#and a tail and I know how to do a thinner tail with my cat form

[glowingshiningbright]

I want to learn how to take the shape of a murder drone.

[marcusakito]

Lyney Cat Hybrid Boyfriend HCs (Sfw and Nsfw)

I blame my friend for inspiring me to write this. But I still had fun thinking about it, so was it really that bad?

Lyney x Fem!Reader

CW: Minors DNI, Slight Yandere (Just to be safe I'll add that), Biting(?), Rough Sex, Breeding, Penetration, and technically a monster cock.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

SFW:

I really wanna believe Lyney is a cat hybrid like his sister Lynette. Perhaps he takes a special suppressant that makes his cat features less prominent.

His ears would be small enough to be completely flush in his hair, and his tail small enough to hide in his clothes. The only thing visible in his cat trait would be his eyes. The glow in the dark, and see just as well in the dark too.

Why would he do that? Having one cat on stage makes it special, unique, don't you think having two makes it less so?

Of course like most medicine, I doubt taking the suppressant constantly would be healthy. He has a few days where he doesn't take them.

So imagine your surprise when his cat ears spring up, and being in casual clothes, his tail moves freely around.

Yes, he'll allow you to touch them. But only if you promise to be gentle.

If you pet his head and scratch his ears, he'll be snuggling up against you and purring. Same goes for when you sleep together.

What a clingy cat. But that's what makes him adorable, no?

If he purrs, he definitely hisses. He's learned to surpress that since he was young, but if he gets jealous towards someone... Well now, he can't help it at that point.

He'd have the urge to scratch their face off, but he resists doing that. That would be rather... Unbecoming of his charismatic self. Besides, he has other possible ways of handling things.

That is, to show outwardly open affection to you. Prove to that person you're his.

Just like any other cat, Lyney's stomach is a sensitive spot. Very, very ticklish and he doesn't mind if you wanna tickle him, he trusts you! Just don't tickle him out of surprise when you're outside, he might accidentally scratch you.

He'll be sure to give a thousand apologies for it though. And maybe a rose or two.

NSFW:

MASSIVE BREEDING KINK.

He can't help himself, it's his primal instincts taking over when you two have intercourse.

His cock is a little thinner than average, 6", bulbous and red tip, and extremely sensitive. His dick has rough, rounded barbs around the base of his shaft.

Those barbs rubs against your walls and clit just right. It was an unexpected pleasure for the both of you, since they were sensitive for Lyney, and it makes him cum pretty easily even without much stimulation.

He retracts his claws (His nails) so they won't hurt you when he plunges them into your hole to finger you. But he'd use them to sensually graze his nails softly too.

His favourite position is doggystyle (Or rather, catstyle?) And prone bone, but he wouldn't mind other positions. He just knows that particular one makes him certain you'll be properly bred.

He'll either hold you by your hips or pin your hands above your head, with his chest pressed against your back. He'll praise you for doing so well, how well you'll take his seed, and for the beautiful bump for when you bear his children.

The thought of you pregnant just riles him up and turns him on.

He's got naturally high libido, but oh boy, good luck during his heat cycle.

He'll be clingy, snuggling against you constantly that you'll have to shove him off. That doesn't stop him, though.

And once you're home, well...

He'll be thrusting into you roughly, overstimulating you over and over again to cum inside you without a moment of rest.

And if you try to get away and act up? He's not above biting you at the back of your neck.

It's his cat instincts needing you to stay longer. Even after you've had what, 5 orgasms and a ton of his load in you?

He'll realize what he did and make up for it later by drawing you a bath or patching it up.

Mandatory snuggles after sex. No exception.

And he'll be keeping his dick inside of you all night. You don't mind cockwarming, do you? He's just making sure not to waste a single drop of his semen inside you.

Hope you don't mind not walking for a while. Don't worry, Lyney's taking care of you well throughtout the mating season.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Hope you enjoyed my hcs! I was thinking of writing more monster(?) Human headcanons, not limited to animal hybrids. It's just fun to think of the possibilities.

If you have any concerns or suggestions, feel free to give a comment or ask!

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Ghost Bookshop Romance Headcanons

CoD ML

📖 Ghost is secretly quite bookish, having found refuge in novels during his youth and now even as a grown man. He especially loves bakery and coffee shop romances, though he’d never admit this outright.

📖 No one asks what he’s reading when they see him sitting with his e-reader, more often than not smoking as well.

📖 Those who are brave enough to ask only get glared at in answer and walk away, tail tucked between their legs.

📖 When he’s on leave, back home in Manchester, he watches out for a particular girl he’s seen at Waterstones. Pops by there for hours on end, drinking coffee, smoking outside yet near the shop, all in the hope he’ll bump into you.

📖 Your face looks familiar to him, but he can’t remember where he’s seen it if ever he has. Nonetheless, it’s enchanting, a strange though pleasant (and thoroughly distracting) imprint on his memory.

📖 Unbeknownst to him, you’re secretly his favourite author. However, you barely have any photos out there, preferring the anonymity of your pen name. It doesn’t help you haven’t published in a while due to being grabbed tightly in the vicious maws of writer’s block. Henceforth, despite the loyal fanbase, there’s little talk about your works or you yourself.

📖 One day he catches you sitting in one of the chairs dotted around the store, reading. Finally, at long last, he has the chance to talk to you!

📖 Simon has a whole plan. First he’d ask you what you’re reading and your opinion on it thus far, gradually leading the conversation towards your recommendations and favourites. It’s essential to gain that info because there’s always plenty to say and discover about books. Then, he’d ask you for tea, show you he isn’t as scary as he looks.

📖 But, like out in the field, there can be unforeseen circumstances.

📖 He didn’t account for the goosebumps on your skin, the slight shiver that has you shaking despite your efforts to suppress it.

📖 “Trying to catch a cold?” Simon crouches down before you, takes off his heavy leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. It’s warm, infused with the scent of nicotine, black pepper, gun oil, gasoline, and black tea.

📖 For a moment you stare at him, gobsmacked. After all, you don’t meet someone in a skull balaclava at Waterstones on the daily. Nevertheless, after wrapping his jacket around you a little tighter and deciding he means no harm, you find your voice. “Not consciously. Guess I’m not particularly good at dressing for the weather.”

📖 “No, you’re not.” He chuckles at your expression, a mixture of shock and surprise. Much to his delight, Simon senses you’re not offended by his bluntness. “Fancy a cuppa? My treat.”

📖 “Only if you tell me your name.”

📖 “For now, call me Ghost.”

📖 “Cheshire. Pleased to meet you.”

📖 “Like the cat?”

📖 “Indeed.” The way you tilt your head, eyes bright with defiance and granting him a glimpse of the walls you’ve carefully constructed around yourself, sends electricity through his nerves. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

📖 Simon usually keeps people at a distance, even the taskforce, but he’ll gladly take on the challenge of getting closer. “Yeah.”

📖 As per his promise, he pays for the tea and a scone to share. He cuts it in half, giving you the thicker top part while he settles for the thinner bottom bit.

📖 He doesn’t know how, but as he watches you smear jam and only the tiniest bit of clotted cream on the pastry it hits him. Finally he recalls who you are, where he’s seen you before.

📖 “Cheshire,” he begins, wanting to breach the topic carefully. Still, it’s hard to not get distracted by how you’re innocently enjoying your scone, enough to unintentionally give him the opportunity to wipe the crumbs from the corner of your mouth. However, to restrain himself, Simon tucks his hands in his lap. “Have you by chance heard of (your pen name)?”

📖 He clocks how you stiffen. Bingo. “How do you know that name?”

📖 “I… I’m… I’m a fan. Inked Monsters is the first book of yours I read. I liked how you discussed the prejudice against age gap relations, lone wolves, and heavily tattooed people. Made me feel heard.”

📖 You can’t help but chuckle, amazed at this giant’s enthusiasm for your novels. “What’s so funny?”

📖 “Nothing, it’s just… you don’t strike me as the type to like my writing. I’m glad to hear it touched you, though.”

📖 “Well, I am. But yours is the only one in the genre I really like. I’m not a big fan of fairy tales or retellings, but yours,” he glances at his cup, comically small in his big hands, “I… I do… a lot.”

📖 “Glad to hear it.”

📖 “How’s it going with Sugar Hood and Flannel Wolf? Haven’t heard or seen anything about it for a while.”

📖 You snort because ‘for a while’ is a severe understatement considering it’s been three years. The fanbase exploded with supportive messages when you announced you were writing another modern fairytale. This time, it would be about a lumberjack grumpy werewolf and a young woman who runs a bakery after her grandma’s passed away.

📖 And there’s the key phrase.

📖 Would be.

📖 “I’m suffering from writer’s block, which also drives my publisher and agent up the bloody wall. They still earn enough thanks to me to not cancel my contract, but I don’t think I’ll be able to publish soon… if ever again.”

📖 The way you look down into your tea, head bowed low and eyes sad, breaks his heart. “How so?”

📖 “When a hobby turns into a profession, there’s the pressure to perform, to deliver. I used to write for fun, but now it feels like a chore and I feel nothing but guilt for not doing it. Doesn’t help I’m stuck on the plot.”

📖 “You need a rubber duck.”

📖 You look up at him, feeling like you lost the plot. “A rubber duck?”

📖 “Talk through your problems to a rubber duck and you’ll see the solution presents itself. This duck can also be… someone.”

📖 “Are you asking to be my rubber duck?”

📖 “Proofreader, at most. If you’d allow it.”

📖 “A second opinion wouldn’t hurt.” You smile to yourself and shake your head. “A ghost reader.”

📖 Little do you know that that is what gets him going. “Let’s make this a two-man project. You write, I read, and we get through this together. Fuck deadlines and to hell with the people pressuring you to write. This is our plan, our mission. Getting that book out.”

📖 You giggle, a sound he archives for later. “My God, you’re headstrong. It’s nice, though, to hear you speak as passionately about my works like I did once.”

📖 “Being stagnant is useless. It’s also definitely the way to get yourself killed out in the field.” Simon wishes he could kick himself in the face for his words. “Sorry, you can take the man out of the army, but not vice versa.”

📖 “That explains a lot, you being an army man.” You take a sip of tea and nibble on the scone. “Retired or on leave?”

📖 “On leave.”

📖 “Know when you’re deployed again?”

📖 “Not any time soon. Unless Price cooks something up again. No, I’ll be here for a while.” Mumbling under his breath, the words too low for you to make out, he adds, “Plenty time for me to help you.”

📖 “Pardon?”

📖 “Nothing. But,” he clears his throat, “if you don’t mind, would you sign one of my copies?”

📖 “Sure. You have it with you?”

📖 “No, so, uhm, could we meet here tomorrow for that?”

📖 “Are you asking to see me again?”

📖 “If we could have tea again, that’d be nice too.”

📖 “Maybe grab a bite in town instead?”

📖 He perks up. “That’s a yes?”

📖 “It’s bad protocol to go out with a fan, but,” your smile makes him melt, “how can I say no to an interesting man like you, Ghost?”

📖 You pop the last bit of the scone into your mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Meet here?” He nods. “Thank you for the tea.”

📖 “Anytime.”

📖 Ngl, silly as it is considering you just met, he’s kinda disappointed you don’t give him a kiss on the cheek before you leave.

📖 Though he finds enough satisfaction in the fact you ate the piece of the scone he cut for you.

📖 Enough to carry him through the day.

📖 Afterwards, the two of you stay in regular contact. It’s not always about business and even if it is, the conversation always diverges. To what you’re reading, simple recipes for Simon to try and make (he’s a self-confessed terrible cook), easy stretching exercises for you to do in between writing sprints (he hasn’t had the courage yet to ask you to accompany him to the gym), or possible outings.

📖 Yes, outings.

📖 Because Simon loves driving around the country on his bike with you.

📖 What he’d love even more, though, is not having to book rooms or accommodations with two single beds rather than one king or queen size bed whenever you’re off on a multi-day trip.

📖 Occasionally you do buddy reads. You were the first to propose it and have since expanded your literary horizons together. If only because Simon makes a lot of notes. Honestly, it’s surprising he doesn’t have a literary degree what with how passionate he is about reading.

📖 One day, a few days before he’s off to the gods know where, your ghost reader gives you a book with a copy of his dog tag. Until then, you’ve only known him as Ghost.

📖 But now you finally know his name.

📖 Simon Riley.

📖 “What’s this?” You look from the necklace to him, uncomprehending why he’d gift you his dog tag.

📖 He keeps his eyes trained on you, taking you in as best he can lest this will be the last time he’ll see you. After all, there always remains the chance he won’t return. “In case I don’t come back. I don’t care if they’ll be unable to identify me. I’m a ghost, un fantasma according to a buddy in Mexico. But I want you to have something to remember me by.”

📖 “You’re very real to me.” His heart cracks at your outburst. “How can you say that? You’re a person, Simon!”

📖 There’s no hesitation in the way he cups your cheeks and presses his lips against yours. You melt into his touch, the feel of his hands on your skin, feeling the smirk pressed against your lips when you clutch his shirt.

📖 “Your person, eh?” he asks when he breaks away, breathless and lightly panting. However, he has to stop himself here. Unlike in the field, there’s no time limit with you.

📖 Because despite the novel, he’s come to understand you’re in more than a business relationship.

📖 A relationship which takes time, shouldn’t be rushed.

📖 An opportunity for you both to show yourselves.

📖 For him to learn patience and self-restraint.

📖 For you to learn how to trust and rely on someone.

📖 And grow together.

📖 “Yes, so don’t you bloody dare claim otherwise ever again.” The way you poke his chest, full of conviction, melts his cold heart.

📖 “I’ll try to be a person around you, sweetheart.”

📖 If only because you care.

📖 And he can’t live without your stories.

📖 Especially not when you tell them yourself.

Btw, I might actually write Sugar Hood & Flannel Wolf because I’m going nigh on feral thinking about werewolf!Price. I mean, c’mon, that man screams wolf vibes (aside from the massive daddy… I mean teddy! Teddy vibes).

[thelamb1429]

Eyeless Jack Headcanons

Alright I’ve put these off for long enough so here’s some of my headcanons (like always, if yall wanna request anything just let me know, i’ll have more time to get things done this week <3)

Appearance Headcanons —-}

Jack was around 5’10 before he was turned into a demon, but afterwards be ended up growing to 6’11

Because of this, finding clothes to fit him is very difficult with his newfound height

Not only that, but his legs have become digitigrade legs. So normal pants don’t exactly work for him. So he tears off his pants a little below the knees and unfortunately has to walk around barefoot due to his animalistic feet

Speaking of animalistic? He has both a long tail with a tuft of fur at the end and long, furry ears on the side of his head.

His skin is a darker grey, and he has his hair in a protective style when possible (due to his claws he struggles a bit, but if he asks Nina or Jane they usually help him) (also i deeply apologize if the terminology is wrong, let me know and i’ll be sure to change it)

Having his hair up helps with his… activities

Sure, he can’t see, but he’s much more sensitive to texture and can’t focus on hunting down his prey his job if his hair or clothes are in the way of his work

Similar to many others, i headcanon him as having three long, black tongues which can each move separately.

I like to think he got a tongue piercing in college, so one of the tongues is still pierced

I headcanon him as being pretty thin and lanky in addition to his insane height. He probably was a bit on the thinner side in college (because nobody in college can find enough time to eat more than a microwave dinner). I imagine his current diet doesn’t let him pack on a ton of weight either, but he’s fairly athletic regardless

His voice is probably a bit distorted, like a few different voices layered together. Some people think it’s cool, but normally to others it’s off putting

Diet and Behavior —-}

He does not eat kidneys in my headcanons. Biggest reason why is that not only are they a generally unhealthy area to eat from (because they hold waste), they wouldn’t be nutritious for the exact same reason. Instead, he probably eats other organs in the abdominal section

He probably could store his meal and have enough for about five days at a time (if he rations properly). The longest he can safely go without eating is only two weeks, but he’s responsible enough to make sure nobody ever has to deal with that insatiable hunger

Now for behavior/personality!

I think that by becoming a demon he gained many feline traits. Not just the physical ones in terms of appearance, but others too

For example, i think he purrs when he thinks nobody else can hear it. At least whenever he’s purring for a good reason. Cats also purr when stressed, so he probably wouldn’t be able to control that near as much as he can control his happy purring

When he’s cold, his left ear twitches pretty much uncontrollably and it annoys the living hell out of the poor guy

His overall personality is probably still similar to the one he had before the incident. I feel like he’d be reasonably talkative, but i dont think he’s overly social. Just kind of average social battery

He’s definitely more of a thinker than a feeler, and i see him as someone who always has to see to believe

He’s probably very sarcastic, and i feel like his sense of humor is a bit jokingly nihilistic. Like that one “nothing matters!” Pic with the dolphin and the kid giving a thumbs up

General Headcanons —-}

He knows how to play the piano because his mom made him do piano lessons when he was younger. Of course, he can’t see now, so he adapted and learned to play by ear

He navigates the world around him by sensing heat. In a way, he can see in the way you can use a thermal camera. He also prefers to be by people he senses are warmer because he’s naturally cold as hell

He used to wear glasses before the incident. Even though he can’t see now he’ll sometimes put them on out of force of habit. It just feels weird to him to not feel the frames on the bridge of his nose

When he gets startled, his tail fluffs up like a cat’s does

Just for fun let’s say he makes biscuits on his pillows when he goes to bed

—————

Yeah some of these are super half baked and probably seem odd but hey if i come up with any more i’ll share them (i have so many headcanons for so many characters and too little time :/ )

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter One

(AO3 counterpart here.)

All things considered, it was a nice night.

Fireheart was half-rolled onto his back, front paws tucked into his upturned chest while his rear end remained on its side. His tail tapped absentmindedly on the still-warm sand as he gazed up at the stars. The weather had loosened up, mercifully keeping the sky clear and even warming the air a little. It was still somewhat chilled, but the ground had softened from muddy slop to dense soil—still retaining a bit of moisture, but not enough to stick to a traveling cat’s paws—and the frost had barely made an appearance before shying away and melting again into dew.

Thank the Three for small miracles, Fireheart thought as his eyes lazily drifted from star to star. They know we needed it.

Caught up in the beauty of the sky and the grainy comfort of the sand, he was only somewhat registering cats talking around him. Faint squeals drifted out of the nursery’s entrance and his ear twitched at what he thought (hoped, really) was Goldenflower gently chiding the kits inside. Frostfur’s litter was already out, but in the past month they had calmed down considerably and come to prefer talking with the one cat in the apprentice’s den who would soon be a warrior, Swiftpaw, as he regaled them with stories of the territory and all the strange creatures they would see there.

Fireheart twisted his head back and to the side a bit—yes, there they were, listening to the black tom recounting his experience going to the Mother on the far side of the territories.

“And I know she looks scary,” he was saying, “but that’s kind of the point, I think. It makes you respect her even more. You just have to be brave and go into her mouth, trusting her. And Yellowfang will be there to guide you, so you’ll find your way.”

The sole molly of the litter, fluffy ginger-patched Brightkit, spoke up now. “I won’t be scared. The Mother wouldn’t hurt us—we’re her favorites.”

Thornkit, dark and golden-brown, frowned at her. “Still gotta be ‘spectful.”

Fireheart’s mouth twitched into a brief grimace in sympathy as the tom’s ears went back in embarrassment at the end of his sentence. Thornkit still slurred and stumbled over his words, even with as much as Frostfur had worked with him on speaking clearly, and he had been speaking shorter and shorter sentences recently, and at a much lower volume. His siblings understood him just fine, save one.

That one, the deaf little white tom directly in front of Swiftpaw, was Snowkit. His bright blue eyes, wide and vibrant, were fixed on Swiftpaw’s mouth as the apprentice said, “Yeah, it’s important to be quiet on the walk in and during the ceremony. Just wait until Yellowfang speaks to you.”

Brackenkit, a thinner and lighter version of Thornkit, tilted his head. “Will Cinderpaw be there?”

“She was when I went.” Swiftpaw’s eyes lifted upwards as he squinted a bit. “I mean, we did ours together, so that’s why, but I think she’d have to go anyway.” He turned to look at his dark grey sister as she limped out from the ferns by the meeting stump. “Hey, Cinderpaw! Are you going to be with these kits when they do their pilgrimage?”

Cinderpaw beamed with a hacking scoff very similar to her mentor’s. “Obviously! I have to learn how to do it myself, and there’s no way I’m missing out on Brighty getting blessed.” She swept her tail, crooked at the tip, in the direction of the toms. “And you guys, of course.”

Brackenkit seemed to take no offense. “I bet my blessing will be from Rokhar.”

Fireheart purred, rolling slowly onto his side. Of all the three gods, the Tiger was the one he understood the least. Then again, it seemed like everyone outside of the seer role had some trouble grasping exactly what Rokhar was all about. The first seer of Fireheart’s life in ThunderClan, Spottedleaf, had described him as being “in-between” and “all-encompassing”. Even after more than a year of being a Clan cat, Fireheart still had no idea what that meant.

“Why Rokhar?” Swiftpaw asked, sounding amused. “Because he’s the cool—?“

“Because he’s the cool one!” Brackenkit said, exactly in tandem with the apprentice. At another frown from Thornkit, he added, “I mean, they’re all cool, but Rokhar’s the coolest.”

Cinderpaw limped up to the little gathering of the young, her bad leg crumpled up towards her belly. “Knowing your dad, he’s probably telling Horoa right now to bless all of you with a Lion’s touch.”

While the kits all started babbling to each other about whether that was true or not, Fireheart’s heart clenched at the mention of Lionface. He had been the deputy of ThunderClan after Redtail, another first for Fireheart when he had joined the Clan from life as a house cat. Both of them had been great toms, Redtail kind and friendly and Lionface majestic and confident (even if he and Fireheart had clashed here and there). Both of them were gone, and both of them had been…

Fireheart’s claws sank into the sand. He eyed Cinderpaw’s crippled leg.

It had been around a month since the trial that shattered the Clan’s collective heart. No one had spoken of it after it happened, and even the mere implication of something that would link back to that night was hushed or ignored. Fireheart couldn’t stand this thing Clan cats had with refusing to acknowledge bad cats or the things they’d done; it didn’t help anyone feel better, it just made things awkward and sad. Supposedly, the spirits of these bad cats could come back if spoken about or named and haunt the territories, but as far as Fireheart had seen, the only thing they haunted was his dreams.

What he’d give to talk about this with Goldenflower.

But she was in the nursery now, and she needed peace and quiet to raise his adoptive siblings until they were big enough to come out and explore camp. Being forbidden from visiting, Fireheart just had to rely on news shared by Brindleface or Frostfur—mostly Brindleface, as Frostfur had left the nursery early to give the crowded den some room and now only came to check on her nearly-grown kits. Brindleface had been incredibly nervous and sensitive when she was stuck in the den, but now that she had been able to leave her kits for walks here and there…

“Fireheart! There you are!”

The ginger tom blinked and got to his feet, shaking off what sand had clung to his fur. The beautiful grey tortoiseshell in question had just climbed up and out of the nursery, her pale green eyes shining as Fireheart approached her.

“I have a surprise for you,” she said when he was close enough. “Well, two surprises.”

Fireheart perked up. “Really? Are they about Cloudkit?”

“They are.” Brindleface’s fluffy tail curled at the delight that must have immediately brightened up Fireheart’s face. “I’m sorry you couldn’t have come seen him before, but that makes this a little more interesting.”

Cloudkit had been adopted into the Clan, the same as his uncle. Fireheart had been given the kit by his frantic sister, Rosy, and ThunderClan took him in with only a bit of reluctance. The two of them did not look similar—Fireheart was skinny and shorthaired and Cloudkit was a ball of white fluff—and with the automatic distance of Fireheart not being able to visit to see his nephew and bond with him, he could only hope that they wouldn’t be so different that they could not find common ground besides being outsiders at birth, especially since Fireheart had promised to mentor Cloudkit once he became an apprentice.

“What is it, then?” he asked, trying not to sound overly-eager.

“Well, for one…” Brindleface turned and poked her head into the nursery. “Babies, do you want to come out now?”

Indistinct squeaks of excitement immediately followed this, and Brindleface purred before turning back to Fireheart, saying, “That’s the first surprise. They’re ready to meet you.”

Fireheart’s fur flared out and he beamed. “I can see him now!”

Brindleface nodded, her whiskers twitching. “And the second…”

She gestured with her paw just in time for the first kits to scramble out of the den: both grey with broken tabby markings, similar in every way except for the molly being both more delicate in the face and fluffier than her brother. They completely ignored Fireheart and bumbled out into the center of camp. Who followed them was—

Not the kit Fireheart had brought in.

This kit was fluffy and round, sure, but ginger covered his ears and nose and was steadily claiming his tail. His fur was quite long and puffed out, even if he was a bit small; if it weren’t for the unusual color, he would fit perfectly in with the rest of ThunderClan. By the way his deep blue eyes blinked owlishly at Fireheart, he was just as surprised at the reunion.

“Cloudkit,” Brindleface said with another paw-gesture, “this is your uncle, Fireheart. Remember how we talked about him?”

“Ohhh,” Cloudkit said loudly. He looked Fireheart up and down before announcing, “You’re short.”

“Cloudkit!” Brindleface scolded. “That’s rude.”

Fireheart chuffed and bent his head to meet his nephew’s eye-level. “And you’re pudgy.”

Cloudkit squinted at Fireheart. “What’s ‘pudgy’?”

“Fat!” Cinderpaw called from across the clearing.

Cloudkit squawked and slowly and clumsily swatted a paw in the direction of Fireheart’s nose. “’Mnot pudgy! You’re pudgy!”

Brindleface stared at the little tom in baffled embarrassment, but Fireheart pretended to be struck and rubbed his nose like it’d been scratched.

“Don’t beat me up, please,” he said, poorly hiding his amusement. “I’m sorry, you’re not.”

Cloudkit nodded in satisfaction—then, to Fireheart’s surprise, he toddled right up to his uncle and bumped their noses together. Him being so small, it didn’t hurt, but it was more of a punch than usual.

“Hi, uncle,” Cloudkit said, pulling back.

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched. “Hi, nephew.”

“That’s better.” Brindleface stepped forward to lick Cloudkit’s ear. “Are you ready to meet your Clanmates now?”

The little puffball nearly jumped in place and waddled off after his siblings, who were currently interrupting the discussion between Frostfur’s litter and Swiftpaw. Fireheart watched him go, amazed at the strength of the flame of affection in his chest, even when he hadn’t seen the kit since he’d come to the Clan.

“How did his fur get like that?” He turned to Brindleface now. “He was white when I brought him in.”

Brindleface rolled a shoulder. “Kittypet blood, I’m guessing. I’ve never seen anything like that in the territories. I thought he was sick at first, but he’s been perfectly happy and healthy this whole time.” She gave Fireheart a cheeky squint. “Both of you stick out now.”

Fireheart sighed a chuff. “At least he’ll be warm this winter.”

Brindleface nodded. Then her eyes flicked to the side and narrowed a fraction before she walked off after her litter. Fireheart’s gaze followed where she’d looked.

Darkstripe. Of course. He was glaring at the now-wandering Cloudkit.

Fireheart contained another, much heavier sigh. Since the trial, the dark tabby had hardly said more than one word to anyone, and they had to speak to him first. Fireheart hadn’t dared start a conversation with him—Darkstripe had never liked him to begin with, but since the end result of the trial was largely on Fireheart’s shoulders, the hatred in Darkstripe’s eyes burned Fireheart’s back whenever the two had to cross paths. He’d done his best to give the older warrior space, which was difficult when they shared a den.

Anticipating the glare to turn on him, Fireheart prepared to look away and find something else to engage with. He was saved by the camp entrance rustling to reveal the pale brown tortoiseshell Speckletail leading a patrol in. As her followers trotted to the prey-pile, she approached Darkstripe and said something to him Fireheart didn’t catch. Darkstripe didn’t respond beyond a twitch of his lip, getting to his feet and stalking out of camp. Speckletail watched him go, huffed and shook her head before joining the rest of the patrol.

After the loss of the prior deputy—the one that trial had been all about—Speckletail had been selected to replace him. She hadn’t been the expected choice, but she had accepted the role and immediately went about keeping the Clan busy and organized for the first month of her tenure. Fireheart suspected that this was a tactical decision; giving everyone something to do kept them from stewing in their own thoughts over the events of the past fall. Things had finally slowed down, with the warmer weather gifting the Clan with more prey than Fireheart had been told showed up in the end seasons. This was one of the first nights in quite a while that Fireheart had gotten to stay home and just enjoy the peace of camp.

“Good evening,” he said to Speckletail as she walked past him with a woodrat.

She nodded to him, putting down her prey for a moment. “Any word while I was gone?”

Fireheart shook his head, ears going back sadly. “I haven’t spoken to her since a few days ago.”

Speckletail sighed through her nose. Her eyes were tired. “I’ll talk with her once I’ve eaten.” She picked up her prey again and continued on her way, sitting down with Willowpelt on the far side of camp.

Fireheart’s eyes drifted to the wall of briar that surrounded the sandy clearing. Though he couldn’t see it, his gaze landed on the area where the leader’s den was situated on the outside.

Where Bluestar was undoubtedly sleeping.

The trial and the near-murder preceding it had hurt everyone, but it had broken something in the Clan’s leader. Only a few days after the deputy’s execution, Bluestar had become a rare sight. She now walked alone in the forest or holed up in her den, only coming out to order patrols or respond to something Speckletail asked her about. It had been part of the quiet conversation for some time now, but no one dared to broach the topic to Bluestar—even Fireheart, her former apprentice, or Whitecloud, her nephew.

It wasn’t fair, Fireheart wanted to shout to the stars. Of all the cats suffering, why did their leader have to struggle the hardest? The pain and suspicion and fear clouded her eyes and silenced her voice. It had been her throat the deputy’s teeth nearly crushed, her friends and Clanmates he crippled and murdered to get to her. Now, whenever she looked at her charges, it seemed like she was gauging their intentions, how well they could be trusted. Even Fireheart had been under scrutiny more than once.

She really would benefit from being able to talk about this whole thing…

“Cloudkit, please!”

Fireheart blinked and was back in camp. He turned his head to see his nephew marching for the fallen log that was the elder’s den. The elders were already out—lanky and grey One-eye, dark brown Halftail, and black-and-white Patchpelt—but they were talking among themselves, completely unaware of the kit making his way towards them, his siblings trailing behind with curious looks on their faces. Brindleface was padding after them, calling for Cloudkit.

“Let them be—” she started, but Cloudkit broke into a clumsy imitation of a run and continued on. Just as he reached Patchpelt, he tried to slow down, only succeeding in crashing right into the elder and stumbling backwards, plopping into a sitting position.

Patchpelt coughed (as he had been lately) in surprise and looked round to see the kit. His faded eyes brightened. “Well, now! I don’t remember this one.”

“I’m Cloudkit.” The furball blinked up at him. “My sister is Aspenkit and my brother is Ashkit.”

Halftail tilted his head, eyes narrowed analytically.

“You’ve got some ginger on your face, little ant,” croaked One-eye, peering with her single eye at the kit. “Or you’ve been playing in the sand.”

“No, he’s supposed to look like that.” Brindleface hurried up to them. “I’m sorry he disturbed you.”

“You know we love being disturbed,” Patchpelt said fondly, looking at the grey kits as they approached. “Ah, and this must be Ashkit and Aspenkit.”

The tom kit nodded firmly, standing as tall as he could, while the molly lowered her nose and shyly regarded the ground. Cloudkit, meanwhile, was meeting One-eye’s gaze, looking completely unbothered by the marred face that every kit and new apprentice was a little taken aback by. Fireheart noted with pride that he didn’t broach the topic of One-eye’s accident, only chirping, “You’re tall.”

One-eye chortled. “And old, on top of that. Do you know what my name is?”

Cloudkit shook his head.

“I’m One-eye, unsurprisingly.” The pale molly nodded to her denmates. “That’s Halftail and Patchpelt. Can you guess which is which?”

“Um…” Cloudkit scrunched up his little face before answering slowly. “Patchpelt’s got patches, and Halftail’s brown, right?”

“Very good.” Patchpelt purred. “We have easy names to remember.”

Cloudkit brightened up and wagged his short little tail. “I did it!”

“Yes, you did it,” Brindleface said, touching her nose to her adopted son’s head, adding to the elders, “I can distract him if he starts to bother you.”

“Oh, he’s not a bother at all.” One-eye tilted her head comically at Cloudkit, who trilled in response. “I haven’t had a kit not flinch at my face since I became an elder.”

Fireheart watched on as Cloudkit made his way around to Halftail, who eyed him suspiciously but said nothing. An anxiety he didn’t know was in his stomach settled at the warm looks on the elders’ faces when Cloudkit loudly announced, “Fireheart’s my uncle!” and puffed out his little chest.

He’s bold, Fireheart thought affectionately, watching his nephew respond to Patchpelt’s kindly questions about life in the nursery. Rosy, whether or not you get to see him again, I know you’ll be proud.

[folcharts]

Inkworld Character Descriptions (Part 1 - Inkheart)

Note: I said I'd do this in 2020, and then didn't, so here it is now! Also, this is just characters' initial descriptions, otherwise this would be far to long. Please let me know if I've missed anything, and I will add it.

(Sorted by appearance in the book!)

Dustfinger

Page 11: At first, all seemed still outside except for the rain falling, murmuring as if the night had found its voice. But then footsteps approached the house, and the man emerged from the darkness of the yard, his long coat so wet with rain that it clung to his legs. For a split second, as the stranger stepped into the light spilling out of the house, Meggie thought she saw a small furry head over his shoulder, snuffling as it looked out of his rucksack and then quickly disappearing back into it.

Page 12: 'Twelve? My word!' Dustfinger pushed his dripping hair back from his forehead. It reached almost to his shoulders. The stubble around his narrow-lipped mouth was gingery, like the fur of the stray cat Meggie sometimes fed with a saucer of milk outside the door. Ginger hair sprouted from his cheeks, too, sparse as a boys first beard but not long enough to hide three long, pale scars. They made Dustfinger's face look like he'd been smushed and stuck back together again.

Page 27: He appeared so suddenly that Mo almost ran him down. He wore only a sweater, and he was shivering, with his arms over his chest. His coat was probably still damp from last night's rain, but his hair was dry now - a ruffled, sandy mop above his scarred face.

Mo

Page 16: Then he sat down on her bed, passed his hands over his tired face and looked out the window. His hair was as dark as moleskin.

Page 168: He was holding Inkheart. Meggie saw Mo's gaze linger on the book. Capricorn was a tall man, but Mo stood a few centimetres taller, which obviously displeased Capricorn.

Meggie

Page 16: Meggie had fair hair like her mother, who she knew only from a few faded photographs.

Gwin

Page 33: The creature was almost the size of a rabbit, but much, thinner, with a bushy tail now draped over Dustfinger's chest like a fur collar. It dug its slender claws into his sleeve while inspecting with its gleaming beady black eyes, and when it yawned it bared teeth as sharp as needles.

Elinor

Page 40: The woman who came out was older than Mo, quite a lot older - although Meggie could not be quite sure how old grown-up were. Her face reminded Meggie of a bulldog, but perhaps that was more her ferocious expression than its features. She wore a mouse grey sweater and an ash-gray skirt, with a pearl necklace 'round her neck and felt slippers on her feet, the kind of slippers Meggie had to wear when she and Mo had visited an historic castle.

Basta

Page 127: Basta was not a tall man, and his shoulders were almost as narrow as a boy's, but Meggie held her breath when he took a step towards her. She was afraid of him. She had never been so afraid of anyone before, and it wasn't just because of the shotgun in his hand. He had an aura of fury around him, of something keen and biting--

Capricorn

Page 131: Capricorn's dressing gown was red to. He was seated in an armchair when Basta entered the room with the three new arrivals, and a woman was kneeling in front of him cutting his toenails. The chair seemed to small for him. Capricorn was a tall man, and gaunt, as if the skin had been stretched too tight over his bones. His skin was as pale as parchment, his hair cut short and bristly. Meggie couldn't have said if it was grey or very fair.

Page 167: He was wearing a suit as red as the church walls. Only the shirt beneath it was black, and he had a black feather in the buttonhole.

Page 167: 'Did you sleep well, Silvertongue?' He had curiously soft, curving, almost feminine lips, and as he spoke he kept running his little finger along as if to retract them.

Flatnose

Page 161: One of the two men, a tall great tall beanpole, looked as if a giant had pressed his face flat with his thumb.

Cockerell

Page 161: The other was small and thin, with a goatee beard on his receding chin. He kept fiddling with his shotgun, and glowered unpleasantly at the three of them, as if he felt like shooting them on the spot.

Darius

Page 176: The church door opened as if Cockerell had been waiting for this cue. The man he ushered in had his head hunched between his shoulders and looked neither right nor left as he was followed Cockerell. He was small and thin, and couldn't be any older than Mo, but his back was bent like an old man's, and his arms and legs moved awkwardly, as if he didn't quite know what to do with them. He kept nervously adjusting his glasses. The frame was held together over the bridge of his nose with sticky tape, as if it had often been broken. He was clutching a number of books to his chest with his left arm, as if they offered some protection from the stares turned on him from all sides and the sinister place to which he had been brought.

Farid

Page 187: The boy was three of four years older than Meggie. The turban around his head was dirty, his eyes dark in his brown face. He blinked and rubbed them as if he could wipe it all away -- the wrong picture, the wrong place. He looked round the church as if he had never seen such a building before, and how could he? There wouldn't be any churches with spires in his story, or green hills like those would see outside. The robe he wore went down to his brown feet, and in the dim light of the church it shone blue as a patch of the sky.

Fenoglio

Page 257: It was just as Mo had said: in general one thinks of writers as dead, or very, very old. But the man who opened the door to the both of them, after Mo had rung the bell twice, was neither. That is, he was certainly quite old, at least in Meggie's eyes: in his mid-sixties or even older. His face was wrinkled like a turtle's, but his hair was black without a trace of grey (she was to find out later that he dyed it), and he didn't look at all fragile. On the contrary: he planted himself so impressively in the doorway that Meggie was instantly tongue-tied.

Mortola

Page 235: The old woman who looked like a magpie and whom Meggie didn't like to remember was standing beside them, impatiently giving directions.

Page 449: The Magpie rubbed her other leg. They were both wrapped in bandages that could be seen through the dark stockings she wore.

Resa

Page 381: Meggie couldn't see the face of the woman dangling in the net just beyond Dustfinger. She saw only the dark blonde hair, a blue dress, and slender hands clinging to the ropes.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 31 - Alternate View. Okatsu and Mitsunari have only one night left before she returns to the future. So why is Mitsunari wasting time talking with… Shingen? 

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Previous Chapter

Logline -  In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this “all business” arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga… and by feelings.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari…

I understand the basic concept of alternative timelines … however, what I do not know if there was, at some point, only one Katsu, and the splitting of our timeline created several, or, if these multiple timelines have always existed with only minor differences. If I get a moment, I will ask this Sasuke what he believes.

A more pressing concern – the other timeline’s Okatsu (or, Katsu as she preferred to be called) is in love with Lord Shingen. Does that mean that my Okatsu is destined for this timeline’s Lord Shingen?

I am torn. I wish her to be happy. But the thought of her with him is more painful than anything I have ever experienced before.

As it happened, Sasuke and Toshiie arrived at the wormhole site before we did… and they had a third person with them. Even at a distance, I recognized the taller figure poking at the fire as the man I had just met at Aki’s. Lord Shingen. “Another one?”

I heard a soft sigh from Mitsunari’s direction. “While it was no strain to meet two additional Okatsus, I could have lived happily without encountering two Takeda Shingens.”

The Shingen at Aki’s had seemed pleasant enough –  he had also been thoroughly focused on Katsu. But of course, he was an enemy of the Oda, and as such, Mitsunari’s history with him was probably not as benign.

Once Mitsunari and I got closer to the other group, I realized that this Shingen was … not as healthy as the one we met earlier. He was thinner, and his skin had a yellowish cast to it. It appeared he was Sasuke’s sick friend that Toshiie had gone to treat.

All three of them stood up as Mitsunari and I approached. Sasuke again greeted us in that overly formal way he had. “Okatsu, Mitusunari - you made excellent time. I didn’t expect you until tonight.”

“Oh well. We sort of took a shortcut.” I’d have to tell Sasuke the rest later.

Lord Shingen looked at me and smiled. Ok. That is a weapon right there – though his smile didn’t have Mitsunari’s sweetness, it carried a metric ton of charisma. “Hello Angel. The future is looking brighter already. To meet such a dazzling creature as yourself is evidence that fortune is smiling upon me today.”

Whoa.

Dude.

Dial. It. Down.

Behind me, I sensed Mitsunari bristle like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. Lord Shingen looked past me to Mitsunari, then said in a much less (much much less) friendly tone of voice, “Ishida Mitsunari.” His confident demeanor didn’t change, though the warning behind the words was somewhat mitigated by a wheezing cough.

Mitsunari saw the cool tone and raised it with a barely polite bow. It wasn’t icy. Mitsunari didn’t do icy. But it held none of his normal friendliness. “Lord Shingen. I had never expected to see you outside of a battlefield.”

“I intend for you to get that opportunity as well.” He glanced at Toshiie. Yup that was a consulting my doctor glance.

“I look forward to that.” And perhaps Mitsunari was. As obsessed with military theory as he was, I figured he would be interested in turning theory to practice. “However, at the moment, you are standing far too close to Lady Okatsu.”

“Ah. I see now.” Shingen’s laugh was interrupted by that terrible cough. “’Lady’ Okatsu? You are the mysterious Oda Princess who accompanied his entourage to Genba?”

How the hell did he know that?

Mitsunari stepped closer to me and said quietly into my ear, “Lord Shingen’s spy network rivals Mitsuhide’s.”

“It’s better than Mitsuhide’s.” So, apparently, is Lord Shingen’s hearing.

Worried that Mitsunari and Lord Shingen were about to get sidetracked into a discussion, I stepped in to ask Sasuke, “What time tomorrow?”

“Wormhole? Er, late morning. Or early afternoon. Theoretically.” He reached into his kimono and pulled out a bundle of papers with long sets of computations. “I confirmed these numbers before Toshiie and I left Kyoto, but over the past week, my observations have revealed contradictory information.”

The past week? As in the week that three Katsukos, another Shingen and another Sasuke were in that strange waystation? Yeah, we really needed to talk. I looked at Lord Shingen and wondered how much Sasuke had told him about time travel. Obviously, he wouldn’t be here if he weren’t aware of the concept. “Are you bringing Lord Shingen to the future as well?”

“Hopefully,” Toshiie said, just as Lord Shingen replied, “I have yet to be convinced that the healers in your future will be able to cure me. The idea continues to be a point of discussion.”

“It’s true that I can’t guarantee success.” Toshiie inclined his head toward Lord Shingen. “But I would know more after running some tests.” Under his breath he mumbled something inaudible, but knowing my brother, he was likely indulging in more Dr. McCoy style disparagement of Sengoku era-medicine.

“I have not made a final decision on the matter. It’s difficult to agree to this journey when the people of Kai are homeless, and our lands are overrun by Nobunaga’s brutes.” Mitsunari bristled again (IMO rightfully so – I wouldn’t have characterized any of Nobunaga’s inner circle that way – some of them were annoying, nosy, and micromanaging… but not brutish) while Lord Shingen paused to catch his breath. “If there is no cure to be found, I will have wasted my final months chasing a dream, rather than on the battlefield with my people.”

The Lord Shingen that Mitsunari and I met earlier today had been to the future – and he seemed much healthier than this one. While I wasn’t sure about the rules of time travel when it came to revealing the future, it would also be medically unethical to keep such information from him. Besides, I wouldn’t be revealing this timeline’s future – I was revealing another timeline’s past. Right? “Um, I think it worked.”

“Worked?” Sasuke picked up on the past tense, as I had intended him to do.

“It’s… a long story – but it also might explain why your observations gone haywire.” A very long story, and I didn’t want to continue to stand around in a circle telling it – especially when there appeared to be a bowl of stew of some kind sitting on a tripod over the fire. Technically, Mitsunari and I hadn’t eaten in a week.

Proving that he at least had the observational skills of a spymaster, Lord Shingen herded us all toward the fire. “This appears to be a tale best told with a meal… and…” he opened a basket which contained an assortment of pastry, “of course, sweets.” He sat down, then patted the space next to him. “Come sit by me, Angel, and tell me more.”

“Shingen, do I have to remind you that Katsuko is my sister?” Toshiie sat himself down in the space that Shingen had indicated.

“We can’t take him anywhere.” Sasuke magically produced two extra bowls from his Mary Poppinsesque ninja gear. Once Mitsunari and I had performed our traditional exchange of carrots for mushrooms, we all settled down to eat.

I’m not an idiot. I sat next to Mitsunari, as far away from Lord Shi- The Warlord from the Brothel! That was where I had seen him before. Huh. Yeah. Staying far away from him. I don’t know how Katsu managed to tame that one in her timeline, but I knew a heartbreaker when I saw one. Belatedly, I realized I had been staring at him since I sat down. He clearly realized that too, and he smiled and winked at me.

Oof. I scooted closer to Mitsunari. “Aki disappeared – right after you two left for Kasugayama.” I again summed up what happened at the tower. “Mitsunari and I went looking for him today. Or, well, last week, I guess.” I shook my head. I was confusing myself, as well as everyone else.

Mitsunari took over for me. “What Okatsu means is that for us, our search has lasted a day, but we spent the afternoon in a place where time has no meaning. When we left, we discovered a week had passed.”

“Time has no meaning? Holy Crap on a cracker!” Sasuke nearly spilled his dinner in his excitement, but used to flying crockery, I caught it before it spilled. Sasuke didn’t even notice. “Where is this place? Is there time for us to go there? Where does it lead? How do you -?”

He paused only when Lord Shingen held up his hand authoritatively. “Sasuke, rather than sending them various avenues, allow them to continue their story uninterrupted, until they complete it.”

Ok, I could now see how this one was also a spymaster. Toshiie was looking at him like he was a tasty treat…. Ooh, someone has a crush! But I figured his medical ethics would ensure he kept his hands off a patient.

Mitsunari explained about finding the rotating wall and the hidden room. “The room was nearly empty, aside from two trunks containing clothing that Okatsu recognized as Akihira’s. However, before we could investigate further, we were interrupted by two other people looking for Akihira.” He looked at Lord Shingen. “One of them was you.”

“Multiverses! I knew it!” Sasuke pumped his fist, then subsided at a quelling look from Lord Shingen.

“The other person… was me. Except, not-me. Anyway sir,” I directed my comment to Lord Shingen. “You, or rather he, was not at all ill – he appeared to be strong and healthy, and he did not have a cough or any problems breathing. He and Katsu said that they had travelled through a wormhole previously. Therefore, I figure that whatever disease you have is treatable.”

“Beauty and brains. Thank you, Angel. Yes, that does appear to be a logical conclusion.” Lord Shingen nodded, and a weight seemed to fall off his shoulders. Toshiie seemed to relax as well – so he hadn’t been completely confident that modern medicine could cure Lord Shingen.

“Two of you. My childhood would have been horrible with two Katsukos always getting me into trouble.” Toshiie stuck his tongue out at me. I threw a twig back at him. And since I have fantastic aim, it thwapped him right in the forehead.

Mitsunari got our story back on track. “Katsu mentioned having been in the wrong timeline prior to this – however we were interrupted again. The second interruption was from you, Sasuke.”

Once again, Sasuke looked like he wanted to leap up and perform a tribal dance of joy, but he restrained himself to another first pump. “Was I with the other Lord Shingen and the other Katsu?”

I sighed. “Um. No. You were with a third Katsu.”

My comment prompted Sasuke to scramble for his notes. Before he could get too far off track, I hurried to finish the story, with Mitsunari jumping in to fill in details that I had forgotten or missed. “When we returned to this – timeline – a week had passed. Although neither Okatsu nor I felt hungry or tired.”

“Interesting that you were able to exist in the same space as the other Katsus.” Sasuke pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “In some multiverse theory, it’s impossible for the alternates to meet without causing damage to the fabric of reality.”

“Alternates? I’m already weirded out enough without slapping a sci-fi label on it.” ‘Other-Katsu’ was clunky enough.

“You aren’t twins or clones, and ‘duplicates’ seemed even worse.” Sasuke waved that all away. “However, it might be a good idea for your brother to take your vital signs.”

I couldn’t see where that would yield any interesting data, but it seemed like a harmless idea, so I shrugged and agreed.

Sasuke had wanted to hover over the “medical exam” and continue to quiz me about the room outside of time, but in the end decided it would be better to examine the sky for updated wormhole data.

“Did the stethoscope or the cuffs freak anyone out – ow!” I glared at Toshiie when he inflated the blood pressure cuff too tightly.

“Not at all. In fact, Shingen wanted to take the stethoscope apart to see how it worked – I think he wanted to Macguyver a version of it that could be used in spying.” We looked over at where Shingen and Mitsunari were having what appeared to be an actual friendly conversation. Their mutual interest in tactics and strategy had allowed them to temporarily put aside their differences.

“Interesting. Your pulse just shot up. Katsuko, don’t go there. Shingen is a brilliant man, but he goes through women like butter.” Toshiie frowned and poked through his medical bag of anachronisms.

“Mixed metaphors much? I think the saying is mmmmph.” Toshiie shoved a thermometer in my mouth.

“I said what I meant. Women melt as soon as he starts flirting with him. When he even looks at them.” He stuck some kind of probe thing in my ear. “And you just sent a hungry look his way.”

I hadn’t been looking at Lord Shingen.

As my mouth was still full of thermometer, I kept that to myself.

“Shingen plans to stay with Sasuke, but we’ll all probably spend a lot of time together. So, just… be careful. You and Sasuke have spent years here, and Lord Shingen may gravitate to you because you’re a bridge to both eras… Lean forward.” I obeyed as Toshiie listened to my lungs.

Toshiie continued to lecture me. “Have you thought about what you want to do with your life? You could go back and finish the physical therapy training.”

I resented the parental way he was treating me. Had he forgotten we were the same age? Maybe in his mind, I was still the teenager I had been when we were first separated, but I wasn’t, and in this era, I was much better equipped to take care of myself than he would be.

Although… what would I do in the future? I’d just spent seven years running and fighting and scouting. Maybe I could get a martial arts certification and teach? I mean… it appealed to me more than going back to college. Once again, I glanced at Mitsunari, who was still intently listening to Lord Shingen.

Toshiie pulled the thermometer out of my mouth and checked it. “Ok doofus, you are disgustingly healthy.”

“There is nothing disgusting about Okatsu.” Mitsunari, demonstrating that he could, on occasion follow more than once conversation simultaneously, piped up to defend me. “Okatsu, you are as… you are like… you are not disgusting.” His shoulders slumped.

“Mitsunari, it’s ok. This is just the way we talk to each other. I know Toshiie loves me. We like to tease each other sometimes.” I thought for a moment, then added, “Sort of how Ieyasu is – he sounds grumpy but deep down, you know he really likes you.” Deep deep down.

Still, for whatever reason, Mitsunari continued to look miserable, and I would have tried to reassure him further, but Sasuke’s ears had perked up at Ieyasu’s name and he plopped down down next to me.

“Ieyasu – that’s right, you got to spend time with him. I’m kind of a huge Ieyasu fanboy and I’d love to get your impression of him.” To be honest, Sasuke’s questions kind of faded in and out of my consciousness, because Mitsunari had once again embedded himself deeply into a conversation with Lord Shingen.

Even though I absently answered Sasuke’s questions, my mind was still on, as Kayten had called him, the cinnamon roll. This was our last chance to hang out before I returned home. It had been bad enough during the times Shohime had demanded his attention – I had never imagined I’d also have to compete with Lord Shingen!

By the time I went to bed, Mitsunari was still talking with Lord Shingen. Waiting around for him would be rather obvious, so I dug my blanket out of the bottom of my pack, and curled up on the ground.

I used to be able to sleep under the sky without any problem – in fact, I often preferred it to sleeping inside. But my years here unrolled inside my head, from Aki’s rescue of me, through the months of training, all of the times I had ridden across the …

Damn it.

What was I going to do about my horse? If things had gone to plan, I would have left her at Aki’s. But I hadn’t known the place would be deserted (and potentially protecting a hellmouth).

I couldn’t just leave her. Could she come through the wormhole with us? Sasuke, Toshiie, and Lord Shingen hadn’t brought horses with them, so probably not. Even if I could bring her, could I take care of her in modern Japan? Also probably not … I still wasn’t sure if I could take care of myself in modern Japan.

Eventually, I decided to ask Mitsunari to take her back to Azuchi – maybe she would make a good mount for Mai, once her own riding improved. Yes. I’d ask Mitsunari. If he ever stops talking to Lord Shingen.

Meanwhile, it might be nice to get some sleep, but though I could shut my eyes, I couldn’t turn off my buzzing thoughts. Face it, Katsuko, you can’t sleep because you’ve gotten used to Mitsunari’s presence nearby.

I resigned myself to lying awake until dawn, and once I’d accepted that, I rolled over on my side, rested my head on my arm, and watched Mitsunari and Shingen for a while. The firelight played off Mitsunari’s face, highlighting that intent expression. Whatever Lord Shingen was telling him, had inspired that ‘learning something fascinating’ look. I tried to burn that expression into my brain, so that I could take it out and savor it some lonely night in the future.

Sometime later, when I was half awake and half lost in a dream about being stomped on by a dinosaur (likely prompted by a rock that was lodged under my spine), I opened my eyes to see that Mitsunari had spread a blanket on the ground next to me. He seemed to be asleep, with one hand stretched toward mine. I let my hand drift closer to his, and then as if we were magnetized, our hands snapped together, and he gave mine a squeeze.

I looked to his face, he was awake too. He smiled at me, one of those smiles, the ones that could always calm me. I squeezed his hand back.

“Will you come back? At least to visit, if nothing else? Will you be able to do so?” He inched closer and rested his head on his other hand.

“If I can – I don’t know. Either way… you’ll take care of my horse, won’t you?” I didn’t want to believe that I would never see Mitsunari – oh, and everyone else – again. But it had taken seven years to find a way back to modern Japan. Maybe it would take another seven years to figure out how to return here. By that time, who knows what will have happened?

“I’ll take her back to Azuchi with me.” He let go of my hand and brushed my hair out of my eyes. “I will miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” I summoned a smile. “We’ll always have Genba.”

I felt a drop of water on my face. Great. Was I about to spoil a great goodbye line by crying?

BOOM!

Thunder crashed, sounding almost on top of us. Not tears then. Rain. Another drop hit my nose, and then as if the first two had just been the advance scouts, the sky dumped buckets on us.

In the mad scramble to get up and find shelter, I heard Toshiie yelling at Lord Shingen to put on his mino and try to stay out of the wet, then Sasuke scanned the heavens, as I realized that it was only dark because of the clouds and not because it was still night. “The wormhole’s materializing.”

Forget shelter. We hastily grabbed our things, as Sasuke barked out instructions to stay together.

In the distance, the wall of fog crept down the mountain, like a writhing avalanche.

“Mitsunari.” Sasuke gently patted his shoulder. “You need to stand back, unless you want to spend an indefinite amount of time in the future.” He bowed to him. “I have enjoyed knowing you.”

“Katsuko! Hurry!” Toshiie yanked on my arm.

“I’ll be there in a sec.” Trust Toshiie to pick this moment to be early for the first time in his life.

I turned and hugged Mitsunari. “Goodbye. You were the best fake fiancée I’ve ever had.”

He hung on tightly, his grip strong and unusually fierce. “It did not feel fake,” is what I thought he said, but it was raining so intensely that I was no longer sure.

I stepped out of his embrace and turned to follow Toshiie toward the future.

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @katriniac @lyds323 @briars7

[zelianthos-capercaillie]

A sneak peek of my contribution for the HashiMada Week 2024 Day 3 prompt “Animals”

It’s a Cat AU set in an alternate world Hi no Kuni

(Wordcount: Approx. ~630)

@hashimada-week​

***

Izuna raced back down a few stories, jumping across window ledges and apartment roofs, until he reached the upper balcony of an empty townhouse where a black poofy cat was sleeping belly up on a cushioned egg hammock.

“Nii-san!” He trilled. “Nii-san, wake up!”

Madara scrunched his eyes but did not open them, mumbling mrmpghmrm as he flipped over and went back to snoring.

Izuna was undeterred. He bopped his head on his brother’s shoulder. “Nii-san, wake up! I saw the moving people. They have a cat! We’re gonna have a new neighbor!”

“Hnghngh…”

“Nii-san, come on! We’ll just introduce ourselves real quick, then you can go back to sleep!”

Silence.

“I’ll go with you to eat at the seaside bistro later in return,” he coaxed in a singsong voice, making biscuits on Madara’s back. “Whaddya say?” 

All he got for his trouble were more incoherent babbles.

Izuna harrumphed. Fine, then. He eyed his brother's unsuspecting bushy tail. Time to go about this the old-fashioned way.

The silence stretched further until it was broken by Madara’s sudden yowl.

“Ow! Izuna!”

“Rise and shine!”

“Why, you little—”

The two tussled on the floor, chasing each other inside the adjacent living room and out the balcony again, winding up on the corner padded bench warmed by the buttery morning sun. 

In the end, Izuna sported a canary-eating grin, licking his fur coat with pride, even if the ones on his neck were a tad thinner.

“Why do you wanna meet this cat so bad, anyway?” Madara huffed, now wide awake and also missing a few tufts of hair on his tail. “For all we know, this one might become your future archenemy.” He bent over and tried smoothing his tousled fur as best he could.

“Or this white cat might be my new best friend! Maybe there’ll be more moving people and they’d also bring another cat and they could be your new best friend! The possibilities are endless, Nii-san! And I’ll never know if we don’t go there and introduce ourselves.”

“You just want to recruit them to your Cat-Eye of the Moon plan, don’t you?”

“…”

Madara let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Tch. Ye of little faith, Nii-san.” Izuna sniffed. “Just you wait. This is gonna be the start of a boom in cat population, I can feel it! With the two of us, and that white cat—maybe even more cats in the future—revolution is now at hand! Today, Tanzaku District is three cats strong; tomorrow, a hundred!”

“That’s now how it works, brat. And leave me out of that ‘grand plan’ of yours!”

“But this is a golden opportunity for expanding our allied forces—” 

“An allied force of two, you mean,” his brother cut in. 

“—you’re not seriously telling me to pass this up, are you?”

Madara groaned. “All I’m saying is that I’m not recruiting anyone. How about this,” he compromised, booping Izuna on the nose when he opened his mouth to protest, “I’ll wait after you make contact, and then I’ll introduce myself afterward. Let’s start with you first so they won’t feel like it’s an ambush.”

Izuna hummed. He put up two toe beans on his chin in a thinking expression. “That’s a good point. Congeniality isn’t really your strong suit, after all.”

“Hmph.”

“Fine. We’ll go with your plan, and you can wait for my signal.” He got a grunt in reply. “Well then, I’m off! Wish me luck, Nii-san!”

“Good luck, and be careful.” Madara hopped back to his egg hammock, circling a few times before tucking his paws in a loaf. “Let’s have lunch by the seaside bistro when you’re done. It’s Tuesday and today’s specialty is Hirasaka Salmon.”

“Gotcha! Be back soon!”

With a bum wiggle and a leap, Izuna bounded off to greet his newfound friend.

[butterflyintochains]

A Second Chance

Capping off the mini trilogy, we go to San Jose for the 2019 All Star Game. It's been over a year since the breakup, and neither of our two defencemen are doing well. Kris has tried his best to put it all behind him, and Erik high tailed it to the Sharks to get out of the east. But, six years don't just go away so easily.

The path of love never runs smooth, after all.

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

It's a lovely January day in Pittsburgh, a bit of a chill in the air, a thin layer of snow, a light breeze, but a clear sky. Kris arrives at Cranberry for morning skate, he's feeling oddly good today, he's sleeping better than he was this time last year, doesn't burst into tears as easily. He's breathing deeper. He grabs his bag, and his coffee, and heads indoors. Already hearing excited chatter from his boys, never a dull day when you're a Penguin, and he can't wait to spend his entire career with Sid and Geno. There's still this dull ache, somewhere deep inside him, it'll never go away, but he can live around it for the most part. He arrives in the common area, and finishes his coffee. ''Tanger, speak of the devil!'' Dumo says, smiling brightly.

Kris bins his cup, and furrows his brows. ''Yeah? What's going on, Dumo?'' He asks his defence partner.

Jake saunters into the room. ''Congrats, man.'' Congrats? For what? Kris asks, removing his coat. ''What's going on, Guentzy?''

Tristan says. ''You and Sid are going to San Jose for the All Star Game!''

Oh, that's cool, Kris initially thinks. Then, all at once, it hits him. All Star Game, San Jose... Erik. He quickly excuses himself, and finds one of his usual quiet spaces. His hands are shaking, the tears are coming. Will this ever stop hurting him? Once upon a time, he longed for that free weekend with Erik, now it just feels like a punishment. He feels a hand on his back. ''It's okay, son, deep breaths.''

Kris dries his eyes. ''Mario, I...''

Mario assures him, pulling up a chair in front of him. ''It's okay, son. Sully told me about it just now, Sid and Flower will be there, and you don't need to speak to him if you don't want to.'' Flower too? That's good, someone else who will never hurt him. ''Okay, that's good, I've missed Flower.''

Mario gives him a fatherly smile. ''That's my boy, you good to suit up? Sully wants you guys for special teams drills.''

Kris stands, and nods. ''Yeah, I'm good. Thank you, Mario.'' Mario pats his shoulder. ''No need to thank me, you're my son.''

Kris suits up, and joins his brothers on the ice. Sid casts a worried glance his way, Kris just smiles and nods, before throwing a puck down for their powerplay unit.

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

A couple of days before they leave, Kris is busy packing up. Buddha will be staying with Geno while they're gone. The thought of a lifelong cat person dogsitting two retrievers does make him laugh for a moment. He mentally runs through his checklist for the trip. He remembers to pack a pill sorter with his blood thinners. His phone rings, a call from Flower. ''Hi, Flower, what's up?''

Flower says. ''Nothing, just wanted to check in on you before this weekend, how are you?''

Kris sits down on his bed, and runs his free hand through his hair. ''I've been better, looking forward to hanging with you and Sid, but, there's... the other thing, and... it's difficult.''

Flower sighs, Kris has come a long way since last season, but, there's no true recovery from something like that. ''I know, mon ami, Mario has been keeping me posted. If it's any comfort, Vegas are thumping the Sharks.''

It should be, it really should be, and it would be in any other season. ''Keep it up, mon frere, hope we can play a cup final against each other.''

Flower chuckles. ''That's the plan.'' They talk a bit more, and hang up. Kris finishes packing, focusing on happy thoughts: Sid, Geno, Flower, and Mario - his family, Pittsburgh - his home.

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

Sid picks him up on leaving day, Kris loads his bags into the car, jumps in, and they head off to the airport together. During the drive, they talk and share jokes in the car. Sid talks about something he and Nate discussed over summer. Kris is content to just sit and listen. They arrive at the airport, and get on their plane. A private plane chartered by the team. Sid is out like a light right away, Kris puts his head back, and looks out the window as they take off. Oh well, they'll be in the air for six hours, he might as well rest.

They both must sleep the whole flight away, because only landing wakes them up. The pilot announces their arrival, they thank him, grab their stuff, and get in the car to the hotel. Kris busies himself with texting the other defencemen on the team back home. ''Kris, can I ask you something?'' Sid says.

Kris nods, and puts his phone away. ''Yeah, of course.'' Sid asks, seeming to need to work on how to phrase this. ''Are you sure you're okay? You seem... wired.''

Kris assures his brother, Sid worries about people the way a mother does. ''I'm fine, Sid, promise.''

They get to the hotel, check in, and find Flower. ''Bonjour, mes amis.'' He hugs them both, only Geno is missing now. ''We've missed you, Flower.'' Sid says.

Kris assures his best friend. ''We're keeping the kids busy, though.'' Flower laughs. ''Good.''

They sit and talk, Claude and Nate joining them eventually. Kris feels it, those gorgeous brown eyes boring a hole in his skull. He doesn't turn around this time, but he'll be damned if his heart doesn't race.

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

After media, comes the Skills Competition. Flower is up for Save Streak, Kris for Accuracy, and Sid is acting as moral support. Eight years ago, eight years since that amazingly weird weekend in Raleigh. Kris takes a deep breath, and lets it all go on the exhale. Fastest Skater is first. Kris takes his seat, and risks a look over at Erik, he must be feeling this nostalgia too, right? Rookies Elias Pettersson and Miro Heiskanen set amazing times, not too far from the one he himself set back then. But, Connor McDavid comes out on top. ''Good job, kid.'' Sid says to who could be his successor in the league, Kris doesn't see it, but, whatever.

Save Streak comes soon, Sid and Kris wish Flower luck, and he takes his place in the crease. He saves six shots, no heroics, none of his diving saves, thank God. Henrik Lundqvist goes double that, winning the challenge with 12 saves.

After Erik's turn at Premier Passer, he and Kris share a held gaze, as if challenging each other to speak first. They're both right here, in the same place again, so, why is this so fucking difficult? ''You okay, mon ami?'' Flower asks.

Kris nods, more to convince himself than anything. ''Yeah, I'm fine.'' He gives Erik another look, and redirects his focus to a conversation with Giroux.

John Carlson of Washington wins Hardest Shot. Then, Kris' turn at Accuracy comes up. He uses all the pent up emotions to take the five targets out. He comes second to David Pastrnak. Catharsis. ''God, that felt good.'' He says to Sid and Flower once back with them.

Sid chuckles. ''I bet it did.''

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

That night, Kris is in his hotel room, relaxing for tomorrow's game. He'll be on Sid's hip as he should be. The city is still awake outside, but he's too focused on the racing highlights from Le Mans this summer. A knock comes at his door, he gets up to answer it, praying to God that it's Sid and Flower. It's not.

It's Erik, and he's still as gorgeous as he was in 2011, moreso actually. ''Oh, it's you. What do you want, Erik?'' He says, half tempted to slam the door. But, Erik looks tense, and he can't bring himself to do it. ''I want to talk to you, can I come in, please?''

Kris nods, and allows Erik in, They sit in silence for a few moments. Erik finally speaks. ''Kris, back in 2017, I fucked up, big time. I've regretted it ever since. You deserved better from me. I know this probably means nothing to you, and you've likely moved on, but...'' Kris cuts him off. ''I haven't, too busy wanting you back.''

Erik carries on. ''I know I don't deserve it, but, I love you, Kris Letang, and I'd do anything to get us back.'' He looks into Kris' eyes. ''I am so fucking sorry for everything I did to you. I'd do anything to undo it, stop myself from doing what I did.''

Kris swallows, thinking deeply about how to go forward from here. He's wanted Erik back since that night, this is the worst pain he's ever felt. And yet, there's no one else he'd rather be with. ''Erik, I've loved you since we got together, and I still do. I accept your apology, but forgiveness will need to come later. This has hurt like nothing else has, not even my stroke comes close. But, I love you, Erik Karlsson.''

Erik says, reaching out for Kris' hand. ''Kris, if you'll let me back in, can we give us another shot?''

Kris says, taking Erik's hand. ''I'd love that.''

They stand up from their seats, and lean into each other for a kiss, but, it's midnight already, their customary no-contact period before games begins. ''Erik, it's late, you should head home and rest up for tomorrow.''

Erik jokingly says. ''The Rule? We just got back together, and you're enforcing the rule?''

Kris runs his fingers through Erik's beautiful hair, getting to know how it feels again. ''If I don't, we'll never get out of this bed tomorrow. Go on, just another day, that's all I ask.''

Erik sighs. ''Fine, I love you.''

Kris laughs, truly laughs, for the first time in so long. ''I love you too.''

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

Erik's Pacific team lose 10-4 to the Central team. Just as the Metro team are arriving and suiting up for their game against the Atlantic. Sid notices a spring in Kris' step, and a massive smile plastered on his face. He's back, back from the darkness he's been in for the better part of two years. At least, he's coming back from the darkness. To Sid's shock, Kris actually speaks while suiting up for the game, making happy conversation in french with Claude. ''Any words, captain?'' Kris asks, taping his stick one last time.

Sid gives his head a shake. ''Yeah, let's give them a show!''

They take to the ice, and Sid turns on the style for a really early goal, Seth Jones follows a minute later. Eichel cutting the deficit, Stamkos backing him up. ''Kris, you think you can keep Vasy busy for me?'' Seth asks.

Kris thinks over some strategy. ''Yeah, I think so.'' The plan works, Seth increasing the lead to 3-2 as the period ends.

They're 5-4 up midway through the second. Claude gets the puck, and fires it to Sid. ''Tanger, let them have it!'' And, he does, blasting home a goal from the circle.

In all the Metro team win 7-4. And will face the Central team for the win.

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

The Metro team win the All Star Game 10-5 against the Central team. After formalities, the boys go for some well-earned dinner. Sid makes a beeline for Claude, Burnsie, and Nate. Flower puts a hand on his best friend's shoulder. ''You good if I join Sid, mon frere?''

Kris nods, looking at Erik securing them a table to themselves away from the crowd. He'll be fine now, he's sure of it. ''I'll be fine, Flower, promise.''

They split up, to their tables. It's just like skating, Kris finds, walking over to Erik, they share a beaming smile together. Some may say he took Erik back too easily, didn't grill him enough for the breakup. But, the flame they lit in Raleigh still burns bright. Kris sits down, and says. ''Good goal, Erik.''

Erik smirks. ''Likewise on both, Kris. Congrats on the win too.'' Kris chuckles. ''Second of two this weekend.''

They eat and drink together, the buzz of the bar quickly turning to white noise. At some point in the evening, Kris finds himself bored. He looks over to Sid and Flower, animatedly talking to the other Canadians. ''Wanna get out of here?'' He asks Erik.

Erik seems relieved. ''Thought you'd never ask. Lead the way.'' They get out of the crowded and noisy bar, and walk back to the hotel together, hand in hand. They go up to Kris' room, and close the door behind them. ''Well, the games are done, so...'' Erik says.

Kris just laughs, and pulls Erik in for a hug. Finally, after almost two years, they get their second first kiss. It's every bit as wonderful as their first. But, holding an unspoken promise in it. This is them now, giving this another chance. It's not going to be easy, but they are going to make this work again.

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

Kris and Sid arrive back in Pittsburgh from San Jose. Sid embraces Geno when he sees him again, Kris smiles at the affection between his brothers. His heart does do that thing it does when he misses Erik, but the ache is lesser now, not like it was just last week. Geno also hugs Kris. ''You look different, Legend.''

Kris furrows his brows. ''Do I? How do I look different?'' They head inside for some lunch. ''You look like you did before our last cup. You look like you again.''

Kris assures his brothers. ''Trust me, boys, I have every reason to be happy right now.''

Sid and Geno don't pry, they don't ask him any questions, the reason for his sudden happiness is none of anyone's business. As long as Kris is back from the darkness, as long as all is well in their family, that's all that matters.

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

A few days later, Kris is doing a clean up of his house, finally having enough energy to do a deep clean. He puts some stuff away, and looks above his TV, at his two cup winning jerseys, the ones he loves most. 2009, the first with his brothers. 2016, his single best goal ever. He takes some deep breaths, and goes into his office. 2017 hanging above his desk. The pain of that night will wear off in time now, as long as he's got Erik back. He contemplates what to do about the problem child, but resolves to put it up with the others. ''I got him back, and you hold no power over me anymore.''

Next, he goes to his shelf with his two beloved rings. 2009 and 2016 sparkling beautifully as always front and center. The third box sits at the back of the shelf, collecting dust against the wall. The other problem child will be brought into the fold. Kris dusts the box, and cleans the ring itself, placing it with the other two. ''I love Erik more than I resent you.''

Buddha barks happily, proud of him. His phone rings, it's Erik. ''Bonjour, amour.''

Erik says. ''Hello, hjartat. What's going on?''

Kris says. ''Doing a deep clean of my house, actually. Putting my 2017 cup ring and jersey back on display.''

Erik asks him, sounding shocked at that. ''You weren't displaying them?''

Kris shrugs, sitting down on the couch. ''It just hurt too much. But, now I have you back, they can be displayed.'' Erik goes silent, probably beating himself up for causing Kris that level of pain. ''Erik, listen to me, I'm okay now, please, don't beat yourself up for something you did so long ago.''

Erik sounds horrified with himself. ''Kris, it's 2019! You won that cup in 2017, another has been won since, and you couldn't be proud of it because of me!''

Kris says, knowing exactly how to stop this existential crisis. ''Erik, deep breaths. That was then, this is now. We're moving forward, remember?''

Erik seems to calm down, and he says. ''Okay, just promise me you'll not hide them when I visit at least?'' Kris laughs, but hopes Erik can let this go. ''I promise.''

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

A few days later, Kris arrives for a training day with the boys. He arrives lighter, almost floating, talking excitedly to Geno about something. Tristan in particular is stunned by this new, happier, Kris Letang. He's only ever known a depressed one, one who gets that faraway look in his eyes. This one is the best one, though, definitely. He's wearing a blue coat with a golden scarf. A combo only he could get away with. ''Good morning, boys, anything cool happening?'' He asks, finishing his coffee.

Rusty blinks a few times, he's known Kris miserable, hurting, angry, calm, content. But, never this blissfully happy. ''Uhm, Night of Assists is coming up soon.''

Kris says, smoothing down his coat. There must be something significant behind the blue and gold, but no one can put their finger on what. ''Oh, cool, wondered when that was.''

Phil asks, looking dumbstruck. ''Okay, what the hell? Where has this come from all of a sudden?'' Kris flashes a serene smile, and assures his friend. ''Trust me, Thrill, I've got plenty of reasons to be happy.'' Geno adds, just as lost as everyone else, but he doesn't care. ''If the Big Three are happy, the team wins, don't question it.''

Kris nods, and claps Geno on the shoulder. ''That's what I said to Sid yesterday.'' He strides off to the dressing room, leaving several incredibly confused Penguins in his wake.

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

Erik normally has trouble picking a suit out for himself for games, especially since the teams all started doing social media seriously. But, tonight's is a no-brainer. Red and white. The team are stunned when they see him that evening, Joe takes a look at his teammate. Decked out in red and white, glowing with happiness. ''You seem happy.''

Erik nods, and dusts off his jacket. ''I am, thanks for noticing, Jumbo.'' They get suited up for the game, and get going. Erik skating smoother now, sure, Kris is across the continent, but they're always together.

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

During a rare off day, Kris drives down to PPG Paints, and goes to look at the team's five cups. The replicas sitting pride of place in their display cases. Two from Mario and Jagr. Three from himself, Sid, Geno, and Flower. All are labelled by year, Kris stands in front of the 2017 cup, he's had to look at this thing with a broken heart for nearly two years, he's let this thing own him ever since the final. Unable to look at it for more than a few seconds without crying, washing his hands to cleanse himself of the damage it did him. Now, he has Erik back, and all will finally be well again. ''I hope you know you failed, 2017.'' He tells it. ''Yeah, Erik dumped me over you, but guess what? I have him back, and you failed.''

Mario sidles up beside him. ''Was wondering when you'd say that. You and Karlsson are back together?''

Kris smiles, and nods. ''Yeah, happened at the All Star Game a couple of weeks ago.''

Mario nods. ''I was wondering where this new energy you have was coming from. Sid says you've been reborn.''

Kris chuckles. ''That's a good way to put it. I certainly feel that way, like I can breathe again. I've never felt pain like that, and I never want to feel it again.''

Mario assures him. ''You won't, son, trust me. You and Erik will last this time.'' Kris nods, Mario goes back to his office. Kris continues to look up at the cup. The cup that stole so much from him, has haunted him for so long. But, as he and Erik have agreed, that was then, and this is now. They're moving forward, this is their second chance.

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

Summer comes quickly, and they skip Montreal altogether for a trip to Sweden. One evening, they're on the patio, huddled under blankets, watching the stars. Both are still pissed about being eliminated from the playoffs, but, at least they can be pissed off together now. ''Wonder how the final is going.'' Erik muses. Kris laughs. ''Probably deeply boring, amour. We'd have put on such a show.''

Erik concedes, a San Jose and Pittsburgh final would have been quite the spectacle. ''Fair enough, hjartat.'' Kris rests his head on Erik's shoulder, some tears forming in his eyes, Erik hears his partner sniffling. ''Kris, alskad, are you okay?''

Kris smiles, and dries his eyes. ''Yeah, tresor, I'm fine. Just... happy tears, I've missed us.''

Erik presses a loving kiss to his lips. ''I've missed us too, hjartat. I love you, Kris Letang.''

Kris goes in for a second kiss. ''I love you, Erik Karlsson.'' The most basic truth in their lives. Neither know what this second chance will yield them, hopefully they can both be Penguins someday, but, one day at a time.

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

Okay, very happy with this one, the mini trilogy is finally done! Had to write them in chronological order, so sorry for the angst in part two. To make up for it, this one is a bit nicer, with the obvious spots of angst thrown in - recovery from heartbreak is not easy, y'know? I wanted to get across that Kris and Erik aren't letting the past own them anymore, they're moving forward together, and nothing is going to ruin that anymore.

Enjoy!!

Oh, and sorry for the heartbreak @tylerpitlicktruther

[cerenemuxse]

Bold of you to assume I wouldn't do a monster engine and bold of you to assume that the first vic- engine wouldn't be Edward. /j

Inspired by the aus of @ohjeeztrains and @gummybuggy

Monster engines are so damn cool.

I mixed in a bunch of animals because I said, "Fuck it. Hybrids ftw." It's so random. I chose dogs, horses, and rhinos. Yes, rhinos. I was going to add horns and I just realized I forgot but you know what, I think its fine like this. I tried fitting on horns earlier but it failed. It looks really odd. The specific breeds I chose for Edward originate from Scotland, because of course I go that deep. 💀💀💀💀

So he's based on the Clydesdale horses, the Gordon Setter dogs, the common rhinos, and the bull horns were from the Highland bulls. Can't do anything without wanting to do research.

The "leaders" (leading wheels) are based on rhinos and the "drivers" (driving wheels) are a combination of horses back legs and the dog paws. I was originally going to make them just horse legs but I started thinking about Emily, who would have "trailers" (trailing wheels). I really want them to be able to kick back but I'm not sure about Emily. Maybe she could kick forward like kangaroos. 💀 Girl stands on her damn trailers and her drivers kick forward, because that's where the power really is. Or she can do both.

I really took in the fighting aspect of it, simply because I find it interesting and it might be something they do more often than their engine counterparts, considering they're (basically) animals. They are slightly easier to tick off. Edward has a pretty good tolerance compared to the others. Basically, start biting or swatting at him and he won't be mad initially. But the longer the biting and swatting goes, the more he gets mad. He'll attack suddenly with a minor warning, which is low growling.

The long tail of nothing but hair looks harmless but its actually used a lot in fighting, too. It's pretty damn heavy so with enough force, it enough to knock another engine over. The ones with the long tails will also cuddle with said tails during the cold seasons or allow the Tank Iron Horse (oh yeah, they're called Iron Horses because why not) to cuddle into them. So now that i mention the name, let me explain it. Iron Horses refers to steam engines only. There's two main types of them: Tank and Tender. Tank Iron Horses have much thinner tails and tend to be small. If they're a Tender-Tank Iron Horse, it's definitely longer but not as thick as the Tender Iron Horses' tails. There's two forms. Regular engine forms, which existed first, and the Iron Horse forms. The Iron Horse forms were extremely unexpected when steam engines began running on railways. It's weird how they work. They can eat many things. Every single one of them is chunky as hell because I said so. They have cat-like instincts and all sorts of different species mixed in, which makes them weirder. Edward will squawk like a seagull. I might actually give him feathers, which i was debating but completely forgot. 🤡 Arthur probably has some mouse aspects to him as his class was nicknamed "Mickey Mouse Tanks." Rebecca could get swirly tail because her class is nicknamed "Spam cans," referring the cans "SPAM" is sold in, which is made of pork. Those tiny details. And I told myself I wouldn't let myself get so invested.

For other engines, I haven't figured it out.

Oh, and the "man-bun" is just the funnel. It slops up like Spencer's funnel does but depending on the height of the funnels, the slope is different.I think that's it. This was all improvised because damn it, this wouldn't leave my thoughts.

Not important, but the "NWR" logo was taken from James' ref sheets because I did not feel like drawing it. The 2 wasn't. I may have reference Edward's old ref sheets but the font is different to the one I chose for the engines. I also erased those layers so I don't even have access to it. Speaking of said design, this is the final palette for Edward's 1992-1995 rebuild. I also got brass wrong. Its not the same as Edward's eye color. Its much more yellow and it looks green when next to green colors.

I want to talk more about it but it'll start diverging into other characters and this post is already getting long. I don't like making posts long. ;-;

[mcfallen-god]

Another personal post but I need to vent it out somewhere

Since yesterday early in the morning (likely between 5h and 7h/8h), my cat has disappeared.

It is very unlike him, knowing we live on the second or third floor or whatever you call that floor that is not the ground floor, nor the one above but the one above the one above.

And if you don't understand that, it's really not important. As the point is my cat, which is considered a member of my family and with whom I do have emotional attachment and tenderness as toward my one child, has gone.

I don't know really how, since the balcony (the only access he has to the outside) has a protection net, but maybe he boldly squeezed himself out, chasing after flies, mosquitoes or feeling just adventurous.

That net is here because he is actually clumsy and with a little sense of self-preservation (aka the kind to jump first, and look where he lands afterward).

Anyway. He is not used to the outside, he is scared by people, dogs and other cats.

We live near a big, noisy, crowded avenue where people just go too fast. And on the other side, it is a whole district of buildings with many, many, many places to hide, sneak and disappear between bushes, high grasses and weeds, building works, underground parking lots, etc.

This is all without taking in: the evil people being able to steal him, catch him, hurt him, without thinking about all the cars that are parked around and where he can hide under or in (the car body, the hood and around the engine), without thinking about how he might have been so scared he ran far and lost his way, without thinking he might be injuries and beaten by other cats, strays or outside-home cats.)

I'm all terrified, devastated and very calm, confident, but also desperate and restless about it. My mood is weirdly twisting between these emotions.

Of course, I didn't eat well, of course I didn't sleep well. Of course every noise makes me think someone might have seen him or it might be him.

And things like: when people in a building next to the next of mime's tore and threw one of the posters I taped near their entrance, it makes me lose hope in huma it's and worry twice for my cat. They basically just... took it off, made a ball out of it and threw it.

But that's not the worst. The worst is whenever I open the door, returning home from looking for him, I have the reflex to open slowly and check if he is behind the door, expecting his little head to pop, his big eyes to look at me, his ears to spread as he mews as loud as he can, sliding between my legs, even though I KNOW he is not home.

That keeps breaking me everytimes.

Though, even if people, probably one bitter person, sad, frustrated, unhappy in their life, took off one of my posters... Everyone else I met was kind, patient, sympathetic and even either told their relatives loving around or planned to look around to help...

And yesterday evening, another emotional rollercoaster. We (my partner and I) kept looking by the window and balcony, where he likely fell, expecting him to... Come back when things were quieter outside.

And we saw a cat, looking like ours, black and lean. Instantly I jumped out and ran down, trying to approach the cat.

But it was not our cat. This one, we saw her(?) before (assuming she is a female since she seemed once pregnant), but now she is too thin to be Oscar, taller on her paws, not having the primordial pouch (that bit of "fat" that hangs under every cat that is well fed and allowing them to survive without eating for a bit), and her tail is thinner and long than my cat, and her face is also longer and thinner when mine is round and with a short nose.

And my cat reacts to his name, and to our smell, he would not flee, he would come sniff, not just walk away patiently and check if I follow.

But people can't know these differences. They see a black cat. They tell us, and we explain it's not ours. What will people do next time? Tell us? Assume it is still not ours? Or just not caring because it is too much to handle for the sake of strangers?

That other cat, she is hanging on the exact same area our cat might have gone.

And on the other side is the territory of a very fierce orange cat (cute but violent).

That's the worst feeling. When a loved one is missing. I can't imagine how worst it might be for those with family members going unfounded.

I will add pictures of him under the cut. It wouldn't change anything, since I doubt any of those who will have the motivation and strength to read this all, live near my area anyway.

[bluravenite]

Do u think insides of ghoul ears are furry?

LISTEN I HAVE A THEORY!!

You know how ghouls are very creature coded?? Like they look like bugs, act like cats and dogs, etc??

Well,, if we also consider that they have tails with spades, and toe-beans,, HOW DO DIFFERENT ELEMENTS AFFECT THEIR ANATOMY??

My take on this is that within the same species,, there are variations in their appearance!! Like how All bees are bees but there's different types of bees or cats have different furr lengths, ears, and coat patterns!!

Water ghouls would likely have extra skin in between their toe-beans IT SOUNDS WEIRD BUT THINK ABOUT IT!! WEBBED FEET?? PERFECT FOR SWIMMING!!

If we're going with the theory that ghouls are furred?? dEF different furr lengths depending on element and such!! Fire and water ghouls would likely be bald,, that's right,, nameless and also hairless apparently... Other ghouls would be hairy!! But I guess it would depend on their genes as well as their element!!

That means,, YESS I think earth ghouls,, and maybe quintessence ghouls like dusk would have hairy ears,, my ghoulette has ears shaped a little like a lamb,, so they're probably fuzzy!! Even though she's not supper furry,, I think she'd still be fuzzy!! But furry aether?? Yeah sign me up—

I HOPE THIS ALL MAKES SENSE??? IM SORRY FOR RANTING BUT YES!! I DO THINK THEY WOULD!!

Coming back here to add this bc I forgot,,,

I ALSO THINK THEY WOULD HAVE DIFFERENT TAIL END SHAPES,, WATER GHOULS WOULD LOOK MORE LIKE FINS, EART GHOULS LIKE SHOVELS,, FIRE GHOULS ARE FLATTER SHARPER AND THINNER, ETC.. !!

[naturepointstheway]

Cats-pril 2023, Day 4 Prompt: Tail

A very quick piece with Mistoffelees and Tugger as kittens, with the latter waking up to the former snoozing in his tail, paws wrapped around it in an embrace.

Others I'd written for event:

Day 1 Prompt: Ball

Day 2 Prompt: Memory

Day 20 Prompt: Collar

The warmth of early autumn had waned as its end drew near in a rain of golden and yellow leaves and a nibbling of frosty morning chills. The sun’s heat waned away with every passing week, but it still shone as bright as ever, casting pools of wonderful light to sleep in. The trees out in the garden and along the street were all nearly completely bare save for a few leaves barely hanging on in the insistent high wind; just a few more gusts and surely they’d all be fallen before the next day.

Finally, one leaf surrendered to gravity’s embrace, a gust of autumn air smacking it against a window pane, not even bothering the Rum Tum Tugger sleeping peacefully in a bed under the window. Despite still being a kitten, his mane and tail were already thick and fluffy, keeping him cosy and warm in the approaching chill of winter. His paws were nothing but floof, and growing quick to their adult size, though his limbs had yet to catch up, so they were a lot thinner in appearance than they actually were, thanks to his big paws.

Tugger’s tail twitched, trying to pull away from around him as though to swish over the floor as he dreamed of diving into whatever was up in the top shelf of the pantry (they looked like huge boxes, but why had the humans wrapped them in weird paper and ribbons? He had to know.) But there was a sort of…resistance, a tugging at his tail that half awoke him from sleep, raising his head as he squinted blearily at his tail.

His eyes immediately widened, breath catching in a delighted gasp as he saw the reason why—Mistoffelees, that strange new black, mute kitten the humans brought home not long ago—dozed in the floof of his tail, all paws wrapped around it in a cuddle like it was the soft toy the smallest human always hugged to themselves when asleep.

Wow, how dare he be this cute.

Well, there was absolutely no way he’d be getting up now. He was completely stuck in this bed, unable to do anything but doze off again (or just marvel at Mistoffelees’ adorable little sneeze when a bit of fur tickled his nose). The black kitten’s quiet purrs kept time to a quick tempo, drowned out by Tugger’s own louder purrs as he held his tail as still as he possibly could, lest he awake Mistoffelees.

The sound of approaching paws in the corridor caught his attention, both ears turning to try and decipher from the paw-fall rhythm alone who it was. Alas, he was unable to guess who it was, but he didn’t have long to puzzle over it, for not too soon, a great paw pushed the door open. In slipped a maine coon, similar to Tugger with his mane and tail and appearance, but his fur was white, black, and grey in contrast to Tugger’s brown fur with its black spots on the chest, and the stripe of light white and black in his mane.

“Tugger!”

Mistoffelees flinched in his sleep, a paw scratching at an ear as he did when stressed. Instinctively, Tugger held a paw over Mistoffelees’ ears as he shushed his older brother, tilting his head in the black kitten’s direction.

“Shh! Munk, look at my tail—look!”

Munkustrap glanced over at Tugger’s tail, and smiled for a moment before addressing Tugger again.

“Can you come with me? I need to talk to you.”

“Oh…alas!” Tugger let loose a dramatic sigh. “I can’t. I have a Mistoffelees sleeping on my tail. Call back later, Munky bro.”

A quiet, annoyed hiss. “You know I hate being called that.”

“Okay, Munky bro. See you later. I can’t move while I have Mistoffelees dozing off on my tail—which is fluffier than yours by the way. I don’t see him dozing in your tail.”

Munkustrap responded with a warning back-and-forth swish of his tail.

“Suit yourself, Tugger, but I expect to see you later.”

“Not moving anytime soon. Not going anywhere, sorry.” Tugger thought for a second. “Actually, I’m not sorry.”

 An eyeroll from Munkustrap, along with one more annoyed swish of his tail.

“Now, please let us sleep in peace?” Tugger attempted his best wide-eyed, innocent look. It rarely swayed Munk, but it was always worth a try, as it did work every now and again.

And it worked this time.

Munkustrap mumbled to himself under his breath before clearing his throat, tail rising into the air, ears perked.

“Come find me before sundown, Tugger. This is important.”

With that, Munkustrap turned around and headed back out into the corridor, leaving Tugger and Mistoffelees in peace once more. Tugger lowered his paw back down on his other one as he checked that Mistoffelees still slumbered, undisturbed. To his joy, Mistoffelees, paws were still wrapped around his tail, but he was now kneading it in his sleep, purring impressively loud for such a tiny kitten. His eyes were still shut, ears flickering in an idle, relaxed manner, apparently undisturbed by the conversationseconds ago.

And then, Mistoffelees had the audacity to nuzzle his face into the fur of his tail, purring even more delightfully than before.

Adorable. Too adorable.

[windalchemist001]

"Flap flap flap flap!" I chuckled as I continued to flap the sleeve of the new jacket I was given. Honestly I was so over joyed since the fact I got something so nice for my birthday honestly made me want to cry.

But that might be rude, so taking a moment to stop t posing in the mirror, I looked to the ghost who had given me this. "You guys don't know how much this means go me!" The ghost seemed to smile at my words.

"Its no problem, after all you are one of friends and we are glad to do something for you, after everything you've done for everyone."

I smiled more and thanked Lenny (the tall thinner ghost) as well as Benny (smaller one) and Denny (round one) for everything again.

"Why don't we hold an interview? Sure it isn't really official but everyone else gets to have one, so why not try doing the same?" Benny seemed to think the idea he said was rather good

And I couldn't help but hum in thought before nodding. "Sure I don't see why not." I honestly didn't think anything of it since it seemed like it would be fun.

The ghost hummed and looked thoughtful for a moment before one begun the question.

"If you can have anyone on campus as a siblings who would you pick?" Hearing that I hummed there were so many people to pick from. "I guess duece or jack? Since they out of everyone could be cool, but to be honest not fully sure... oh! If I went with jack I could pet his ears and tail when ever I wanted!" And sure dog (or rather wolf in Jack's case) fur wasn't nice and soft like cat fur, I would still like to mess with said limps.

Grim huffed at my remark and seemed to be jealous as he begin complaining which I rolled my eyes and picked him up to give him pets and belly scratches. And despite his protested of being a cat he seemed to be purring very nicely.

The ghost who were use to me taming grim chuckled and decided to ask the second question they had.

"So if you had to be in one of the other dorms which one would you be in?" The ghost moved in a way that made me think that the really wanted to know.

Though it seemed denny mumbled something I couldn't quiet hear, so I decided not to point it out as I try to think. After a bit I hummed i decided I know which one. "I think i would pick the cerberus dorm"

The ghost already knowing all the nicknames i have for all the dorms since I can't even understand some of what the jumbled mess of letters that was the dorm names. The cerberus dorm being the one that is for the king of the underworld.

Lenny hummed. "And why that dorm?"

I chuckled since the ghost did put all my patches on they were bond to k ow but I decided to say something anyway way. "Well out of all the dorms, they are the ones I vibe with the most, not to mention a lot of them are part of my anime/manga club" a club I decided to start with a few of the friends I made here at the school.

"So the way I see it they would most likely be the ones I feel more comfortable with since I would feel more like I belong rather than be an outcast in some shape or form. Even of the dragon dorm has my friend hornton. And the hearts dorm has a few good people, I don't think I could stand a lot of things so yeah."

I sighed softly just imagining the crap I would go though. While I was in my musing seems Benny had slip away and some how had a pie.

"So just a fail.warring, for your birthday its expected to throw a pie at the birthday boy... or rather girl in this case, face so while again its normally thrown i think it might be best that we don't." Benny moved closer was was clearly holding out the pie to me.

I looked at grim half sleeping in my arms and debated on if it would be cruel to wake him. But than again if I was careful he would remain asleep as I put him down.

With that thought in mind I moved to the couch to carefully set him down and with a few head scratches grim remained a sleep just shifting his postion slightly but sleep away he did. Honestly it was rather cute. But I shouldn't let myself get to distracted as I went back to the ghost (after waking my hands)

And quickly removed my glasses putting them on the collar of my shit before taking the pie from Benny, glad again that the ghost knew me well enough that it wouldn't be wise to yeet anything at me, and with using the large cake spatula thing I took a good chunk of the cream off the pie before slapping that onto my own face. Keeping the rest of the pie safe to eat.

I than chuckled and again thanked the ghost for everything since I some what got to the heart of the things and we manged to do this honestly it was a nice birthday.

[mel-the-pirate-writeblr]

Cedric’s Nightmare (Isles of Ysamaldri)

Winter Whumperland 2022 Day 1

Whumperland Masterlist of Prompts

Prompt: Nightmare Before Christmas: Shared Nightmare, Stalking, PTSD, Comfort: Hope

Word Count: 1.3k words

This is original sci-fi/fantasy, so I have some made-up terms/titles.

Isles of Ysamaldri Masterlist

I go a bit light on the whump, since this is my first “dedicated” whump short, but it is within the context of an original work. But it’s still inspired by the prompt, so I guess here it is!

🙞 🙟 🙝 🙜

As Cedric followed the small, winged cat with shimmering pale blue fur through the halls, the structure of meticulously crafted and enchanted roots seemed to close in on him. Though, it seemed that they also expanded, so his panic fluctuated with the walls.

They passed numerous amber pods, with various experiments in them. Cedric very, very carefully minded himself around them. He knew what they did. If they found him in there... the queen would not be happy to find him there, as convenient as his recapture would be. It would mean that someone had let him out, and the first suspect would be—

"Cedric!" 

The familiar voice gave him pause, and he turned, hope fluttering momentarily in his chest.

The blue cat hissed from in front of him, "Cedric, we must hurry if you want to leave this place."

"Maple?" Cedric called. Even in this place, he could not blame her for her inaction. She came from this lab, after all. She hardly ever came down here willingly.

A humanoid rushed through the hallway, silhouetted at first, but the amber pods that she passed gave off some light, revealing her unnatural hybridity. She was clearly feline, in addition to the humanoid shape, with orange striped fur, whiskers, and feline ears set in a position between human and feline. Her hands, though covered in a thinner layer of fur, still had five fingers, with sharp nails – almost claws, though not quite curved as cruelly – at the end. "I want to help you."

"Azure Star has it taken care of," he told her, with a strange terseness to his voice. "The only thing you can do now is come with us."

Maple looked back where she came from, then at Cedric. She hesitated.

"If we leave, she won't find us," he said. "I'm going to Weylide. You should come, too."

Maple took a small step forward. "I can't. She— she knew. She knows. She doesn't know how you're escaping, but she knew about it."

Cedric felt himself go cold. You're trying to keep me here, the familiar thought whispered. "You're not..."

Maple couldn't meet his eyes. "Please, stay. I can't leave, and I can't bare to be away from you. But I can talk to Her Majesty—."

"But you can leave," Cedric insisted. "We are!" He gestured to the blue cat, Azure Star.

She wasn't there. "A– Azure?" He looked, but not a wing or tail or whisker of Azure Star was anywhere to be seen, "Fine," he started, fighting the fear and desperation as they settled in, "we can find a way out, just the two of us—" He turned back to Maple, only she wasn't there, either.

Queen Tahl’drí was.

She was in her Hybrid form, which was unusual for her. The cheetah ears, in the same position as Maples, were smaller. Her black-and-blond stripes of hair, which usually hung loose, were tied back, like she was planning on doing something hands-on. Her emerald-green eyes almost glowed, despite the amber lighting.

After a moment of shock, Cedric's face settled into a snarl, once-feline fangs lengthening into lupine canines. "How can you do this to us?" he demanded, growled, on his and Maple's behalf. "Your loyal Shaljí?"

The Cí’mehia queen said nothing, her expression blank, but still harsh. She rushed at him.

Cedric woke up with a start, disoriented. Where am I? It took him a moment to remember that he was at the Ziixi Academy, away from the lab underneath Mion Isle, and a few years from his experiences there. A few years from his successful escape.

He got out of bed, and left his room to walk along the empty stone halls. It was a full moon that night, he could feel it. The memories were always more invasive around the full moon.

The center of the Ziixi Academy had a small patch of grass and flowers that opened up to the sky, and the second level. He'd be able to see the moon from there, if it was around midnight. But he knew it was. A reminder to my unnatural being.

Someone was already sitting in the grass, playing with the flowers absent-mindedly. The moon shone on her, revealing the hint of orange fur and a feline-humanoid silhouette. 

Using old magic that he hadn't thought about since he left Mion Isle, he silently made his way toward the feline figure. Both products of the lab. But you remain, while I left.

He rushed at her, concealing his approach with the illusion magic he had once known so well. Even though she noticed, she wasn't quick enough to avoid the hand – or, rather, the claw – that reached for her neck and pinned her to the ground. Your opponent can't do anything if you have their neck or head, the old combat instructions surfaced.

In his anger, he felt himself shift – the half-lupine, half-feline form that he hated.

She didn't struggle. She just looked up at him – her eyes reflected the moonlight, like she was tearing up. Then he noticed the tear tracks on the fur on her face.

"Did you have the nightmare, too?" she asked, her voice small.

He had imagined her saying so many things – I'm sorry, Cedric, or Her Majesty wants you to come back, you don't have to be in the lab anymore. Any of the lies to get Cedric to step foot on Mion Isle, to entice him home, into his old life. He didn't imagine her asking about the nightmare.

When he didn't respond, she went on, "Where you left— you escaped the lab? With that blue-winged cat?"

Cedric slowly backed off of Maple, and she cautiously sat up. "Azure Star is the first and current Crystal of Ysamaldri."

Maple nodded. "The Queen knew her. They were once friends, or at least allies."

"I didn't know that."

"She didn't know," Maple blurted. "The Queen. She didn't know you escaped with her help."

"Well, she will now, won't she?" Cedric said, his voice bitter and biting.

Maple shook her head, caressing a flower and not meeting Cedric's eyes. "It's not my assignment to find how you escaped. You aren't my current mission."

"What is?" Cedric growled.

"No one we know," Maple assured, still looking away. "She didn't even grow up on the Isle."

She is lucky for the years she didn't spend there, he thought. "So that means a stranger to the Isle is Tahl’drí's target?"

Maple shrugged. "I'm just glad it's not you."

"Why her?"

Maple shrugged again. "I don't know. The Queen seems anxious about the quick completion of this assignment."

"What's her name? If it's so inconsequential to us."

Maple, finally meeting Cedric's eyes, gave him a pained look. "I can't."

Cedric sighed. I think I know, anyway. "It's Myrkr, isn't it?"

Maple stared at him in surprise.

"I'm roommates with her adoptive brother. Don't try it. It won't end well."

"You know I don't have a choice in the matter."

Cedric shook his head, his anger returning. "You made your choice to not make one. If Tahl’drí makes you do things you won't want to do, then don't. Leave Myrkr alone, or you'll live to regret it."

Cedric remembered the nights he spent in the lab, the numerous tests. He couldn't imagine that Maple had forgotten her own, since she spent more years in there than he did. He stood up. "Think about why Tahl’drí wants Myrkr. Decide if you want to condemn her to that fate, or let her live her life in peace with the dragons. If you continue, I will never forgive you. I might forgive you for leaving me in the lab – but I won't if you condemn Myrkr to something similar. She better not end up as another of Tahl’drí's test subjects, and if she does, it better not be because of you."

He left Maple there, sitting among the flowers and moonlight.

[portraitmypet]

What I Learned About My Cat from the Artist Who Painted Him

It may seem like a small detail, but I am so thankful for how much she knew about my cat. For example, she said that he is grey and black with white paws and tail. She also mentioned that he is an American shorthair breed, which I didn't know before. She even got his age right! The artist could've just used this information as "filler" while they waited for me to give them more details about my cat (which was actually the case in some of the other drawings), but they took what they had and made something beautiful out of it.

This made me realize how much time artists put into their work—I never realized how many hours go into creating something like this until now!

But I know he is a little bit fat.

The artist does not see your cat. They work from a photo or description and may ask you questions to clarify if there is something they don't understand.

If you say that your cat is "a little bit fat," the artist might use that description when painting the animal, but they might also choose to paint it thinner than it actually is (or vice versa).

You can tell an artist how much extra weight you want on your pet—but be aware that this will affect the way their body looks in proportion with their face and legs as well as their overall size in relation to other objects depicted in a composition.

The artist made a painting of him and I told them how much I love him.

The artist painted a beautiful portrait of my cat and I. I told the artist how much I love my cat, and they painted him really fat. It looks kind of like my cat, but it was clearly not intended to be an accurate representation of him; this is something that could only have been achieved through careful observation and interpretation.

I don't know if there's any real correlation between telling an artist that you love your pet and them painting them as obese, but I'm going to consider it for now. In fact, I think this might work for any animal-related art form! If you tell an artist that you really enjoy insects or reptiles or other animals in general, maybe they will paint your favorite one with six legs instead of four!

So they made the painting of my cat really fat.

So, our cat is fat. He's not just a little overweight, he's what you might call a fat cat.

I could have told that to the artist when she came over to take his measurements to make sure his proportions were right for the painting, but I didn't. I was nervous about putting too much weight on the artist and their work by saying something like "Hey, my cat is pretty big."

Instead I said nothing: I didn't want to risk them making him look even fatter than he already did in real life. But now that the painting has been completed, it made me wonder: Does telling an artist how much your subject weighs affect how they portray it?

It is not that bad because it looks kind of like my cat.

It is not that bad because it looks kind of like my cat.

While I was waiting for my portrait, I wondered if you could tell me what your process is? How do you decide which colors to use and where to place the lines and shading?

What I got back was this:

You're right! It's not so bad. I think it would have been even better if the cat looked more like the original picture than this one does but that's just something we'll never know. The good news is he seems healthy and happy in the photo so maybe that's all that matters?

Liking something does not mean you should make it look bigger in a painting.

The artist who painted your cat knows that you love him, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he should make your pet look bigger in the painting. What you think will be a flattering portrait of your furry friend may end up being a cartoonish caricature or something else entirely.

The artist is not an exact mind reader (although I hear he has been working on his telepathic powers), so it is important for you to be specific about what you want depicted in the work of art. You don’t have to speak in sentences like “I want my cat to look like a fox with blue eyes and no pupils”—this can sound confusing when translated into visual terms—but do make sure that the finished product will resemble what you envision when asked if they can paint, “My cat looks like all cats look: large ears, small nose, long tail…and white feet!”