he felt about his friend into neat little compartments was as pointless as it was impossible. The exasperation of a coworker, the protective instinct of a guardian, the unbearable tenderness of… whatever they were becoming was inseparable. The emotions crossed and doubled over and tangled up in the binary designation for the tellurian’s five letter name.

He was doing this for Pleck, but he was also doing this for himself. Dancing around the situation was only harming both of them, and C-53 was not prone to feeling this dumb very often. He and Pleck were just a pair of idiots orbiting one another, too afraid to touch.

C-53 was done orbiting. He was ready to crash land.

Dar’s voice floated from the bridge as he approached. It sounded like they were reading aloud a passage from one of their leadership books. C-53 nudged the wide door open and ducked inside, the sandy humidifier held carefully before him.

“Captain Dar, I’m sorry to interrupt,” he began.

Dar looked up from their book. They were lounging in one of the pilot’s chairs, an unnecessary accessory that Bargie was fond of despite the fact that she piloted herself. Horsehat was seated in the chair opposite their parent, chin in hand, looking drowsy. Outside the windows, the galaxy whisked passively by.

“Oh, hey, C,” Dar said. “I was trying to decide whether I should read Horsehat a bedtime story or brush up on my captaining knowledge, and I thought, well, why not both?”

Horsehat themself did not seem to think that idea was a particularly good one. Their eyes were glazed over as they stared distractedly out the window. C-53 guessed that maybe they’d picked up a bit of AJ’s mindwiping technique during their time together.

“Ah, well, that will certainly put Horsehat to sleep,” C-53 reasoned, too caught up in his own thoughts to bother offering any constructive advice. “I actually have a bit of a favor to ask you.”

Dar’s big yellow eyes snagged on the machine in his hands for the first time. “Is that the shitty dehumidifier Nermut sent us like a year ago?”

“Along with that very suggestive bottle of sand, yes,” C-53 affirmed. He tilted the frame sideways, releasing a deluge of particulates onto the bridge floor. Dar raised their brows.

“I can clean that up,” C-53 said hurriedly.

“Oh, sure, you and what range of motion?” they asked, but their tone was more curious than irritated. “What’s the favor?”

There was no point in hesitating when the situation was this important, but C-53 found himself pausing, anyway.

“You’re not gonna get in that thing, are you?” Dar pressed. They rose from their chair to stand at their full height, an intimidating motion even to the much taller scanners in his loading frame. “What are you planning?” they asked.

“I… need to go talk to Pleck,” He admitted. His vocals took on a stronger edge, “And since he seems so keen on staying in his room, I figured I’d go to him.” He shook the dehumidifier. He and Dar watched it belch more sand onto the floor.

“…And you want me to put your cube in that ?” The captain seemed skeptical.

Across the room, Horsehat was nodding off with their face smushed onto an important looking keyboard.

“Well, I was hoping you’d help me clear out some of the sand, too,” C-53 said. “And, ah, maybe keep Bargie distracted so she’s not listening to our conversation. If it’s not too much to ask.”

Bargie, summoned by the sound of her own name, crackled onto the intercom. “You know I can hear you right now, right?”

“Respectfully, Bargie, this is precisely why I need you to be a little distracted for this,” C-53 said.

“Distracted from what? All the sand in my hallways? You realize you left like, a ridiculous amount of sand in my hallways.”

“He’s gonna go talk to Pleck,” Dar explained, their voice going melodic with intrigue. “In his room. Alone.”

“Oh, you’re finally confronting it, huh?” Bargie asked.

Before C-53 could fire off a retort, Dar stepped heavily forward to take the dehumidifier from his clamps. “C, please, let me get that for you.” They took out the water reservoir and emptied it unceremoniously onto the floor. “You’re about to make me a lot of kroon.”

“I fail to see how-” His processor lagged as he connected the dots. “I’m sorry?”

“C-53, you are literally the last being on board to catch on,” Bargie explained. “I didn’t even tell Dar anything. They had it figured out months ago.”

“Yeah, the only person more clueless about this is Pleck himself,” Dar went on.

They slapped a heavy hand on the dehumidifier’s exterior. Sand was beginning to pool at their feet. Horsehat startled awake at the sound, looked around groggily, and went straight back to sleep on the control panel.

C-53 finally put the necessary words together for a response. “I don’t really appreciate that you’re taking bets on my relationship status.”

The captain paused their de-sanding to give him a serious look. “I don’t appreciate that you’ve taken this long to update your relationship status.”

“It’s not just about that.”

“No,” Dar agreed, expression softening. “It’s not.” They tipped the machine idly in their hands. “But that’s a big part of it, right?”

They certainly weren’t wrong. Now that he’d had time to look, the more certain C-53 was that the connection between himself and the tellurian had always been there. Realizing Pleck’s feelings for him had tilted his perspective sideways, and he could finally really see it.

Every encounter between the two of them could be traced through his memory like a lifeline. Every excited smile Pleck flashed his way. Every reassuring touch in passing. Every moment of unshakeable loyalty they shared.

It wasn’t a plunge into affection, but rather a gentle drowning, and Pleck had pulled C-53 deep beneath the surface with him.

“Alright, I think I got most of it,” Dar grunted, bending to set the dehumidifier down. They straightened and gave C-53 a brief once-over. “Are you sure you want to go inside that thing?”

“If I had the choice, no,” C-53 replied, “but in terms of frames with any sort of mobility, my options are rather limited.”

They shrugged. “It’s your cube,” they reasoned. “You ready?”

“I am.”

The captain ejected his consciousness and everything went black. Sensation was limited in this state – he registered a faint feeling of being held and moved, but little else. It was always a somewhat disorienting process. Then his sensors fired off like so many synapses and he was in a body again. He adjusted to the change gradually as he powered on.

“Oh, this is… not ideal,” he muttered immediately.

Everything was small and cramped and full of sand. Dar had definitely shook out all they could, but C-53 could still feel microscopic grit in his machinery, trapped in the tiny spaces inside the frame. He reached into the dehumidifier’s limited capabilities one by one, testing out the treads, the scanners, the humidity sensors. It was a process made mildly uncomfortable by the sand, but it would do.

“You are so tiny,” Dar mused as they grinned down at him. “Are you gonna be okay in there?”

“I’ll be fine, Dar, thank you,” he assured them. His processor was juddering more over the upcoming confrontation than the state of his frame. “Before I go, may I ask what exactly you and Bargie are betting on?”

“That could ruin the outcome of the bet,” Dar said, a split second before Bargie blurted, “100 kroon says you make him cry.”

“ Barge ,” the captain groaned.

“Okay, I’m getting out of here,” he said in exasperation, throwing the machine into reverse.

“Go get him, C!” Dar called as he drove the dehumidifier out of the bridge. “Let us know how it goes!”

He didn’t bother to respond as he rolled down the hall, through the common area, and toward the ship’s living quarters. Sand ground in his gears as he went, lending to his anxiety. He was starting to think that this was perhaps a bad idea when he arrived outside Pleck’s door.

The hallway was dark and silent where he hesitated. He hadn’t even prepared what he was going to say to Pleck, so caught up as he was in his own thinking. But maybe it would be better this way. To speak spontaneously. To say exactly what he felt without pushing it all through three different filters. Pleck never watered down his thoughts. Why should he?

He didn’t have arms to knock, so he surged forward and rammed the dehumidifier against the door.

Silence.

“Pleck,” he said, bumping the door again. “It’s me. Open up. I just want to talk.”

His audio sensors picked up a shifting sound from within, and then the door cracked open. Pleck’s straw-colored eye peered out, at first gazing way too high before noticing the three-foot droid below his line of sight. He pulled the door open a little wider, surprise jerking up his eyebrows.

“C-53, what are you-” He stalled to look at him more closely. “Are you in a humidifier?”

“It’s a de humidifier,” C-53 corrected on impulse. “It’s… not important. Can I come in?”

Pleck gazed mournfully down at him. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, fatigue pulling under his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. His hair fell loose around his shoulders and his ruined eye socket was uncovered. C-53 watched him self-consciously pull forward a few blue locks to hide the injury.

“There’s… not a lot of room in here,” he said after a pause.

“I know,” C-53 answered stubbornly.

“Are you okay?” Pleck asked. “You sound kind of…”

“Sandy?” he supplied. “That would be the sand.”

The ghost of a laugh tripped out of the tellurian. “The what?”

“I can explain later,” C-53 said hastily. “Can we please talk? I don’t know how long Dar will cover for me.”

Pleck sighed, and the sound made C-53’s coding fray with concern. His friend considered him for a moment longer and finally stood aside to beckon the droid in.

Time to crash land. C-53 crossed the threshold.

Chapter 8 <-----> Chapter 10

[pops-and-kids]

Hey! This is the first birthday fic in...a while! Since last year I believe. Its late, I know, I messed up Namurs birthday date and realized time has been lost to me. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this short and sweet fic for the fish boi!

   The deck was alight with energy, laughter and music booming from the deck. Namur finished off his mug and sighed, satisfied. The part had been on for hours and yet it was still going strong. Pops’ laughter rocked the ship as he swayed with the music Kingdew was playing with some from other divisions. Namur smiled as he watched his family have fun. The lively energy put a good buzz in him alongside the beer, he caught a glimpse of the full preset table as his brothers and sisters mingled around. It gave him a heartwarming feeling knowing they were all there for him.

   But even if this was technically his birthday party he was more then happy that everyone treated it like a normal party, just with some streamers and cake. Namur thanked everyone who wished him a happy birthday, but the attention wasn’t fully on him, and for that he was more than grateful. He waded through the sea of family members towards the drinks table, getting pulled aside by a couple brothers for a quick “Hey happy birthday, man.” Pouring himself some more booze he took a moment to watch the dancers.

   Thatch and Izou were having a battle by the looks of it, tap dancing vs the traditional dance of his homeland. Clearly Izou was winning but Thatch was also not giving up. Until he tripped somehow (Namur couldn't see his footwork) and went down. Laughter exploded over the deck as Thatch took his defeat with grace and walked over to the drinks table.

“Good time?” Namur asked with a chuckle.

“He took classes, that was a loss from the start.” Thatch said with a smile, out of breath.

“Hey, we’ll be setting off the fireworks soon,” He rasped, pouring himself a cup, “Then we’ll have cake. Savvy?”

   Namur nodded as his brother chugged down his drink. “Sounds good. I’ll be off deck.”

   Thatch let out a hum in acknowledgement and gave a thumbs up, walking off to probably find a seat. Namur took a swig and waded back through the crowd, more birthday wishes given along the way. By the time he had gotten to the railing he felt like he had been the one to have challenged Izou, who was still taking on challengers if the cheers of his name were anything to go by. Taking a deep breath he looked down at the water. The gentle lap of the sea at the sides of Moby had a calming energy, a stark contrast to the pure hyperactive feeling on the ship itself.

“Mister Nam?” A small voice peeped next to him.

   Lil Red looked up at him with her cute eyes, holding a cup of cola in her secondary paws.

“Hello, Red.” He crouched down and gave her a head pat, “Enjoying yourself?”

“Ye!” She chirped, “Happeh birtday Mister Nam!”

   Namur chuckled, “Just Namur will do. Thank you! We’ll be having fireworks soon. Will you be okay with the noise?”

   Red tilted her head, her face scrunching up in confusion, “‘Fiwrworks’?”

“They explode in the air,” He explained, “They make bright colours and patterns. I think you’ll like them, but the noise may scare you.”

   Her satellite ears flopped down as she understood what he meant. “Oh….”

   Namur frowned and thought for a moment. He could hear Curiel and Jozu setting up the specialized canons already.

“Would you like to join me in the water and watch from there?”

   Red ears perked back up, looking up at him with excitement, “Really?”

   He nodded, “Yes, of course. Come on, we have to hurry though.”

   The two of them chugged what was left in their cups and left them on the deck for later. Namur scooped her up with a toothy smile and climbed over the railing, jumping down to the deep blue sea below. The water was cold on impact, the distant wound of a whale greeting the two of them from under the surface. Swimming away from the ship he zigzagged and barrel rolled, Reds muffled chirping and laughter reminding him just how fun it was to swim with other sea-faring folk. They couldn’t just enjoy the water, sadly, they’d miss the fireworks. Swimming back up to the surface Namur relaxed, floating on his back and letting the little dragon lay on his stomach.

   Not a moment too soon. A bang echoed over the water, followed by a brilliant sparkling red ball in the sky. Red gasped, her ears pointing straight up into the sky as she stared in awe.

“Fiwrworks?” She squeaked.

“Mhm. Fireworks.”

   The two of them stayed like that for the whole show, watching the fireworks go off together and deciding which were their favorites. Namur was partial to the blue ones while Red said “That ones my favorite!” for all of them. He couldn't stop smiling the whole time. The party, the fireworks, spending time with their newest little sister. It was the best thing this fishman could ever ask for on his birthday.

“Let’s hurry back, we’ll miss out on the cake if Ace gets to it first.”

“Caaaake!”

[justjessame]

Not A Loser Anymore Chapter 6

Jensen stayed with her until the doctor performed a more thorough form of a similar exam that he’d given her the day before. He held her hand the entire time, releasing it only when he absolutely needed to. He gave comforting squeezes when she flinched, or bit her lip (which also hurt like fucking hell), or gasped in pain.

When the doctor was through, Jensen had to leave. He wouldn’t tell her why or where he had to go, just as Clay hadn’t, but he was relieved by Pooch and Cougar. Apparently Morgan was being guarded. Fun.

“How’s Jolene?” She asked, as soon as Pooch took the seat that Jensen vacated. “When are you surprising her with a visit?”

Pooch chuckled. “Trying to make believe we aren’t visiting your bedside in a fucking hospital, Mo?” She smirked. “She’s fine. Jensen has ways to keep me informed.”

“Oh, I know the ways that Jensen keeps everyone informed. His sister knows he’s alive because of his data footprint.” She tried to laugh, but her chest screamed. “Stop fucking fussing.” She gritted out when he tried shushing her. Cougar was smirking from his perch by the window. “Don’t get me started on how fucking simple it was to find you, Romeo.” His smirk sobered. “Just follow all the panting women. You know what they were calling you?” She saw a reddish tint flood his face. “I translated it. And, let me tell you, I NEVER wanted to know that about you.”

Pooch grinned. “I want to know.”

“No, you really don’t.” She answered, smirking because that still didn’t hurt. “I’m not pretending that I’m not laying in a hospital bed, Pooch. I can’t pretend. Hell, I can’t fucking get up to pee. They have a catheter in me. Among other things.” She grimaced and found this expression also didn’t hurt. “What I’d like to know, however, is why I’m under constant guard?”

They both looked uncomfortable. Which was strange. If the only threat was Max, that psycho asshole, then they’d mention it. Where was the other issue?

“Damn it,” She muttered. “Did Clay tell you not to tell me?” She glared at the two of them, feeling the rage numb any pain in her face. “Because, while I may look fragile, I promise you I’m not.”

“We know you’re not.” Cougar answered, the man of few words nearly surprising her. “If you were, you wouldn’t be here now.”

Pooch nodded, taking her hand gently. “You have to heal, Mo. That’s your full time job right now. That’s all you have to do.” His thumb stroked the back of her hand. “You want to be up and running when Jolene gives birth right?”

Traitor, she thought. “Of course, you ass.” She wanted to argue, but these two would never budge. “How long do I have to prepare?”

“Couple weeks, nearly a month.” He answered, a smile lighting up his face. “Get your ass working, Mo.” He winked and they settled into the cozy familiarity of family and a team.

Talking about everything except what she wanted to talk about. Why she was being kept closely watched.

Roque took his turn when Pooch and Cougar had to leave. Good, the one man who didn’t fear Clay on the team. He sat down in the now favored chair, grinning at her like they shared a secret. Which she hoped they did.

“You look like shit, Mo.” He whistled and his grin grew.

She shook her head as much as she could without being brought down with more pain, which wasn’t much. “Always such a charmer, Ro.” Her smirk, now recurrent since it didn’t make her want to die returned. “I’m glad to see you, well, the parts I can see of you. Wade had better be so happy he’s fucking dead already.”

Ro laughed, and she gave a small chuckle. Her ribs didn’t want to complain, so that was welcome. “God, I missed you, Mo.” His huge paw took her up. “Scared the shit out of us when Jensen carried your ass out of that fucking container.

“So I’ve heard.” She sighed. “Why are you here, Ro?”

His face lost the amusement, and stared deep into the slits of her swollen eyes. “What do you mean?”

She snorted. “Cut the shit. I haven’t been alone since I came to, and from what the nurse said when I came to, you guys didn’t leave me even when I was unconscious.” She stared straight back. “Now, I know Max got away, but by my estimation, with the five of you alive, that means that most if not all of his men are dead.” Ro looked a tad uncomfortable. “Max is a pussy. He doesn’t get his gloves dirty. Where’s the threat?”

Clay came back, and saw that Roque and Morgan were having a rather intense conversation. That didn’t bode well at all. “I’m back.” And there it was, even through her swollen, bruised face. Even with her lip split, and her eyes barely slits. The look of disappointment. Shit.

“Clay,” Roque answered, standing up. “Mo, I’ll see you later.” He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. “No stress.” He ordered, walking past Clay like he wasn’t even there. Fuck.

Clay went to the bed and took the chair he’d placed there that morning. God, was it mere hours ago? It felt like years, and the way she was looking at him, it was like reliving her leaving. “Morgan, honey, is something wrong?” Best to just bandaid this shit. Tear it off, and pray they can move past it.

“Been getting more intel from Aisha?” She asked, looking just over his shoulder. Damn him and his fucking dimples. Not this time, no distractions. “Because I realized when you left and were replaced by Jensen. And he left, and was replaced by Cougar and Pooch.” She felt her jaw clench, and while it hurt like fuck it grounded her. “Then, low and behold, when they left, there was Roque.” While she hurt so much she was tempted to touch that little pain medicine button that the doctor and nurse had repeatedly shown her, she refused. No more distractions. “I know Max is loose. But I think we both know that Max doesn’t usually do the dirty work, does he? Where’s the real threat?”

He was looking down at the bed, where her hand was clenched on the blanket again. Her tell. “I can explain.”

She snorted. “You’re still in bed with the enemy, Clay. Either figurative or both figurative and literally.” Her gaze was still on the darkening window sill. “I don’t really care, but I hate being lied to. Or treated like a fucking civilan or worse, a child.”

Clay was tempted to take her hand. To try to sooth her, but he knew Morgan. Knew her just like he knew his own hand. Touching her hand would set her off. She’d feel it was proof that he didn’t believe she could handle it. That she was weak. And Captain Morgan Dean hated feeling weak.

He sighed. “It’s not like that.” He knew she wasn’t looking at him. Knew she wouldn’t at this point. “Not anymore.”

“Really?” She smirked at him. “The two of you burned down a hotel in Bolivia, Clay. That’s pretty extreme foreplay, even for you.” A huff of breath, and then she did fix her gaze on him. “I don’t care. You and I, we aren’t a thing. We’re a really bad cocktail of combustible bullshit, that seems to make the other person feel like shit, even when that’s not our goal.” She fought the tears that wanted to come, but she refused. Not today. “Is she a threat to me?” That was all she needed to know.

“I don’t know.” He whispered, feeling his chest tighten. Not like this, he thought, not now. “She, we have a mutually beneficial situation, but it’s tense.”

Morgan laughed, deciding that she could feel this pain now, it was worth it. “Am I a threat because of this beneficial relationship? Did you fall for ANOTHER psycho?” He didn’t answer, too stunned by her reaction. “Get out.” He stayed seated. “Leave. Watch me from the waiting room. Send back in one of the others. Whatever it is, get out, Clay. Now.”

“Don’t do this, Morgan.” He pleaded. Needing to see her, to know she was not just safe, but here. Alive, touchable, and possibly his. “Don’t make me-”

“You’re the superior officer, Clay, I can’t make you do anything.” Morgan glared at him. “I’m REQUESTING a new guard detail. If you find suitable forms, I’ll even fill them out to make it official.” Her voice was rough, her throat screaming at her to calm down, but this was a bridge too far. “Leave. Send someone else. Hell, send Aisha, let’s see if she’s really such a fucking threat. After all, it’s not like I’m in fighting shape, is it?”

Clay knew she was done. At least for now. He stood up and started for the door. Before he could leave, she gave him one more request.

“Send Jensen, if he’s not too busy.” And with that, he left, out to the waiting room. Out to call in Jensen. Because right now, he’d give her anything she wanted, just to make her get better faster.

[irrfahrer]

🌸

Send “🌸” to give my muse a flower! 

The starport lay in a sea of blue grass like a little grey iseland in a dark ocean. In the morning Ziv had left the small hotel she had rented a tiny chamber to collect the dew from the grass around the starpot since the water drops had soaked in the grass’ antibacterial effects in like a sponge. The herb grew up to her knees, which was not especially high for a Humanoid for for the Tynnan it made it hard to walk through it as it felt as if she was wading through syrup. 

After a few hours as the sun already stood high on the sky and the rests of the dew had vaporized into thin lines of damp running like line sof chalk from the grass into the sky, Ziv had sat down on a small hil for a late breakfast, chewing listless on a energy-bar that tasted a little as if she was  sucking on a steelscrew.  It was then when she heard the rustling of grass behind her meaning that another person was making their way through the grass towards her and automatically her pale ears turned in the direction of the noises like the ears of a attentive animal. Automatically the young woman stiffned and for a second, just a second her paw grabbed for the blaster under her Parka.

 But before she could turn around to the other, Poe held a flower before her snout that was as red as a ruby.  The Tynnan blinked, looked up to Poe, blinked again and then gave him a little smirk that curled amused around her muzzle.  “ How pretty.” .She pulled the sleeve of her too big Parka down over her small paw and with the cloth between her and the flower took it from the other, turning it in her paw carefully like a precious jewel.  “Its a Cinderbloom. Its home is originally on Aldreaan, but it traveled with Pilots to other Planets. Usually it grows in thin forests or on meadows as it needs direct sunlight. Children use the leafs to dry  and grind them to itching-pulver. Its also used in salves against frostbites to pump blood back into the numb flesh.”, there was a amused smirk curling around the Tynnans pale muzzle that looked more mocking and triumphant than friendly: “Some very adventerouse cooks use the powder to spice up  hot-pots. I am sure, if we take a look we will find a takeaway with hotpots spiced with those petals if you dare to try it and want to say good bye to your kriffing taste-buds. ”

“Its also called butt-pain by medics, because most people see this beautiful flower and pick it. Then, around five minutes later they realize that the plant extracts a thin oil that most aliens react alergic too. Then the skin touching it starts itching and then starts to swell and become irritated. And wherever you had touóched yourself with the fingers spilled with the oil, the irritation will spread. So, to the nickname- for medics it is a pain in the kriffing ass, because everyone wants to pick the pretty flower and promptly forget that it has a poisonous oil.”

There was a pause and then, from one second to another the smile on the Tynnans muzzle fell off her face like a heavy mask. It was replaced by a scowl that was so heavy that her eyes almost disappeared under her eyebrows and the pelt on the back of her neck bristled as if loaded with electricity. 

“You..did wore gloves, did you? Tell me,you wore kriffing gloves!”, a worried frown drew a line as deep as a scar between the Tynnans big eyes and promptly with a frustrated huff she reached up to take the mans hands in her paws to check if he actually had put on gloves.  In her head Ziv already went through the treatment of the poisoning like she was taking notes when listening to a lecture: Use vinegar to clean the hands of the poison, clean the vinegar off with water, use a thick layer of balm of Toola Fungi to cool the rash and bandage the skin at best with a cool-pad on top to avoid any swelling, so the rash would be gone soon.

[ @poewingsdameron ]

[ladyemberswrites]

Preview,Time's Arrow, Dotu!Lotura Stuff

~

"How's my little girl" he kissed her cheek.She gurgled, kicking out her chubby legs.He couldn't help, but nuzzle her which earned another watery gurgle, her stubby, little fingers trying to grab small, fist fulls of his hair.

"Who's my little princess?" He cooed quietly, so no one could hear him fawning over his infant daughter, bouncing her and coddling her in his arms.

She didn't so much as answer, as she spit up her morning meal all over new clothes.

"Lovely" he grimaced. Lyra only burbled in response.

"Lotor?" 

He stiffen "yes"

"I-oh, dear" she murmured, "her new clothes" she mourned the pink dress in dismay "I worked so hard on it"

"It can be cleaned"

"I know" she picked at the dress. 

~

The guilt gnawed at her, it's been awhile, a long while.

Ular burbled in her sling, Allura brushed her soft curls in reassurance as she walked out into the shallow waters, uncaring that her blue gown is getting wet, her bare feet felt nice walking on top of the sandy sediments..

"Hello, blue" she smiled "it's been some time hasn't it? I'm sorry, but look I brought someone, see" she lifted part of the sling away to reveal Ular's face, the newborn squinted at the shine of the sun and turned her face away, her fingers gripping at the loose fabric of her dress.

"This is Ular. Isn't she just adorable" she murmurs, patting her backside softly. Peering up at the robotic feline, she of course didn't expect a reaction,  though sometimes she wishes to believe that. But, Blue remained as she always had, stagnant and a relic frozen in time. Thick vines and foliage grew in the crevices of her armor and metal plates, her paws cored by rust from the water sloshing at her legs. Overlooking Arus like a statue guardian. Allura placed a hand on her leg the metal cold beneath her palm, she patted her quietly listening to the sound of the water rippling around her, and Ular's soft breathing and the beat of her heart against her own. Her head connected against Blue, the machine, and allowed her eyes to drop close, but she knew now that Blue would never move, not now, never again.She had long accepted that, she sighed through her nose, rubbing her head against the bulk of steel.

"I miss you…" she whispers "I miss them" 

"Mom!" 

"Mama!"

She lifted her head drawn away from her musings about the past, she turned around to find An'tok and Lyra making their way towards her, wading through the ankle length waters. 

"Mama!" Lyra grabbed her skirts.

"Careful, the waters deeper over here" 

"Oops" the girl looked around noticing the water had gathered at her knees.

"Mom, I thought you were resting" An'tok grabbed her hand eyeing her far too incredulously for a child his age.

"I was" she looked back at Blue "just visiting an old friend is all" peering back down at her son, she smiled gently "Besides, I can't stay in bed forever, I have a party to plan" 

"You can do that, while resting" 

"Uh-huh" she replied lifting both her brows before running her hands through his blond hair which earned her a grimace, as he moved away from her, huffing, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Can I have melon bread!?" Lyra blurted, as she ushered both children out the water to dry land.

"Didn't you just eat" 

"Yeah, but I'm still hungry" she chirped.

"Here, mom" An'tok passed her, her shoes, blue flats encrusted with gold that she left on the sandy banks.

She grabbed them "thank you" 

"Are we going to get some melon beard now?" 

"Can't you stop thinking about food for one second" 

"I like food" 

"Your going to get fat"

"Am not" 

"We'll see when you keep eating like a pig" 

"You also eat a lot" 

~

"I don’t understand" his mouth  dry as he speaks.

Allura looked away, her hand clutching at the gold hem of her blue dress"What’s there to understand, Keith" she murmurs quietly.

"You-I you couldn’t have waited for me" he replied hoarsely, his throat raw red, but the sentence caught her attention as she looks at him pointedly.

"Keith, 15 years" she says those words like their made of glass "15 years is a long time to be waiting, and waiting"

The way she said it ignited something in him, something whole, something firey“I was coming back to you!" He grabbed her shoulders with vice "you couldn’t have waited!”

“And what If you didn’t!” she shouted back just as hotly, and just as passionately “you expected me to just wait 15 years just for a chance that may never happen! And what if you didn’t” she repeated again. He expected tears, but none came as her lips twisted in a grimace whether at him or the argument he hadn’t a clue “you expected me to just wait around and do nothing while my home falls apart? Voltron wasn’t there when I need them, not that it’s your fault or anyones, but you can’t just stand there and tell me I should have waited for help that might never have come. I did what I had to, for myself and my people. And Lotor-Lotor” she went quiet “gave me the opportunity to do just that. I’m sorry that I hurt you Keith, I really am. But, I did what I had to do.”

“You could have turned to literally anybody else-”

She knew where he was going before all the words left his lips  “Don’t you dare!” she hissed “Don’t you dare go there, you have absolutely no right. You haven’t a clue what I’ve been through, don't you dare come on your high horse and moralize to me!”

He swallowed thickly.

“Then- then if that's the case then you can count on the space explorers again, were back now, we can protect Arus again." He's grasping at any straw, at anything that can bring him hope, the one he had is all but fading, crumbling between his fingers.

"There's nothing to protect anymore" she shook her head "Keith there's no war, not anymore, not between Doom and Arus. There's peace between us, I can't just leave, and destroy everything I worked so hard to accomplish."

"Then leave him"

"W-what?" 

"You heard me," he brought her closer, a hair breadth away "you don't need him, you don't have to force yourself to stay with him, not anymore, not while I'm here to protect you"

"I had his children keith! I just can’t get up leave.  Surely that rift had drove you mad if you think it's that simple"

"Than take them with you" she gifted him a furrowed brow "the children I mean" he corrected himself.

"I can’t do that either. I'm not going to separate them from their father"

"Allura, I don't understand, why are you resisting, you keep making excuses, why?"

"If don't understand why, then I think you should just drop this conversation entirely, you haven't heard a word I've said" she tried to push away "let me go, please. I have a headache" his grip loosens and she broke away, like she had that day. That day that ruined everything, his hands fell to his sides like his world had.

"Your room's still here" she murmurs "I didn't-no one's touched it since-the incident" 

He says nothing because he doesn't feel like there's anything to say. Nothing important, nothing substantial, nothing to gain as he found himself drowning.

"I've kept it clean, I mean" she turns to him her face unreadable as she eyes him from across the room "so, no dust bunnies or anything to worry about" she tried to smile, but only to realize that the efforts are for not as he peered away from her to stare at the door handle of the parlor room, opening it he slipped out without a word only to find Lotor meandering around the halls a couple of feet away.

The click of the door alerted him and Lotor stared at him in a way that seemed as he's looking through him than at him. Keith felt his anger, animosity, everything negative and pungent rise to the surface of his consciousness. It blamed him! This is all his fault! He saw a crack, and like a conniving fox seeped through the cracks and garnered Allura's pity. Manipulated her to his side of things, forced his way onto throne and somehow they produced offspring in the wake of things.

Why Allura would commit to do such a thing is beyond him when she reviled his very touch? Lotor came forward, the small dark crown on his head glimed in the light; as he stalked forward, Keith prepared himself for a fight.

As Lotor stopped them being inches apart "what?" 

"You won't get away with this" 

The man in question blinked "is that so?"

"You can't keep manipulating her forever, now that Voltron's back, your days on the throne are numbered"

"How quaint" the king murmured "think what you will, but I assure you nothing will be gained from trying to interfere" Lotor walked around him and into the room Allura currently occupied.

"Where do you think-" 

"To talk with my wife." The door slammed in his face leaving him the silence of the halls and empty rooms. Gritting his teeth, he reluctantly moves away and back to-at first he couldn't think of where to go, nothing is the same anymore. The castle's been greatly renovated, after being destroyed again, now there's here purely Arusian, but Drule in the mix. The sight of it fed into the dissonance of returning home after all these years. He expected the world to remain unchanged while they wandered the rift, he thought he'd come back to the princess, Allura unchanged and as sweet and kind as always-only to find her like this.

Lotor had changed her. He had done something to her to make her the way she is now.

[vidkid20ssimblrlair]

Episode 15: The Dinner (Part 3)

"No. I'll go."

We looked over to see Aaron in the main archway looking slightly disheveled but composed. He sat down next to Lin. He stared at Nathan and then Mr. Jones. "I will like to apologize for my absence, Luther. I decided to come back out of respect for our guest."

"I was just about to ask about you. I'm glad you can join us," Jones said smiling.

"So it's storytime? Delightful," he said slurring slightly with his posh accent. "Well, I'm a doctor obviously. 

“More like a quack,” Lin snorted.

He frowned at her but continued. “As I was saying I worked at a hospital and was asked to aid in the crisis involving the dead. Patient after patient coming down with some horrible disease. It was horrifying, I offered to help out with the army to set up a sanctuary in an abandoned asylum. Where I met you all. But I know you’re curious about what happened earlier. About that letter."

“Aaron, you don't have to,” Maidson said quietly.

“It’s fine. I did have a wife and I had a child on the way actually. I can't say that didn't love her, but I was going through the motions and wasn’t being very honest with myself or her. When I heard she was with child, I planned to break off things with a colleague I was seeing. A colleague I was having an affair with. His name was Alexander or Alex. He was a kind soul. Thoughtful. Smart. I didn’t want to break his heart, but I owe my wife that much. She was having my child for christ sakes! But the day I ended things with him was the day the hospital became overrun with the dead. The last thing he gave to me was that letter and the last thing I said to him was I didn’t want to see him anymore. You can imagine how that makes me feel. How that letter is valuable to me.

Well, now you know something that even my mother didn’t know about me. Now you know part of the reason why I drink.”

“That’s actually really touching, Aaron,” Lin said genuinely stunned.

“I guess so,” he said shrugging. He pulled out a flask emptying the contents in his mouth and placed it back in his pocket. “Anyway, it appears I need a refill. So enough about me. How about the next person go, so I can carry on drinking.”

I looked from one to the other. Their eyes zeroed on me again. I knew my time was up. 

Audrey reached across the table and touched my hand. She smiled and whispered, “Tell the truth.”

I sighed, sat up, and cleared my throat.  “I wasn’t a good guy. What I might say may change your opinion of me and that’s fine, but know I’m not that man I use to be.”

They all shared concerning looks but paid close attention to me now.

“I was also a thief. I was also a convicted felon. I spent a lot of my life in prison for dumb shit. I stole from people’s houses, assaulted people, and booted cars for a living. I was addicted to the fast money and the thrill of it all. Got even worse when I became a father. Couldn’t exactly get an honest job to take care of her you know. Not when you got a record,” I said as the total silence in the room was deafening.

“Anyway, just before this shit went down I was wrongly convicted for a murder I didn’t do. I was able to break out of jail thanks to the dead taking over the prison. Lucky me huh? Crazy thing is I ended up traveling with the cop who framed me and an actual murderer. I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for Audrey with the luck I’ve had, but I know what you’re thinking. I know I can’t get this stench off of me. Even in the fucking apocalypse, but I swear...”

“So you’re a convicted felon?!” Matthew gasped.

“Oh, here we go.”

“You..you...we can’t trust you!” he stammered angrily rising up to his feet immediately.

Madison stood up and blocked him shielding me from him. “Matthew. Please.”

“He’s a convicted murderer!”

“Wrongly convicted and he didn’t have to tell us that. He could have lied!”

Matthew fumed. “Wrongly accused. Ha! He could be lying now. He’s dangerous!”

“I’m not lying!”

I stood up and looked past Madison. It was then I felt Audrey behind me grabbing my arm. She tugged at it trying to pull me away, but the two of us weren’t letting up. Our eyes locked on each other ready to shed blood if need be. Only Madison was keeping us from throwing blows. She stood helplessly between us trying to keep us both away from each other. She looked strangely tiny as she stuck out her arms trying to distance us. I glanced over to see the rest of the table was now standing. Luther remained seated, but they all seemed to be talking all at once. Their cries all mixing together as they appeared to be pleading for us to stop as well.

The only person who seemed to be egging it on was Wade. He marched over to Matthew’s side and glared at me. A pure look of disgust graced his face.

He then shook his head and folded his arms. “I knew it. You’re probably one of the Cartel aren’t you?”

I scowled. “No, you racist shit!”

“Please stop this!” Audrey cried grasping my arm for dear life. “He’s not dangerous. He’s a good man! He saved my life. He literally went through a burning building to save me. I swear!”

“I believe her!” Madison cried. “Please.”

“So this is how you treat me? After I kept your fucking secret,” I spat turning back to Matthew. A smug smile then graced my face as I realized what I was saying. He seemed to catch on and he suddenly looked terrified. I continued. “So, Wade, since you want to open your big ass mouth, did anyone tell you that we didn’t get any gasoline? Not one drop? I’m sure Matthew told you. Ohhh, we weren't supposed to tell you till we scrounged some up, so you wouldn’t bitch about it!”

“What?” he gasped wide-eyed.

“And Madison, do you know what your little boyfriend here told me not to tell you?”

She turned her attention to me confused. “Huh?”

“He’s lying!”

“We found a walker on a stake that looked remarkably like you. Also found a message.”

“Wait! What?”

“The message said, “We’re watching you! Was written in blood on the wall of the gas station when went we back, but you’re not supposed to know that! No one is. Now, who’s the trustworthy one now?”

Madison backed away wide-eyed from Matthew then. She looked completely shocked. The color almost looked to be draining from her face.

“I..I was protecting you,” he stuttered. He stepped towards her softening his voice. “I was going to tell you...”

This didn’t calm her. Not one ounce. With a flash, her hand connected with his face and slapped him. He stumbled backwards and grabbed his cheek.

Wade who stood behind him pushed him as he bumped into him. He balled up his right fist and raised it as if to hit him, but put it down thinking twice. He then joined the rest of the household who stood quietly on the sidelines now staring at us like spectators. A mixture of shock and disappointment flashing upon their faces.

“I...I trusted you!” Madison howled. “How could you? This endangers me. It endangers us all. How could you keep this from me? From us?"

Matthew said nothing. The room was completely silent. You could almost hear a pin drop. Then I jumped feeling something on my leg. I looked down to see a cat. A white cat. Audrey had mentioned it, but I stared down at it perplexed by its presence. It meowed and walked over to the glass door. My eyes were drawn to it while everyone else seemed to be in a trance staring at Matthew as he stumbled over his words trying to explain himself.

I watched the cat paw at the glass. It eyes focused on something outside. Grace then spotted the cat too. She walked over to it pushing pass Matthew and she bent down to retrieve it. As she bent down to pick it up, something bumped into the door loudly. It was so loud we all jumped and I though the glass had broken. Audrey practically leaped into my arms from just the sound.

I looked up and away from the cat to see a corpse staring in now. He clawed at the glass door and loudly banged his head on it again making a thin crack. The cat sat down and continued to paw at the now blood-smeared glass. Everyone seemed to be fully aware of the cat and the corpse now. They gather at the door looking positively frightened.

DJ quickly came over looking dumbfounded as stared at it.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said regaining his composure. “But dinner’s over."

There's some foreshadowing going on at the end. ;)

And ugh wished I could have done more with Vince's flashbacks, but it was a last min decision to include it. Someone needs to make a ski mask for TS3. -_- Anyway, the first poll for the season will be posted next. Will be something to lighten things up as things are about to get rough.

Part 1

Part 2

All Episodes

[goosefightrobinmayor]

The Werewolf of Border Village

Yep, I’m still writing notfm fic. I wrote this just after the werewolf update came out.

The only difference is I decided to put this on ao3.

Jerry still has gay dads. Deal with it.

He was nine years old the first time.

Not that he hadn’t reacted to the moon before.  Child Jerry seemed to get a little more preoccupied and energetic that one day of the month, or so he heard.  His dads laughed and said that Jerry was storing up energy for these ‘rambunctious periods’.  Being muscular lumberjacks who had been hell-raising kids themselves, they weren’t daunted by a little boy who suddenly took to gnawing on the furniture.

But everything changed that day in the woods.  Jerry woke up particularly energetic and ready to do an honest day’s work.  It was the first day he cut a tree all the way through without one of his dads finishing or starting it for him.  It was a thing skinnier than him, but he was proud.  His dads cheered and he went on his Papa’s shoulders.  

It was while chopping the tree up into logs that he got itchy.  Like, terribly itchy.  Bugs on his skin and under it.  His dads were in midst of some kind of argument.  His Father had broken the handle to his axe and Papa was telling him he had to be more careful, and Father shouted back that he was being careful.

“Dads?”  Jerry said weakly, but the lumberjacks got heated and the boy’s words couldn’t be heard.  He groaned, and glanced up into the sky.  Huh, the moon was up early.  It was pretty up there in the blue, like a weird eye.  An eye looking straight at him- inside of him, even.

He couldn’t stand it anymore.  He ran off toward the closest trees.  Things got tight and even more unbearably itchy, and then suddenly, release.

Jerry ran.  He ran faster than he had ever run before.  A stream came into his path and he leaped over it with grace.  He could smell the world around him- trees and squirrels and water.  Everything looked and sounded beautiful.

He climbed a tree and howled with joy.

The howl took him by surprise.  His howls had never sounded like that before.  Actually, they had never felt like that before.  He put his hand on his throat, but there was hair in the way.  

He barked, noticing his body.  It wasn’t the way he recognized it.  It was big and muscular, but not in the same way of his dads.  Grey fur covered everything.  His nose so long that it was always in his vision.

“Aia ray roof!”  He said out loud, but it seemed that he couldn’t speak.  I’m a werewolf.  Somehow, it all seemed to fall into place, to answer a question he always had had.

He just had to show his dads!  He jumped down from the tree and landed on confident paws.  He realized that he was unfamiliar with this part of the forest.  The trees had hard, bulbous bark and it seemed particularly close to the the source whatever it was that made it snow all the time here.  He was scared until he realized he could smell his own trail.

He followed it back, and over the stream again, which he realized was more like a brook.  He stopped himself and sniffed it.  He could never leap over this without wading when he was just Jerry…

He howled again because he was happy.  It felt good to express how happy he was, so he howled again, and again.  Then he followed the trail again.  It wasn’t long before new scents entered his nostrils.  Father and Papa!  He had never smelled this before, not consciously, and yet now he knew that this was their smell.

He rushed toward it, into a clearing where the two men were standing back to back, holding their axes.  He loped up to them, wagging his tail.  “Roo rarr ree!”  He ran a circle to show off his new form.

Papa gasped, “There it is!”

“What’s that on it’s neck?  Is that Jerry’s shirt?”

Huh? Why were they calling him an it?  “Rawr?  Ra-ra?”

“It hurt Jerry?”  Father’s teeth showed, “I’ll skin it alive!”

Jerry yelped, and ran.  His dads followed with determination.  Jerry was faster, but every time he would take a rest, his dads would show up not long after.  At one point he lost his shirt.  It continued until dawn broke and Jerry was just too tired to keep running.

He woke up warm, but bruised and beaten.  His fathers were over him.  They cried and they hugged him and admonished for going off alone in the cursed forest, “Thank god we saved you from the werewolf in time!”

“But Papa-” Jerry said weakly.  Everything about him was weak, and small.  In a way, he hated how he was now that he had gotten to be a wolf.  But at least he could talk.

Father cut in, “If I ever see that werewolf again, I’ll turn it inside out and roast it on a spit!”

Jerry jumped.  Father noticed and embraced Jerry, “It’s OK, son.  You’re safe now.”

Jerry hugged him because he’d been robbed of words.

Everything was different after his first transformation.  Although he still looked like a skinny little boy- no relation to either of his bear fathers- he found it easier to carry logs for longer and his reactions were faster.  Even his wolfy sense of smell seemed to stick around,and he identified the unique scents of just about all the residents of Border Village.

His friend Little Red Riding Hood noticed, and she asked him to be a sparring partner.  Jerry was clumsy was a sword, but easily bested her and hand to hand.  He was particularly apologetic one day when he gave her a black eye.  “I shouldn’t fight you anymore, I’m sorry.”

“No, please do!  You’re really strong, Jerry.  If I practice against you, I’ll just keep getting stronger,” she hissed as her grandmother pressed a cool steak into her eye, “I want to get as strong as I can possibly get.”

Jerry stopped going into the forest, though.  It was suggested by his Dads.  Jerry still wasn’t talking about his encounter with the werewolf, and his dads thought that he might be traumatized.  They graciously offered to let him stay with with Granny Hope and Red while they went into the woods.  

A door was open, and Jerry couldn’t close it.  He couldn’t put away his strength or his sense of smell in a box.  Neither could he pack away the transformation.  At first he was able to push it off until after his dads or the Hope family were asleep, but it creeped in earlier.  Using herbs he’d gotten from the apothecary, he made his family get sleepy earlier on those nights.

Being a wolf in his or the Hope house was unbearable.  There was the self loathing about what he was, the anxiety that he would be found out.  Granny Hope had a shrugging attitude about werewolves, “They’re just creatures, like crows or cats,” she’d say.  But somehow Jerry didn’t think she’d have that same attitude if she discovered him.

The wolf, too, was anxious on these nights.  His paws would hurt because he wanted nothing more than to run freely. Well.  Of course that’s not what he wanted, but his body wanted that.  He also got hungry on these nights.  Painfully hungry.  He could stave that off by taking second and third servings for supper.  His choice of space also kept his wolf self from being anxious.  If he was free to wander the house, or even confined to his room as a wolf, he felt more anxious.  He was much more comfortable when he put a blanket down in a closet or something, and locked himself in.  Tight spaces soothed the beath.  Sometimes he could even manage to in the closet.

The werewolf turned out to be an excellent excuse for itself.  When his dads or Granny Hope found him naked on the floor of the closet, he could just say that he was scared of werewolves because of that encounter.  This also served fine, as the years went out, to keep him away from the forest.  Even during the broad daylight, Jerry would stay home.  This perturbed Papa.

“How will he ever support himself if he never learns a trade?”

“Have you seen his craftsmanship?” Father said, “The boy’s an artist.  He doesn’t need to cut wood like us.”

And indeed Father was right- Jerry was growing a love of carpentry.  Every piece was a little more adventuresome- a little more intricate.  His pieces starting fetching good money from the adults of Border Village.  Jerry starting working commission.

And so Jerry persisted, maintaining a delicate balance of training and herbs and closets.  He was happy, he told himself.  Yes, he was surrounded by people who loved him- or part of him, anyway.  And he could make beautiful things.  This was more than a werewolf deserved.

Everything got worse when Father died.

Jerry was thirteen.  Papa came home and Father didn’t.  Papa was panting and wild eyed, and embraced Jerry, “Thank god you stayed here, thank god!”

The lumberjacks had been bringing wood back when they walked into a wolf pack.  They defended themselves as best they could but the pack was out for blood.  Then the forest Witch appeared in their midst, laughing, and created an explosion.  One wolf was knocked back in the blast, hitting Papa who was knocked out.

When he came to, the wolves were gone.  The Witch was gone, too, but there was a giant, bloody lizard chewing Father’s axe.  When the lizard saw Papa, it rushed him.  Papa attacked it with both axes and chased it under the water where it got away.

“What are you saying?” Jerry’s voice shook, “The lizard ate Father?”

“No son, don’t you get it?  The lizard was just a scavenger.  It was the werewolves.  With that Witch!”

The Witch, of course.  Jerry had heard rumor of terrifying blue haired woman who control a pack of werewolves for murder and mayhem.  Werewolves...

It was the thing Jerry wanted to hear the least.  Papa took him by the shoulders, “Oh Jerry, I’m so glad you stayed here with your friend.  Jerry, you can’t ever, ever encounter a werewolf.”

“I won’t,” Jerry said weakly.

“You have to promise me you’ll never go into the forest!”

“But I don’t!”

“Promise me,” Papa had tears in his eyes, “not for any reason.  Just stay home.  Make your father proud.  Make beautiful furniture.”

Jerry nodded, and cried into his Papa’s breast.

The wolf was bigger.

It was lots of little things that made it bigger.  Like Jerry’s temper being shorter.  He had no patience for the children on the schoolyard or the teachers.  He was known to get into fist fights.

“What are you trying to prove, Jerry?” Papa said, “Life doesn’t need to be any harder for us right now.”

“I know that, Papa.”

“Then why can’t you just settle?”

Jerry couldn’t answer that with words.

He was so angry he hurt Red again, much to his dismay.  Red forgave him, though, and Granny Hope called for a break.  She offered the kids a warm berry tea.

“Strength isn’t all swordfights and matches,” she said as she removed the teabags, “this is strength, too.  One must know when to mend oneself.”

“I’ll be fine, Grandma,” Red said, “it’s just a bruise.”

“I know that, Little Red, and I wasn’t talking to you,” she turned to Jerry, “you’ve suffered a terrible blow, recently.”

“My Father,” Jerry said, and put on a strong face, “I’m OK, though.  It’s my Papa I need to worry about.”

“I can tell you do,” Granny Hope said, “and he worries about you.”

“Well, he shouldn’t,” Jerry said quickly.

“And why is that?”

Jerry couldn’t say.

“I worry about you, too,” Red said.

“Why?!”

Red and Granny Hope both looked a little off put by that exclamation.  Jerry gritted his teeth and let himself drink a gulp of hot berry tea.  Mmmm.  This really did feel good.

Red took his hand, “When I was a little girl, my mom- didn’t come home,” Granny Hope looked away, “I was so scared and so upset,” she chuckled, “I tell everybody the reason I want to become a great sword fighter is to kill all the monsters in the Black Forest.  But really, sometimes I feel like if get to be good enough, maybe my swordsmanship can bring her back.”

“Red,” Granny Hope said, and Red put up a hand.

“I know, I know,” she said, “it doesn’t work that way.  But it feels that way.  It’s been so long, Jerry, and there’s not a single day that I don’t want her back,” she squeezed his hand, “you know, if you ever feel ready to talk about your Father, you can talk to me.”

Jerry was terribly moved by this.  How wonderful his friend was.  He loved her.  He wanted to tell her everything.  How could he?  He couldn’t even mention his Father’s death at the teeth of werewolves without having to talk about werewolves in general and-

“Do you hate werewolves, Red?”

“Of course,” Red said, “after what they did to your father, how could I not?  I’ll slay any werewolf I see on sight.”

“Well then,” Granny Hope said, “it’s a good thing you’ll never see one- you’re never going into the cursed Black Forest.”

“Of course, Grandma.  But if they came here-”

“That’s enough brave talk out of you.”

Jerry gulped down his tea.

The full moon came and Jerry did what he always did- herbing his Papa to sleep and locking himself in the closet.  But the next day there were scratches on the door and blood on the wood.

“Jerry, this has gone on long enough.  You have to stop it now.  You’re not a little boy, you’re a man.  No more closet sleeps,” Papa said, scrubbing the blood out of the floor, “don’t you realize this makes it harder?”

“I’m sorry,” Jerry choked.  He didn’t remember scratching at the door.

The next full moon, he tried sleeping in his room.  When he woke up the next day, the window was open, there was a dead, partially eaten chicken on the floor, and a gross feeling in his stomach.

He washed the blood out and got rid of all the evidence, but the chicken kept him rolling in his bed all month.  He had hurt a chicken.  He had hurt and killed a living thing with his jaws and he didn’t even remember it.

“Why won’t you talk to me, Jerry?” Papa asked, “I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”

“I’m fine, Papa, really.”

“Jerry, you smashed the fruit bowl when I asked you about school.”

Jerry had gotten a cut on his arm from crushing the bowl in his hands.  He tried not to touch it.

“I’ll save up money to get you a new one.”

“No- Jerr- that’s not-” Papa sighed, “please just tell me what’s wrong.  I’m scared.  I feel like I’ve lost you just like I’ve lost your Father.”

But it was impossible to Jerry to talk.

The next full moon, he broke his promise.

[warriorsrewrite]

Enter the Wild Chapter 4

( you can either read it under the cut, or here on ao3. it’d be very much appreciated if you interacted with both ! )

“Firepaw!” a voice called, followed by a gentle prodding in his side. “Firepaw! Wake up!”

Blurrily, Firepaw opened his eyes, and for a brief moment, he didn't know where he was. Then, as he looked up and saw Graypaw standing over him, all the memories of yesterday rushed back to him. A faint smile crossed his face; he still couldn’t believe that this was real.

“Come on, Firepaw,” Graypaw groaned as he forced him into a standing position. “Whitestorm and Brindleface are waiting for us at the Sandy Hollow!”

Yawning, he looked around to find the den empty save for them. “Where’s everyone else?” he asked.

“They’re already awake. Dustpaw and Sandpaw are on hunting patrols all day, and Ravenpaw’s been assigned to take care of the elders and queens. Since you haven’t had a tour of our territory yet, we’re going to do that once we meet up with our mentors. Technically, we’re already supposed to be there, so hurry up and let’s go!”

That woke Firepaw up. Giving his fur a quick lick so he didn’t look so bedridden, he quickly followed Graypaw out of the apprentice’s den and into the clearing. He spotted Ravenpaw by the freshkill pile picking the elder’s food for them. When he caught his eye as they passed, Firepaw gave him a friendly smile for a greeting, which he received back right as they exited through the gorse tunnel.

“The Sandy Hollow’s this way,” Graypaw said as they turned to the left of the entrance and around the tall gorse bushes that hid the camp until they reached a sandy clearing. Waiting for them there was Whitestorm and Brindleface, just like Graypaw had said. They seemed a little impatient by the way their tails were twitching, but they each smiled as Firepaw and Graypaw finally arrived.

“Sorry for making you wait so long,” Firepaw mewed with a small dip to his head. “I overslept.”

“It’s fine,” Brindleface said. “It’s your first day, after all. And a lot happened yesterday.

Whitestorm nodded. “Just make sure you arrive on time next time.”

“Of course,” Firepaw said, head still bent low.

“Well, now that you’re here, we can finally start,” Brindleface meowed, standing and padding over to where they had entered from. “We’ll be walking around the whole territory to show you where the borders are. Be sure to remember them so you don’t accidentally cross and start a fight.”

Firepaw nodded, excitedly bounding behind his mentor. Whitestorm and Graypaw followed after him.

“Graypaw already had his tour of the territory,” Whitestorm said as they made their way through the forest. “That was when we first met you, Firepaw. But when Graypaw heard that you were going to have yours, he begged me to let him come with.”

“I did not beg!” Graypaw shouted, before looking away and grumbling, “besides, isn’t it good to get a refresher for this kind of thing?”

“Yes, yes,” Whitestorm purred, and Firepaw had to turn his face away to hide his laughter.

“We’re coming up on the Treecut Place,” Brindleface suddenly warned, drawing all the attention back ahead of them.

Firepaw blinked at his surroundings. The trees had turned from oaks to pines, and the ground was no longer littered with underbrush. Dirt had been placed with soft moss that easily gave way under his paws.

“We’re in Tallpines right now,” Graypaw whispered to him. “The Twolegplace is nearby.”

“Really?” Firepaw glanced around him, but couldn’t see any familiar markings that told him he was near his old home. “Are we going there? Maybe we’ll see my sister.”

Graypaw frowned at him. “I… didn’t really want to say this yesterday, but it’s probably best that you don’t visit your sister for a while.”

“What?” he exclaimed, and Graypaw hushed him. “Why not?”

“Because right now, there’s a lot of cats back at the camp that don’t think you can be loyal to ThunderClan. They’re waiting for you to leave and go back to your Twoleg den. If they find out that you’re visiting your sister, they’ll think they’re right and make Bluestar kick you out. Especially if Tigerclaw’s the one that catches you; he might not be deputy, but he’s got a lot of sway as a senior warrior.”

“Oh…” Firepaw said quietly, looking down to his paws.

Graypaw lightly bumped into his side. “But, hey, once you’ve been here for a while, those suspicions will fade, and you can visit your sister whenever you’re out on patrol.”

“Hopefully that’ll be soon…” he murmured, mood sinking down to the moss. He’d been looking forward to telling Princess all that had happened and to soothe all the worries she must be having. But it seemed that would have to wait.

They walked a few paces more until the trees thinned out and the moss pulled back to reveal what Firepaw would assume to be the Treecut Place. A housefolk path stood in between them and the large fence that surrounded the area.

“This path is what marks the end of our territory here,” Brindleface explained. “We don’t usually patrol this part of the forest because there are no Clans nearby, and most rouges would come from the Twolegplace instead of here. This path isn’t dangerous as long as you don’t cross it, since the Twolegs don’t stray off into the forest.” She nodded to the fenced area. “Beyond there is the Treecut Place. During greenleaf, the Twolegs will bring out their tree-eaters, so make sure to avoid this area when you hear the sound of trees falling and Twoleg monsters.”

Monsters… Firepaw thought with a shiver. He wondered what she meant by that.

Brindleface flicked her tail to the right. “We’ll continue this way to the river.”

The group turned away from the path and back into the pines. Firepaw was relieved to feel the soft moss under his paws again, but became disappointed when he realized they were heading in the opposite direction of his former house. It seemed he wouldn’t even get a chance to see Princess today.

Graypaw stuck by his side as they walked, Whitestorm moving ahead of them to chat with Brindleface. His friend seemed to sense his dampened mood, and so he pressed his flank against Firepaw’s every couple of heartbeats or so. Firepaw appreciated it, and sent his thanks by giving a quiet purr.

Eventually, Firepaw could hear the sound of running water. Brindleface and Whitestorm paused at the edge of the trees, which had begun to turn back to oaks, and waited for him and Graypaw to catch up. When he reached their side, he gasped at the sparkling river a tree-length ahead of them. It flowed from their right to their left, going towards a few houses down by the path.

“The river serves as the border between us and RiverClan, from here until it splits,” Brindleface said quietly. She and Whitestorm scanned the the bank, then nodded to each other before leading him and Graypaw towards the edge. “We patrol this area frequently because RiverClan is known to sometimes cross and hunt on our side of the river.” She looked to Firepaw and Graypaw as Whitestorm began to remark the edge of the riverbank. “Until we have made it past this part of the border, we need to stay quiet in case a RiverClan patrol comes by. We’ve just gotten back Sunningrocks without a fight, but tensions are still high. We don’t need your first look at the territory to end with injury, Firepaw.”

Firepaw nodded firmly along with Graypaw.

Once Whitestorm was done, they continued silently upstream. Firepaw kept his eyes on the other side of the river, on the lookout for any cats. But as they walked on, there was no sign of any patrol, and no scents indicated that RiverClan had crossed over to hunt. By the time they reached a patch of smooth, flat rocks that sat beside a shallower part of the river, Firepaw’s gaze had drifted to take in the surroundings more.

“This is Sunningrocks,” Graypaw whispered to him, drawing his attention to the formation.

He immediately saw the appeal to the place. The rocks were low to the ground and shone prettily in the sunlight. The river was also slow enough to wade one’s paws in without having the fear of being swept away. And from what he could smell, there seemed to be a lot of hidden prey roaming the area. It was no wonder ThunderClan and RiverClan fought over it.

Brindleface and Whitestorm cautiously approached the riverbank, checking for any RiverClan cats or scents, before they worked on covering what little RiverClan scent was left. Firepaw could smell it, though it was very faint, and he was surprised by how different it was from the ThunderClan scent he was getting used to. Instead of smelling of the grassy forest, RiverClan smelled like damp moss. He didn’t like it that much.

“Firepaw,” Graypaw called softly, still heeding Brindleface’s command of quiet. He turned to see his friend sitting on one of the rocks, his eyes closed. Even from the distance between them, Firepaw could hear his delighted purr.

Curious, he approached the rock Graypaw sat on, reaching one paw out to feel the surface. To his pleasant surprise, it had a soothing warmness to it that had him quickly scrambling up next to Graypaw. Although this newleaf was warm and the day no cooler, the warmth the rock provided seeped into his bones and had him purring alongside Graypaw. Yes, this place is definitely something worth fighting for, he thought in bliss.

“Come along now,” Whitestorm whispered to them, breaking the spell they were under. “There’s still much of the territory to cover.”

With some reluctance, they stepped down from the stone and followed behind Whitestorm as Brindleface lead them further up the river. It wasn’t far until they reached where the river split, one side going straight ahead while the other, smaller stream cut in front of them.

“We’ll be crossing this,” Brindleface said, stepping into the shallow stream. “Our next stop is Fourtrees.”

Firepaw wrinkled his nose as the cold water lapped gently at his paws. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, getting wet. He hoped he wouldn’t be forced to cross the main river anytime soon, especially near leafbare. But the stream was as thin as it was shallow, so it wasn’t long before he exited and could shake the excess water from his legs.

Past the stream and a tree that had a large hole in the trunk (“that’s the Owl Tree,” Graypaw had told him before Brindleface could get the chance. “We don’t hunt much around here because the owl scares off most prey.”), they came upon a path. It wasn’t like the housefolk path they encountered earlier, however. This path was made naturally by the many footsteps of cats, creatures, and housefolk alike. It came from RiverClan territory and went straight towards four very large oak trees in the distance.

Graypaw padded up to his side, tail high with energy. “That up there is Fourtrees. It’s where all the Clans go during a Gathering,” he said, voice back to its normal volume now that the RiverClan border had passed.

“Yes,” Whitestorm said with a nod, “and there will be a Gathering tonight.”

“Tonight?” Firepaw repeated. “But… we’re not going, right?”

Brindleface gave him a sympathetic smile. “Think of it as guarding the camp while the rest of us are out. Although each Clan is sworn to peace during the night of a Gathering, there may be other kinds of trouble that require cats to stay behind.”

“I guess so,” he murmured.

Graypaw glanced at him, then looked to their left. “Hey, on the other side of this path is WindClan territory.”

“What, really?” He looked to where Graypaw mentioned, but could only see a vast moor next to a gorge where the river ran through. “I don’t see any cats, though.”

“WindClan rarely hunts this close to Fourtrees,” Whitestorm explained. “So we don’t need to patrol this area that often either. Besides, it’s also so close to Fourtrees that it’s practically neutral territory.”

Firepaw hummed his acknowledgement. Closing his eyes, he tried to see if he could smell WindClan’s scent, but the breeze was blowing towards the moor, so he couldn’t catch anything besides the smells of the forest.

Brindleface stopped them just before the four great oaks. “Since it’s so close to the Gathering, we won’t go inside, but if you did go in, you would see a large clearing with a rock in the middle. It’s called the Great Rock, and it’s where the leaders of each Clan sit while they share any news that’s happened over the past moon.”

“Why can’t we go in?” Firepaw asked, lifting himself onto his hind legs to try and see the clearing she was talking about, but saw nothing besides the dark shadows the trees cast.

“If other Clan cats smell stale ThunderClan scent when arriving tonight, they might think something suspicious is going on, and tensions might rise,” Whitestorm said. “Fourtrees is left alone for the day by all Clans to avoid that.”

Firepaw nodded, thinking that to be reasonable.

“Now, we’ll continue onto the last part of our border,” Brindleface said. “Stay close.”

Slowly, they turned around and headed back towards where they came from, sticking to the left. They only took a few pawsteps before the ground seemed to rumble underneath them. Firepaw froze, but the other three kept walking. Graypaw looked over his shoulder and paused long enough for him to shake the fear from his paws and catch up to the top of a small rise where Brindleface and Whitestorm had stopped to crouch. As soon as he walked up to their side, he knew instantly what had made the rumbling noise.

Ahead of them lay a road, its scent foul in Firepaw’s mouth. A car passed by, making the ground minutely shake, startling him back a few paces with how fast it was going. He had seen cars before - had even been in one himself long ago when his old housefolk had taken him and Princess from his mother - and the only thing new about this road was that this was the first time he got a chance to smell one, but the cars he had seen had always gone at slower paces, and the roads by his house had been smaller. When cars raced by them here, the following wind was strong enough to ruffle his fur.

“This is the Thunderpath,” Brindleface said. “Those things you see running on them are called monsters.”

Firepaw blinked. Ah, so that’s what a monster is to them, he thought. He understood why they called them that, especially these cars that went by faster than you could blink.

“Stay away from it if you can,” she continued. “It’s dangerous to even put a paw on it, since you never know when a monster is coming.” She nodded to the area across from the road that was open and marshy. “The Thunderpath marks the border between us and ShadowClan, which is helpful, since they don’t want to cross it either. But since ShadowClan is and has always been ambitious, we must patrol this border frequently.”

He opened his mouth to try and get the scent of ShadowClan, but the reek of the road overwhelmed him too much to parse anything else out.

“We’ll walk along this border until we reach the Great Sycamore, then we’ll head back to camp,” Whitestorm said, looking to Brindleface. “I don’t see much point in walking all the way to Snakerocks, especially since we’ve been walking all day. Plus these two haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

Firepaw and Graypaw shook their heads.

“Exhaustion and hunger can easily distract a cat and make them easy prey for an adder.” He padded on ahead. “So, as soon as we’re done here, you two will be done for the day.”

Graypaw quietly cheered next to Firepaw, who snorted. “You beg Whitestorm to come with me on this tour and now you’re so happy that it’s finally over?” he teased, ducking as Graypaw tried to swipe at his ear with sheathed claws.

“Don’t pretend that you’re not so tired you feel like your paws could fall off, too!”

He was right, but Firepaw didn’t admit it out loud. Plus, with all the information he learned, his head was starting to swim. No doubt if they continued much longer he would get a headache. “Let’s just get back to camp and get something to eat,” he said instead.

As soon as they got to the Great Sycamore - a tall sycamore tree that towered above all other trees and had Firepaw gaping at it in awe - and had gotten the permission of their mentors, the two apprentices raced back through the brush to camp. Graypaw beat him to the gorse tunnel by the whiskers of his face and, by their agreed rules, got to pick out the freshkill they would share and have the first bite.

Panting to himself, Firepaw spotted Ravenpaw sitting outside the nursery, finishing up his own meal. He pointed him out to Graypaw, and they brought the plump rabbit over to sit next to him.

“Hey, Ravenpaw,” Firepaw greeted.

“Hello,” the small tom mewed, licking his lips. “Did you enjoy your tour?”

Firepaw collapsed next to him with an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, but my paws are killing me right now. And it feels like I haven’t eaten in days…” He looked forlornly at the rabbit as Graypaw took his large first bite. “Graypaw probably won’t even leave me anything and I’ll starve.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Graypaw muttered through a full mouth. “Here, you whiny kit.” He nudged the rabbit to him.

Firepaw purred his thanks, taking an even larger bite than Graypaw had.

“Hey! Who’s going to leave who with nothing?!”

Ravenpaw watched them with a faint smile. “So, there was no trouble along the borders?”

“No,” Firepaw said, swallowing his bite of rabbit and ignoring Graypaw’s swipe at him when he took it back. “I did catch the leftover scent of RiverClan over by Sunningrocks, though. Smelled weird. But anyway, how was taking care of the elders and queens?”

“Great, actually,” Ravenpaw purred. “The elders told me the story about SkyClan again, and I got to see Frostfur’s kits.”

Graypaw perked up. “Are they awake now? Can we see them?”

Ravenpaw gave him an apologetic smile. “Oh, sorry. I was kicked out when they fell asleep a short while ago. Maybe later?”

Huffing, Graypaw took a small bite of rabbit, pushing the rest to Firepaw. “That’s what everyone says… It’s like they’re never awake!”

“Wait…” Firepaw said after he finished up the last of the rabbit. “What did you say? SkyClan? I thought there was only four clans.”

“Oh!” Graypaw exclaimed, sitting up. “You haven’t heard it yet!” He looked to Ravenpaw. “Can I tell it?”

Ravenpaw laughed as he ducked his head. “Yeah, go ahead. I’m not a good storyteller anyway.”

“Not true, but thanks.” He turned back to Firepaw. “So, the story goes that a long, long time ago, there were actually five clans; ThunderClan, ShadowClan, RiverClan, WindClan, and SkyClan. SkyClan lived in a deeper part of the forest that isn’t around anymore today, but I’ll get to that. Anyway, once during a Gathering, the entire Clan of SkyClan cats showed up, even the tiniest kits and oldest elders. As you’ve figured out, only a select few get to go to a Gathering, so this was very unusual. The other clan leaders asked what was going on, and the SkyClan leader said that Twolegs had destroyed all of their territory, including their camp, so they had nowhere to go.”

“Why did they destroy it?” Firepaw asked, frowning.

“Because they wanted to build their dens. Legend says that the Twolegplace was where their camp was.”

“Really?” he mewed. Had his old house been sitting on top of the SkyClan camp the whole time?

“Yeah. So, anyway, they basically asked the other clans for territory. But, at this time, the clans were mortal enemies, and were sworn not to interact with the other clans outside of battles - and there were battles basically every day back then. So, the leaders of the other Clans refused to help them. However, the healers of each clan suddenly received a vision from StarClan.” Graypaw paused to breathe, his eyes glowing a bright yellow. “It’s very, very rare for StarClan to send visions to healers when they’re not sleeping or at the Moonstone, so this message was very important. Basically, the vision was the four oaks of Fourtrees, and the branches of each were separate from the other trees. And in the middle of them was a fallen tree, but instead of it rotting, the branches grew up into the branches of Fourtrees, connecting the four trees and making them stronger in the process.”

Firepaw tilted his head. “And what did that mean?”

“It meant that even though SkyClan had fallen, it didn’t mean they had to be kicked out of the territories. Instead, the healers told their leaders that StarClan wanted SkyClan to be divided into each of the remaining Clans. If they didn’t do this, then they would all eventually be destroyed by all the fights going on over little stuff.”

“And… the leaders listened to the healers?”

“Of course! To be a healer is to be one of the most respected cats in all four territories. Their visions from StarClan are the word of law, and to go against one would mean going against StarClan, which is a very big crime.”

“Oh,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

“But, yeah, the leaders listened to the healers and allowed some SkyClan cats to join their Clan. And, because Clan bonds don’t go away that easily, the fighting between Clans stopped because no former SkyClan cat wanted to fight with their former Clanmate. As time passed, tensions died down, and friendships between Clans increased. And when some cats wanted to be mates with a cat from a different clan, they were allowed because it was by coming together that the Clans became stronger. Even though fighting over borders is still a thing, it’s a lesson that the Clans should never forget.” Graypaw laid back down, stretching his paws in front of him. “And that’s why the elders tell us this story to us when we’re kits. It was my favorite story of there’s to hear, and it still is!”

“Wow,” Firepaw murmured. “That is a pretty good story...”

“Right?” Graypaw flipped onto his back and sighed. “I just wish that we could go to the Gathering tonight. What if something important happens and we’re not there to see it?!”

Firepaw looked to Ravenpaw. “Are you going?”

“No, but I’m told that next moon’s Gathering will be my first, though I don’t really mind staying behind. Fourtrees must be really crowded during them…”

“Yeah, but isn’t that the point to going?” Graypaw asked, rolling back over to stare up at him. “To meet all those cats from different Clans?”

Ravenpaw thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m fine with just knowing ThunderClan cats.”

“Then maybe next moon you’ll give your spot to one of us?” Graypaw asked, batting his eyes.

Ravenpaw snorted and pushed Graypaw away. “No, you’ll still be too young to go.” As Graypaw pouted at him, he added, “sorry, but you know Clan rules.”

“Yeah, you know them,” a new voice sudden sneered. Firepaw looked behind his shoulder to see Dustpaw and Sandpaw sitting by the apprentice’s den. Dustpaw was grinning while Sandpaw was sticking her nose up at them. “Although, if you’re hanging out with that kittypet, then maybe you don’t know them after all.” They snickered at each other.

Firepaw had expected the two oldest apprentices were going to come at him again today, so he wasn’t fazed by their rude comments. Graypaw, however, immediately stood up, fur standing on end. “Why don’t you two just mind your own business for once?” he snapped.

They stopped laughing in order to frown at him. “Whatever,” Sandpaw spat at him. “We’re not going to stay here long anyways. After all, we’re going to the Gathering tonight and you’re not.”

Graypaw puffed himself even more and Firepaw had to physically stand in front of him so that he wouldn’t go over and start a real fight. “It’s not worth it,” he whispered to his friend, tail soothing down Graypaw’s flank to try and calm him down.

“If you ignore them, they’ll go away,” Ravenpaw mewed from Graypaw’s other side.

Giving one last huff at the duo, Graypaw finally sat back down, licking his frazzled chest fur. This had the two of them throw a couple more snide remarks their way until a call from the middle of the clearing interrupted them. Bluestar stood on the Highrock, announcing that it was time for them to leave for the Gathering. Firepaw felt the tension drop as Dustpaw and Sandpaw trotted over to the group, finally leaving them alone. He sat next to Graypaw and helped him with smoothing his fur over.

It wasn’t until he was halfway done that he realized what he was doing was considering sharing tongues. Though he had helped Princess groom herself on some occasions, those sessions never lasted very long. A quick few licks and it was over. This, however, was a full bodied groom he was giving Graypaw, and he would’ve felt extremely self conscious if he hadn’t spotted Ravenpaw, who had settled down by the nursery wall and seemed content to groom his own fur, and that no one else in the clearing was giving them strange looks. But what really had him relaxing was when Graypaw began to groom him as well, lapping at the fur between his ears.

They shared tongues well into the evening until Firepaw could no longer keep his eyes open. Deciding that they would hear of any important news from the Gathering the next morning, the three apprentices slowly migrated back to the apprentice’s den. As Firepaw curled into his nest, he relished in the peaceful quiet without Dustpaw and Sandpaw’s jeers.

[sillystuffineed]

forest of fear post

She was just thinking how much she liked it when her friend spelled out the history he deduced when they were out and about.  That’s when he unknowingly called it a toddler like display, and Sarah Jane frowned.  Well, then again, she often made guesses of her own about such things, so he wasn’t really talking about her.  Even though sometimes the Time Lord said things that made her feel slow.  Such were the dangers of traveling with someone like the Doctor, and she was willing to wade through them knowing that mostly he seemed impressed with her any given moment.  Mostly.  There were days though … .Sarah Jane gave a little shake of her head, grinned to herself and followed him out. Then it was those twin suns that had her attention.  She’s seen such things before, but there was just something about twin suns that were deeply capturing and moving.  She held up a hand barely peeking out from under to see them, eyes squint so that her long dark lashes feathered together showing only a hint of brown hazel eyes glinting behind them.  She drew in deep droughts of the fresh, fragrant jungle air. She was just about to give Nyx and Medusa a formal hello when she realized the Doctor was brushing something out of his scarf, and she moved closer to him and started paying more attention.  Hm.  One of the ‘messy’ sorts of jungles apparently.  Now as Sarah Jane looked around, she kept one hand almost absently on his coat, wanting to be sure he would go first as they went along. “Polar Ventura? Like the one in Iceland? You know, Greenland is colder than Iceland.  Calling it “Greenland” was just good advertising.  Who wants to go live somewhere called “Even-Icier-than Icela-” She broke off.  With a sudden ‘thhhththwiipp’, she suddenly found herself eye to eye with a jewel winged insect.  “Hup-!” She gulped, nearly cross eyed staring at her unexpected guest, it’s tiny feet feeling just a little scratchy on her cheeks and nose.  Six wings, three eyes, a body as large as her finger, and somehow curiosity on it’s strange, green pea sized face. “Ohhhh!!!” her voice looped up in pitch, and then she dragged in a breath through her nose (afraid she might suck the thing in through her mouth) and started blowing at the thing like she was trying to blow out birthday candles and her life depended on it.  All the while she was enthusiastically beating the back of her hand on the Doctor’s coat to convey her concern and alarm  Sarah Jane might have been more panicked if her sudden visitor hadn’t been so lovely.

“Yes, named after the one after Iceland bought the rights to the moon because they use liquid oxygen for their geothermal power systems. Instead of wasting energy to create it on Earth, they get these massive tankers shipped full of it from here sent through a warp gate.” He nodded, investigating a plant that looked like an orchid made out of sapphires. “Well, I supposed you’d want to live in Greenland without protecting if you were an Ice Warrior in a pinch?” The Time Lord shrugged, before turning to Sarah as she batted at his hand. “Ah… Now if I remember my Arketrian Entomology right, that’s either a hexa-winged emerald dragonfly which is completely harmless, or the bright jade executioner wasp, which if it stings, your nose will swell up to become the size of your clenched for a few hours. It’ll also itch like mad, so don’t move.” Moving very slowly, he had a look of concentration on his features. Grabbing what appeared to be a jam-jar out of his pocket, he soon caught the beautiful insect inside it and secured the lid, the creature began repeatedly thrashing it’s stinger against the glass, trying to break free. “The second option then. Come on.” Pocketing the jar until he could safely release the insect, he looked at a tree and admired the silvery bark. His botanical examination was interrupted as the ground shook. What looked like a huge excavator came roaring up the path like a lion with a thorn in it’s paw, the Doctor stepped back and threw a protective arm over Sarah. “Who the hell are you two?” The construction worker asked angrily, sweat dripping from his beaky nose which accented his ruddish face. “Well, I’m the Doctor, and this is my best friend Sarah. We were just looking at the rather interesting wildlife.” The Doctor grinned.

She caught the Doctor’s attention quick enough, smacking at him, and he turned those blue eyes on her predicament.  One instant Sarah Jane was feeling quite relieved that her sudden insectoid visitor was harmless, and the next instant she was stiff as a statue liking her nose the way it was.  Her jaw barely moved as she spoke, her voice harsh and stiff.

“Well, get it off then!” she insisted, making small sounds of irritated encouragement as her friend fished around in his pocket.  What would he bring up? A giant swatter? His sonic? No, it was a jelly jar. 

“Careful-careful-!” Sarah Jane insisted, but of course he was.  She trusted his hands more than his mouth, and her faith came through as he smoothly transferred the large bug from her face to the jar.  Then she flinched repeatedly and unnecessarily as the many-winged creature thrashed a wicked looking stinger against the glass, so hard that she could hear it clanking.  For a moment, she could only gape as her friend carefully tucked the jar back into the pocket where he’d found it, showing little care that she might have been a Pinocchio pincushion.   She reached up and felt the tip of her nose as thought to reassure herself that all was well.  It was hard to complain about his attitude when he had saved her face, after all.

Still double checking her nose and her attitude, she stared at the back of the Doctor’s head while he stared at some tree.  Her slight annoyance was bulled over entirely as the nearby foliage was bulled over by the large machine that burst through the green toward them.  No longer annoyed, she shifted quick, meeting the Doctor half way where they held together.

Apparently, they were going to stand and have a chat with the fellow that was driving the destructive behemoth.  The Doctor gave him a fond and casual greeting, so Sarah Jane stepped into line, giving her second best smile and an innocent swing of her arms.

“Hell-o!” She greeted in a friendly sing song and gave an impressively relaxed wave.  The bit with the bug was already near forgotten in the face of making first contact with whomever this was.  Didn’t look friendly so far, but you couldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, now could you? And what good would that do anyway?

“The wildlife… There’s all sorts out of here, some of it isn’t very nice if it stings you. You’d better get in, it’s not safe to be here considering we’re levelling a small part of the area to build more generators for the colony.” The driver of the demolition vehicle stated, opening the door. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you.” The Doctor stated, getting in first and then offering a helping hand to Sarah to get in since it was quite a climb, the cabin was wonderfully cool in comparison to the sticky, sweaty humidity outside. “So, these generators… Nuclear fusion, I’m thinking?” The Doctor asked the driver who continued their voyage through the jungle without so much as a bump, the massive, industrial tank treads crushing everything underfoot with the same lack of care an angry child might give to a more despised piece of homework. “That’s right. With the increasing demand for resources, the colony must expand. The land’s been carefuly surveyed to have as little impact to the wildlife as possible.” The driver nodded, his nametag read “Jordan Renchard”. “That’s an impressive structure, what does it do?” The Doctor asked, pointing to the huge, pylon-esque building looming over the treetops, casting a sizeable plot of land in shadow. “The subspace communicator, it’s how we receive and send communications back to Earth. It’s all been a bit quiet for a while now.” Jordan offered, thinking about it before the excavator came to a shuddering halt. “Not again…” He sighed, getting out. “Technical trouble?” The Doctor offered, leaping out after him and heading to the back.

[wind-holly-and-jay]

Chapter One

Hollykit flicked her tail in excitement as she peered outside the gorse bush that was the nursery, her green eyes watching with wonder as warriors and apprentices went about their daily lives. She knew that herself and her brothers were close to being apprentices, it would be any day now. She could feel it deep down in her bones and she was ready, ready to show her Clan mates what she was all about!

She was pulled from her thoughts as a thin tail brushed under her nose. “Hollykit, c’mon!” She turned ever so slightly to see Breezekit walking to the back of the den, his voice barely above a whisper. Her other brother was crouched at the back of the den, his ears pricked as his sightless eyes stared ahead.

Hollykit drew her attention back to Breezekit as he quietly walked around their sleeping mother, having to step over her back legs and tail to get beside Jaykit. She rolled her eyes before quietly following, crouching beside Breezekit. “Please don’t tell me you’re trying this again.” She kept her voice low despite wanting to get them in trouble, first she wanted to confirm her suspicions.

“We want to see what’s outside camp! Now be quiet and follow us.” Hollykit could feel the excitement rolling off Breezekit and Jaykit’s pelts, neither even argued over the term ‘seeing’. It surprised her, but at the same time, these two were becoming predictable.

“But the warrior code says-”

“Don’t start with the code again! Besides, you said we’ll be apprentices soon, and I want to see what’s out there!” Jaykit piped up this time, turning his attention to his siblings.

Hollykit rolled her eyes at them, her tail tip twitching. “Fine, you little kits can go out there then, but don’t come crying to me when I become an apprentice and you two don’t!” Breezekit and Jaykit shared a look before slipping into a dip and pushing under the bush.

Hollykit sat up, anxiety growing as she watched their tails vanish. She knew it was against the code, but what if something happened to them? She wasn’t sure she could live with herself if they got hurt, or even worse, killed. But she couldn’t tell Nightcloud, she didn’t want them in trouble again. Not getting them in trouble also excluded telling any other cat in the Clan.

She let out the smallest of whines before crouching and pushing her way out of the den as well, only glancing back to make sure she wasn’t seen. She gave a quick shake of her pelt before darting after her brothers, keeping low and quiet until she was out of range of the camp.

“Breezekit? Jaykit?” She called, running as fast as she could as she kept her ears pricked. They couldn’t have gone far, not with Jaykit being blind. She had watched many failed attempts of them trying to get out, so she knew he couldn’t have learned his surroundings yet.

She slowed to a halt as she saw a wooded area ahead, it was still a distance away, but it was odd to see trees and thick bushes. She was sure it was still WindClan territory, but it didn’t feel like it should have been. WindClan’s territory was the moors; hills and open fields, not some trees blocking the sky, blocking them from StarClan.

Her thoughts were broken as two paws hit her back, letting out a screech as she rolled onto her back and began to slash wildly. “Whoa, hey, careful!” She froze as she looked up, pulling her forepaws in close to her chest as she stared up at her brother.

“B-Breezekit?” Her fear and confusion turned to rage as she gave him a rough shove. “Get off, rabbit-dung!” Breezekit let out a snort but let her up, a smug looking Jaykit coming over and sitting down beside them.

“I told you she would attack you back, she doesn’t freeze like you.” Breezekit turned and sent Jaykit a nasty glare, but the smugness remain on the grey tabby’s face.

“Why’d you have to scare me anyways? What if some cat heard me? It would be your fault we’d get in trouble.” Breezekit turned his attention back to Hollykit as he rolled his eyes.

“Are you even a -kit? We play all the time.” She shook her head before turning to look back at the wooded area.

Breezekit followed her gaze, his eyes lighting up as Jaykit got up and stood beside Hollykit. “What is that over there?” She asked as Breezekit came up beside her on the other side.

“I don’t know, but I want to go look.” Without getting an answer, Breezekit took off at full speed.

Hollykit rolled her eyes before gently placing her tail tip on Jaykit’s muzzle. “Grab my tail, rabbit-brain took off.” Jaykit, although he looked sour about needing her as a guide, gently took her tail between his teeth.

She gently lead the way down the slope, quietly warning Jaykit when there were rocks or dips. Eventually, Breezekit returned and padded beside Hollykit, the worry evident in his body language. It gave her some satisfaction that he was too scared to explore without them, but that’s who he was; all hiss and no scratch.

Eventually they made it to the base of the wooded area, Hollykit tipping her head back to see the tops of the trees. “It’s so tall.” Her voice was above a whisper, and as she glanced to Breezekit, she saw he was tipping his head back too.

Jaykit just looked unimpressed. “I’m sure it’s really tall, can we go in now?”

“What if it’s not our territory?” Breezekit blurted out, Jaykit quirking up an eyebrow. “N-not that I’m scared, but what if they try and kill us?”

Hollykit let out a huff as she gently bumped his shoulder. “The warrior code says you can’t harm a kit, you’re fine.” Breezekit seemed to let out a breath he was holding, but she saw Jaykit smirk from the corner of her eyes, half wondering if he could read her thoughts as she spoke. “But you do look like an apprentice, and those are free game.”

Hollykit and Jaykit let out giggles as Breezekit tensed up and looked uneasy, but he tried to bluff them by sending a glare. “Har-har, very funny, let’s go.” He took the lead before she and Jaykit could say anymore, the two other kits following closely as their laughing died down.

Jaykit stayed beside Hollykit now, their sides brushing as she warned him of trees and bushes. Breezekit eventually came and walked beside them, no longer wanting to lead and Hollykit was sure it was due to fear.

They stopped as they came to a stream, Hollykit quietly describing what she saw to Jaykit so he could build a picture in his mind. She hadn’t done this with him since they were younger, but this was new and exciting, she didn’t want Jaykit to miss out completely.

“Do we cross it?” Breezekit asked, staring at the fast flowing water.

Hollykit quickly poked the water with her paw, letting out a small mew of surprise at how cold it was. “Only if there’s stones somewhere, it’s too cold!”

The black kit leaned over to look out further, his amber eyes narrowing. “Well, it doesn’t look too deep, you can see the rocks on the bottom. Sorta.” He paused. “The quicker we cross, the sooner we’re not cold.” Hollykit subconsciously nodded in agreement before poking the water again, this time letting the cold water submerge her paw.

She glanced to her brothers before setting her other front paw in, shivering slightly as a chill crawled up her spine. “You two owe me moons worth of appreciation since I’m going first.” She muttered just loud enough for them to hear as she waded in, panic rising up as the water lapped at her belly fur and she wasn’t even in the middle yet. But she kept wading on, trusting herself that she could make it across.

Her stomach rolled, this wasn’t right, this was how things went bad. She knew this, she knew it was stupid but she pushed on, holding in a whimper as she tipped her head back to keep her muzzle dry. She barely had time to realize what happened as she was just getting to the middle, her paws losing their grip on the smooth stones and slipping her under the water. She was sure she heard Breezekit cry out her name as Jaykit let out a distressed wail before her head went under, the stream holding her down.

Her head broke the surface as she drew in a deep breath, coughing up water before more entered. She briefly saw Breezekit running along the shore, wailing with Jaykit close behind. But she went under again, wanting to cry out as she felt her lungs begin to ache.

Hollykit desperately tried to grab the stones along the bottom, but her mind was growing fuzzy as she held her breath. If she tried to breath, more water would try and consume her, but not breathing was making her light headed, unable to think clearly.

Just as Hollykit was on the brink of passing out, teeth gripped her scruff tightly and as her head broke the surface, she took a deep breath before coughing violently. She got a glimpse of brown and white before she closed her eyes and began to cough again, beginning to shiver from the cold.

She felt herself being laid down gently before her saviour began to massage her chest, barely even being able to open her eyes before she vomited up more water. “Hollykit!” She forced herself to open her eyes slightly to see Breezekit and Jaykit rush over, both hesitating as they noticed the brown cat.

“It’s okay, little ones, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a medicine cat.” Hollykit glanced up at the she-cat, her voice was soft spoken and kind, and as she met the molly’s amber eyes, she instantly felt safe. “My name is Leafpool, what are your names?” The tabby asked, leaning down to start grooming Hollykit’s fur the wrong way to warm her up.

Jaykit spoke up before Breezekit, the black tom shying away. “I’m… I’m Jaykit, and that’s Breezekit and Hollykit.” Leafpool paused her motions and Hollykit let out a whimper before she vomited again.

“Those… those are lovely names. You’re from WindClan then, yes?” Hollykit assumed it wasn’t a verbal agreement as Leafpool continued on. “As soon as she’s done coughing, I’ll take you three back to your camp, I’m sure Nightcloud and Crowfeather are worried about you three.”

Breezekit let out a huff, Hollykit internally wishing Leafpool hadn’t mentioned their father. “Like Crowfeather cares, he barely even looks at us.” Jaykit let out a hum in agreement, but the two toms had very different reactions. Jaykit looked almost sad, but Breezekit was furious.

“He liked us at first, but a few moons ago he stopped visiting the nursery, Nightcloud’s sad about it.” Jaykit added softly, lowering his head.

Hollykit sat up slowly and gently, looking up at Leafpool. “But Nightcloud says he loves us as much as she does, he just doesn’t know how to show it.” She looked to her brothers, but neither could meet her green eyes.

“Yes, he is like that, but it’s okay. You have a whole Clan who loves and supports you three, and I’m sure they’re worried about you all right now.” Hollykit was positive there was something in Leafpool’s words that were a double meaning but she couldn’t figure out which. The tabby’s posture during them talking gave her away, she tensed when they spoke of their father, she froze when Jaykit gave out their names. Something didn’t add up but she was too tired to try analysing the situation any further.

“Leafpool, can you carry me?” Hollykit asked softly, the tabby nodding as she stood and gently gripped Hollykit’s scruff.

They quietly made their way back to the WindClan camp, Breezekit speaking only to warn Jaykit of obstacles. Strangely, the only thing Hollykit could think about was how she would be the one getting them in trouble, not Breezekit or Jaykit. Surely Onestar wouldn’t let them become apprentices now, they’d probably be doomed to being kits forever. The worst part, though, the worst was that she broke the very code she swore to defend, and she wasn’t sure if she could forgive herself for that.

[tanglestripe]

Islandclan’s Struggle Ch 8

[AO3] [Fanfiction]

Badgerclaw slipped out of camp with Tanglestar after Flamepelt's warrior ceremony, walking beside her leader once they were out of camp. Tanglestar stopped at the border, looking at her.

"Lionkit is ill again. He only has a chill, but Spottedstream was worried it could turn into a cough." she stated, watching Badgerclaw's reaction. She was surprised, and worried about him, but she also knew that he was determined to be a warrior. And if he was determined, she knew he could do it. She looked straight back at her and hoped that her face showed the confidence she felt.

"He will be fine. And I know that if he wants it enough, you would never be able to tell that he was a sickly kit once he becomes a warrior." she replied. Tanglestar looked at her another moment, and she could almost feel her tail twitch in impatience, even though she no longer had one. She had to make Lionkit a warrior! He so badly wanted to be a normal kit, and it wasn't his fault that he was born small.

"Alright," Tanglestar meowed after a moment, turning to wade into the stream that made up the border. "I trust you to know what is best for him." She followed, and once they had crossed the border, they continued on silently. The dog pack had decided to allow them to continue to go to the cove because it was their place to contact Starclan, but she was always nervous being on their territory. They walked as close to the cliff as they could until they reached the path that would take them down to the beach. Badgerclaw followed behind Tanglestar, worried that she would slip on the rocks as they picked their way down. She carefully put her feet where the leader did and breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the bottom, standing there when Tanglestar approached the pool at the back of the  cave, as she had when she was an apprentice. The water reflected the moon, and she startled a little when the leader spoke.

"Come, share tongues with Starclan. They might give you some insight." She meowed, a knowing look in her eye as Badgerclaw walked over and crouched beside her. "Drink from the pool and close your eyes, and they will come to you in your dreams." She did as she was told and took a drink. The water tasted like ice and when she closed her eyes she felt as if her whole body was slowly freezing. When she felt she could move again and opened them, she was in a lush forest. She could hear and scent prey scuttling in the undergrowth and saw cats milling about in the grass, chasing prey or chatting as they walked.

"Badgerclaw!" Her heart soared as she heard a familiar voice behind her, turning to see the prettiest grey she-cat she had ever seen.

"Quailfeather," she breathed. The last time she'd seen her, she was receiving her warrior name before she died.

"We need to talk, my love." She heard her speak, but she was so overwhelmed.

"It's been so long," she whispered.

"Badgerclaw, you need to listen to me." She sounded serious, and now she had her attention. She paused before continuing, softer than before. "I've seen you with Applepaw." Badgerclaw flinched and ducked her head.

"I'm sorry. I have been trying to be faithful." she meowed. She felt her lick her head and looked up. She could see the love in her eyes.

"Badgerclaw, I love you. But I am dead, and we were young. It is okay to move on." she meowed, giving her another lick. "She's always liked you, but you picked me and she respected that. I may be with Starclan now, but I want you to be happy."

"I'll always love you, Quailfeather," she promised. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, she was blinking awake in front of the pool. Tanglestar was starting to stir beside her, and they both stood. She looked to her leader, but Tanglestar ran her tail over her muzzle in a signal to stay quiet. She nodded and followed along silently as Tanglestar led the way out of the cove and back up the slope. The sun was just barely beginning to rise as they headed for the border and once they had crossed she signaled with her tail for the warrior to stop. They both sat on the bank of the river, and Badgerclaw gave her chest a few anxious licks that she told herself were to warm her up from the cold swim across the border. When she looked up, Tanglestar had her tail wrapped around her paws.

"Starclan spoke to me about Lionkit." she began, and Badgerclaw knew the hope must show on her face, because Tanglestar's whiskers twitched in amusement. "If he is out of the medicine den when he turns six moons, he and his siblings will become 'paws. If not, he will have to wait until he's no longer fighting an illness. But he will become an apprentice." She wanted to hop like an excited kit, but instead dipped her head respectfully.

"Thank you for taking me seriously, Tanglestar. I know I have only been a warrior for four short moons." she meowed.

"The opinion of every cat in the clan is important, Badgerclaw." She stood, shaking out some of the water from her fur. "Come, we must get back to camp." She fell into step beside her leader, thinking that she seemed so much wiser than the warrior and deputy she had known as an apprentice.

* * *

Badgerclaw stretched when she walked into the clearing. She had gone into the warriors den to sleep when they returned, not answering anyone's questions about where she had been all night other than that she'd had Tanglestar's permission to be out. Now it was nearly sunhigh. She'd been awoken by Hailstripe prodding her and muttering that Ravenfeather wanted her for a hunting patrol, and to stop being a dormouse just because she was allowed to get some extra sleep. She yawned and padded over to the deputy, who had already assigned the patrols for the day and was laying in the sun to try to keep warm.

"Go with Hailstripe and Rippletail," he meowed, not even opening his eyes. She dipped her head and left him alone. He was not cruel by any means, but he had a temper, and she knew that disturbing him more could get her clawed. She hurried after her brother and their friend, laughing at the face her brother made when she caught up to them.

"Ravenfeather asked me to come with. Unless you would rather be alone..." she teased, bumping his shoulder with her own. When he grumbled, she licked his ear.

"I'm not mousebrained, I've seen how you two look at each other. Have fun on your hunt." She turned and padded away, chuckling to herself. They'd had eyes on each other for moons now, it would not be long until the entire clan was gossiping about them. She'd be surprised if the elders weren't already. Wolfheart always seemed to know who would end up with who. She had even known she liked Quailfeather before she'd told anyone, and she'd heard the elders talk about how she practically set up Nightwhisker and Clovernose before Clovernose was even a she-cat. She stopped by the stream, looking down into the water. The fish were beginning to disappear, going into deeper waters to keep warm, and it felt like forever before she saw one that she could reach. She scooped it out, fast as a lightning strike, and gave it a killing blow before it could flop back into the water.

She turned when she heard pawsteps, and yowled when she saw a dog shoot out of the bush behind her. It scooped up her fish and bolted across the border, and she sprinted after it. The clan needed fresh-kill and she wasn't just going to let this dog have it. She sprinted after him, jumping and landing firmly on his hindquarters. She dug her claws in, trying to pull him backwards with her weight. He yelped and tripped, dropping the prey in his jaws, and Badgerclaw used the opportunity to snatch the fish from him. She sprinted for the border with it, the dog hot on her heels. She could not just lead him to the camp. She was starting to realize that the fish might not be worth her life. It was torn and stank of dog. But it was food, and as leaf-fall was truly settling over the forest, the clan needed to eat to keep up their strength.

She turned quickly running along the border. The dog following howled and gave chase as a smaller dog launched himself over the border and gave chase as well. Her legs were burning, but she needed to protect the camp. She was trying to decide where to go when she heard a wail. She turned her head and saw Lionkit cowering before a third dog. How did he get out of camp? It was too much. She crossed the border, it was shallower here and she did not have to swim, dropping the fish on the dogs side before launching herself up a tree. She ran along a branch and jumped to a tree across the border, quickly scrambling down the trunk to get to the scared kit. The two dogs who had chased her lost interest and were tearing into their fish when she jumped in front of the third. She snarled, protecting the kit with her body.

"Lionkit, run. Get help." she ordered. He squeaked, hurrying backwards.

"But what about Applepaw?" he asked. Badgerclaw's heart lurched. Of course the kit was out with the apprentice. Probably offered to follow her and carry herbs back, or tracked her to show that he could be an apprentice too. She would have to deal with the dog first, she decided. He was growling and slowly advancing on her.

"Go!" she yowled as she jumped forward, latching onto its face with her claws. She raked them over its eyes, hissing and spitting until it yelped. She jumped down as it pelted across the border, the other two following after it after a threatening yowl from the warrior. Once they were gone, she smelled the air. She knew Lionkit was gone, but the reek of dog drowned out the scent of the medicine cat apprentice.

"Applepaw!" she called. She poked her head inside a bush, but she wasn't there. She stiffened at the sound of a whimper and moved towards it. Against the roots of a tree was Applepaw. She was laying awkwardly, and for a second she saw Quailfeather in her nest again, struggling to breathe. She heard another whimper which brought her to the present, and stepped close, licking gently over her neck.

"I'm here now, it's alright." she murmured, giving her a few more licks. She heard thundering pawsteps as a group of warriors rushed toward them.

"Applepaw!" Mousestep called, running over to them. He gave his daughter a few licks and looked pointedly at Badgerclaw. "What happened?"

"I found her here. Lionkit was about to be killed by a dog when I got here." she reported. Hailstripe, Batwhisker, and Ravenfeather ran up.

"The dogs are gone," Ravenfeather reported. "What happened?" Badgerclaw repeated that she had just found her here, then gently grabbed her by the scruff and pulled her off of the roots. She let herself be carried for a moment, then got her feet under her. She didn't seem to be limping more than normal, she already walked with an awkward hop, but leaned heavily on Badgerclaw as they walked. She signaled with her ear for the patrol to continue, and her and Mousestep supported Applepaw on the short walk to camp.

"'s Lionkit safe?" she whispered as they walked, voice slurred

"A little shaken up, but he'll be fine," Mousestep meowed softly.

"Think I hit my head." she mumbled. She was trying to hop along, but her paws did not seem to want to hold her up. Mousefur and Badgerclaw positioned her so they could keep her up between them, and mostly dragged her the rest of the way to camp. Spottedstream was waiting by the camp entrance, pacing back and forth across the camp, her tail lashing. She stopped when they walked into camp, and ran over to escort them to the medicine den. Splashfur was curled around Lionkit, and pulled the tiny kit back into the nest when he tried to run over to them.

"Applepaw!" he cried. His mother shushed him gently and he whimpered, cowering against her but watching them with huge eyes. They gently settled her in a nest, and Mousestep stood beside her while Badgerclaw settled on her other side. She gave her head a lick while the medicine cat looked her over.

"She said she thought she hit her head," Mousestep reported. Spottedstream nodded and hurried to the back of the den where the herbs were stored. After a moment, she called Badgerclaw's name, and she stood, hurrying to follow her. She was pulling out and sorting through herbs, pushing a small pile of herbs toward her.

"Give one to Lionkit and the rest to Applepaw, it'll prevent shock." She continued sorting through her herbs as Badgerclaw picked them up and left.

"Here, Lionkit, eat this." she meowed once she had returned. For once, the kit didn't argue. She then gently pushed the herbs to Applepaw. "Spottedstream said you need to eat these to prevent shock." Applepaw whimpered, eyes closed tight. She gave her ear a soothing lick. "Come on, you need to so you can get better." Applepaw whimpered again, but obediently chewed and swallowed the herbs.

"'m head hurts," she mumbled. Badgerclaw gave her head a few more licks, settling in the nest beside her.

"I know. Spottedstream will be right back with something to make you feel better." she promised. True to her word, Spottedstream came back only a few moments later, carrying a bundle and placing it down in front of her apprentice.

"Both of you, out." she ordered, sniffing over Applepaw's head. Both warriors looked at her for a moment, and Badgerclaw opened her mouth to argue, but Mousestep stood.

"Come on, Badgerclaw. I know you're worried about her, but Spottedstream will do all she can." he murmured. She felt numb as she gave her another lick and murmured that she would be back. If she had a tail it would be drooping, and as it was her head hang as Mousestep led her out of the den. He licked her ear and murmured something that she didn't catch but was probably reassuring. She could not help but think of Quailfeather, and how she could be leaving Applepaw to die alone. She sat down outside of the medicine den, head hanging. Her clanmates whispered among themselves, and she was sure they were looking at her as Mousestep reassured them that Applepaw would be fine. But the words felt distant, like she was hearing them from one end of a long tunnel. After what felt like moons, Spottedstream stepped out of the den. She had a bundle of herbs with her and dropped them in front of Badgerclaw.

"She's resting now, and I do not want anyone to disturb her, but she will be fine." she meowed. Her voice wasn't much better than the others, but at least she could make out the words. The medicine cat pushed the herbs closer to her. "These are for you."

Badgerclaw bent down and ate them. They tasted like nothing, but that could be the numbness she felt like a cloud over her. Spottedstream gently nudged her shoulder with her nose.

"Go rest, Badgerclaw." she meowed. She shook her head, staring down at her paws. Spottedstream sighed and padded away, leaving her with her grief. She sighed and laid down outside the den, head resting on her paws. She didn't look up at the sound of pawsteps, even when she saw dark tabby paws in front of her nose that she knew had to belong to her leader.

"I heard you refuse to listen to Spottedstream," she meowed. She sighed and looked away.

"I am out here instead of with Applepaw." she replied. Her voice wasn't nearly as harsh as she had meant. She just sounded tired.

"You are. And I believe she asked you to return to the warriors den to rest."

"Just said to rest." she mumbled. She was so tired. She felt teeth on her scruff and opened her eyes, even if she didn't remember closing them. She was pulled into a sitting position and blinked to try to stay awake. Tanglestar let her go and gave her lick and head a few soothing licks.

"Go to your den, Badgerclaw. You have been through so much in your short moons as a warrior. You deserve a good night's rest." she meowed. Badgerclaw nodded a bit and got to her paws. They felt like stones as she padded to her den, her leader supporting her on one side. She mumbled an apology when she pulled away and made her way to her nest. She sank into the soft moss. The den was empty, but it was still warmer than outside, and it did not take her long to fall asleep.

[scarlct-vvitch]

“great. perfect. nice. fuck this.” spideypool!!

Peter was more exhausted than he had been in weeks. He had been so good about sleep lately–he had even made a schedule to keep himself from having another falling-asleep-during-an-acid-lab incident–but this week had decided to be a serious dick to him.

So he found it perfectly understandable to skip his last class of the day (which was advanced mechanical engineering, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t catch up later) in favor of going home and napping. Because he had almost used his phone as a coffee stirrer an hour ago, and that seemed to make it clear the coffee wouldn’t really cover only having six hours of sleep in the past two nights combined. 

Peter yawned for about the millionth time that day and scrubbed a hand over his face as he walked up to his apartment door. He started to lazily pat at his pockets for his keys with his other hand–and came up empty.

He frowned and patted himself down again. No jingle. No pointy key-ends. Frowning harder, he dropped his backpack and started to paw through it, even though he rarely kept his keys anywhere but his pockets (they’d been stolen from his backpack once and he still wasn’t over it). Unsurprisingly and unfortunately, he came up with nothing.

Peter briefly felt the urge to cry. All he wanted was a nap. He thought back through his day. He didn’t take them out when he was in the coffee shop–he didn’t even sit down. From what he could recall, he didn’t take them out in class either (because why would he?). Which left him with one, horribly stupid option–they were still sitting on his kitchen counter.

Inside his apartment. Because he was an idiot. 

“Great. Perfect. Nice. Fuck this.” he snapped at the door.

Despite being a functional adult who could deal with this problem in a rational way, Peter was very tired. So he did a rather petty thing and kicked his door, hard. 

Crying was seeming like an increasingly appealing option. Peter’s landlord already didn’t like him. He didn’t need to give him another reason to think he was a bad tenant (which, to be fair, he was, because with his superhero agenda–and his superhero friends–his apartment had been through a lot) by saying he’d lost his keys…again.

Peter sighed and sat down, leaning against his door and throwing his backpack next to him. He honestly didn’t think he had the energy to suit up and climb up to his window. He wasn’t even sure he would be able to find his window.

But he still needed to get in his apartment. Maybe he could magically learn how to pick locks without any effort. Or he could see if any of his neighbors would pick his lock for him–

Wait. I know someone who can pick locks.

Peter was both suddenly grateful and suddenly dreading what he knew he had to do. He sighed very hard and pulled out his phone and for the first time EVER dialed a number he never thought he would need to.

After two rings, he got an answer.

“Deadpool speaking.” Wade’s voice growled at him.

“Wade? It’s–Spider-man.” Peter awkwardly finished, almost just saying ‘Peter’.

The change in Wade’s tone was instant. “Yo, Spidey!” he screeched.

Peter winced and immediately regretted his decision. “Hi, Wade. I need a favor.”

“…Is it a murder-y favor? Because I’ve been trying not to do that so much and–”

“It’s not a job, Wade. I’m locked out of my apartment and I need you to pick my lock.”

There was a pause, and Peter swears he heard a snicker. “Did you web your keys to the wall or something?” Wade joked, then started to poorly cover up a laugh.

“I’m hanging up.” Peter snapped, and started to.

“Wait, wait!” Wade shouted, and Peter didn’t hang up. “I’ll help you, Spidey. Can you text me the address?”

“Yeah. Please show up before I have to sleep in my hallway.” Peter requested, then hung up. He typed out his address and sent it to Wade, who responded with a thumbs-up emoji, a winking-tongue-face emoji that Peter never understood, and informed him he’d be there in fifteen minutes.

Peter sighed and pulled out his Spider-man mask from his backpack. He really didn’t want to put it on, but Wade didn’t know his identity and Peter didn’t really think trusting him with it was a good idea.

Then again, he had just given him his address. That was almost worse, in a way. Wade was unarguably the most unstable man he knew, and he was coming over to pick Peter’s lock for him. 

Peter briefly wondered if this was how he was destined to die. Not by some super-villain, but by letting a crazy person know his address. 

I’m literally letting an axe-murderer into my house. Oh my god, this is how I die.

Peter was still busy imaging scenarios of Wade brutally murdering him when Wade showed up and raised an eyebrow at Peter’s sad scene. He was wearing jeans and a hoodie, which was surprising, though he still had both his mask and gloves on.

“Spidey?” he asked, then it clicked why Wade was looking at him funny.

Peter had forgotten to ever put his mask on.

“Uh, yeah. Hi, Wade.”

Wade suddenly slapped a hand over his eyes. “You forgot your mask.”

Peter sighed. “I guess I did. But I also gave you my address, so I figured if you were gonna murder me I couldn’t stop you.”

“What?”

“Never mind. I’m tired. Please break into my apartment so I can sleep.” Peter said, gesturing at the door handle by his head.

Wade chuckled and walked over. He knelt down next to Peter and started to work on the lock with a bunch of tools that looked like torture devices. “So, not that I’m complaining, but why did you call me for this? You’ve never even used my number before.”

“Long story short, my landlord hates me already and everyone else would never let me live down leaving my keys in my apartment and not realizing it until now.”

“That’s fair.” Wade shrugged, then the door made a click and Wade turned the handle, and to Peter’s sleepy amazement, it opened. “Ta-da. All better.”

Peter gaped at how fast Wade had done that. After a second of chuckling at him, Wade offered him a hand. Peter took it and was heaved to his feet. He grabbed his backpack and entered, expecting Wade to follow.

But he didn’t. Wade stayed in the doorway, rocking back and forth on his feet.

Peter turned back and looked at him. He looked like a lost puppy. Well, a lost puppy who was trying to see as much as he possibly could from a doorway. Peter sighed. “Just come in.”

Wade giggled and ran in, immediately going everywhere. “I’m in Spider-man’s apartment!”

Peter slowly followed him, eventually ended up in his bedroom, where Wade was fiddling with things on his desk. “Don’t break anything.” he ordered, then promptly collapsed onto his bed face-down.

After a moment, he felt a weight on the other side of the bed. “Aw, is Spidey sleepy?” Wade cooed.

“Fuck off.” Peter snapped, and Wade laughed.

“That’s fair. I like your apartment, by the way. Tasteful.”

Peter snorted. “Does it accurately show off my college student budget?”

“Impeccably.” Wade said, flopping down on the bed next to him. “Dude, how old is this mattress?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it witnessed JFK’s murder, to be honest.”

Wade laughed, then they fell into silence. Peter was honestly half-asleep before Wade broke the silence again, and even then he didn’t really wake up. “Should I go?”

“Hmm?” Peter asked, turning to look at him.

“Should I leave? You seem about two seconds away from hibernation.”

Peter shrugged. “Probably. I’m gonna sleep for about fifty hours now.”

Wade smiled at him and sat up. “That’s fair. See you on your next patrol?”

“Considering you know where I live, I don’t think I can stop you from showing up to all of them.”

“Probably not. Sleep well, Spidey.”

Peter just hummed an answer and snuggled deeper into his pillow, listening to Wade’s footsteps get fainter–then get louder again.

Wade poked his head back into Peter’s room. “For the record, I like your face.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Go home, Wade.”

“It’s a nice face. Excellent face. That hair is killer. Do you condition?”

“Wade.”

“Right, right. I’m going. Call me if you need a number for an actual locksmith, baby boy.” Wade chuckled, then left for real.

Peter threw his cover onto himself, rolled over into the spot Wade had made surprisingly warm in his short time there, and slept better than he had in what felt like years. 

[hawaiianhalfwolf]

So what you're saying is, I'm your brand of heroin? | Noah & Reza

About three things Noah was absolutely positive.......

Toweling off his hair a little more Noah looked in the mirror for one last time checking to make sure he was presentable. If this was any normal night he’d be most likely be naked by now, obviously company warranted proper clothes. Or at least a pair of basketball shorts and a muscle tee. Hanging up his towel in his bathroom, Noah padded back across his room human ears pricked for the doorbell. He’d told Reza he could come over like an hour ago though maybe it took more time for the kid to get here than 30 minutes. Shrugging it off Noah went to scoop up the little foster pup from his position snoozing on his bed figuring it was best to just move everyone downstairs to wait. And of course it was only when he was halfway down the stairs did he hear it the faint chime of the doorbell that was only installed for Noah’s benefit, the little pup tucked under his arm starting to stir from all the noise. “Coming!” the boy called out as he ran down the last of the stairs Kea already beating him to the door “Back,” he commanded looking straight at her expecting her to do as she was told. And she did paws moving back a few steps, tail still wagging profusely. “Good girl” He praised before going for the door and opening it wide upon Reza. “Hello hello, long time no see.”

Reza would never admit to it but he'd shown up to Noah's house at the exact time given -- half an hour from their conversation-- and then proceeded to loiter around for another half hour. Mostly to avoid any unbearable situations, like accidentally disrupting Noah's shower early, but also because he didn't want to seem too eager. Which he was. Hanging around in that smelly hole of a basement he called home got lonely. Way lonely and cuddling it up with a dog was without a doubt the perfect solution. Talking to Noah didn't make things worse, either, since the older boy seemed to exist purely to spread positivity and kindness; something Reza really was lacking in his life at the moment. If only his traitorous thoughts would stop making him feel like hanging out with an admittedly handsome friend was in some way betrayal to a dead person. And really, person was a stretch. Jittery hands finally knocked on the door and Reza could immediately smell the mixed scent of dog, fresh shampoo and something his nose told him was Noah. "Hey," he greeted with a touch less enthusiasm, smile getting lost as his gaze quickly turned to the ground. "Thanks for letting me come over." Reza shifted on the doorstep, shrugging off his jacket as soon as he did to avoid it getting covered in dog hairs because no way was he not getting on his knees to pet the gorgeous dog wagging its tail, leaving him in the traditional black, skinny jeans and an even darker T-shirt (a personal favorite decorated with a sleeping cat and the words 'not today'). A sensation he knew by now, but was no less uncomfortable, told him that he couldn't pass the doorstep just yet. Noah hadn't explicitly invited him in which meant... yeah.

Moving away from the entrance so Reza could pass through Noah went to stand next to Kea happy she was waiting patiently. “It’s totally no problem dude.” He brushed off the gratitude smiling at the boy, because it really was no problem. “Plus you caught us on a quiet night, most of the time there’s at least 3 extra people milling about the kitchen eating our food, isn’t that right?” Noah cooed down at the little pup in his arms, his little snout giving a rather large yawn that made Noah’s heart practically melt in his chest. God he love puppies so much. Glancing back over at the kid he noticed he’s gotten rid of his jacket, a funny shirt and his general punk skinny jeans look underneath. And Noah would be lying if he didn’t feel that tingle, that small little wolf inside of him kinda wondering what all those clothes would look like on the floor. But he pushed that down. God. He really needed to get laid sometime soon so that shit stopped happening with his fucking friends. Shaking off the inner turmoil though Noah cocked his head at the boy outside. “So what are you a vampire now?” Noah teased looking at Reza standing stock still on the doorway. Most of his regular friends would have barged in by now, but then again Reza was not a normal friend, and maybe he just was super polite, yea maybe that was it. “Come on get in here before Kea explodes from excitement.” Noah said before turning and walking towards the couch making it plainly clear the Reza should come inside now. Oh and shut the door behind him too.

Reza quickly began to fidget, weighing the option of just turning on his heel and walking the other way because this was just... the worst. The puppy yawned with excitement and Reza decided to stay, if only for the dog. Something shifted in Noah's eyes for a second, pupils darkening and for a moment Reza wondered if it was realization dawning behind his eyes. Did Reza's reluctance -- or inability-- to enter somehow out him as a vampire? Holy... “So what are you a vampire now?” A... a joke? Noah was joking. Obviously. He didn't know, how could he. The offer to step inside was accepted without hesitation, Reza shuffling inside with an awkward laugh. "A vampire. Yeah, for sure. I'm the one creeping outside your window every night." Cringing at himself, Reza simply turned all his attention to the dog instead of trying to fix that mess of a sentence. He was greeted vigorously by the door, a genuine laugh slipping past his lips as paws scrabbled for Reza, tongue slobbering towards his face. "Hey, there, girl How are you? You are absolutely gorgeous," he cooed, the built up tension and nervousness easing slightly as his cold fingers wrapped into the soft fur.

“You know if you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask.” Noah quipped playfully over his shoulder as he walked over to the couch the little foster puppy in tow with him while Haukea stayed by the door. Blanching a little though at the realization of what he just said, to Reza, someone who thought he was weird for giving a compliment Noah instantly backtracked “And I swear that was totally a joke” He said turning around so Reza could see the seriousness in his eyes. Holding it for a moment Noah resumed his task, sitting down and making himself comfortable. That and reminding himself that Reza was not one of his bros. He didn’t get the humor and the subtle gay undertones that were a part of Noah’s everyday life with his friends. Looking over at Haukea though (as she totally ignored her training and jumped on Reza, hed had to go over that with her again) Noah realized again where he was failing  “Oh my god. You’ve never met Haukea have you.” Noah asked over the side of the couch practically face palming himself “Wow. My total bad dude. So yea that’s Haukea, she loves long walkies and taking up half of whatever you are sitting on. So don’t say you weren’t warned” Noah grinned over at the pair happy that Kea might have have a part in making the poor kid smile.

"That's not what I..." Reza started defensively, cutting himself off short as he remembered that Noah liked his jokes a bit underneath the belt. So this was a joke. Obviously. Noah quickly confirmed that he hadn't been serious but Reza was still rigid as a stick. Man, this was exhausting, wading through weird hoops of compliments and sexual jokes delivered so casually that they made him sort of choke on his own spit. His attention turned back to the dog, a much safer area than pretty much all conversation with Noah, a smile returning to Reza's face. "She can take up all the space she wants." Nuzzling her head with his forehead before the dog bounded back to Noah, Reza stood up and brushed off his jeans. He felt pretty exposed wearing nothing but a T-shirt but putting on his jacket would make it seem like he was itching to leave right away. Hands in his pockets, Reza loitered over to the couch, glancing to the puppy joining Noah on the couch. "And, uh, who's that then?"

Ignoring the slightly awkward atmosphere that came about with his joke Noah focused on making himself more comfortable on the couch.Turning his back toward the armrest Noah spread his legs slightly placing the small pup on the space between his chest and his knees. Yea that was a lot more comfortable, though that still left Reza over by the door while Noah was taking up half the couch.. “You shouldn’t say that.” Noah replied to Reza with a playful shake of his head hoping the kid would get the memo that he could come into the living room. “Because next thing you know she’ll be pushing you out of a queen sized bed. Huh you little bed stealer ” He gave Haukea a nice head scratch as she passed already jumping up into her usual spot at Noah’s feet. But that’s not what Noah wanted. “Down.” Noah commanded with a finger snap the second her paws touched the couch. “Reza gets to chose where he sits first then you can squeeze your ass in whatever space is available” He told her as if she understood, but he guessed that was less for her benefit and more for Reza’s. Because while there were few of fluffy pillows strewn about the floor (from the last pack meeting), and a rather large looking armchair tucked in the corner (Cahill’s chair) Noah kinda wished Reza would sit with him on the couch. You know. Like Friends did. Looking down at the speckled puppy trying to find a good sport on his chest Noah huffed a little, the pups name a sore spot in his eyes “Well technically his name at the barn was Granite, but I’m not sure if I like that for him.” He frowned at the puppy slightly “Though I probably shouldn’t rename him if I’m fostering, don’t want to become too attached you know”

"I don't need..." A bed? Sleep? Not things you can say, Reza, "...that much space, to be honest. Perks of being a skinny, small guy." Usually, he was more comfortable curled up on the edge of a mattress, anyway. As Haukea was commanded to the floor, Reza frowned, her big, sad dog eyes tugging at his sympathy. Noah's following statement made him shift awkwardly as he wondered if Mister Big and Burly wanted Reza to squeeze into the couch with him. That plan had so many flaws, including but not exclusive to Reza's cold skin, Reza being that close to someone with a beating heart (blood bag or no, his gums still itched at the thought) and Reza being mildly terrified of the thought of human contact since... Yeah, Reza on the couch wasn't happening. "Aw, I don't have the heart to leave her on the floor," he excused himself, taking a seat crosslegged on a pillow facing Noah. It felt instantly more comfortable, perhaps in part because this was the similar set up he'd had with Heath while watching TV and no, comparing Noah to him in any way or form was not an option. "What if I rename him?" he blurted out to escape from pit in his head that had slowly cracked open, "that way it's not exactly yours but you get to call it something else?"

Noah couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at Reza chalking up the small pause in between his phrases as just the punk teen being awkward again. “Well the concept of not needing much space that has become completely foreign to me since puberty,” He admitted with a shrug ruffling the fluffy ears of the puppy in his lap. Watching closely as Haukea used her eyes Reza though Noah opened his mouth to say something but instantly shut it, knowing that he probably had fucked on on this one.  Because offering couch space to Reza was too forward wasn’t it? It was too intimate and too. It was too much of what Noah liked and what Noah needed, and probably none what Reza needed. So taking the small sense of hurt and rejection and burying it deep down Noah just spread his legs out in front of him the pup in his lap nipping lightly at Noah’s leg as it moved. “Well your loss dude.” He joked out casually “Especially since she’s definitely manipulating you.” Noah looked over towards Haukea the lab smiling between both Noah and Reza almost happy she got her way. But he could never be mad at that face for long “Yea cuz you would have been just fine spread eagle over the top of us on the couch wouldn’t you?” He cooed as he gave her a couple good neck scratches with his outstretched hand. Feeling Granite start to puppy chew on his other hand Noah glanced over to Reza mulling his proposition over in his mind  “I mean if you want to? I mean. I guess. I don’t know.” Noah rambled knowing he was making no sense whatsoever, “But I guess what I mean to say is If you feel like you have a good one I’m definitely open to it.

Reza watched the dog for a moment as it made itself comfortable, wondering if he was really that easily manipulated that a canine could overpower his will. No, this had been a decision based purely on not having to plop onto the sofa next to Noah. Reza wasn't the pushover he'd been -- how could he be considering what he'd become? Besides, that big ball of fluff wasn't capable of real manipulation, anyway. Brushing off the cord the statement had struck within him, Reza focused on the name-giving instead. "Hey, woah, I never said I had a good one. Just trying to be a problem solver." Leaning back, palms flat against the floor, he thought it over. A lot of names he'd have given his own pets came to mind but this was Noah. Maybe it didn't need to be too complicated, though... "I think, and don't cite me on this, that in Hebrew, Caleb means like, wolf or dog or something. So it's like naming your cat Cat."

“Well you’re in the Kalani household now kid, we expect perfection” Noah teased out towards Reza a sly grin on his face. It was hopefully taken as the joke it was, mostly because he really did appreciate the help however small. And he was glad reza was starting to get comfortable with him enough to suggest things. Contemplating the suggestion though Noah bit his lip slightly “You know I never thought about Caleb. I mean I usually name my animals funny things in Hawaiian and not funny things in Hebrew.” Noah smiled looking down at Haukea (aka little miss Snow White) fondly. Well that was before Granite puppy chewed at his fingers again bringing the older boy’s attention back to him “But maybe you could be the one that breaks the mold huh buddy.” He cooed moving his hands a bit so the pup had to move some to pin them. “So hebrew huh? Do you actually know the language or are you like a name researcher” He asked glancing over at Reza.

Reza felt immensely relieved that Noah liked the name, feeling pretty happy to have put something nice into this household. Even though it wasn't permanent but maybe the name would stick. Eyeing the dog with envy, knowing that there was no way he could take care of a dog -- not to mention a puppy-- Reza ripped himself out of those thoughts. Yes, having something to cuddle in the damp hole of a basement would make everything tremendously improved but he couldn't do that to the poor thing, bringing it into those living conditions. He didn't want to think about what else could go wrong, having a live animal around him at all times. The blood bags weren't necessarily going to be a plan forever. "Uh, neither? I do know some Arabic and the two are pretty similiar in a lot of ways so... I mean, I have researched names but like... only pet names since that was kinda all I wanted when I was younger. And now, too, I guess." He smiled, eyes flicking back to the puppy trying to devour Noah's hand and failing completely.

Glancing over toward Reza Noah could see his eyes on the pup, the longing almost palpable and Noah knew what he had to do next. Lifting Granite/Caleb off of his chest the older boy placed him on the floor in a small unceremonious gesture scooting the pup toward the boy “Here go terrorize your sister and Uncle Reza for a change.” He mock whispered to the pup as Haukea lifted her head from her spot, tail thumping against the ground in anticipation for puppy play time with her new little foster brother. Settling back into his dog free zone on the couch Noah scooted forward his head now resting on a pillow against the headrest, his long ass legs dangling slightly from the other end.    “Thats pretty cool.” He commented though once Reza started talking about his language skills “I mean I’ve never tried Arabic, but I give you mad props for trying, cuz it looks hard as fuck.” Turning he resettled himself so he was facing Reza and not the ceiling “I do get the pet name thing though, cuz my dad was always asking me to name the strays left at his clinic. So I’d go online and take a few days to pick out like what I thought was the perfect name and he’d be like… you know you could have just picked something easy like Bob” Noah recalled with a smile, heart aching slightly at the fact that that was only a memory now.

Reza accepted the pup trotting over with welcoming arms, chuckling as it stumbled over his legs. "Hey," he whispered to Caleb, scratching his head. "Hmm? Oh, it's easier when your parents speak the language. I mean, I'm rusty as fuck these days but..." Shrugging, Reza saved his fingers from the relentless puppy's chewing to pull down the collar of his shirt. "I kid myself that I'm keeping the language alive by getting tattoos in urdu, like my mom's name here. I also have a quote on my ribs but, uhm..." Reza let his shirt fall back over his collarbone, clearing his throat. "Yeah, you can just imagine that one. So, uh, Bob the dog. Doesn't have as good of a ring to it as Caleb the dog." Smooth transition there, big guy. Reza really did like talking about his tattoos but he wasn't going to start... stripping for Noah to show them off.

Looking at Reza Noah smiled a little glad that the Caleb was having a good time with his guest. “Yea i’ll bet” Noah mumbled out into the couch a little sad that his dad didn’t speak more Hawaiian to him, or that his mom completely forgot her Turkish due to being adopted young. Eye tracking Reza though he stared at deft fingers pulling down his shirt collar to show him his urdu tattoo, that was actually quite beautiful. Trying not to stare to hard though Noah focused on the symbolism of the tattoo and not the pale skin underneath especially when Reza started blushing about the quote on his ribs.  “Dude don’t kid yourself.” Noah shook his head sitting up on the couch  “I mean first thing I’m doing when I get off of football this year is go and get my family’s tribal pattern on my chest and shoulder in honor of my dad. So like I get it.” He grinned at the other boy before the light bulb went off in his head “Which speaking of, do you know any good artists that know about polynesian tattoos?” He asked Reza ears perking up slightly at the sound of the door opening. It was Charlie one of the pack members coming through the door. “Looking for extra poker chips?” Noah called out to him pre-empting the mans questioning. It was poker night for Cahill and his male pack members, and of course the Alpha would send someone else to collect the things Noah told him he should bring in the first place. Typical. Standing there like the lumberjack wonder he was Charlie looked a little confused, hand rubbing in his beard, before he nodded, eyes never straying from Reza “Up the stairs in the hall closet” Noah pointed, as if this was the most casual thing in the world to him. Slowly Charlie climbed the stairs leaving Reza and Noah back to their talking “Don’t mind him, that’s just Charlie, a friend of my Uncles” Noah said waving it off as it if was nothing.

Reza perked up when Noah asked about a tattoo artist, the thought of actually being able to give someone good advice on something he knew and knew well filling him with a euphoric purpose. "Dude, yeah! I've seen so many great tattoos when I've been browsing and--" The door slammed and Reza's newly found energy escaped his body like a deflating balloon. Someone was home? Reza hadn't been prepared for anyone other than Noah and some dogs. The very tall, very burly man that appeared in the door caused every muscle in Reza's body to tense, his fingers wrapping up in Caleb's fur. The fact that this bearded man wasn't moving his eyes off Reza's face despite how uncomfortable the vampire clearly looked wasn't helping the situation. Even when the freezing stare left him, Reza still sat completely still, almost inhumanly so, only snapping back to reality when Caleb started to squirm. "Hmm? Yeah, it's... fine. Just... fine." Caleb starting licking at Reza's hand, clearly sensing the discomfort. With his brain slowly calming down after the disheartening staring contest, Reza became acutely aware of the smell in the room that seemed to have intensified with Charlie's arrival. It was the same smell Reza had subconsciously started connecting to Noah, only much stronger. Was this... were the both of them not... human? Did Reza's nose know more than he did?

Smiling at the boy Noah tried to keep the conversation going, mistaking Reza’s silence for the possibility that he was just uncomfortable. Which Noah thought was fair enough, not everyone lived with such an open door policy as the Kalani Pack did after all, and that could be startling at first. Just all the people coming and going. “That’s good though,” Noah commented after Charlie bounded up the stairs “I mean I want to make sure it’s done, well, respectfully and as authentically as possible though so it’s like.” Noah shrugged “I almost feel like i should fly to Hawai’i and get to done there just to be safe or something”

"Yeah, mhm," Reza replied with disinterest, ears now perked for any sound from the broody Charlie. Something in him was tingling, telling him to run, probably just his paranoia but he was definitely on edge. "Hawaii sounds fun and--" Footsteps thumped back down the stairs and Reza tensed, with Caleb cuddling into his lap, probably expecting something dangerous to happen just because of Reza's reaction. Charlie appeared back downstairs and Reza's eyes locked onto the dogs, in the hopes of avoiding another staring contest. As soon as Charlie left, Reza could politely excuse himself and bolt. Even though he could already imagine Noah's big, sad eyes reacting to that announcement.

Watching Reza tense again as Charlie came back down the stairs Noah couldn’t help but be concerned. He didn’t know much about Charlie only that the 30-something man had swept in from Montana 5 years ago after his wife left him. Apparently she wasn’t a fan of werewolves, which was sad, but luckily Charlie found the right man to bring his car into for repairs. Funnily enough the rest was history. But that didn’t mean Noah felt as at ease around Charlie as he did other members of the pack. Charlie was. Well he was just Charlie. Stoic and obedient. Didn’t talk much. Which was a shame because he always looked like he had something to say under that rugged beard. Like he did right now standing at the bottom of the stairs a troubled look on his face. “Hey before I go,” Charlie paused coming a bit closer “Um did you happen to tell Cahill about this?” He asked swinging a finger in both of their directions.  Glancing over the side of the couch to where Charlie was standing Noah gave a confused stare. “Tell Cahill what? About me having someone over?” He asked not really knowing what the big deal was about. He was 22 after all well past the age where he needed to tell Cahill about each and every one of his playdates “No I meant about you being here with” Charlie’s eyes flickered slightly toward Reza, giving Noah the all so subtle hint that it had something to do with the boy on the ground “I dont know what you’re-”” Noah until. Shit. Fuck. Did Charlie mean, no, he couldn’t be. Trying to stop his brain from exploding inside of his skull Noah stood hand in the air the a look of pure panic written all over his face  “we’re totally not like dating or fucking if that’s what you mean I swear we’re just friends I mean I’m not even g-” “Stop,” Charlie stopped him with his free hand eyes wide “I totally did not mean that,” He clarified before his face soften “though If you were to be dating men now I would be totally fi-” Noah could feel all of the blood rush out of his body at that exact second. “Do not finish that sentence for the love of all that is holy,” He blurted over the top of Charlie, the look of panic still caught in his eyes. Because nope he was not doing this here, like this, in front of Reza ok. I mean not that he minded coming out to Reza since it seemed like the boy wouldn’t judge but just. Yea no, Nope. Not the time not the place “Just tell me what you meant before and we’ll consider everything good.” Noah continued lips pursed in a line now. But it was Charlie who now  looked confused “You mean you can’t feel it?” Looking at Charlie and Noah couldn’t help but shake his head, an eyebrow raised to illustrate his own emotions on the subject “Feel what?” He asked turning to Reza wondering if the boy had any insight.

It was definitely time to freak out now, Reza decided, as Charlie asked his 'before I go' question. Really, it was some sort of miracle that Noah hadn't found him out yet, since Reza felt like he just radiated these awkward vibes of 'I'm not human.' Avoiding Charlie's accusing gaze, mind screaming fire and setting off every alarm, Reza couldn't help but wonder just how this very large man had deducted Reza's secret after being here for literally five minutes. It had to mean that he wasn't human and neither was Noah... Noah, who was now on his feet and Reza realized he hadn't been listening to what was transpiring, instead just preparing for imminent doom, but his friend (?) was blushing like crazy and maybe this wasn't about him being a vampire? Did Charlie think this was a... date? Noah was close to screaming now and Reza's muscles were all tensed for escape, his eyes starting to flit to the door. Charlie had made it clear that he wasn't showing an interest in Noah's love life. He was showing an interest in the vermin Noah had brought into their house. “Feel what?” Noah asked and as soon as his attention turned to Reza, the vampire was on the move, scrambling to his feet around the confused puppy and bolting to the door. He heard Charlie approaching before he saw him, barrelling into the muscular chest now blocking the door. His stance went defensive -- primal-- as Charlie growled deep from his throat. The other dogs whined at the sound and Reza could feel his eyes flashing red. Shit. “You let him invite you into his home. His den-” Charlie paused, taking a deep breath, his hackles coming down slightly. Reza didn't relax one bit. “You owe him an explanation. You owe him that much at least. And if you don’t tell him I will." Shoulders still hunched, eyes red and narrowed, Reza resisted the urge to hiss. He should just let him leave, this was completely unnecessary. "Just let me leave," he half-growled under his breath, for Charlie's ears only, voice almost pleading.

Watching it all unfold like a bad horror film, Reza must have been supernatural with the way he moved Noah’s eyes barely registering he’d left before he was clashing at the door with Charlie. And Noah was up in an instant mind going straight to how he could de escalate the situation instead of anything else. Or rather just get Reza to somewhere safe and not staring down the barrel of 250 pounds of angry werewolf. Wedging himself in between the two men Noah kept his eyes on Charlie, hands reaching out behind him to start pushing Reza’s torso, hoping the other boy would get the hint that he needed to back away and back away now. “Stand Down Charlie” Noah growled out a certain venom to his words. In purer werewolf terms he was outranked for sure. But this was still his house, and Noah was. Well Noah was the punk ass kid who challenged his Alpha all the time, so he wasn’t going to let some lowly pack member try to tell him what was best for his world. Not now, not ever. “Noah” Charlie growled out as if to test his resolve. But noah was not backing down No sir. “Do not fucking Noah me right now. This is my house. I outrank you by default.” He was staring straight at Charlie now as if daring him to challenge his authority in his own fucking house. Luckily for all of them though Charlie had enough sense to know when he was beaten and silently looked away waiting for Noah to clean up the mess he’d just made. Taking a deep breath Noah kept his eyes on Charlie but spoke for the boy behind him. “Reza, if you need to leave the back slider is open. You can go down the porch, and take a right around the struts, there’s a gate to the drive way in that general direction. If you just need somewhere safe my room is at the top of the stairs 2nd door on the left. No one but me is allowed to be in there.” The last part was emphasized not for Reza’s benefit but for Charlie’s, as they all knew the house rules. Noah’s bedroom was off limits unless invited. Even for Cahill the alpha.

Noah's hand on his torso made Reza cringe away, his body still pulled taut like a string waiting to snap. A part of him wanted a fight, convinced he could at least get a few good hits -- or bites-- in, but Noah being in the way stopped him. It took his panicked and anger-run brain a moment to realize that Noah wasn't trying to defend Charlie; he was defending Reza. Deflating like a popped balloon, Reza took a few steps back, eyes fading back to brown. The word 'leave' snapped his attention because yes, yes Reza needed to leave. The primal part of his brain was still lit up like a Christmas tree and that scared whatever logic was left in his brain; no way did he want this situation to escalate. He backtracked a few more steps, feeling Charlie's gaze burning his face. "I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath, turning on his heel and bolting for the back slider. As soon as he burst outside into the fresh air, his head cleared, managing to work through some of what he'd just witnessed. Charlie was an... animal. A werewolf. Which had to mean that Noah was one, too. And Charlie could have killed him. But he didn't. Because of Noah. Noah had protected him, even after most likely realizing that Reza wasn't human either; that Reza had lied. Realizing that he was still sprinting, Reza slowed down, finally slumping down to the ground. He could still see the barnhouse in the distance but he couldn't find the strength to get up, mind still reeling. His secret was out to Noah. And Reza had no idea what would happen now.