#and then the the season long frustration i felt when cats dropped the light blues set in

[ratatatastic]

marlins last season revealead throwback thursdays and revamped the teal pinstriped uni of the florida marlins adding it to their rotation of uniforms (only for the 23 season) alongside their sugar kings city connects... intermiami recently revealed a third kit inspired by the miami dolphins and the heat alts have always looked particularly gorgeous (moreso from '17 to '20 when vicewave was more their focus)

so after the panthers dropped their retro reverses after '23 from their rotation i ask

WHEN WILL WE FUCKING GET A SICK ALT AGAIN IM TIRED IM BANGING THE WALLS OF MY ENCOLSURE PLEASE GIVE THEM TO ME WDYM WE MADE OUR 30TH ANI JERSEYS SPECIALTY AUCTION JERSEYS. CAN WE HAVE PRETTY BLUE JERSEYS AGAIN

OR IDK EVERYONES BEEN BEGGING FOR THE OLD BLUE THIRDS AGAIN. JUST ANYTHING. ANY SOFLO TEAM THAT GETS A NEW COOL UNI MAKES ME GET ANTSY BECAUSE THE CATS NEED TO DO THAT TOO PLEASE

[danger-xylophones]

The Senator and the Hunter (Cad Bane x reader)

{masterlist}

Warnings: some suggestive dialogue

Notes: Cad Bane fluff! Cad Bane fluff! Cad Bane fluff! Cad Bane fluff! CAD BANE FLUFF!

I wanted this to be gender-neutral but there aren’t any pet names in the Durese language that are gender-neutral. 

Can we do away with ‘beautiful’ being used in a feminine sense? I call mountains beautiful and I don’t think they’re ladies. Let beautiful be neutral. 

Tags: @lifelikefae Here ya go! :D

…………………...

Swish, swish, swish, the fabric of your pant legs brushing against each other echoed in the tense room inhabited only by you. Your brow hurt from being furrowed for so long, your bottom lip had been worried into oblivion, and your previously expertly styled hair had been mussed as if you’d just rolled out of bed. You were sure that if someone from the speedway looked into your office right now they would see some scowling, pacing hermit who was frustrated at the galaxy and the datapad in their hands. That is if anyone was able to see into the tinted windows of the senate building. 

You hadn’t had any clue how long you’d spent on this one bill but guessing 72 standard hours didn’t feel too far off. A part of you wanted to be angry that you’d had to spend so long on the bill proposed by Bail Organa but the other part reasoned that it was a necessity if you wanted your voice to be heard amongst the cacophonous shouting of the other senators. It was an important bill, after all, it was one that would determine whether or not more clones were supposed to be purchased. Still, back and forth you walked: the light, royal blue fabric of your pants following the movements. It was a miracle you hadn’t worn a hole in the rug. 

With a tired sigh, you lowered the datapad to tap against your thigh while one hand shot to pinch the bridge of your nose. Your eyes were starting to burn. Maybe it was time to call it quits? tell Bail you would have to vote against him unless the Jedi made significant process in the days leading up to the vote? You didn’t know. 

A blaring sound cut through your deliberation, startling you enough to toss the datapad as the room was bathed in red and metal shutters slid down over the large windows. The previously tired sigh took a turn to be frustrated instead. A lockdown was not something you wanted to deal with right now. As calmly as your tired body would allow you moved to your desk to retrieve the small pistol you kept in the top drawer and tucked it into the back pocket of your slacks before moving to the designated hiding place in your office. You had just punched in the code to the small safe room when a thud sounded from behind you. You froze, hand shooting to the pistol in an instant as you hid yourself behind the curtains that concealed the door to the safe room. 

The intruder’s steps could still be heard over the annoying blare of the siren which told you they were approaching and doing so swiftly. With a small click, you took the pistol off safety. The intruder froze on the other side of the curtain-the only indicator of where they were being the quiet sound of shifting fabric. Wanting to get the drop on whoever had decided that breaking into the senate building and specifically your office was a good idea, you itched your hand forward to grasp the fabric of the curtains so you could rip it out of the way. There was a click on the other side of the curtain and you launched into action. The deep red fabric was forced out of your way as you raised the pistol high, ready to fire at whoever was standing in your office. What you weren’t expecting was the sight of two familiar pistols being pointed right back at you. You followed the guns up the arms that pointed them till your eyes locked with a set of crimson ones. 

“Cad.” You sighed. 

“Senator.” He responded, his familiar modulated drawl dancing over your ears. You remained like that for a few seconds, just staring at each other as though daring the other to make a move. Cad would be the first. Without looking away from you, he lowered his pistols and returned them to their holsters before pressing a few buttons on his wrist to turn off the alarm-the red emergency light going away with it although the windows remained shuttered and the door was still probably locked. Still, you followed his lead and put your own weapon back. 

“Cad,” you sighed again and stepped towards him, “What were you doing? I could have shot you!” You tried to rebuke him though you knew it would be a futile effort. 

“Not with that aim.” Cad replied in a smooth tone, crossing his arms as he did. You mimicked his posture though with an added pout. 

“Hey, I’m getting better!” You whinged, earning a disbelieving huff from the bounty hunter. “You didn’t answer my question though. What are you doing here?” 

“I felt like paying my senator a visit.” He continued in that smooth, unperturbed tone-as though breaking into the senate building wasn’t a massive violation of Republic law-as he moved back into the main section of your office. You followed behind the bounty hunter with a rather dopey smile on your face despite the situation. You wiped it from your lips though as soon as Bane turned around, determined to keep up the facade. 

You cleared your throat. “I wasn’t aware I was representing Duro now.” The reply slipped from you with ease, a stark contrast to the early days with Bane when you would never dare to tease him. 

“Don’t get lippy with me, mulk.” Cad narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to you. 

“I’ll get lippy with whoever I please, hud.” You sassed right back with hands on your hips as you also took a step forward. If Cad Bane had a nose, your own would be bumping against it. “Especially, if they decide to interrupt me while I’m working.” You raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to challenge you. “I don’t interfere with your work, love, so please don’t interfere with mine.” 

“Please,” Cad huffed again though with an added smirk that told you he’d found your attempts at rebuking him amusing, “I was watching ya early, jewel, you clearly needed a distraction.” 

Your eyebrow raised a little higher. “Watching me? Charming, Cad.” You shook your head and stepped back to make your way to your desk. “You really know how to make a senator swoon, baniss.” You tried to hide the mirth that permeated your voice with a forceful plop into your seat although you were certain the seasoned bounty hunter could still hear it. 

Cad chuckled, the sound so warm and deep that it made your heart flutter, as he leaned over to catch the arms of your chair. “Just the one, izrin.” Cad smirked and dipped his head enough to catch your lips with his. You melted into him, hands sliding up his arms till you could loop them around his neck. Cad groaned and pressed forward, ignoring the somewhat awkward pose he was in as he leaned down to kiss you. It was unbelievable how much you’d missed each other in the brief time apart. You pulled back to catch your breath, smiling as you did so, and nonchalantly plucked Bane’s hat off his head. 

“I’m glad you’re back, love, but was all this necessary?” You asked, holding his hat in one hand and using the other to vaguely gesture to the windows. “You couldn’t have sent me a message telling me to meet you somewhere or something less...conspicuous?” You asked as you continued to fiddle with his hat, even going so far as to place it on your head. 

Bane watched you carefully as you messed with his most iconic article of clothing. “‘Thought I’d try and impress ya.” He simpered with a shrug.

You rolled your eyes at him-of course he just wanted to show off. “You don’t need to impress me, baniss. You know that, right?” 

“I know,” Cad stood up and stretched, fixing the door with a bored stare that had you questioning if he still had it locked, “just felt like it.” There was a pause before he turned back to you and gave you a once over. “You look cute in my hat.” You tilted your head-Cad called you a lot of things: sexy, beautiful, hot, and breathtaking being the primaries when it came to commenting on your appearance but cute was a new one. It prompted you to look up at the brim of the hat. 

“Thanks, though I don’t think it really goes with my outfit.” You laughed. You had to look ridiculous clad in dark blue slacks, a white sweater, and your boyfriend’s large, leather wide-brimmed hat. 

“Please, you could wear anything and you’d still look good.” The bounty hunter looked away as he said that and you smiled. Cad Bane was hard to read even on a good day but you’d been together long enough to know that the only thing that could make the man nervous was complimenting you. It was a bizarre effect you had on him and one that Cad didn’t always know how to handle. One of the ways he hid it though was by looking away from you. Smirking like the loth-cat that got the cream, you stood up and strode towards him till you could wrap your arms around his waist. He stiffened up before placing his hands over your own.

“Thank you, my love. I’d say the same but I prefer you wearing nothing.” You practically purred into his back, just waiting to hear how he’d follow that up. 

“Oh, jewel, those are dangerous words.” He murmured and turned around in your arms to grasp your shoulders. One of his hands came up to grasp your chin. “Anyone could walk in and see us.”

“How’s it dangerous…” You began as you plucked Bane’s hat off your head and placed it back on his. You brought your hands down to grab at the lapels of his coat to pull him down to your height. “If you’re the one controlling the door?” As if on cue, a knock sounded on the metal door and the familiar sound of a clone calling out interrupted you. With a sigh and roll of your eyes you pulled away from Cad and made your way to the door. Before you got to it though, you sent him a pointed look that had the bounty hunter sighing and pressing another button on his wrist to unlock it so you could send the clone on his way. With that taken care of and the metal coverings and lockdown dismissed as a glitch the door slid shut and you were once again left alone with Cad. There was the familiar beep to alert you that the door had locked. As slowly as you could, you spun around to face the room again. 

Only to find that Cad had moved to your desk chair just so he could kick his boots up on your desk. “Well, senator. You up for a little danger?”

............................................

Translations-

baniss-handsome

hud-hunter 

izrin-beautiful

mulk-speaker, politician

[buckpaws]

Fawnpaw’s Way

(read ch. 1 and allegiances here!)

ch. 2 is done! :D it took a while, but here it is!

words: 8,924

Fawnpaw and friends take a trip to the medicine cats' den, but she gets lost in thought after it all goes less than according to plan.

    Though the sun’s warmth was a comfortable haze over Autumnclan’s camp, Fawnpaw felt cold after watching Fogbright’s outburst towards her apprentice, Plumpaw. The black tom was standing still in place, his green eyes murky as he watched the empty tunnel where his mentor had disappeared. Shadows cast themselves over the four apprentices, who were unwilling to move from their shaded spot to the warmth of the hollow. She resisted the urge to nuzzle his cheek, with his sister, Mistypaw, so close to him already. And he was soon shaking himself out and looking between Mistypaw and the other two apprentices with new optimism. Next to her, Mottlepaw offered no quip, which Fawnpaw found odd.

    “Who does Fogbright think she is?” Mistypaw started up before he could say anything, causing Plumpaw’s tail to fall, clearly hoping to drop the subject. Fueled by moons of training together with Fallenwing and Fogbright every day, the apprentice ranted, “I swear, sometimes she just treats you like a stop to becoming deputy. How miserable!”

    “Let’s just get going, okay? The medicine cats might be getting ready to leave for the 'Cave soon,'' Plumpaw meowed, his words edged with his tenseness. Mistypaw didn’t seem ready to let the issue go, though all she let indicate it was a single whisk of her tail, and thoughtful irritation swimming in her blue eyes. Before anyone could follow Plumpaw’s lead, Fawnpaw felt an emptiness against her flank when Mottlepaw pulled away. Another feeling came - a heavy dropping sensation in her chest that made Fawnpaw’s legs quiver. Her balance was unsteady, and if there wasn’t a wall of rock on her other side, she might have collapsed. Unsure sounds were bubbling up out of Mottlepaw’s throat, and Fawnpaw knew the worst might be coming. White ringed her sister’s dark eyes.

    “No!” The first protest came, “Mapleflower will be mad too! No!” Her yowls rang off the red-rock walls, hardly muffled by the thick soil padding the ground and edges of the gorge. Mistypaw seemed totally taken aback, ears flattened. She backed up, and Plumpaw stood even closer to her, keeping his own pricked toward Mottlepaw. His fur remained flat. Where the gorge’s walls normally felt safe, arching over Autumnclan’s camp in shelter, they now seemed to trap the apprentices in a claustrophobic embrace.

    “Mottlepaw, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Mapleflower won’t be mad at you,” He tried to say in a soft tone, against Mottlepaw’s loud meowing and hissing. She had now backed herself next to Fawnpaw, as she struggled to stand herself. Her gaze swam, Plumpaw and Mistypaw blinking in and out of view as dark and light colored clouds. Mottlepaw’s cries overwhelmed her senses, almost blotting out the shaking pain of the muscles in her legs, threatening to take away her ability to pretend that she was fine. Without a voice, she tried to keep listening in to her sister’s meltdown. It felt as if her heart raged with any attempt she made to move. Starclan, where was her strength when she needed it? In her place, the older apprentices were left to manage Mottlepaw before she began to attract the attention of cats trying to rest after their patrols. At sunhigh, her outburst would be especially noticeable. Fawnpaw’s teeth ached from clenching her jaw. The thought of another aggressive confrontation against her sister made Fawnpaw want to whimper.

    “Shut up! I don’t wanna! I’m not going! No!” Mottlepaw was making shrill sounds after her words now, her normally thick tail now plumy with her frustration and panic. Her breathing was strained, the wet and painful sounds even worse when she raised her voice. Plumpaw pushed forward bravely with a step closer, gaze flitting between Mottlepaw and Fawnpaw. He lowered himself to the ground to seem less of a threat to the tortoiseshell apprentice, but she met his mercy with a nasty spit, leaving him sputtering backwards. His sister quickly stepped in with one paw in front of the black tom. Fawnpaw’s chest fluttered in vain to form words for Mottlepaw’s sake, her effort clawing at the air in her lungs like a butterfly floating just too high to catch. Around her, the air crackled with escalating tension, teetering on the edge of something she would not be able to fix. Mistypaw regarded Mottlepaw with a hard gaze

    “Mottlepaw, stop! Plumpaw just wants to help you!” Mistypaw exclaimed, her pale fur fluffing up to meet the other apprentice’s challenge, and Fawnpaw wanted to interject - she’s just confused! She isn’t like you! But her voice still failed to come, all energy spent keeping her paws upright. Shuffling against the wall of stone, Fawnpaw managed to whip her tail. Her sister needed her. As Fawnpaw expected, Mistypaw’s loud voice only exacerbated Mottlepaw’s protests. It was just as when they had all been kits together, but now, Mudpetal was not hovering closeby to handle her kit with love and seasoned paws. Plumpaw did his best to recover from Mottlepaw’s aggression where he crouched close to the ground.

    “That’s right, Mottlepaw. Aren’t we friends, Mottlepaw?” In response, the tortoiseshell hissed once more, quietly now. After the outburst, Mottlepaw’s body had begun shrinking down into her thick fur. Shades of black, brown and copper fluffed up to protect her from the overstimulating world in front of her, but it still couldn’t cure the distress she felt inside. The force of Fawnpaw’s sympathy hurt her heart, beating rapidly alongside her sister’s. Seizing the opportunity, Plumpaw advanced closer once more, and Mottlepaw let him this time. Once he was within a tail’s length of Mottlepaw, he tried to reach out and touch her paw with his. Mottlepaw did not move away, only staring warily between her sister and denmate. With a deep breath, Fawnpaw finally found her strength and turned her head to give Mottlepaw a reassuring blink.

    “Plumpaw i-is a good friend, isn’t he? He wouldn’t make you do anything scary.” She murmured to her sister, feeling a glimmer of hope when recognition shone back in Mottlepaw’s normally sweet green eyes. Fear and confusion still dominated the apprentice, her flattened ears and fluffed up fur continuing to protect Mottlepaw from the stimulation of everything around her. From her distance away, Mistypaw continued to watch her brother with disbelief. Plumpaw closed the distance from him to Mottlepaw, allowing his black pelt to become a kindly shadow pressing against her streaked fur. 

    “I can’t!” Her voice suddenly rose to a wail once more, and Fawnpaw caught the next cry before it came by slipping her head underneath Mottlepaw’s chin. She comforted her sister with broken purrs, enveloping Mottlepaw in warmth alongside Plumpaw. The steady sound reverberated between the cats huddled together, slowing the tortoiseshell’s rapid heartbeat. Mistypaw’s tail flicked back and forth now, uncomfortable, or maybe unsure, at the sight before her, though Fawnpaw found it difficult to care in her exhausted state. Relief washed over Fawnpaw profoundly as her sister began to calm down. As the quiet extended, so did the lengths of her purring. Minutes passed, giving even Mistypaw the chance to sit down and relax. She drew her paw over her ear in washing, as if trying to allow the other apprentices space. From where they huddled together, the sun was hidden from view behind one rise in the gorge, which left the stone cool and dew glistening on patches of shaded grass. Fawnpaw felt her eyelids grow heavy; Mottlepaw’s intense purring brought her back to being a tiny kit snuggled between her littermates. Plumpaw rested with his head on his paws, his long tail curled over Mottlepaw’s back. When one of the cats finally spoke, it was Mottlepaw in a whisper.

    “I’m sorry for talking like that to you, Plumpaw,” She mumbled into her paws, “I didn’t mean to.” Guilt was undeniable in Mottlepaw’s voice, and Plumpaw lifted his head, touching his nose to her ear.

    “Thanks for apologizing, I know you didn’t mean to. It’s still important to remember that it hurts other cat’s feelings when you raise your voice and get upset,'' He meowed with an assuring yet firm tone, rising on his paws only enough to stretch himself out. “Besides… that’s why Dappleheart is so nice, huh? She can use a cave-voice, even for an apprentice like you, Mottlepaw!” The glow in Plumpaw’s eyes was contagious, and Mottlepaw beamed back with a rumbling mrrow of laughter. Fawnpaw felt her heart soar with admiration. Plumpaw sounded like a mentor already, so wise and patient, when he hadn’t even been made a warrior yet!

    “Daring to call out Mapleflower, brother?” Mistypaw chimed in, and he gave her a fervent nod. The dark tom straightened himself out, his black fur sleek and prominent against the gorge’s curving red walls, even amongst their many shadows. He stood tall in pride for his bravery. Autumnclan’s medicine cat was well-respected, but no cat escaped her short temper and high expectations, least of all her apprentice, Dappleheart. Despite the shocking difference in their size and strength, Dappleheart seemed meek and innocent as a kit next to the compact calico she-cat whose yellow eyes could survey a group of cats with a warrior’s intensity. With any luck, she would be in a good mood when they entered her den.

    “Someone has to,” Plumpaw admitted, “She can be so grumpy, but the four of us can surely take her, right, Mottlepaw?”

    “Yeah!” Mottlepaw rose alongside him, which Fawnpaw used as an opportunity to also scramble to her paws. They ached with weariness, but the exhaustion would be manageable now until she could get to the medicine cats’ den and rest. For the time being, Fawnpaw leaned on Mottlepaw. Through her pelt, Fawnpaw could feel Mottlepaw’s heartbeat growing slower and calmer. In response to her brother, Mistypaw purred once.

    “Do you think you can manage without me? Runningpaw said he wanted to go check out a thrush nest when he got back from patrol. I should wait for him, it could be good hunting for tomorrow.” She meowed, already moving back towards the gorge. Mottlepaw made a disappointed sound at the mention of her older brother, though Fawnpaw jabbed at her sister with her tail. She began to protest, but managed to quiet down with a huff when Fawnpaw mumbled an unrealistic promise into her ear as conciliation.  Plumpaw had also shifted himself in front of the other two she-cats, waving goodbye to Mistypaw with a motion of his tail.

    “We’ll find a way. Tell Runningpaw I said hi.”

    “For sure. See you all later!” Mistypaw called over her shoulder as she trotted away, weaving around small rocks and gravel to find a clear spot of smooth limestone that had been warmed by a patch of sunlight. When she settled, her fur was a nearly-white glow amongst the gorge’s sheer, shaded walls. Shadows of birds overhead flickered across Mistypaw’s pelt, sleek from where she had groomed herself earlier. The grace with which she reclined in the sun and shut her sky colored eyes amazed Fawnpaw.

    She didn’t have time to look long, as her group had moved on without her. Fawnpaw followed quickly, leaving Mistypaw to sun herself until the morning border patrol returned. With Plumpaw in the lead, the trio of apprentices padded away from the sunlit gorge and its dappled warmth, back to the tunnel which led into the camp’s underbelly. However, rather than plunge down as Fogbright and the other warriors had done, Plumpaw traced the solidly packed dirt along the tunnel’s edge in easy strides. It formed a path upwards, gently sloping up to higher ground where the gorge’s walls converged closer, creating a tighter space around the flat stone marking what would be the roof of the cavern below. However, where the forest floor met the edge of the gorge, soil was easy to move and shape; brambles and shrubs wove together as a testament to generations of warriors working to manipulate earth and foliage around them into their camp’s main exit. On her first night as an apprentice, while her littermates enjoyed the excitement of a Gathering, Mudpetal had told Fawnpaw of her own father, Hayjaw, before they retired together to the nursery. He had succumbed to greencough before her litter could open their eyes to meet him. Although her eyes strained against the brightness of silverpelt shining through the woven tangles, Fawnpaw had searched its magnificence for her grandfather amongst the stars. The moon, bright and full, shone back at her as an unblinking eye. Even now, Fawnpaw craned to see the sky through the bramble tunnel, but clouds peered back at her this time.

    A new wind of excitement to get out in the forest made Mottlepaw scamper after Plumpaw without protest, and Fawnpaw followed close behind her sister’s tail. Underneath her paws, the soil sloped up even higher, becoming darker and softer until thick brambles gave way to lush undergrowth. She didn’t have to wriggle to get through the bushes like her cohorts, her small frame slipping easily through a hole Without sunken earth to muffle the winds and sounds above, Fawnpaw felt the entire forest roll over her senses, making her whiskers quiver. Mottlepaw’s dilated eyes flashed excitedly at the trees, teeming with chittering prey in greenleaf. The sea of birch trees framing the sky above created a blue-and-green warmth inside of Fawnpaw, familiar beyond her years, even when she blinked.

    Plumpaw did well to keep his friends on course, guiding Mottlepaw with his tail along the stretch of ground, the leaves and grass there flat from many pawsteps. Briar thickets helped to keep the pathway enclosed and safe from being worn away completely, and the apprentices ducked under their longest branches for a few fox-lengths. When they emerged, the tangle of brambles and bushes gave way to a small knoll sporting viburnum bushes flowering white, and prickly larch trees. Its south-facing side held the den’s entrance. It was a cave of its own, much smaller, and rich with moss and ferns clinging to its stone interior, damp from a steaming underground pool. A thick sheet of dried willow vines secured at the cave’s mouth by stones shielded the tumble of rocks that lead into the den of Autumnclan’s healers. When leaf-fall came again, the withered vines would be replaced by the medicine cats with ones that were freshly fallen. Mottlepaw shimmied her haunches to stalk a stray catkin as it came under her paw, but the older apprentice stopped her with a small cough. The sound pulled Fawnpaw from her thinking.

    “Come on, Mottlepaw,” He said easily, and she trotted after him.

    Once the apprentices had passed underneath the willow vines, the air around them quickly became cool, quiet, and still once more. It always felt exactly how she left in when she moved back into the nursery, save the mess of two busy medicine cats with an apprentice den full of rambunctious cats. Today, though, the herbs were laid in neat piles and fine rows, as if great attention had been paid to them.

    In the further darkness of the cave, Fawnpaw saw a pair of glinting eyes glow back at her. Almost at once, the large, golden she-cat presented herself, dark spots shifting across her pelt as she lowered herself from a stone cleft full of flat pink flower petals. The divot was nearly halfway up the cave wall, its contents hidden to any cat below the medicine cat’s towering height. Fawnpaw admired her powerful frame as she approached the apprentices with an amiable look in her honey sweet eyes.

    “Welcome! I was hoping you’d stop by.” Dappleheart meowed in greeting, giving a friendly blink to the three young cats. The kind tone of Dappleheart did little to calm the guilty feeling that sparked in Fawnpaw’s chest.

    “We tried to get here earlier.” The tabby mewed, beginning to sputter with her lack of excuses. In truth, it was not expected of Fawnpaw to follow her sister at all times, but it made her a little nervous not to know when or whether Mottlepaw had taken care of herself. Considering that Vixenbreze had not been with her, it was likely that her sister had been so helpfully assisting Plumpaw without her mentor’s permission. Even as she grew restless and confused from pain associated with her condition, Mottlepaw popped up around camp to help others, and Fawnpaw loved that about her. She just wished that there was some way to poke around inside her sister’s brain, dislodging whatever froze her up, or pinched her nerves at the thought of eating herbs.

    Tilting her head to one side, she gave Mottlepaw a curious look, but the apprentice was avoiding all eye contact in favor of an invisible bug somewhere between her paws. Plumpaw sat next to her, his tail relaxed, only his eyes appeared to be more focused on the exit of the den than what was happening inside. Dappleheart observed her for a little longer in the quiet, before rising to her great paws.

    “She needs to have thyme before sunhigh,” Dappleheart murmured, more to herself than Fawnpaw, and she padded off quickly. The length of her tail meant a small bit stuck out from the crevice of rocks, and after just a few moments, the tall she-cat emerged fully with a few thick pieces of thyme in her jaws. Dappleheart laid them before Mottlepaw, who reluctantly lapped them up and began to chew after Fawnpaw gave her a reassuring gaze. “This is a calming herb. It’s good for feeling better when you get overwhelmed,” She explained to Mottlepaw in a practiced tone that indicated just how many times she had gone over this with the stubborn tortoiseshell. Fawnpaw still listened intently, always ready for a chance to learn how to help her sister. If something went wrong, or the medicine cats were gone from camp, surely it would fall to Fawnpaw to administer her sister’s necessary herbs. This newest outburst made her realize just how much she would have to train to be ready for that moment. She couldn’t help but feel her ears droop; she had nearly collapsed during Mottlepaw’s fit. If Plumpaw and Mistypaw hadn’t been there, she would have had no way of helping her sister without becoming a problem herself.

    Fawnpaw wanted to shake her head fiercely to clear her ever-churning thoughts. No. They were not problems. If cats were supposed to be perfect, they wouldn’t have to be apprenticed at all. For now, she tried to focus her attention back on Dappleheart, who was now fetching Mottlepaw the rest of her herbs, which she had wrapped neatly in an ivy leaf. Fawnpaw let her short tail rest on Mottlepaw’s flank as she settled down in a resting position and lapped up the deep blue berries before her first. Plumpaw also gave her a friendly bump of his head to hers in encouragement. With some prompting, Mottlepaw also took a couple of light green leaves, each sporting rounded points, into her mouth and eventually swallowed them. Some had still stuck to the cleft in her lip, but she licked the mess away quickly. Dappleheart was patient enough to wait until she had cleaned herself to continue.

    “If Pinekit didn’t need the last of our coltsfoot to get over his kitcough, I’d use that for your breathing. This is feverfew; it’s best for fevers, of course - but I think it does well with thyme for your chest and your headaches, Mottlepaw.” Dappleheart spoke, though she only really directed the words at the pair of sisters. Fawnpaw felt her memory ache at the different herbs. Were the medicine cats so overworked that Dappleheart needed to pass on all this important knowledge to the apprentices? Or did she just know how much the small cat needed to watch out for her innocent sister? Fawnpaw vowed to learn as much as she could, for Mottlepaw and her other littermates, who needed to focus on learning about other aspects of clan life. The elders’ and medicine cats’ dens were already more familiar to her, anyway. She glanced at Plumpaw to see if he was listening, and saw that he was once again looking at the mouth of the cave. The tips of his ears twitched, but not in the direction of the medicine cat’s teaching.

    “They’re so gross…” Mottlepaw whined once she had swallowed the last of the herbs. She had now taken to shredding the ivy leaf wrap. Fawnpaw nudged her flank gently with a paw, drawing her attention back to Dappleheart’s lesson. Obliging, Mottlepaw’s ears faced the tall she-cat once more. Amber eyes blinked gratefully back at Fawnpaw for her help.

    “That’s why we only use them when we have to,” Dappleheart meowed evenly, before adding in a more earnest voice, “And why you need to have them consistently. The more you forget, the more yucky herbs we’ll have to use to treat you, Mottlepaw.” The medicine cat’s honesty made Mottlepaw sheepish, once more staring at her paws instead of making eye contact with the large she-cat. Fawnpaw knew that her sister was aware of how important the herbs were to her health, and moreso, knew better than to skip her daily visit with the medicine cats. Still, the young apprentice often seemed unable to help herself from running away, or becoming upset at her routine. Vixenbreeze did well in the last few moons to teach Mottlepaw to accept that she didn’t get to choose patrols, or when to help the elders. Despite her cool appearance, her sister’s mentor put in a clan’s worth of effort into her apprentice - a labor of love that often went unnoticed by other members of Autumnclan. It was no surprise that her son would have his mother’s compassion, and perhaps his father’s as well, though Fawnpaw couldn’t say.

    “Thanks, Dappleheart…” Mottlepaw mewed, looking up at the medicine cat apprentice for her approval. When Dappleheart leaned down to nuzzle her head with her nose, the tortoiseshell gave a squeal of delight. Dappleheart purred, loud and song-like. The small tabby she-cat’s throat felt tight with her happiness, how the medicine cat still treasured the apprentices which she had saved as kits. Though it was her home no longer, this richly green cave brought the same warmth to her chest as it did when she was an even smaller cat. The cacophony of herb-smell no longer bothered her, either. Dappleheart’s eyes had moved from Mottlepaw to where she sat quietly.

    “How about you, Fawnpaw? Are you feeling okay?” She asked kindly. Fawnpaw nodded, feeling hesitant to mention her fit of weakness around Mottlepaw for fear of upsetting her once more. She also wasn’t very interested in mentioning her weakness around Plumpaw, either. Instead, she searched Dappleheart’s gaze for understanding. Within a few moments, it registered in Dappleheart’s eyes what the young tabby was asking of her without speaking. She purred again, touching Fawnpaw’s own head with her muzzle. Her breath carried a hint of some of the sweet herbs she had worked with earlier that morning.

    “Good… But it can’t hurt to have a little something for your strength,” Dappleheart meowed, returning to the crevice full of berries and herbs. Mottlepaw gave her a horrified look, as if prompting her to protest before she too received the yucky herbs, but Fawnpaw just gave her a playful cuff on the ear. This time, Dappleheart’s jaws were clamped around a few sorrel leaves. For as long as she could remember, the medicine cats had given her the sleek leaves on her worst days to build up her strength and give her any appetite at all. They would settle nice in her belly when she had the chance to pick something up from the fresh-kill pile. Fawnpaw gratefully chewed the green leaves until they lost their shape completely, hoping to wash the ache from her legs. When she was done, she looked up to see Mottlepaw playing with the scraps of ivy leaf once more. At least she wasn’t trying to dig up the ferns and moss that Mapleflower and Dappleheart carefully cultivated in the cave. It had taken a quarter moon for the former to forgive Mottlepaw, which only made administering her herbs that much harder.

    “Thank you, Dappleheart,” Fawnpaw echoed her sister, but her tone was sincere. Dappleheart blinked slowly down at the apprentices, finally sitting before them with her strong white paws neatly together. Even though the cave was dim, with a jagged, sharp peak of a roof that bathed much of the den in heavy darkness, the comfort of Dappleheart’s presence was a constant warmth to Fawnpaw. As a kit, all shadows had seemed darker. Even in the medicine cats’ den, where her every cry was met with Dappleheart’s comforting hush. She loved the verdant space and steaming pool it offered, but when peeking moonlight found its way into the cave, sprouting foxglove and ferns had created flickering, dark ghosts between their fronds. They whispered to each other shadow-y words, and fear nurtured the pain and weakness of her muscle aches. Dappleheart was the one who had nuzzled her during those sleepless nights.

    “Of course,” Dappleheart said cheerily, her pelt the same color as the yellow bells growing in clustered shoots around the cave; flowers which no longer scared her. Sensing the end of her visit, Mottlepaw nearly jumped to her paws. Her fluffy tail was swishing in excitement. She looked to Dappleheart expectantly, and the golden cat dipped her head. “Remember to stop in tomorrow morning, Mottlepaw. I don’t want a single mouse caught until I’ve seen you!” Her meow was as stern as the easy-going she-cat could muster, although her affectionate gaze revealed just how much of an effect the tortoiseshell apprentice had on her. “And thank you, Plumpaw,” She said more quietly to the dark apprentice who had waited so patiently for his younger denmate. He gave her a polite nod.

    “Yeah!” Mottlepaw yowled eagerly, spinning around and bounding up to explode out of the cave’s mouth back into the forest. Willow vines buffeted each other in her wake. Her quiet sister was seemingly forgotten. 

    “I guess that’s my cue. Bye, Fawnpaw,” Plumpaw meowed, leaving with a swish of his tail. She wished that Plumpaw would stay longer, and her gaze trailed after him until his lean form was gone through the vines as well. Dappleheart just shook her head, watching after the bombastic she-cat and quiet tom trotting behind her humorously.

    “She’ll be a great warrior once she learns to slow down a little,” The medicine cat mused. Fawnpaw thought she might agree, but didn’t say it out loud. Without Mottlepaw to distract her, the den felt very quiet. Dappleheart turned her attention back to the remaining apprentice. Her amber eyes flashed with interest, causing Fawnpaw to sit up straight. “By the way, how’s your training with Mudpetal going?” Feeling a little sheepish now that she was on her own, she averted her eyes from Dappleheart. 

    “It’s good. I think I’ve really got the Warrior Code down to memory now,” Running through her typical day, went on, “I always try to make good arrangements for the elders’ den, and get them the best moss, too.” Fawnpaw meowed.

    “That’s good to hear. I’m willing to bet Marblecoat has taught you more about moss than even your mentor, though,” Dappleheart snorted, giving her shoulder a lick. “I get all of his complaints so that Mapleflower won’t ring his tail.”

    “Maybe…” She murmured indulgently, before looking up at Dappleheart with curiosity. “Where is Mapleflower? She hasn’t gone to the Cave without you, has she?” In response, Dappleheart shook her head. The she-cat’s long, spotted tail abruptly twitched, the dark tip shifting like a beetle. Her claws scraped lightly on stone. Fawnpaw wondered what had her so nervous, and recalled her conversation with Mudpetal earlier that day. We’re facing some difficult times.

    “No, she’s out picking horsetail,” While she spoke, Dappleheart indicated the piles Fawnpaw had noticed earlier, and she started to make out  “This would usually be enough for the season…” She murmured. Something about her tone made Fawnpaw think she didn’t want to keep going. Seeing Dappleheart’s confidence falter made Fawnpaw’s heart thud with worry. Seeming to notice the apprentice’s stare beginning to grow panicked, Dappleheart sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, there’s a lot on my mind. We’re lucky to have as many herbs as we do, and Mapleflower will only find more. She should be back any minute now.” Relieved at the return of her warm gaze, Fawnpaw nodded along. The thought of difficult times rested underneath her desire to connect with Dappleheart like a snake in tall grass. If there was any pair of cats that could handle a challenge, it would be Mapleflower and Dappleheart; Fawnpaw tried to reason with herself against her own unease. 

    A quiet bubbling from the steaming pool was all that broke the den’s quiet. Drawing a paw along the edge of her piles, the medicine cat hummed, “Say, it should be your turn to come with us to the Cave one of these moons.”

    That peaked Fawnpaw’s interest, her swivelling ears betraying the fact. “Are you taking Volepaw this time?” Her boisterous brother had to be her first guess. Volepaw had been devastated when the medicine cats chose Brindlepaw last moon. She knew that his constant bragging could be exaggerated, but even still - she thought his catches were quite impressive when he showed them to her on the fresh-kill pile. He would do well to protect the medicine cats. Looking up from the array of fresh and dried leaves she had now moved around, Dappleheart shook her head.

    “Runningpaw was our choice, actually. I think that he’s ready this time around. Not to mention, Yellowbirch can keep up with us, unlike some of our warriors,” Dappleheart puffed out her chest, but seemed to catch herself on some realization, to which she leaned back down to Fawnpaw’s level to nuzzle her cheek. Fawnpaw shrank shyly into herself as her tone went sweet once more. “Well, the Cave of Bones and Moonlight is a very long way away. Most apprentices find it intimidating their first time around, even me. It’ll be easier once you’ve gone to a Gathering at the lake. Let me show you,” She separated some berries, rich and red, and began to place them in a line. The thought briefly crossed her mind that Mistypaw must be disappointed that Runningpaw would have to leave camp before they could go hunting. She would also have to enlist Volepaw or Brindlepaw in getting Mottlepaw to eat before going to sleep if her father was on evening patrol … Fawnpaw blinked to clear her thoughts of responsibilities, and observed the movements of Dappleheart’s paw with fresh intrigue. Two of the berries sat relatively close together, only about a mouse length apart, while the third remained far out of reach. “This is our camp. It’s only a few hillcrests to the Gathering-Place, sure, but we have to go past Acaciaclan’s territory and a few twoleg villages to even get close to the Cave.”

    “Why go all that way if silverpelt is above us no matter where we are?” The thought dawned on Fawnpaw before she could hold it back, her mind’s eye conjuring warriors she saw looking up at the night sky when they thought they were alone. A smile gleamed in Dappleheart’s eyes. 

    “It’s not just about finding a place to talk to Starclan. It’s about seeing the world out there, and seeing it through the eyes of the other clans, too. When we travel, we go under the darkest phase of the moon. We have to trust that we all know the way, even without the moon to show us. There’s no squabbling about borders if you want to have an easy time about it.” Fawnpaw’s eyes widened at the she-cat’s confidence.

    “What if you can’t work together and you get stranded in the dark?” She mewed.

    Dappleheart laughed, “What places your mind goes, Fawnpaw,” A small shade of seriousness tinted her clear amber eyes as she went on, “Disagreement is part of life. It’s completely natural to feel differently than others around you, especially when they’ve lived very different lives. I like to think I’ve learned a lot from the experience of the other clans.”

    “I think that makes sense. I guess Starclan would protect you too, since you’re all medicine cats, right?” Fawnpaw asked, only to be met with a thoughtful look from Dappleheart that suggested she hadn’t answered entirely correctly.

    “Maybe they’re watching out for us, but it’s the cats we choose that really protect us on the journey. We’re safer in numbers, and better for it if we cooperate instead of fight.” Fawnpaw was enthralled, only for Dappleheart to falter suddenly in her passion. Her line of sight was fixed behind Fawnpaw, who turned to see what had stopped her.

    Mapleflower stood at the precipice of the cave, her yellow gaze cold when it landed upon the pair of them. All at once, Fawnpaw went quiet as well. Without greeting them, the medicine cat made her way down into the cave, the clumps of wispy horsetail swaying between her jaws until she dropped them at Dappleheart’s paws. One of her black-tipped ears twitched in annoyance.

    “If Starclan picked Runningpaw, they made a mistake this time,” She said, her strong voice resounding in the cave. “Put these with the rest of our supply. I’m going to have to find a new apprentice to take with me.” Her words were gruff. The echo of difficult times slithered from the tall grass of her mind, baiting Fawnpaw to step within its range to strike. With her brother’s name in the conversation, she felt a cold stone drop in her stomach,  

    “What happened to Runningpaw?” Dappleheart mewed in worry once the horsetail had been placed in one of her piles.

    “Blazingbird said he fell out of a tree,” Mapleflower shook her head. “He’s lucky it wasn’t a break. We can hardly waste the herbs.” The comment made Fawnpaw look away when the medicine cat immediately went to the main herb store and pawed through its contents with a dissatisfied noise. She was clawing into the same place where Dappleheart had retrieved Mottlepaw’s herbs. The thyme she inspected in her upturned pad was dry and nearly falling apart. “I’ll need to get more of this too…”

    “Fawnpaw suggested Volepaw earlier-” Dappleheart tried to offer, only to be cut off by her mentor.

    “We’re not taking Volepaw, he’ll get us killed,” Mapleflower said harshly, whipping towards the brown and white apprentice and dropping the herbs altogether. “What do you know about our journey to the Cave? Has Mudpetal even taken you out of camp yet?” Fawnpaw’s ears went flat to her head at the unpleasant sheen in her scrutiny. Why did she have to bring up her mother in that tone? Her tail wrapped protectively over her paws. She didn’t know if Mapleflower actually wanted a response, so she just stared quietly back up at her. The marking around the medicine cat’s muzzle curled into a smirk for just a moment. Fawnpaw felt an unbearable heat rise to her face.

    “What about Plumpaw, then?” She blurted out. Heat sparked in the yellow eyes bearing her down. Teeth bared, the calico she-cat took in a sharp breath and leaned forward as if she was going to tear into her, reminding Fawnpaw of a great owl spreading its wings. Dappleheart wasted not one more breath before she stepped between them. The large she-cat blocked Fawnpaw’s view of Mapleflower, until she sat back down with her tail resting in front of the apprentice. Her suggestion had been completely on impulse this time around, thoughts of her friend apparently still flickering in her flustered mind. Dappleheart’s pushy interjection took some of the pressure off her. As long as Mapleflower wasn’t staring at her in the way she did, there was still a chance to recover her nerves. Though, the she-cat’s orange and white face wasn’t obscured for long as her apprentice’s posture once again relented to her respected mentor.

    “He’s a great choice! Maybe it is better we take an experienced apprentice this time around.” As quickly as it had come, the fire in Mapleflower’s eyes was gone, and she let out an exasperated sigh. Fawnpaw caught a glimpse of dullness replacing their intensity when she turned away, shouldering past Dappleheart to the herb store. Fawnpaw’s throat felt tight.

    “It’s going to be a long journey,” Was all that Mapleflower offered in reply, before her attention was back on her current task. Speaking without looking at them, the terseness in her voice was authoritative. “Now, unless you have any more helpful suggestions, I’m going to deal with this while we still have some daylight left. Dappleheart, bring that dried thyme and come with me. It’s about time Fawnpaw went back to the nursery.”

    Her words were biting enough to make Fawnpaw stare at the ground, imagining the sheer stones under her paws were pure white and she was in the moon’s territory instead. The surety of her mentor’s command left Dappleheart floundering to mediate the older cat’s callousness. Dappleheart was left instead to awkwardly sit amongst her herbs while Mapleflower got whatever else she needed. With a practiced skill even faster than Fawnpaw had seen before from Dappleheart, Mapleflower plucked several ivy leaves from a shelf along the opposite cave wall, and laid them flat next to her. Each one was swiftly filled identically with leaves that were clustered with tooth-like edges, topped with small yellow and white flowers. Her paws followed an effortless rhythm - folding each leaf into itself twice, and then flipping them over to keep them secure. From behind, Fawnpaw stole a look at the medicine cat, and saw twigs and dead leaves from the undergrowth stuck to her hindquarters and tail; she had come straight from the forest, preoccupied and unthinking to clean herself up.

    When the leaf wraps were ready, Mapleflower emerged with a mouthful of spine-like green stalks, adorned with a dried poppy head which she balanced gingerly between her teeth. She didn’t set them down to say anything else, only looking tiredly at the pair of younger cats before her. The fierce she-cat was only as old as Fawnpaw’s mother, yet seemed so much more weathered when her gaze bore down into the young apprentice. 

    Her message to Dappleheart needed no more words, anyway. When her tail tip disappeared through the curtain of vines, Dappleheart let out a breath. Although the spotted she-cat was polite enough to not run off without her, it was still clear to Fawnpaw that she was being prompted to take her leave. She scooped up the ragged thyme into one of the leaves Mottlepaw had not torn apart, but spoke before she carried the herbs out after her mentor.

    “Remember - all apprentices get their turn!” Dappleheart blinked hopefully back at Fawnpaw as she added, “Think about what we talked about earlier, too. Mapleflower will learn from you, just as you should from her.” Kind in intention as they were, her words didn’t help the way Mapleflower had made Fawnpaw feel. Numbness tingled in her paws as she followed Dappleheart with her tail drooped and dragging along the softly sprouting ferns of the cave. She was always the last one in and out of the den, it seemed. Forest-tinted light engulfed her view, replacing the dim cave, and Dappleheart’s spotted pelt only shone a greater shade of gold. In the sun, the intricacy of her dark markings were striking in contrast to the soft white of her muzzle and paws. One last touch of her tail to Fawnpaw’s flank was her goodbye. All around her, the forest continued chirping and crackling with life and activity, but she still felt it was too quiet without another cat beside her.

    The short trek through the forest back to the cave did little to raise her spirits, even when she passed Marigoldtail and her kits playing out in the sunshine. Rosekit and Pinekit bumped around her paws, spouting their ambitions and teasing each other. She purred at them, but the sight of the good-humored white and orange queen rolling in the grass with her litter made Fawnpaw’s thoughts spiral further. Mapleflower and Marigoldtail looked so much alike with their orange-and-black speckled white pelts; both were her kin. And yet still, she couldn’t please the reserved medicine cat who had also saved her during her delicate kithood. Did she stop caring, or did she never care in the first place? The thought so thoroughly sapped any good mood she had left that she missed a sparrow swooping through the rustling leaves around her and into the grass where she had paused without realizing. Its brown and white little body rustled in its feathers as it ate an unlucky worm with a satisfied toss of its dark brown head back. Frozen, she watched it seemingly gloat, unaware, in its catch.

    For several moments, Fawnpaw watched the sparrow and held her breath. How could she approach it without rustling the leaves and clumps of clover and grass around her paws? Would the bird fit between her tiny paws, or slip through and fly away? For almost half a moon, she had asked Runningpaw to show her his crouch-and-leap, but the time never came around. Now, with the impulsivity of her short talk with Mapleflower fresh in mind, it left her hesitant and timid. And in just the second that she lifted a paw to get closer, it flitted off in a streak of oak and white colored feathers.

    Just as Dappleheart advised, Fawnpaw tried to replace her mishap of a hunt with what they had discussed. Everyone relies on each other, in the clan and as clans together. She traced a different path that wound away from the medicine cat den, feeling the thick forest floor give way to a steep shelf of sandy earth where a riverbed once held a stream. Slipping into it, she kept going without truly feeling her paws. They ached, but that was nothing new. The greater river gurgled along nearby, unaware that one of its ghostly limbs was her way home. Her thoughts and stomach churned with thought like its bulging water. Every link in the clan is important, even if their role seems small or they can’t hunt like other cats. She stuck to the riverbed until it tapered off to a wider dip where both edges met a side of the cave that any cat might miss under the tall weeds and shrubs that had grown there since the water shrunk. 

    Fawnpaw eased herself under the gap in the rock, and found herself once more in the lower half of camp. This was the closest entrance from the forest to the nursery; it was the gentle white smudge along the eastern cave wall, inviting her to follow its sloping cave back to her mother. However, she lingered a little ways away from where she had come, at the shelf that marked the apprentice burrow. On the surface it was only a tunnel inside of an already winding cave, but patches of flowers and muddy pawprints leading inwards made it feel personal, lived in. Even more, she could hear voices, and wondered which apprentices were there. She thought of Runningpaw with his sprained leg wrapped in rush to keep it straight, with Brindlepaw or Mistypaw comforting him with teasing and balls of moss. Plumpaw could already be back at the medicine cats’ den, forcing down travelling herbs for the long journey to the Cave.

    She jolted with realization. If Mapleflower did go with her spur of the moment suggestion, Plumpaw would have to wait for his warrior assessment. He would be across a stretch of land immeasurable to her. Would Applestar go ahead with the assessment and name Mistypaw before her brother even returned with the medicine cats? Guilt ate at her as she stared down at the apprentice’s den. She had to face away, resigning herself to her nest for the rest of the night until her instincts as a sister called to her again. The grit of the cave gave way under her paws to petal-dusted marble. Within a few fox lengths, she shifted left past Marigoldtail’s empty nest, and found the hollowed cove where Mudpetal was weaving a few strands of honeysuckle onto a lengthy bramble. Each sharp thorn held a blossom in its grasp.

    “Welcome back, sweetheart.” Mudpetal crooned when she saw Fawnpaw’s return, her eyes twinkling with love like tansies soaking up greenleaf sun. Fawnpaw’s heart ached with affection, and she touched her nose to her mother’s. While she fielded questions about her day, the static feeling crept back into her periphery; it reminded her of its presence starting with a throb in her hind legs, which only escalated when Mudpetal invited Fawnpaw to weave alongside her. As she stood, one paw buckled suddenly beneath her, causing the bramble to fall over and scatter some unsecured vines. Mudpetal helped her up, and nosed at her thin legs.

    “It’s time to do some stretches, I think.” Her mother meowed, and Fawnpaw obediently stood up once again. She hid the quiver of the one paw stinging by shifting her body away from the tortoiseshell. Mudpetal began to brush the mess of bramble and honeysuckle aside, also clearing bits of fern to make solid room for the pair to train. Their den was a sizable one in the nursery, a deep crater in the marble cave that looked out over a part of the greater structure below - but it still felt cramped to train in at times, most often near the end when she was pushed to her limits. After a short period to recover from the brief shock in her paw, Fawnpaw stood at the ready.

    “Keep your front paws steady, and then pull your left back foot forward.” Mudpetal instructed concisely, reminding Fawnpaw that she was still her mentor just as well as she was her mother. She unsheathed her claws and held to the soft marble as she lifted a back paw off the ground. Without any struggle to keep it there, Fawnpaw’s pale yellow eyes craned at the thick-furred tortoiseshell watching her. “Now, the other one.”

    Fawnpaw nodded and switched paws.

    “Lift it higher and hold it, while crouching on your other paw,” Mudpetal meowed, beginning to lightly test her apprentice’s boundaries. Again, Fawnpaw followed her instructions and bent her opposite knee. Immediately, she felt the strain as her front paws carried the tension of her supporting leg. She waited for her next move, but Mudpetal just waited and watched her. The time stretched on, and in what was only a few minutes, her stance had begun shaking.

    “What about the other one?” She hiccuped in her heavy breathing.

    “We’ll get there, my sweet,” Mudpetal reassured her with one lick to her cheek. She soon sat back a few tail lengths away, with gentle determination in her expression. The pain of supporting herself on one back leg only grew as more minutes passed, and Mudpetal introduced straightening and bending the leg in addition to holding the other up higher and higher. It was a merciful command to switch paws, and Fawnpaw blearily pushed herself to follow it. They continued like that for a while, engaging different parts of her lower body until her mouth fell open in a pant.

    “You’ve improved since you last did that one.” Fawnpaw’s ears shot forward, momentarily dissolving her body’s burning strain as she recognized the voice. Foxburrow’s scent filled the nursery, bringing with it heavy notes of the forest, earthy and sunbaked on his wavy fur. Restraining herself, all Fawnpaw did was raise her tail stock-straight and kinked at the tip of her tail. Mottlepaw would have barreled towards him; the smaller cat wanted to make her father proud of her for staying focused on her training. After all, this was part of it, and she knew it was important, even if her older siblings didn’t have to work so hard to keep their muscles strong. Knowing that her father was also spectating her progress was an extra wind under her wings.

    For a long while longer, Mudpetal continued to coach her through the stretches, until at the conclusion of a particularly grueling exercise of pressing her back propped to the wall and lifting her legs up, she finally gave her apprentice the okay to stop. Promptly, Fawnpaw collapsed on the floor of the den.

    “You get better every day,” Mudpetal murmured into her ear fluff as Fawnpaw sprawled along the floor, enjoying its cool touch on her heated fur. She hardly processed the words in her tiredness, or her father joining and nuzzling the back of her neck, but gave her parents a stuttering purr. She just laid there for a time, shutting her eyes and getting her breath back. Mudpetal’s tongue rasped over her ears.

    At some point, Foxburrow’s dark paw pushed a fat shrew towards her, and her mouth watered. She hadn’t eaten since that morning before her nap.

    “Eat up, Fawnpaw. You’ve earned it.” Her father’s airy meow made her quiver in happiness at the combined praise. She worked at the shrew in small bites at a time, savoring the taste until she couldn’t take it and wolfed down the last few morsels with a lick of her lips. Foxburrow and Mudpetal had settled together, sharing a rabbit.

    “Nobody catches them like you.” Mudpetal purred into her mate’s neck, also swiping her tongue over her jaws. Having finished his half, Foxburrow drew a paw over his prominent white whiskers.

    “I do what I can,” He said confidently.

    “And nobody does what you can,” Mudpetal reiterated with a hum. “You trained Gorsewind well, though. She brings me ones almost as juicy as this.”

    At the mention of his recently named apprentice, Fawnpaw saw her father’s eyes shine with pride and amusement. “You’re definitely right, there. She’s faster with one eye than I ever was at her age, or with two.”

    Mudpetal nodded, “She’s exceptional, even after everything she’s been through. What an awful day when she finally told you…”

    Foxburrow’s eyes briefly averted from his mate, as he seemed to recall the same memory as Mudpetal. “It was bleak,” He admitted, adjusting the moss in her nest. “We’re lucky to have your sister and Dappleheart. I wasn’t giving up, but without their healing, it would have been a steep hill for her.”

    At the mention of the medicine cats, Fawnpaw remained quiet and listening with her eyes shut, and her head resting on her small white paws. Her parents went on like that, reminiscing and talking, until Foxburrow had to slip away to check on his other kits. She hardly noticed when he was gone, as gentle waves of sleep rushed over her like the orange light of the setting sun.

                                                         ***

    When Fawnpaw awoke again, she didn’t know how much time had passed. The space around her was completely dark, and Mudpetal slept beside her, paws twitching in her dreaming. Foxburrow had also returned at some point in, and was a lithe shape entwined with Mudpetal’s large frame. His sleeping head rested on her back, with his large ears poking up as black points rising from his mate’s flank. The gentle snoring of her father in the den could normally lull her back to sleep when he joined them, but tonight that sound nagged at her sensitive ears. 

    No moonlight filtered in through the mouth of the den, leaving her senses unoccupied yet on alert. Her shadowed vision crawling with memories of the day; of Plumpaw’s tail disappearing into the forest, and the way Brindlepaw ducked her head to avoid her younger sisters. Mapleflower’s eyes shimmering like a yellow moon cast their own light in her mind, to a chorus of powerful elders unamused by her presence in their court. Truly, the real moon above held only a bare sliver of light as it faded into its darkest face. It would give the medicine cats of all five clans the cover of darkness that they would need to see silverpelt 

    She pawed at a catkin sticking up from the nest. Her front paws itched with urgency, and yet her hind legs trembled at the thought of going back outside of the nursery. Stretching them for her training session with Mudpetal had drained the last little droplet of strength that she had. Sleep continued to evade her despite her exhaustion. With a small flip, Fawnpaw curled back against Mudpetal, who didn’t stir at her daughter’s tossing and turning.

    There she stayed for what felt like a long time. She wished that the moon was full enough to call her out of the nursery. With its light, she would walk to the edge of camp, feeling strong as it pulled her. Where the edge of the gorge met the forest completely, Fawnpaw would angle her ears to the night birds above. As it was, the nursery was too deep underneath stone to carry the forest sounds to her worried mind.

    Even birds have to sleep, came a small voice in the back of her mind, sweet and unlike her spiraling thoughts. Fawnpaw leaned into the rise and fall of Mudpetal’s flank and closed her eyes, picturing a sparrow sleeping nestled on a softly rustling branch.

[incorrect-the-foxhole-court]

Northern Road Trip

This is my piece for the AFTG Gift exchange! I went for Andriel coz im a complete Andriel junkie, but i couldnt resist a little Renison on the side XD

This is for @andthenthefirenationattacked​ - I hope you like it! I’m sorry it’s not very good but I tried! (And if you wanna talk or fangirl about aftg at any point, i’m definitely around for that!)

Neil couldn’t remember a time he had felt this safe. Which, he had to admit, made no sense considering his current situation. Despite having family in England, an uncle who had once saved his life, the UK had never been a place that had screamed safety. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of an endless stretch of rolling green hills that looked like they had been taken from one of Matt’s fantasy novels, and he felt…safe. It was as much a disquieting feeling as hope had once been.

The sky was a bright, forget-me-not blue that, after only five days in the country, he already knew was a rare blessing. Fluffy white clouds scudded across the sky, and the relief that they weren’t even a little grey had been unexpectedly strong when they had woken up this morning. Two cars idled behind him, the engines rumbling softly, and those inside were already betting on the upcoming games outcome and snacking on junk food that Kevin had already tried to throw out four times over.

Neil sucked in a deep breath, feeling the cold air settle in his lungs like shards of ice. Beautiful, this country, but cold. And wet. This was the first day they had been there that it hadn’t rained.

He could hear his old team behind him, laughing and joking, teasing Andrew for their stopping. It hadn’t been Andrew that had wanted to stop, but the goalie knew Neil too well now – had feigned car sickness to cover Neil’s need to see something. To see something other than exy courts and press rooms from the place his mother had come from. The woman had been cold and cruel and protective and beautiful, and standing there now, in the place she had always talked about, in Rivington, he could understand. The people he had met from around here felt like they had been born from the place itself. He could almost feel his mother in the wind’s cold fingers as it raked through his hair and cut straight through his winter coat to chill the blood in his veins.

“Neil! Come on! Andrew says he’s okay to keep going now,” Matt shouted, a grin on his face that was far too smug and pleased to merely be teasing.

Dan smacked him in the ribs as she disappeared around the other side of their hire car and slid into the driver’s seat. And then smacked the wheel in frustration, got out and went round to the passenger side door, grumbling about stupid English cars. Neil tuned out Matt and Allison’s teasing, both of them needling Dan about still not being used to which side of the car to get in, and turned to the other car. Renee smiled at Andrew before going to join the others.

Neil slid into the backseat next to Andrew, Aaron on the goalie’s other side, Kevin up front and Nicky driving. Within thirty minutes of driving, Andrew was asleep, head tipped back against the back of the seat – Neil wasn’t surprised, Andrew had barely slept since the flight, as though he was more scared than Neil that some relative would show up at their hotel. It wasn’t a secret they were in the UK; the whole world had known this is where they would be. The press had been covering the US exy team’s trip to the UK in excruciating detail for weeks. They had already had their games in Glasgow and London, and tomorrow, the last game of Us vs. UK, would take place in Manchester. London had been an easy win for the US Court, Andrew had barely bothered to try. Glasgow had been significantly more difficult. It had taken bribing Andrew to lock down the goal for them to come close to winning – even then it hadn’t been enough; they’d lost by two points.

Tomorrow’s game would decide who would face the Chinese team. And the old team from Palmetto State had come out to show their support as Kevin, Andrew and Neil, played their last UK game of the season, fighting to advance closer to the title of ‘Exy International Champions’. Kevin had been training and planning nonstop. It had taken Andrew’s knives to convince him to have this day off.

“Erm…Neil…?” Nicky asked, voice tight. Neil dragged his eyes away from staring out the window as the North sped by, and met Nicky’s worried eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Satnav is freaking out.”

“Get Andrew to fix it,” Aaron grunted, “he’s the tech wonder boy.”

“Waking Andrew up in a car has never been a good idea,” Nicky warned, no doubt thinking of that time all those years ago.

Neil could feel Aaron’s smirk as the man reached over and tapped his twin on the shoulder closest to Neil. From habit, Neil’s hand was out waiting as Andrew jolted from sleep, one hand instinctively reaching out. Their fingers twined together and held on tight. No elbow in the stomach, no fists flying, not anymore – they had been sleeping in the same bed now for nearly two years; Andrew was too used to being woken by Neil’s nightmares to react violently. Now it was a grasping hand and white knuckled grip, each proving to the other that they are here – that they are safe. On Andrew’s other side, Aaron huffed in frustration and turned his attention back to the steady stream of messages between him and Katelyn.  

“Satnav isn’t working properly,” Neil explained quietly, and Andrew shook off his grip, leaning forward to take it from Kevin.

“Going old school,” Nicky muttered to himself. “Gonna have to use these damn stupid road signs.”

Neil didn’t bother to watch what Andrew was doing to fix the machine – he had learnt a long time ago that when Andrew couldn’t sleep, he and one of the cats curled up on the sofa with an instruction manual of some sort. Andrew couldn’t sleep most nights. By this point, Andrew’s eidetic memory had given him the ability to fix almost anything technological.

It took them another hour and a half to reach the Lake District. They were aiming for a shop that the Northern players on the UK team hadn’t stopped raving about since the team meets had started. By the time they finally arrived, it was raining again.

They parked in a garden centre opposite a tiny little place called ‘The Grasmere Gingerbread Shop’ and stared out through rain-streaked windows. Nicky’s phone started ringing. He took the sat nav out of its holder, tossed it onto Kevin’s lap before balancing his phone in the slot instead. Allison’s face appeared on the screen, and then the rest of the others.

“So, how do we decide who goes out into the rain to get the damn gingerbread we drove for two hours to come and try?” Allison asked and Renee, in the driver’s seat beside her, tucked a few stray blonde curls behind her ear, dragging a smile from the otherwise annoyed face.

“Flip for it?” Nicky suggested.

Matt lost to Renee. Dan lost to Matt. Allison rolled her eyes and picked at a perfectly manicured nail, but called heads when she went up against Dan, only to lose. Storm clouds gathered on her face as she waited for the other car to decide who would flip against her.

Aaron called heads, Allison, tails. Aaron won.

Neil hadn’t heard swearing like that for a long time. He couldn’t help but smile. He had missed them all. He loved being on Court and he loved his team and exy, and playing with Andrew and Kevin, but he had missed being a fox.

Renee went with Allison, smiling as the blonde tried and failed to hide under the trees from the rain. Neil could hear through the cracked window Andrew was smoking through as Allison cursed everyone and everything for her having forgotten an umbrella. Renee just laughed and tugged her in for a kiss. Neil smiled again; it had taken them a long time to realise just how meant for each other they were – but now? Together? They were a sight for sore eyes.

Andrew blew another cloud of smoke past Neil’s face. He couldn’t help the deep inhale as the smoke curled past his nose. Andrew watched, utterly unimpressed – but Neil could read the affection in the stare. Smoke was no longer the reminder of his mother, of the fire, of how it had smelled when her body had burned. Now it was Andrew, it was nights on the roof, the bite of his key in his palm, the feel of a thundering heartbeat beneath his fingertips. Andrew’s knee nudged his, and Neil smiled again.

Allison and Renee got back in the car behind and they drove to Windemere, where they had booked out all the rooms in a little bed and breakfast. The man at the desk was the most English person Neil had ever met. He was the embodiment of every single English stereotype, and Neil couldn’t get away fast enough.

Their rooms were all on the second floor, Dan and Matt disappeared into one room, Allison and Renee into another, Aaron claimed his own room, as did Kevin and Nicky. Nicky was already face timing with Eric before his bedroom door closed. And despite Allison’s usual warning of ‘keep it down’, there were delighted giggles and moans coming from her and Renee’s room.

Neil shook his head, smiling, and followed after Andrew into their room. Andrew was already lighting up next to the window, so Neil dropped the bag by the bottom of the bed and slumped onto the mattress, stripping off his black armbands and dumping them over the edge. He heard Andrew shut the window and the bed dip as he settled nearby. Neil reached a hand up, and Andrew’s fingertips trailed over his bare arms, dipping over every scar and mark.

Neil closed his eyes, even now, years later, most touches on those scars brought back the car lighter, the knife, his father’s axe…

But then Andrew’s lips began tracing every raised bump, slowly washing away the memories one by one, until there was nothing left but the two of them, Andrew’s hands under Neil’s shirt, Andrew’s lips pressed hard to Neil’s, and Neil’s fingers tight in Andrew’s hair.

He didn’t realise how much he needed it until Andrew tugged his t-shirt over his head and slowly but steadily began taking him apart. Neil couldn’t stop the moan that Andrew dragged from deep in his throat as Andrew pushed him harder and faster until Neil’s breathing became ragged and Andrew leaned up to press their lips together as though he could swallow Neil’s hard groans when he fell over the edge. He lay limp and sweating, breathing hard, with Andrew beside him, the man’s expression open and soft in a way he had only seen four times so far.

Neil reached out, “Yes or no?”

Andrew didn’t reply, just pressed his cheek into Neil’s palm and closed his eyes as Neil’s fingers played with the tiny hairs at the nape of Andrew’s neck. He wanted to say something, anything to remind Andrew just how amazing he was – how he always knew what Neil needed, usually before Neil knew himself, how even though Neil had long since learned to stand alone, it felt safe knowing that Andrew was there for him if he needed to lean on someone. But he didn’t have the words.

And he didn’t find them fast enough before Nicky pounded on the bedroom door.

“Come on, lovebirds, Allison ruined her hair to get this gingerbread, and Aaron and I went out for alcohol, come and have a drink and a snack like the old days. But put clothes on first!”

Andrew growled under his breath, but Neil smiled.

“When will he leave me alone?” Andrew said, shaking out his hand and pushing up to sit on the edge of the bed.

“He’s been in Germany with Eric for ten months. He can’t leave you any more alone.”

Andrew just stood and stared down at him a moment. “Come on junkie. Let’s go.”

Neil stood and went to the bathroom, cleaning himself up, before he joined Andrew at the now open door to the bedroom, stood in front of a very irate Kevin.

“We have a game tomorrow. Tomorrow. And they want us to drink and eat and party. Why did they come at all, they’re not playing,” Kevin said, face set; cold and hard.

“Tomorrow will be fine. We’ll win or we’ll lose, but it’ll be fine. Let’s go, it could be fun,” Neil said, shrugging. He’d never felt as safe as he was in that moment and he’d never seen Andrew as relaxed – that was all he needed. All he wanted.

They should take road trips more often.

“Three hundred and seventy-four percent,” Andrew murmured.

Neil didn’t bother to stop the smirk on his face.

----

That’s it! Again, I hope you liked it and I hope it was a good enough gift for you in the exchange! Have a wonderful day!

[yellowmagicalgirl]

All the ways we couldn't save you

Ladybug and Chat Noir defeat Hawk Moth and Mayura late on Friday night. On Monday morning, Mme. Bustier tells the class Adrien won't be coming to school anymore.

I don't consider myself to be in the Miraculous Ladybug fandom anymore, and I haven't watched most of seasons 2 and 3 nor do I have any desire to. However, I had this idea and I wanted to write it.

Timeline-wise, I guess this takes place sometime after Marinette becomes the Guardian? Though, the episode "Dark Owl" did not occur in order for this to properly work.

TRIGGER/SPOILER WARNING: This fic is about suicide. There is no happy ending.

AO3

FFN

Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Hawk Moth and Mayura late on Friday night. Ladybug had taken the Miraculous from the two unconscious adults, pocketing them to take back to the Miraculous Box when she and Chat were done. Chat had found rope, and he and Ladybug had tied up Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancouer. When the police arrived, the superheroes handed over the now ex-supervillains and re-entered the mansion, looking for any underlying threats.

"Should we wake him? Tell him?" Ladybug asked as they passed by the portrait of Adrien and his father.

"No," Chat said, eyes oddly downcast. "When Adrien wakes up, he's not... I don't think he's going to like having to live in the world he wakes up to. Let's not force him into it so soon."

Ladybug shivered as they made their way up to Hawk Moth's lair. Not because she felt cold, but something felt very wrong about this situation. She couldn't place why, though.

She shook her head, briefly. It must have been being so close to the Peacock Miraculous. That was what was setting her off. It had to be.

They found notes. Blueprints to a secret room. Ladybug pressed her lips together and glanced at her partner. She couldn't tell if it was the lighting or something else that made him seem so pale.

They found the coffin in an underground garden. There was something beautiful about it, in a horrifying way.

Adrien's mother looked so peaceful. She looked like might just be sleeping.

She wasn't breathing.

Chat Noir gasped. It was an ugly, wet, choking sound. "Why?"

"I don't know. Let's face it, Gabriel Agreste was an evil man. He kept his son locked up for years. Of course he'd keep his wife's corpse locked up, too."

"And not even tell his son."

After a minute of searching (and Chat staring at Emilie Agreste with an odd look on his face), Ladybug found the plugs to the life support. She wrapped her hand around one.

"What are you doing?" Chat asked her. He did not move.

"Chat, she's already dead."

"You don't know that."

Ladybug took out the butterfly miraculous, and pinned it to her suit. "Is she alive?" Ladybug asked, looking between the kwami and the woman in the coffin.

"No. Well, technically yes, but only because of life support. Her mind is gone," they said, shaking their head. "I already told Ma- Gabriel this before he even formed his first akuma, but he wouldn't listen."

"Is there a way we can bring her back?" Chat's voice was strained.

"That's why he wanted your miraculous," Nooroo said. "If you combine the Ladybug and Chat Noir miraculous together, you can grant a wish. But, that wish comes at a great cost. I tried to tell Gabriel this, too, but he wouldn't listen."

"What sort of cost?" Chat asked. Ladybug wrapped her fingers around the plug once more.

"A human life, and probably the one of someone he cared about," Nooroo said. Ladybug pulled the plug loose.

"What are you doing?" Chat turned to Ladybug, horror evident on his face. Ladybug continued pulling the plugs. "We're not the bad guys, Ladybug! We save people!"

"She's already gone. She's been dead for months," Ladybug said, dropping the last plug. "And sacrificing someone, anyone, isn't the right thing to do."

Chat stood rooted to the spot, eyes vacant.

"I'm going to go tell the police about her, so they can take her so she can finally get buried," Ladybug said. "Trust me, Chat, I didn't want to do this either."

"Go ahead." Chat's voice was flat.

Ladybug gave him a soft smile. "I'll meet up with you later. I'm glad this is over, but I'm also really tired."

"Yeah. I'm tired, too. It's over."

Marinette went to school on Monday morning, a smile on her face and a spring in her step. She had a box of celebratory cookies with her.

Hawk Moth and Mayura were gone, so she could be a normal girl with a normal life. She could go through school without worrying about having to miss class because of an akuma, or that her frustration with a failed quiz would lead to the downfall of Paris. In fact, she probably wouldn't fail as many quizzes, now, because now she could spend more time studying.

Adrien and Chloé weren't at school. Marinette frowned slightly as the minutes passed and neither of them walked into the classroom.

Mme. Bustier walked into the classroom, her arm around Sabrina's shoulders. Sabrina went to her seat, hugging herself. Sabrina seemed paler than normal, and her clothes seemed darker. Mme. Bustier's eyes were downcast, and her lips were pressed together. Her face looked slightly red.

"Adrien isn't going to be coming to class, anymore," she said. "Chloé will be... when she returns, don't press her about it. She's already not doing well."

"What? Why?" Alix asked. "Do the police think Adrien was working with his dad?"

"He did never get akumatized," Max said, and shrank down into his seat when the class turned to glare at him. "I'm not saying that he's at fault, I'm just saying it looks bad to an outside observer!"

Sabrina sank further into her seat.

"Okay, but didn't M. Agreste get akumatized himself? Into the Collector?" Alya said.

"Yeah, he did, Adrien was really torn up about it afterwards," Nino said, looking sadly at the empty seat.

"So the authorities shouldn't be blaming Adrien, then," Max said.

"Adrien isn't in any trouble," Mme. Bustier said. "He... Adrien was sick, and he succumbed to his illness on Saturday evening."

"Stop using euphemisms," Sabrina said. Her glare was so icy that it could've frozen the tears in her eyes. "Adrien killed himself."

On Monday night, Ladybug tried to call Chat Noir. She had given him space, because she had known he was mad at her, but she needed the one human who'd know why she felt so guilty.

He didn't respond.

On Tuesday, Marinette saw a tabloid wondering if Adrien's death was a cover up - if someone thought he was a threat. Thought that he would become the next Hawk Moth.

Marinette had never wanted to become Lady Noir again so badly as she did then, wanting to cataclysm the entire stand.

She called Chat Noir again that night. She still got no answer.

She didn't think he killed Adrien. If anything, Ladybug had killed Adrien.

Chloé came back to school on Wednesday, but it took Marinette a moment to recognize her.

Her long blonde hair was in a loose, low, lopsided ponytail. She didn't wear any of her usual eye makeup, and her foundation did little to disguise the redness around her eyes, the bags under them, and the paleness of her complexion. Her posture was hunched, like she was trying to make herself smaller. A plain golden ring was on her middle finger, but she wore no other jewelry.

Sabrina went to hug her.

"The funeral's on Saturday," Chloé said; her voice was soft and hoarse and didn't sound like her at all.

Throughout the lesson, Chloé stared at her ring with unfocused eyes.

On Friday, Mme. Bustier gave a lesson on mental health, and how to recognize signs of depression in someone else. It surprised her, that suddenly being happy after being sad for so long wasn't always a hopeful sign.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette saw Chloé flinch when their teacher mentioned that a suicidal person will give things important to them away.

Marinette didn't remember seeing most of these signs in Adrien. She remembered seeing some of them in Chat Noir.

Chat Noir still wasn't answering her calls.

It was a double funeral for both Emilie and Adrien. It made sense. Gabriel had not been allowed to go to his son's funeral, so the task fell to foreign relatives. It would be easier to bury both at the same time.

It was an open-coffin funeral. Emilie looked the same as she did when Ladybug had killed her.

Adrien looked so peaceful. He looked like might just be sleeping.

He wasn't breathing. If Marinette squinted the way she did when she used her lucky charm, she could almost see the signs underneath the mortician's makeup, showing where his neck had broken. They also hadn't covered up the tan line where Adrien's silver ring had been.

Chloé hugged Adrien's cousin, still wearing the gold ring she had worn to class.

Ladybug went out on patrol again on Sunday evening. She needed to clear her head so that all she would be able to think about would be way she had to swing in order to not fall.

She checked her yo-yo's map, to see where she was because she got too caught up. She saw an indicator to Chat Noir's location.

It was time to go find her partner.

The holder of the Cat Miraculous sat on a rooftop, knees curled to their chest. They stared at the Agreste mansion with unfocused eyes, specifically where Adrien's room had been.

They weren't Chat Noir.

She had long blonde hair was in a loose, low, lopsided ponytail, held by a dark green ribbon. Her torso, legs, and arms were coal-colored. Her collar, gloves, and thigh-high boots were the color of midnight, and all were at v-shaped angles. Her bell was on a dark green ribbon, and a dark green ribbon formed her tail as well. Her blue eyes had tears in them.

The Cat Miraculous holder looked up at Ladybug, and then back at Adrien's room. "I couldn't stop him." Her voice was soft and hoarse.

"Stop who?" Ladybug asked, sitting a few feet from the girl.

"The previous Chat. I couldn't stop him, and I should've known better. I should've known something was wrong. I should've known that something was wrong when he gave me a small jewelry box. Not that he had been Chat, of course, because it was a plain black box. But he wasn't wearing his ring when he gave me the box. I should've stayed with him."

"What happened to Chat?"

"It was all over the news."

"I didn't know his identity. He didn't know mine."

The girl's eyes narrowed as she glanced towards Ladybug. Her eyes unfocused again as she started staring at the Cat Miraculous.

"He hung himself. And his name was Adrien Agreste. And his body was still warm when I found him."

Ladybug hugged Chloé as she burst into tears.

Author's note: Here is how Chloe looks when she uses the cat miraculous.

[sage-druid]

A friendly grey wolf was spotted near your place Ms. Druid. Be sure to give it pets while walking past it. It likes pets and cuddles. -- Wolfie

Nature’s Soulmates

The silvery moon shone brightly in the vast sky.  Like a single cat’s-eye, it pulsed with a luminescence through a soft haze.  The thin layer of clouds partially obstructed its full view, like a sheer lace curtain on a breezy summer evening; graciously allowing for the forest to be fully aglow with a guiding light. As the crisp autumn air brought forth a hint of the impending chill that signified nature’s warning of the change of season, leaves began to crack and crumble with each deliberate step.

A magical feeling surged through the air.  And it was nights such as this, where our female druid felt most alive.  Each full harvest moon, she paid homage to Selene by taking the form of a large wolf as part of her Circle of the Moon ritual. Her long flowing coat was pale blue with highlights of teal.  While this was an unusual color for a natural wolf, it was the normal effect of the shapeshift that depicted her natural color as a genasi. Tonight, she frolicked in the dried leaves, ran full speed through the forest, and leaped over large rocks and dead tree stumps. After much consuming fun, nearly breathless, she stumbled upon a gently flowing brook and stopped to take a drink.  Something caused her to stop mid-lap. It was the sound of a plaintive wail, from off in the distance.

She quickly ventured towards the sound.  Through the dense foliage she saw it; it was a medium sized grey wolf. The wolf, whimpering in pain, was caught in a hunter’s trap.  The beast’s left front paw was stuck in the steel trap. The wolf licked its leg feverishly, and desperately tried to release the trap. To no avail, the wolf was in dire need of help.  Our druidess had a decision to make.  She knew, in wolf form, that she would not be able to spring the trap.  As large as she was, she did not have the strength in her lanky legs to apply the proper amount of force. By opposition, she realized that by dropping her wolf form, she would run the risk of frightening the wounded animal. She decided, she should approach as a familiar to try to gain the trust of the wolf before dropping form and freeing it. This was going to take some finesse.

Cautiously she approached with her head down to take a submissive stance. The grey beast bared its large fangs and growled. Lowering her head even further, she crept forward slowly.  When she was a meter away, she dropped and laid prone on the ground. This act seemed to have pacified the wolf. It leaned forward to gather the scent of the druid but stopped suddenly as it was perplexed by the lack of a recognizable smell. This wolf did not smell like other beasts in the forest. Something was not right. Still, the larger wolf was down, showing no threat, and the wounded wolf was in such pain that its sole focus was removing itself from the predicament.

She felt that she should at least attempt to spring the trap while in her current state.  Without making eye contact, she stood up and placed her large paw on the release lever; nothing, it would not budge. The grey wolf somehow sensed what the blue wolf was trying to do and did not attack.  In fact, it joined in the pursuit and took its free paw and applied it on top of the larger paw to apply more pressure. The joint effort was futile.  Even with the combined strength of both, the lever would not release.  At this point, the druidess became extremely frustrated and began jumping up and down with both paws falling on the lever. She was pouncing and jumping; trying in vain the release the trap.  The grey wolf howled in agony, because the missed attempts were jostling the trap and causing it to dig further into the wolf’s leg.  Seeing the misfortune that she was causing; she abruptly stopped and snorted a gruff pant in defeat.

She had no choice. There was only one option.  She had to drop form, because in this state she did not possess the strength; nor could she cast any magic. She retreated two meters, looked the wolf in the eyes, and dropped form. She stood before the wounded wolf in all her glorious genasi form. She was three inches short of six feet. Her long teal locks cascaded down her back, which complimented the tone of her pale blue skin. Her markings glowed white in the full moonlight; while her piercing blue eyes sparkled as she stared cautiously at the wolf. Oddly, while startled, the wolf made no aggressive movements. She carefully reached out her hand as she gazed tenderly into the wolf’s tearful eyes.

 “Easy girl.  Easy now.  I am not going to hurt you.  Let me help you get out of this.  Okay? I am here to help.  Please don’t attack me.  Relax now.  It’s going to be okay.  Work with me here.”, she pleaded.

Cautiously she encroached closer as she looked deeply into the wolf’s eyes while she hummed a melodic tune lightly. Without the wolf noticing, she shortened the gap; until at long last, she was within the distance she needed. She promptly stepped on the release lever and reached down and carefully removed the broken paw from the trap. She placed both hands around the leg and muttered something in an ancient primordial language. A warm light engulfed the wound that brought an immediate sense of relief. She released her hold and disengaged.

 “There you go. That wasn’t so bad now, was it? See, that feels better, doesn’t it?  It’s going to take a while to fully heal, so go easy on it. Be well my friend. Okay, now off with you.  Head back to your pack. Go on now. Go on.”, she urged.

She waved her hands in a scooting motion. But the wolf was not retreating. At first, the druidess thought she might be in trouble.  Was the wolf going to attack?  She felt the best course of action was to back away slowly, while not breaking eye contact. When she had built up enough of a safe distance, she waved “goodbye” and turned around and walked away.  She continued to walk back to the stream where she was prior to the incident.  She had walked for about 15 minutes when she felt an odd sensation; like she was being watched. She turned around and noticed that the wolf was following along at a languid pace due to its limp.  She turned around and tried to shoo the wolf to go away again.

 “Hey now. I thought I told you to head back to your pack.  Why are you following me?  I’m not really a wolf, okay?  It’s just something I can do.  I mean, technically I can change into any animal I see, but some of them may scare you. I just can’t do it right now and show you.  Why am I trying to explain this to you?, she babbled.

You don’t even understand. Go now. LEAVE!”, she shouted as she stomped her foot on the ground hoping to scare the wolf into going on its way.

The wolf was not deterred and continued its awkwardly gradual pursuit as the druid continued to press forward until she reached the bank of the stream. She turned and looked over her shoulder and saw the wolf sitting as it awaited her next move.  She placed her feet into the cool water and smiled. Finally, she relented and patted the ground to motion for the wolf to join her.

 “Okay, silly, come on over.  I guess you are very thirsty, huh?  I might as well, clean and bandage that wound while I am at it.”, she grinned as she realized she had lost her heart a wolf.

The wolf strolled up next to her. Carefully, it leaned its head forward and began to drink its fill of the cold water.  The druidess tore off a strip of fabric from her royal blue cape.  She submerged it into the water and meticulously used it to clean the wound on the leg while it was engaged in quenching its thirst. When she cleared away all of the blood, she carefully wrapped the cloth around the leg to prevent infection and to offer a makeshift support brace.  

 She lightly joked, “See that. You are mine now. You are wearing my colors. I hope you like blue.”

Where’s your family, girl? Don’t you have anyone? I guess you are like me; all alone in this big world. Well you are more than welcome to accompany me if you want.  It would be nice to have some company.”, she muttered on as she sighed.

When the wolf finished drinking, it sat besides the druid on the bank and stared into her eyes.  She smiled and gently ran her fingers through the wolf’s fur.  The contented wolf appeared appreciative and nudged closer.  As she continued her soft petting, the wolf leaned forward and applied a huge slobbery lick to the druid’s face. The smiling druid threw her arms around the wolf and hugged tightly as she wiped the wolf saliva off her cheek by burying her face into the wolf’s pelt.  Exhausted by the ordeal, they both collapsed on the grass and nestled close to one another. As the druidess laid her head on the wolf’s stomach, they both drifted off into a deep and peaceful slumber under the starry night sky.

And hence, this is the story of how druids and wolves tamed each other and became companions.  To this day, they travel night and day throughout many lands interwoven in spirit through their devotion and loyalty for each other. Fiercely protective; creating a supernatural soul-bond that can never be broken for all of eternity.

[astudyingreer]

Marvin The Magnificent’s Psychic Services on 14th

Warnings: cult/supernatural themes.

---

Chase walked up to the door, and immediately felt like leaving.

True, he wasn’t one for believing in the supernatural. Well, he hadn’t used to be anyway. But the grimy psychic’s office he was standing in front of, with the flickering neon open sign and peeling advertisements for palm readings stuck to the window was a little outside of his comfort zone. The place smelled like incense and weed, and from the outside it looked like a haunted gas station. Marvin the Magnificent’s Psychic Services.

He tried the handle.

It was locked--which he hadn’t expected--but he could barely think of another idea before it was opened from the inside. Thrown open, really, and Chase blinked to take in the sight before him.

The psychic--Chase assumed--was a six foot bored-looking man with long brown hair and deep circles under his eyes. He wore a half buttoned dress shirt and sweatpants, all under a large black duster with more pockets than he could count. Tattoos of skulls, pentagrams, words that Chase didn’t understand, etc crawled from under his shirt up his neck. Jewelry hung from every limb, and Chase peeked a stained tarot card deck tucked into his breast pocket.

“You’re Chase Brody?” he asked with a tight smile.

“How--who are you supposed to be, Hozier?”

“Oh boy, a real live comedian! At my humble psychic office!” The man stepped aside to let Chase enter and he did--he wasn’t really sure why.

“I’m Marvin the Magnificent,” he introduced with about as much interest as someone taking a McDonalds order, and walked through the grubby waiting room toward a narrow hallway. Chase followed, his eyes flickering to dusty magazines, to the payphone on the hallway wall with all the wires ripped out, and then to the bathroom signs at the end of hallway with the Male/Female signs scribbled out and replaced with SHIT HERE in black marker. The whole place was dimly lit like a Supernatural season 1 episode.

The back room was about what Chase expected: a table at the center of the room with two chairs, and all four walls stacked high with shelves of spooky and occult objects. Dolls, shrines, incense burners, all surrounded by lit candles that flickered softly in the darkened room. The whole place had a vibe that Chase didn’t like at all, but he sat down anyway.

Marvin sat down across from him, smiling again as he scooted his chair up and folded his hands. Chase noticed the way that Marvin’s eyes seemed to light up like highway reflectors when they shifted in the dark light, almost like a cat’s. He was probably just seeing things.

“So. ‘Brody.’ Is that a family name?” the psychic started, taking out his tarot cards from his pocket and shuffling them absentmindedly. Chase noticed he was wearing fingerless gloves with eyes stitched into the palms. Those, of course, also looked ancient as hell.

“What?” Chase asked, still a little disoriented. “Aren’t all last names family names?”

“You got me there.” Marvin reached out, snapping his fingers over an unlit candle on the table. Chase watched as a small spark ignited it instantly, flashing blue for a faint second before burning down to a dull orange.

Wow. Okay, so it was going to be like that.

“Listen, I don’t really, um...” Chase shifted uncomfortably, looking around the room. “I’m still not sure I buy into this stuff... yet... I kind of just have this problem with a friend that I need some advice on.”

"Uh-huh,” Marvin mused, nodded slightly as he splayed out his tarot cards on the table. As Chase looked closer at them he noticed the stains on the edges weren’t dirt like he originally thought. They were definitely darker, and glinted scarlet-purple in the candlelight.

“Everyone has nightmares,” he continued, almost to himself, “but you don’t give a shit about yourself. That’s not very healthy.”

Chase’s eyes widened for just a moment as he registered the psychic’s words. “Excuse... what? I didn’t tell you I had nightmares.”

Marvin put a finger to his temple, eyebrows raising dramatically and mouth dropping to an O shape. “Or did you...?”

“Okay. Okay, well... yeah, I’m having nightmares. But they’re about my friend, because he’s been experiencing some stuff that I think might be like...” Chase shifted again. He had a weird feeling in his stomach. “Demonic possession, or something. I don’t know.”

Marvin scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Is that it? Demons are cucks, dude. They’re all cucks. Tell your friend to grow a pair and burn some sage.”

Chase chuckled nervously, fingers tapping on his leg just a little. “I don’t think that’s gonna fly with my friend.”

“Okay, well, what makes you think it’s a demon?” Marvin prodded. He was leaning forward now, his hands still automatically shuffling his cards with perfect muscle memory.

The question caught Chase off-guard just a little, and he shrugged. “Uh... well. He’s been, um, he’s been talking about nightmares and voices in his head. And then he... really hurt himself. Badly. Tried to, um...”

His voice broke a little at the end but Marvin seemed to get the point, nodding pensively as he ran his teeth over his lower lip. Then, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, he closed his eyes tight for a moment and began to mumble to himself. The candle in the middle of the room turned blue in an instant, burning taller in response. Cool.

Chase watched for about twenty seconds, eyebrows knitting in confusion, and was just about to ask what the fuck he was doing before his eyes opened again.

“Was he talking about circles?” Marvin asked suddenly.

“What?”

“The demon.”

“Oh. Uh... I mean, I’ve never talked to the demon,” Chase explained. “That’s my friend’s shit. He did mention something about hearing voices talking about like, time loops and shit?”

Wow, even saying it out loud seemed crazy. Chase felt a sudden burst of exhaustion and he ran his hands over his face with a long sigh. “I don’t know, dude. Part of me thinks that he needs help, you know? Like a doctor or something. He seems really stressed lately, but I just like, I know he isn’t crazy. He’s not crazy.”

“No, he’s not.” The look in Marvin’s sharp eyes had shifted dramatically--he seemed almost excited, but that couldn’t be right. “I’d like to talk to your friend.”

“He’s actually in a coma right now.”

“Not a problem.”

A short burst of laughter escaped Chase without thinking and he stood, shaking his head. “Okay, bro, I don’t really--I’m sorry, is this a pentagram drawn on the floor?”

Marvin glanced down, shrugging his shoulders a little. Halfheartedly he reached out to adjust the tablecloth as if to hide more of the pentagram painted onto the carpet beneath them. “Yeah that was--I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Okay, well, I don’t think it’s a good idea. No offense but I don’t really like, believe in a lot of this stuff.”

Marvin stood too, tucking his tarot cards back into the breast pocket of his duster. “You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t. You’ve run out of options. And also Karma is finally coming around.”

“What?”

Marvin stepped forward, gesturing vaguely as his eyes widened. “I’ve been hunting this demon thing you’re talking about. It’s really important that I go in there and get rid of him. I won’t even charge you, dude.”

Chase looked him up and down, uneasiness growing. “What are you going to do? Like, a ritual or...”

“Jack won’t feel a thing, I promise,” Marvin told him. His flippant attitude from before had almost completely vanished--there was actually a hint of real desperation. Frustration, almost. “But I can help him. Or at least start to.”

Chase stepped back without thinking. His heart skipped a beat. “How did you know his name was Jack?” he murmured. “Who are you?”

Marvin’s eyes shifted in the low candlelight as they narrowed. He suddenly seemed much more imposing than before, like there was more to his form just out of sight. It was a weird feeling.

“Do you want me to help him or not?” Marvin asked. “That’s why you came here.”

Chase hesitated. The psychic was right. He was out of options. Maybe it was the vibe of the place, or the tone of Marvin’s voice, but somehow he felt completely confident with what he said next.

“Okay. You can come tomorrow.”

[kittyeekcube]

orange, purple, turquoise, claret, emerald, honey, rust, amethyst, prussian blue, rose quartz!! I hope you have fun with these questions 🥰💐🧡

orange - if you could, would you change your eye color? why? to color, if so?

ahh i do like my eye color!! i feel like one of the things that hasn’t changed much about me is the expression in my eyes since the very beginning. my eyes remind me of who i am. i experience so much without even perceiving them and with my eyes closed as well so i enjoy them and tend to forget what they look like at the same time haha my reflection is always a surprise!! i always wonder what they look like to others when they look into my eyes. my eyes seem to be a mix of colors? somewhere around hazel blue and grey i believe? ahh all eyes colors are so beautiful though!! i especially love eyes in the sunlight!!oh how they shine and sparkle!! hmm if i were to change my eyes maybe for fun on occasion! hehei would like a special color that is warm and inviting so anyone that meets my gaze can feel a sense of calm. perhaps an escape for a moment in time.like a kind yellow or purple or silver. ooo periwinkle would be pretty!! it’s a color i could stare at for hours and one of the first colors that i remember!! i am very fond of periwinkle. yes i think if i had a choice my eyes would be periwinkle!!��for now i love my eyes the way they are!! your eyes are so lovable just the way they are!! 

purple - a poem you think describes your closest friend

i want to cook for you 

i want to bake for you

i want to cook homemade meals for you

and love with you

written by a wonderful poet hehe 😉🥰💐

turquoise - favorite sea animal?

ahh what a decision they are all so lovely aren’t they? so many sea animals and creatures!! hmmm let’s see what comes to mind? omg this is so hard ahhhhmy brain is so excited i can’t even ahh i think of sharks, whales, whale sharks, dolphins, otters, seals, sea lions, narwhals, manatees, sea turtles, lionfish, oarfish, manta ray, anemone ahh omg this might be more sea creature hahaahh i love so many ahh ok ok the sea is just too wonderful and all who inhabit the sea and around the sea!! i think i’ll go with jellyfish!! i really adore moon jellies!!

claret - do you play an instrument? do you want to learn to play any?

ahh i used to play piano and xylophone and would like to learn again in the future! i only know a little kalimba for fun at the moment! oh my gosh so many instruments. if my lungs were stronger a wind instrument would be fun like an oboe!! ahh a violin or a cello would be very nice!! i love string and percussion instruments like a harp!! omg i would love to play a harp!! i also really love dulcimers!! i thought of learning to play a dulcimer and/or a theremin for a possible future creative endeavor hint hint hehe so those two came to mind the most!! i would also be very happy to create my own sound effects some day!! i love and admire sound effects a lot and i think the process of sfx is very cool and how i could use every day objects and surfaces around me to create an array of sounds is very exciting!! hehe i yearn for the sound of footsteps 😭

emerald - if you had the option, would you choose to move and live in another country? which one?

i haven’t thought of living in another country very often actually but i have thought of visiting!! i was always happy with my familiar surroundings here or living in a similar environment that feels comfortable and good and i don’t have to look far for new and exciting adventures big and small!! hehe i remember wanted to study abroad when i was younger. the first few places that come to mind that i would like to visit is Japan, Switzerland and Norway so perhaps i would live there? when i think of living some place i envision a home that feels safe and warm and cozy and serene. a space for myself and to share with another like my cats and perhaps a partner or a friend if they wish hehenot too far away from my loved ones and if so i would happily travel to see them surrounded by nature and the seasons and good energy and good times. activities i enjoy and much to explore. enjoying all the small things in life.so regardless of where i am i would love that life very much!! also a train through the countryside and lots of tea and tiny treasures in life pretty please 🥺

honey - your thoughts on magic does it exist?

why yes of course!! i feel like i have experienced an array of magical times and moments throughout my lifetime here many things in life feel magic to methis world is very magical after all!! i believe in magic!! can’t you feel it? for example the lovely being who sent me these asks is brimming with magic 💐✨

rust - form of art you enjoy doing?

where do i begin? hehe ahh i love art sooo much!! i personally enjoy photography very much with photography it’s more like the art finds me more than i pursue art? i take photos very spontaneously when i feel the moment is right or when i stumble upon a photo i envision that is presented right in front of me like ah there you are!! more than setting ones up ahead of time but it can be fun to prepare for photos too. there’s so much art to admire and create!! i also feel drawn to miniatures, animation, stop motion animation, film, illustration, comics, needle felting, writing, music etc to name a few since there are so so many!! i love how endless and lively all forms of art are in this world.  perhaps my favorite art is life itself and the art of being myself and being able to share art with the world with another precious humanl would make me very happy ✨

amethyst - do you collect anything?

ah yes i do!! i collect vintage cat collectibles and mugs and animated films!! also any cat who steals my heart which is too many to count!! hehe so much of their love and memories of them as well as people and places and inanimate objects reside within myself. like a vast library stored in my very soul. ahh the scent of old books. how it tempts me. my soul would enjoy that fragrance hehe i also simply adore tea and treats ahh and i collect a lot of warmth and love hehe

prussian blue - what’s your first choice at a vending machine?

my first thought was cookies? haha i have never had cookies from a vending machine! when i was younger i would get chips or candy or soda! i feel like i spent way more time staring at what i could get in a vending machine than actually getting anything haha so by the time i could get something i would be on to my next stop!! if i did get anything from a vending machine it always felt like a treat the whole process of pushing buttons and waiting for the satisfying drop and even the frustrating wrinkled dollar bills were a good time hehe like everything inside was special even the most ordinary of snacks and drinks in the next vending machine i encounter kitkats are my first pick!! or tea!! hehe i would love to see what kinds of vending machines are out there like ones with special items?? like warm drinks!!  ahh vending machines are great fun hehe 

rose quartz - rings or necklaces

ahh that’s a hard one!! i don’t usually wear a lot of jewelry but i have grown to be more fond of rings lately! i like admiring them on my hands and the feeling of playing with them on my fingers and how they dance in the light so freely like they were meant to touch both skin and light warm and cold and in between i do have a necklace that is very very dear to me so i would choose my necklace over rings but i do enjoy wearing rings!! so many ways to express yourself hehe

ahhh thank you so much for all your asks!! i love receiving and answering asks from you!! hehe brings me great joy and you were the first one to send me asks!! 🥰 the magical asks that started it all ✨you know me i intend to write a simple response and end up with a novel 😂 i think this is a new record!! lol i hope you enjoy my very long and detailed answers and i did have a lot of fun with these!! sending you all my love and good energy!!  i love youu so much!! 🥺💐💞✨

[razorblade180]

Scrappy

[Lasting Embers universe]

Deep in the forest of of Menagerie an obstacle course as been set up for a group of individuals; all of them in black cammo pants and form fitting black t-shirts. Men and women crawling under wire, balance beams sprints, monkey bars, and worst of all a rope. This extended 75ft in the air with a bell that few can reach; including a sixteen year old white tiger faunus that was currently covered in mud.

Ilia:Come on rookie!!!!! You’re not even half way up there yet and I can tell you’re drenched and about to pass out. If you can’t do this then I don’t even know why you bothered showing up to boot camp!!!

Sienna:*inching up* Come on Sienna, you got this. So what if you’re tired? Doesn’t change the distance or the goal, just....keep....climbing.

Various recruits scream various things that are both positive and negative as instructed. Others toss small mud balls to add to the difficulty.

“You can do it!”

“Just fall already!!!!”

“Give it up runt! You’re the smallest here.”

“Show him what you’re made of!”

“Miner kid....”

That one caught her attention. She looked to her right to see a smug recruit on the ground staring at her with his red eyes. He was a stocky and in his early twenties. Brown hair and a scar across his face were all that really made him look interesting. Sienna would’ve gave him another one if she was allowed to.

Sienna:Of course Damon is trying to shoot me down. *climbs harder*

Damon:Aww don’t ignore me. Did I say something rude miner? That word should mean nothing to you right. *chucks mud ball*

Sienna:*blocks it* Fuck off......

Ilia:Language! You all might be thugs and mercenaries at heart but that doesn’t mean you get to act like it. Being apart of The Shadows means-

Recruits:Using ruthless lifestyle skills to uphold the honest living of others.

Ilia:I will give you all 50 more laps if you do that again.

Damon:That little mission statement is fine and all but does that even apply to kitty over here? Last time I checked this organization is supposed to have the most lethal people around and here we have a kid that doesn’t even a semblance. Can’t even smoke.

Sienna:Considering how my scores are better than yours, me not having a semblance should make you feel happy; it give you a chance to keep up with me. If breathing is still possible for you; might wanna quit while you can Mr. Mercenary.

Damon:*grits teeth*

Ilia:If you can talk then you can climb! Hurry up before I start chucking mud at you myself.

She did as she was told and picked up the pace as best as she could. Her arms felt like fire and the mud drying on her wasn’t helping. By the half way point things were slightly better; dodging mud was easier when none could travel that high up. Until one actually did make that far and landed right on her face; smacking her off the rope like if a baseball hit her.

Recruits:*catch her* Are you okay?

Sienna:Ow....what was up with the mu- *picks it up*

It’s as dense as a literal baseball and perfectly round for a moment before falling apart like normal mud. Her icy blue dart towards Damon as he tries not laugh; the recruits back up as they notice her pupils slowly get more cat like as they hear a low growl.

Damon:What’s wrong kitty cat? You seem a bit a bit ruffled. I’m just trying to bring out the best in you; a person with no semblance should work twice as hard to even get close enough to the same skill as someone who does. Think of it as real life experience.

Sienna:*gets up* The nurses will get real life experience stitching you up when I wrip out your-

Ilia:Enough! Both of you.

Sienna:Me!? But he’s the one who-

Ilia:Sienna, just walk away. I will handle this myself now go hit the showers.

Sienna:......*walks away frustrated*

Damon:That’s it? I expected more from you. I guess being oppressed and underground for so long made you used to being beneath others. Anyone else here would at least try putting me in my place. You however, I guess your just a runt after all. Bet your family pulled your weight in the mines.....

Sienna’s footsteps immediately stopped and pivoted around. Before Ilia could even register what was about to happen it was too late. The young Shadow in training was already passed her and swiping at the older man with close out and dangerously sharp. Each attack filled with rage as they failed to connect with her target that was reading her like a play book with ease. If she was thinking then it would’ve been clear a match with a seasoned mercenary wasn’t going to be some walk in the part. A quick jab to her nose and a foot ramming into her ribs made the message clear with obvious pain now shooting through her. His boots felt like straight steel.

Damon:Oh so you do have fighting spirit? Or at least try to that is....

Sienna:I’LL SHOW YOU FIGHTING SPIRIT!!!! *leaps at him*

Damon:*catches and throws her* Geez you’re like a rag doll. Light and totally flimsy. *puts boot on her* I’ll admit you have guts but that’s about all you-gah!!!!

Sienna:*clawing his leg* Do you ever shut up? Your voice is hurting my ears.

She manages to get her right leg in between both of his and wrap it around the punks leg from behind; her left leg does the same but wraps around the front of it like a vice. All of her wait is focused on driving her legs to the ground, causing the man to fall and put into a leg lock. Bone and muscle can be heard through the painful grunts from both fighters.

Sienna:I’ll break it, I swear I will.

Damon:*smiles* I believe you....

Suddenly the ground below them gets harder as he raises his pinned leg and slams it against the ground. Sienna’s head smacks the floor hard, everything gets blurry. Then everything got dark.....

[Oasis]

Jacquelyn:*watering flowers* hmmm hmm🎶

Jael:*running*Moooooom!

Jacquelyn:Hey there sweetheart *picks her up* why are you running? You know it’s dangerous for you.

Jael:Mom, I’m ten years old. I know my limits *pouts*

Jacquelyn:I know you’re upset right now but your pudgy cheeks are too adorable to take you seriously. *hugging her*

Jael:Agh, you’re squeezing too tight! I was running because you have a call!!!! *holds up scroll.* stop leaving your scroll around.

Jacquelyn:I got a call? That’s rare *answers* Hello, Jackie Frost speaking. Oh hi Ilia!!! How is training the-.....

Jael:???

Jacquelyn:SHE’S WHAT!?

[Infirmary]

Boot camp was a lot of things, unprepared wasn’t one of them. You don’t get together some of the most aggressive people the world has to offer without proper medical care. Breaking without consequences is another thing that isn’t tolerated as Sienna is learning. Only moments ago did she wake up to find herself with bandages around her head and in a hospital bed; also her left arm handcuffed to it. Everyone was about to be treated to a loud scream from the girl who wanted answers but thankfully Ilia walked in before Sienna got the chance.

Ilia:Well look who’s finally awake? The troublemaker herself.

Sienna:ME!? I- ow...*holds her head*

Ilia:Woah there...*leans her back* Try not to scream or move around idiot. Concussions don’t like those things.

Sienna:N...noted, damn that Damon. Slamming me into mud wasn’t good enough; he had to make it hard as stone. I wouldn’t be surprised if the fall off the rope caused this either.

Ilia:I hear you blaming Damon but yet not yourself. This could’ve been avoided if you walked away. He was already gonna be punished but you had to escalate the situation didn’t you?

Sienna:But-

Ilia:No buts Sienna!

Sienna:.......

Ilia:In a mission you are expected to follow orders to the letter without hesitation. No matter what he said about you, disobeying me was the wrong call. Again and again your temper clouds your judgement; can you guess how many times I’ve seen you get into a fight.

Sienna:.......are we counting my whole life or just boot camp?

Ilia:Sigh......I think I should opt you out of Shadow training.

Her blood went cold at those words. If it wasn’t for the concussion, Sienna would’ve been shaking her head in denial and protest.

Sienna:You....you can’t do that. I’ve passed all tests, making the grades, honing my skills, I-

Ilia:You are young and hot headed. Not to mention filled with so much potential to do anything with your life. Damon is right about you not being like everyone else. Yes you’ve seen the worst of what this world has to offer since you were six but only as a victim. These people are used to being the thieves, spies, and murderers. Hands like yours shouldn’t be tainted like that. Especially when your family-

Sienna:Foster family...... I love them but that title is very important to me; it separates the past from the present. Also, are you forgetting I already have one person’s blood on my hands? *stares at them*

Ilia:That was self defense.

Sienna:Don’t care, they’re dead and I have to live with it. Those mines.....those stupid isolation rooms and “treatment’ programs. *clenches teeth* No way I could just go live some ordinary life after that. I’m only alive because clung to it and killed the part of me that could’ve lived normally. Guess in that phrasing then it means I killed two people that day. If I become a Shadow then I can stop horrible people from causing pain before they get the chance. I can stop more people like me from being shaped by such trauma. So please.... *tears up* don’t take me out the program. It’s my dream.

Ilia:.....I-

“Let her stay”

Both of them look towards the door to see Adam standing there with his arms crossed and learning against the door frame. Instantly Sienna’s ears and head drop down in guilt; upset with herself for causing such a mess that the leader of the whole organization swooped by.

Ilia:Shouldn’t you be laying low and doing paperwork?

Adam:Everyone here is sworn to secrecy and it’s not like those papers are going anywhere. *walks forward* Sienna......

Sienna:*Looking away* Yes sir......?

Adam:What’s with the formalities? It’s just us in here. Let’s try this again *slowly turns her head* Sienna.....

Sienna:.....Yeah dad?

Adam:It’s starting to feel like we see each other during lectures than at dinner.

Sienna:Maybe because you’re not home half the time....

Adam:Fair point, but you get what I’m saying right? Take it from me, short tempers get you into nothing but trouble that could’ve avoided entirely.

Sienna:It’s just....all the things he kept saying I....I can’t stand being weak. I’m the youngest there, no semblance, and completely wet behind the ears like he said. Still, I hate how he looked down on me. I know my grades should speak for themselves but they don’t.

Adam:I see, respect is what you wanted. Validation of all the effort you’ve put in. Tell me, is something like that really worth it from someone like him? Not only is he also a recruit but his scores are lower than yours despite his advantages. Do you know why?

Sienna:I want it more than he does.

Adam:Precisely, in this world you got so far by having a hunger to keep going like no one else; it was press on or lay dead on the bloody floor. Not many can do what you did at such a young age. As far as I’m concerned he’s right about not being like the rest; you’re better.

Sienna:*red*.......

Adam:Not to mention you got a pretty big heart that genuinely wants to help the best way it knows how. As a parent the path you’ve chosen scares me, but as your future boss I hope when I’m long gone that someone like you can continue keeping things on the straight and narrow. Before all that though you still need to graduate. How will you do that?

Sienna:*takes a breath* Following orders.....and learning to keep calm like Ilia says. I’m sorry dad.

Adam:I’m not the one who needs an apology.

Sienna:Ilia, I’m sorry for being such a handful. May I please stay in the program?

Ilia:......You’ll be on leave for two weeks. Just enough time for all the work you’re gonna miss to be annoying; also enough time to put you through horrific drills after your head heals. But yes you can stay. One day for sure I’m gonna make a fine Shadow out of you.

Sienna:*smiles* There’s not a doubt in my mind you will ma’am!

Ilia:Ugh, I feel so old when you say that. By the way your punishment begins now; I called your mom.

Sienna:You did wha-

Jacquelyn:*runs through door* Sienna!!!! Oh thank goodness you’re okay and- *gasp* Is that my darling husband!?

Sienna:Wow mom, I feel the love and concern right now...

Jael:*runs in* Sissy!

Sienna:Hey there kiddo! Oh I’ve missed you while I was at camp.

Jael:*sits on bed* Well maybe if you wrote letters then you’d miss me less. You’re as bad as Father!

Adam:Ouch.....right here.

Jael:*smiles* I know, why is my sister handcuffed?

Sienna:Don’t worry about it. I was misbehaving and they had to.

Jael:Hmph! That’s dumb...

Jael grabs the chain and squeezes tight. Soon after, her hand glows and she snaps snaps it easily. Sienna is amazed every time she sees her little sister discover how to use her semblance. Gravity control is a very useful thing to have.

Jael:All better! Whoever did that to you has to face me!

Ilia:It was me you little rascal.

Jael:Aunt Ilia? Fine, I meant went I said! *puts fists up*

Sienna:Looks like I’m not the only one with fighting spirit.

Ilia:I hope she doesn’t have an explosive temper like her big sis. *smiles* the world isn’t ready for that.

Adam:I’ll say, me or the world isn’t ready for that force of nature yet.

Jael:Please, like I’ll ever be as hot head as you two. I’m as cool as they come.

[six years later, hospital]

Sienna:*watching over a comatose Adam* If you don’t head out soon you’ll miss your boat to Beacon.

Jael:I’m leaving now. *opens door*

Sienna:Jael......don’t do anything reckless you hear me? You’re as cool as they come remember?

Jael:.......I thought I was. *leaves*

Sienna:I don’t know if you can hear me dad but please watch over her. Guess I wasn’t a very good role model.

Nothing was said after that, it wasn’t like she expected a response anyway. She began to close her eyes and hold her hands together. Sienna was never one to pray often, but this was too important to take any chances with. Selling her own wouldn’t be a bad price to pay if she could.

Sienna:Please.....don’t let her end up like me or the rest of us. Keep her hands clean....

[redstreakfox]

Before the night ends, I want to give the wishings of a Merry Christmas to the Mao Mao fandom and especially to @fanfics-and-theories-and-stuff whom I had the pleasure of being their secret santa in the gift exchange. I apologize if this is getting to you past when it would be considered Christmas wherever you live. I’ve never written a story with someone else’s OC before but I hope I captured her well for you and I hope you really enjoy what I wrote! Also a shout out to @maomaosmother for hosting another wonderful event!

Prompt: The sheriff trio and OC Kaiya enjoy Christmas carols around the fire while it snows outside

If there was one word Mao could think of to summarize his emotions that morning, it would be ‘nervous.’

And why wouldn’t it be? It’s not as if this was a turn of events he could have predicted.

It was several months back when Mao had gotten a phone call from his older sister Minori, a groaning sound coming from her end before Mao Mao had even had the chance to offer her a hello. Their father, Shin Mao, was a man who viewed any amount of complaining as a sign of weakness, an inability to take control over one’s problems, and so the Mao siblings more often than not had to rely on each other for any form of support in regard to their more negative emotions.

At first it was merely a routine exchange, another chance for Minori to vent her frustrations over the difficulties in trying to maintain both her hero duties and her responsibilities as the owner of a local eatery she had established in a larger kingdom she had recently settled in (business was good, her souffles were still known as her specialty.) This time, however, his sister seemed more tense than usual. She was barreling through a rant over an incorrect utility bill she had received when she also mentioned finding a hand written letter in the mail from a ‘Kaiya,’ and Mao would have thought nothing of it had his sister not immediately tried to walk back her mentioning of it.

Naturally, he asked about it, and unexpectedly his sister tried to lie in response. It only took him asking one more time before she caved and told him more. None of the Mao siblings were good liars, after all, another trait they could thank Shin Mao for.

What he wasn’t expecting to be told, however, was that Kaiya was a younger sister who had been all but scrubbed out from the official familial records. Minori was light on the details, knowing very little herself. An incident involving a different clan, a promise their mother made that even Shin Mao refused to speak of. It was a lot for Mao Mao to process, even with so much of the necessary information still missing.

That’s why, just a few weeks later, he both was and wasn’t surprised to find his own mysterious letter mixed in with his regular assortment of mail. It was just as Minori had recounted, a handwritten letter from someone named ‘Kaiya’ with the intent to introduce themselves. The wording of the letter seemed earnest enough, and even if a small part of Mao wondered if this was some sort of trick, the larger part still felt a sense of obligation to respond back, especially if it was someone claiming to be related to him.

And for a while that’s how things went. A series of correspondences only carried out in letter form; attempts to know each other and share stories about what growing up was like for the both of them. It was on a whim, after running the idea by both Badgerclops and Adorabat first, that he decided to invite her to a small holiday get together at Sheriff HQ. It was going to be Mao’s first Christmas spent in Pure Heart Valley, and what better way to keep a night of firsts going than finally meeting Kaiya face to face?

As it turned out, things had a way of lining up for the better. Kaiya noted that she would have been passing through Pure Heart around that time anyway (something about a yearly caroling trip she made with friends during the winter season) and so she would be able to stay over for the day before leaving later that night to go singing out in the kingdom.

It wasn’t long before that day finally arrived. The trio spent all morning decorating their living room and tree, chopping wood, preparing holiday treats, and it wasn’t until later that afternoon, once the doorbell rang and Kaiya had stepped across the threshold into their home for the first time, that Mao found a new description for his suddenly changing disposition: cautiously hopeful.

At first, things were noticeably awkward. Small talk that seemed to go nowhere, a tour of their headquarters where one of the smoke bombs Adorabat had been presenting got accidentally set off, and even a moment where Mao began choking on one of the prepared snacks. The incident was relatively small and only lasted for a moment, but it was simply another item to add to the list of ways in which Mao thought the visit was turning into a disaster.

It wasn’t until later, when Kaiya was perusing over a bookshelf, did things seem to finally settle into a better direction. It was a photo album she had found, or at least it was an attempted one.

The Mao clan had never been necessarily considered affectionate with one another. All of Mao’s childhood had been dedicated to training (well, self-training) and his sisters were often too busy with their father’s hero regimen to spend any quality time with each other. Even holidays were considered less of a break and more so a day where the workload just simply wasn’t as heavy. And all of that reflected in the book she had found, where pictures of the Mao clan together were few and far between.

Even still, to Kaiya, it was much more than she had previously seen of them, having been raised outside of the family. And even with his own hang ups, Mao found himself more than willing to indulge her in her questions. Some came easier than others, obviously. Mao Mao’s voice finding a slight sense of warmth when the discussion managed to linger on the sibling side of things rather than the parental, and for her own part Kaiya seemed less inclined to want to discuss her parentage as well.

It was during a sudden lull in the conversation when the two cats finally noticed that they had lost track of time. The descending sun had given away fully to the darkness of night long ago while Badgerclops and Adorabat, who at first had been quietly listening to Mao discuss his family, had slipped away to play with the new toys the blue bat had received that morning.

Kaiya then began to move about at a tempered pace, she had plans to meet her caroling group in the kingdom’s central plaza and she was now behind schedule, but there was a part of her that hesitated at the idea of ending her visit so abruptly. Mao assured her that he understood, assuring her that there would be more chances to see each other in the future. Kaiya slipped on her coat over her long, light blue skirt and leggings and began walking with her brother to the door when they discovered that the weather had decided on other plans that evening.

A sudden chilling gale blew past the pair, and even with the door open just a crack a small pile of snow had managed to slide into Mao’s home from outside. It was a snowstorm, and any chance of leaving had now dropped down to near zero. With a growl, Mao called out to Badgerclops that it had been his job to periodically check up on the weather while the badger argued back that it was the cat’s job to make sure his sister was able to make her obligations on time. It wasn’t until Adorabat added her own voice into the mix, yelling about their yelling, that things went from bad to worse.

In an instant, as if the world itself had closed its eyes, their surroundings were suddenly cast into pitch darkness. There was no mistaking it, a power outage thanks to the raging storm.

There was confusion to begin with, Adorabat seeking out Mao Mao in the darkness while Badgerclops tried his best not to accidentally trip over anything. The black cat was about to call out to them and take charge when another voice cut through the darkness instead. Kaiya called out and asked Badgerclops if his arm could be used as a flashlight, the mustelid giving a sheepish chuckle in response as he joked about why he hadn’t already thought about doing that.

Once he produced a source of light, Kaiya began to divvy out tasks: Adorabat was to collect some of the leftover snacks and Mao Mao was to gather some of the wood that had been chopped that morning, all while Badgerclops used his light to help guide them. She gave them all a time limit of ten minutes before they were to reconvene in front of the fireplace. It was during his time finding the wood that Mao Mao couldn’t help but smile to himself about the situation; taking charge of the situation just as he was about to, maybe they were more alike as siblings than even he anticipated.

The sheriff trio arrived back at the empty fireplace before the ten minutes, the badger and cat already taking the initiative to place a few logs in hearth and to get a flame started in order to alleviate some of the ever creeping cold. It wasn’t until the very end of the allotted time that Kaiya made her way over to the roaring fire and joined them, pulling out from behind her an old broadcast radio she said she had noticed in the office room during the tour.

After tinkering around with the device for a moment they found that it already had batteries inside, most likely left in there by one of the previous sheriffs to whom it had belonged to. It took even longer to find a signal that was anything more than loud static, but once they found a channel that worked it brought a smile to each of their faces. Christmas music, carols, holiday tunes with sweet, merry voices that seemed to mix with the warmth of the fire and make it glow that much brighter and drown out the roaring of the snow outside.

They spent the rest of the night like this. Letting the yuletide songs carry their conversation as they happily shared the food Adorabat had brought, blankets cozily wrapped around them as every now and then they raised their own voices in song if they knew the words.

It was a couple of hours later when the last of them finally fell asleep nestled near the coaxing warmth of the fire. It was another hour still before the radio finally died, the only song left playing then being the soft crackle of the burning wood before them and the whispers of fresh snow falling just out beyond the window.

[thelionshoarde]

???????

because i am actually 100% an idiot, i’ve managed to fail at finishing ANYTHING for obiyukimadness because i started writing four fics for it plus got distracted writing other nonchallenge fic and everyone should know by now how crap i am at deadlines and focusing so while i have like 12k+ of prose by this point and copious amounts of delirious notes NOTHING TO ACTUALLY PUT UP FOR REALS.

so like here have these possible opening scenes instead???

FEATURING: that werewolf one, aka, wherein Hymn has been in the Teen Wolf fandom too long and it was only a matter of time before she attempted some fucked up loosely based version of that for FOUND FAMILY (warning, some violence and kidnapping and vulgar language, o my)

and ALSO FEATURING: what happens when Hymn reads a stupidly excellent YoI pokemon!au and CANNOT RESIST the siren call because she is a nerd, okay, a nerd, but also doesn’t actually care a lick about the one bed trope and got carried away instead with RIVALRY AS COURTSHIP (warning, excess of capitalization, o no)

and yes, you may expect excerpts from me tomorrow for the accidental soulbond and for undercover as lovers (which, as it so happens, will also include the “shut up kiss” if i ever finish writing it HAHAHAHA)

There was, of course, a fucking knife sticking out of his side.

Steel ground against the bone of his lowest rib, and with every breath the paper-thin edge slit his skin open anew. His flesh tried to heal as quickly as it was damaged, going sore and tender and almost puckered around it, as though his flesh would just grow up around the blade if only it could. (That had happened, once, sort of. A bullet had lodged itself just below his shoulder blade where he couldn’t quite reach to claw it out, and his body had decided to heal over the entrance wound before it had finished expelling it, and hadn’t that been a bloody wonderful Wednesday morning.)

“I feel like this is a little uncalled for,” Obi tried, keeping the strain out of his voice with practice, if not ease.

At the top of the spell -- taped onto the cement floor of the emptied warehouse with blue painter’s tape, which, really, Obi kind of appreciated that sort of forethought; easy enough to peel back off if the angle wasn’t quite right -- the witch narrowed his eyes at Obi, tilting his head in thought.

“No,” he decided, returning back to his spell book. “The unicorn hair rope might be a little overkill, I admit, but safety is very important. Uh. My safety, I mean. No reason to risk it, right?”

“Right,” breathed Obi. “Which, I mean: sure, I can see your point. But also: fuck you.”

The witch just shrugged his shoulders.

A little dizzy from blood loss, Obi swayed where he stood, the unicorn hair rope tight about his wrists and ankles, hobbling him. A thin line of mountain ash within the spell array surrounded him, and, honestly, Obi was tired enough that he just sort of leaned against it with his shoulder. The buzzing, invisible barrier rattled his teeth a little, but it was better than having to keep his knees locked for even a second longer.

“Is that a pizza stain on your stupid sweat pants?” Obi asked, blinking sweat from his lashes.

“College is rough, my man. Don’t judge.”

Obi wouldn’t know. He hadn’t actually finished high school, after all, before he’d fled his pack and gone on the run, and the world was not the most pleasant place for omegas to stand still in. Standing still got you caught.

Then again, he hadn’t been standing still when he ran right into this asshole’s trap.

“Hey,” Obi said, eventually. “Got any more pizza? I’m starving.”

As if he’d planned it, his stomach growled. The knife in his side quivered in punctuation.

*

Obi woke up when a window shattered.

No, correction: Obi jolted awake, sending fresh stabs of pain through his side and joints and fevered head, when all of the windows shattered simultaneously. The sudden racket hurt his ears, like the shards were pressing right on inside, sharp and jagged and piercing.

“Wha --” slurred the witch, jerking his head up from where he’d had his cheek plastered against the open pages of his book at the folding table he’d set up a few yards away. Looked like Obi wasn’t the only one who had gone in for a cat nap.

“-- the hell?”

“Oh, good! You’re still alive,” said a beautiful brunette in half-shift from where she’d dropped down directly behind the still-seated witch, her words mangled just slightly by the lethal fangs protruding from behind her plush red lips. “We’d taken bets, you know.”

“No,” Obi managed to garble out helpfully, “I didn’t know. Thank you for clearing that up for me though. Miss...?”

Within his chest Obi’s heart was pounding so loudly it was nearly all he could discern. Were those additional heartbeats? How many? How many wolves? Exactly how fucked was Obi, now, and was it the frying pan and into the fire, or backwards?

Shit, he really wished weren’t naked.

“Huh,” said a light baritone from the shadows to Obi’s left. “Pretty talkative for someone ripe for virgin sacrifice."

“Excuse you," Obi protested, tilting against the mountain ash barrier a little to get an angle to see --

Jesus wept, why were these wolves so fucking attractive?

and now: POKEMONS

Flopped out in the meadows of Floaroma Town, Shirayuki thought she might grow roots, like the flowers, if she stayed lazing about any longer.

But her feet had only just stopped hurting all the time, and she was tired of being hungry, and sore, and lost. Tired of being tired all the time. And Floaroma was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. After her fifth defeat at Pastoria Gym Shirayuki honestly had not been able to handle the embarrassment of another failed attempt, all right, and Floaroma Town seemed a perfect place to go and lick her wounds in peace.

Three weeks later, with a part time job at Pick a Peck of Colors and a cheap room at a nearby Hotel, Shirayuki didn’t mind if she grew roots, became a flower, and just drifted beneath the sun and the sky, watching the clouds. Really, it seemed a better plan than her current one: three badges in four years was more than just a little embarrassing, after all.

Groaning, her stomach twisting itself into knots of anxiety and frustration, Shirayuki groped about for the pastry bag of Spicy Poffins.

Sure, she’d technically bought them for her Pokémon, but stress eating was a real thing, and she’d already eaten all of her lunch and still had another half-hour to kill before she had to be back a the flower shop. Besides, no one was here to judge. Except Staravia, who fluttered onto her knee and cocked her head in inquiry.

“No, no,” Shirayuki explained between bites of spicy, overly-seasoned pastry. “You don’t like these. We’ve tried, remember? These are for --”

She nearly bit her own tongue in her sudden reluctance to mention Turtwig. As her starter Pokémon, he had been with her for all four, agonizing years. It was the worst kind of betrayal that his pokéball remained in her room, shoved into a pocket of her bag. But he was too sharp a reminder of all her failures. The Poffins had been an apology -- one she was apparently too much a coward to actually give.

The Poffin went down her throat in a sticky, uncomfortable slide.

“You’re gonna break my knee cap,” Shirayuki muttered, looking back to the sky before shutting her eyes. “You’re too heavy, Staravia.”

With a gentle chirrup, Staravia side-stepped further up Shriayuki’s leg, all 30lbs of her. Shirayuki winced, and reached for another Poffin as she felt Staravia’s talons dig momentarily into her leggings before releasing, apparently content to watch her Trainer eat food meant for Pokémon. Shirayuki wished she was a Pokémon. Surely it would be easier than being who she was; than dealing with who she was supposed to be.

She was so involved with her own internal pity party, that Shirayuki missed the sound of footsteps through the flowers, didn’t notice how the orangey-red glow of the sun through her eyelids disappeared as someone leaned over her head. Didn’t notice anything at all until she felt a smooth, hard surface press gently against her forehead.

Eyes fluttering open, startled, Shirayuki nearly choked on her Poffin.

Above her, instead of a sunny, cloud-strewn sky, was the face of a dark-haired, teenage boy. Tan and lanky, with too-long limbs and dirty, travel-stained clothes, he was maybe older than Shirayuki’s fifteen years, but maybe not. The lop-sided grin made it hard to tell, and so did the fact that Shirayuki was looking at him upside down.

He was bent over her, arm outstretched to press a -- a pokéball -- against her forehead. Shirayuki could feel the faint grooves of the locking mechanism against the skin of her forehead. Halfway down his jacket sleeve was a Pachirisu, wriggling its little nose hopefully at the now-squashed Poffin clutched in Shirayuki’s hand.

“Ahh!” said Shirayuki, crumbs flying.

“Sorry,” the stranger laughed, leaning back and taking the pokéball with him. The Pachirisu ran down his arm, twining about his knobby wrist, chittering at Shirayuki. The boy waved the pokéball and Pachirisu at her as though in explanation. “I had to check. You are eating Poffins, after all. A thing usually reserved for pokémon.”

Shirayuki spluttered. “You thought I was a pokémon?!”

“Well, no. Not really. But it was pretty funny, don’t you think?”

Now would be a good time for Palkia to take pity on her, rip open a hole in space, and let her crawl through it to any where else.

nothing is sacred, i have ruined it all \o/

[notsugarandspice]

Crash and Burn, Chapter 19: October 31st, 1999

Rating: Explicit

A fully edited version is on ao3.

Eddie was amazingly proud of his Halloween outfit this year. One of his favorite movies of all time came out - Matrix, and he couldn't get the damn Neo out of his head. So he did the next best thing - dressed up as exactly him for the party hosted by the director of "Cats".

The show's season has come to a wrap, and it was very bitter-sweet - he was excited about the next step of his career and having a bit more freedom in his life, but he also didn't have a stable job anymore which meant cutting back on expenses. But all that is something to worry about later. He got to keep his black and white costume for the memories, and the producers promised him to put in a good word if he ever thought of auditioning again. But now was the time to slick back his hair and put on a long black leather coat he found at the thrift shop.

Eddie was pleasantly surprised to see that black fitted him perfectly well and hugged every inch of his toned dancer body. The dark pants lost themselves in the clasped black boots, and the gun straps on his thighs squeezed just right. He was now working on his hair and getting his unruly curls to lay back down was a much bigger struggle than he anticipated. He thought of asking Bev to help, but she was too busy clipping extensions into her own hair, too scared to wear wigs after Eddie told her about the statistics of fleas in rented pieces.

I should've bought the fancy gel on the top shelf, dammit. His hair didn't want to cooperate, and he was getting ridiculously frustrated, rubbing it back with enough force to get bald at that point. He was just about to break the mirror from irritation when he heard the knock on the front door and quickly rinsed his hands in the sink, rushing to open it. He heard Bev scream 'DOOR!' from her room and he sprinted past it, yanking the metal hold back to reveal the intruder.

A wave of conflicting emotions hit him all at once. One of the first ones was somewhere along the lines of what the actual fuck, followed immediately by a tugging sensation in his chest. He didn't quite know which impression to cling to, so he just decided to stick with overwhelmed. His head felt a little light from the sight before him: a tall man, thick black hair sticking in absolutely every direction and looking like it hasn't been brushed in weeks, eyebrows gone under the very light foundation, a rain of scars plastered all over the face, revealing a smile framed with a dark purple lipstick. A white button-down had infinite rips in it and hung loosely under the black holding straps that were clasped to the waistband of grey dress pants that looked like they were a size too big. The entourage was, of course, complete with the gloves that carried randomized blades on them.

Eddie sighed heavily, unaware of how to react to the oddity in front of him. "Did you knock on the door with one of the blades, dumbass?" He pushed the dark green door further into the apartment to look for scratches.

Richie made a puppy-eyed expression, putting both hands in front of him, making Eddie bend back to make sure that the (fake?) blades don't strike him in the face. "I thought this was shishkabob." He pointed at the door.

Eddie snickered and nodded to the apartment. "Come in, Edward." He closed the door and looked at Richie all over again, taking in the marvelous dork standing in the middle of his living room.

"Eds, you look amazing," said Richie, his expression now belonging to him and not the ridiculous character, a dopey smile on his face.

Eddie felt himself instantly flush. "T-thanks. I can't get the stupid hair to behave though. It's a fucking pain in the ass." He brushed through the hard surface of his brown curls, a couple of his fingers getting stuck on the way.

"Come on, I'll help you out," said Richie and started to walk towards the bathroom. He screamed 'HI, BEVVIE' as he passed Beverly's bedroom door, but she was shielded from view by her large closet and just screamed 'HEY RICHIE RICH' in response.

"Not with those, you won't," said Eddie, pointing towards Richie's gloves covered in blades.

Richie was already standing in front of the sink. "Imma baaarber, haven't ya heard?" He shifted his hands in front of his face sporadically, and they made a terrifying metal sound, and Eddie once again found himself questioning whether they're real.

"You're such a fucking idiot, I swear," said Eddie nudging the other with his hip to take his spot in front of the mirror. He grabbed the mousse from the counter and started warming it up in his hands again.

"You have to let it all go, Neo. Free your mind."

"Is there a pill for whatever condition you have?"

"You take the blue pill - the story ends-"

"Oh Goood, shut the fuck up," said Eddie laughing, letting his fingers run through the hair that resembled something like greasy noodle soup and nothing like the character's hair in the movie. Eddie even got a haircut for this, and it was really starting to irritate him.

"Oh, boy, Eds. C'mere," said Richie, quickly taking the gloves off and putting them on a closed lid of the toilet.

Eddie's arms dropped to both sides, and he sighed in defeat. "Can't get any worse, I guess."

"I'm quite offended with thy lack of belief, ol' chap!" Eddie rolled his eyes to the next dimension from the odd combination of the accent and Richie's costume.

Richie grabbed the aerosol mousse and squeezed some out into his hand, pushing on it with another to spread evenly between the two. Eddie was staring at him with nothing short of awe and fascination, still a little shaken that Richie chose one of his most favorite characters to dress up for Halloween. Wait, does that make me Kim?

Eddie would never say it out loud, not for a million bucks, but he thought Richie did a great job. His hair was already similar to Edward's but he put in some effort to make it match. His undereye had just the right amount of purple on it, and the scars looked so realistic that Eddie wanted to reach out and touch them.

They didn't go in a couple's costume because they weren't... whatever they were. Nothing happened between them ever since the talk, and Eddie was getting more anxious by the day. Neither of them knew how to approach this new territory, terrified of what the change will bring into their already messy lives. Richie was staying in the band for the next run of the show, and they weren't going to see each other every day. They will have separate schedules, and Eddie honestly didn't even know what Richie's plans for the future were but-

"Cutie, you're gonna have to look down at your feet if you want this to work. You're not that short," said Richie staring down at him warmly. Eddie loved his glasses but having nothing covering Richie's dark browns was very nice. Cutie.

Eddie blushed feverishly and put his head down, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent a shy grin spreading across his face. He felt Richie brush the very last strands on the nape of his neck and he knew they were done. He lifted his head and looked in the mirror. Of course, it looks perfect.

"Told ya," said Richie winking and leaning his hand on the counter in front of them.

"Rich." Eddie was so surprised at the warmth in his voice that he almost did a double take.

"Mm?"

"I..." Love you? Be mine? Suck my dick? Do you even want this?

"Eddie-Spaghetti, fess the fuck up," said Richie, stepping closer. As soon as Eddie felt his (minty?) breath on his face, his entire body felt like it was thrown into a campfire. Every single cell of his body was responding to the other's proximity. He felt like the other end of the magnet, struggling to keep steady but inevitably crashing into its respective side. Eddie could distinctly smell a cigarette that he smoked before he knocked on the door, a lingering smell of chocolate milk that he drank before he left his apartment, and the smell that screamed Richie. His favorite. His addiction.

Richie was standing closer now, and Eddie noticed that there was close to no distance between them now, and Eddie's foot was conveniently positioned between Richie's. He was looking all over the other's face, waiting for permission or some courage from himself to make the first move. His ears felt stuffed, and his head was unbearably heavy - that's how crammed the small space of that bathroom felt with the tension between them. Eddie knew that something is bound to happen between them at some point, and it's not like they haven't tried taking it slow - they really, really did. But Eddie's balls were blue from all the movie nights, and occasional brushing of fingers, and Richie's husky voice over the phone. He couldn't take it.

He leaned on his tiptoes, grabbing Richie's hand on the counter and kissed him, instantly trying to part the other's lips. Eddie's leather coat felt too tight, and so did his pants. With so much waiting, even the lack of tongue turned him on. In fact, everything about Richie turned him on. The other's lips finally parted properly and their tongues touched, swirling around each other in a passionate embrace. Richie's mouth was nothing short of familiar, but there is so much they haven't yet done, so much more to look forward to.

Eddie gripped the waistband of Richie's pants, unable to control himself, unable to have any hold on his emotions anymore. I want you, I want you, I want you. Richie was breathing heavily into his mouth, his lips sweet and bitter, soft and firm, and it was driving Eddie insane.

He instantly realized that it was the first time he's kissed Richie Tozier sober. And boy, did he like it so much more. There was no fear of being discovered or rejected anymore, it was just the two of them, lips connected, the complete opposite tastes of their mouths merged into one. Eddie could feel Richie everywhere: the pushing of that large bony hand on his lower back, the fingers that were now pushing against the column of his throat, making it a little hard to breathe, but somehow amplified the tightness in his pants.

Richie suddenly turned them a bit, and they weren't sideways to the counter anymore - Eddie's ass was pressed against the sink, hurting a little but oh so worth it. Because of the change of their position, he could feel Richie's hard-on pressing against his stomach relentlessly, and he wished for the nth time in his life that he was just a bit taller so he could feel them brush against each other. Eddie's hand clutched to one of Richie's biceps, massaging and pushing it in slow encouragement. Don't stop.

Eddie felt his lower abdomen tighten more and more with every minute and he wanted to scream how much he wanted Richie to just hoist him up and drop him on his white cotton sheets. Eddie rolled his tongue mercilessly and moaned, imagining Richie pinning him to his mattress, the sheets so messy from their bodies that they were halfway on the floor. He never wanted anyone more.

He realized with a pang of a thrill so sudden it stopped his lips from moving that they could really do it. Go to his bedroom right that second, lose all of those extra layers and make each other scream relentlessly. Eddie almost gave in to the fantasy, and the temptation was too good to pass up, but Beverly's door was open, they worked hard on their costumes, and he had a wrap party to go to. So he pushed Richie forward gently, unashamed of the half-cry that escaped his mouth from the loss of touch.

"We... um... h-have-"

"T-the party-"

"Right," breathed out Eddie, laughing a little at their collective inability to breathe probably. Shit, we're worse now than we were at 18.

Richie leaned his forehead against Eddie's, and the other felt wetness and stickiness there, feeling the face paint clinging to his own skin. He couldn't find it within his heart to care but made a mental note to patch up Richie's makeup afterward. Both of the other's hands were on either side of a panting Eddie, and they took a beat to compose themselves before speaking again.

"We're not done here, I hope you understand that, Kaspbrak." Richie's voice was still deep and heavy from their little shindig, and Eddie couldn't help but grin, a thrilling excitement shooting through him in anticipation of later.

"I hope you know the implications of that, Tozier. Can't chicken out now," said Eddie with an obvious snark in his voice, smirking at the taller man with a dirty glint in his eyes.

"Mmm. You'll be the death of me." I fucking hope so.

The party was in full swing, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Everyone except Bev that is. Eddie noticed that something was off with her as soon as she walked out of the room, looking like the most perfect version of Vivian Ward that anyone would have a pleasure of seeing in real life. He told her so. Her hair was a little longer now, but she still had to get herself some clip-in extensions to make up for the difference. Her gorgeous pale freckled skin stood out against the short white and blue dress, completed with thigh high black boots and Richie's large sweatshirt closed around her hips. She was, indeed, a pretty woman, the most gorgeous woman Eddie has ever seen, if he could so much as judge Bev as a work of art.

She didn't want to talk about why she was upset, just said that she had an unpleasant phone call and she wanted to forget about it. Eddie and Richie didn't press, leaving her to mingle with the makeup artist of the show that she took a particular liking to. ...Baby One More Time was blaring through the expensive speakers of the director's penthouse, and Eddie couldn't help but feel ridiculously excited to celebrate the end of this era, and the start of a new chapter for all the amazing people he got to know through that show.

Everyone complimented his and Richie's outfits, shooting them smirky glances. The two walked around the apartment, laughing at the bad art and making fun of the dance moves that one of the retired choreographers were trying to perform. They ended up hanging around the kitchen most of all, thrilled to find some yogurts in the fridge. Neither was a fan of sushi which was the only food served at the event (upon director's attempt at making a pun of them all being kitties) and even danced a little to the most ridiculous pop hits of the 90s, including Shoop (which both were secretly obsessed with). They haven't had one drink. But then Richie ran away to the bathroom, and Eddie was left alone, observing Beverly's form smoking on the large terrace. He decided that she might not mind his company that much after all, and took off to speak to her.

She was leaning on the metal railing, small pots of flowers standing right underneath, getting coated in the silver waves that seemed to cling to that specific spot despite the wind. It was already cold outside, the end of October was usually rather chilly in New York, but Bev was only wearing that tiny dress, with Richie's hoodie loosely hanging off her because of its strikingly large size. Eddie and Beverly were basically the same size, and Beverly wasn't the girliest, so they interchanged clothes frequently. Eddie remembers wearing this same hoodie on Bill's balcony once, thinking about all the wrongs and rights of being a gay teenager in a small town. All that seemed to be infinitely far away now.

"Hey," said Eddie softly, sliding his elbows on the railing with a little distance from Bev. She liked space.

She didn't seem phased by his approach, almost as if she was expecting him. Her smile was small enough that if Eddie wasn't searching all over her face, he might have missed it.

"Ben called again," said Bev, her voice breaking at the man's name.

"Again?"

"Oh. Yeah. He called me drunk a couple of weeks ago. It kept happening. Fuck, I was so stuck in my head that I almost thought I told you," said Bev, putting her head in one of her hands.

"Hey, it's okay. Want to talk about it?" asked Eddie, unsure of what those phone calls really implied.

"He keeps calling drunk. So drunk. I can barely make out the words. He misses me. Fuck, I fall asleep every night picturing his face, you know? I want to say that I'm gay or whatever, but shit, no girl has ever made me feel what I feel to him."

There was a long stretch of silence where she finished her cigarette and lit a new one.

"I forget that I can't be with a man around him. I haven't seen him in so long..." her voice trailed off along with the silver smoke wafting through the air. "Sometimes I feel like since it's been so long, my body won't react. I might... you know. Be able to stand it."

Eddie didn't know what to answer to that, so he just stood there, keeping her company, watching her rosy cheeks pull in and out from inhaling. She never cried but somehow talking about Ben always made her tear up.

"I know this might sound crazy but maybe you could... I don't know, send him the poems you wrote?" asked Eddie cautiously, waiting for her response as if an explosion was about to go off.

She took her time thinking it over, lighting a second cigarette. Eddie kept staring off into the distance, wondering if he had a problem like Bev's, would he have been a little bitch about Richie ghosting him? Probably not.

"I'll think about it, okay?" she asked as if she half-expected Eddie to send them without her permission. He would never do that. Bev was everything he had, like a mother and a sister, a best friend that he couldn't ask for in his wildest dreams.

"Of course," smiled Eddie looking behind his shoulder to see Richie sitting on the metal bench right next to the glass doors. Bev smiled back, and he took it as a cue to let her be.

He stood up right in front of Richie, making the tall man look up, the face paint creasing where a smile small formed. He had similar cracks in the corners of his eyes because when he smiled, the fucker smiled with his whole face. Fuck, I love you so much, it hurts.

"She okay?" asked Richie, reaching out to play with Eddie's fingers.

"She will be. You know her, she's a tough cookie." Eddie smiled earnestly when he felt Richie press a thumb to the inside of his palm. He felt it deep in his stomach too, like a dull match that was ready to erupt again.

"More like a whole cake. Like one of those crumbly ones." Richie's eyes were dark and warm at the same time. It made Eddie's skin itch with desire.

"That would mean she falls apart. Bev doesn't fall apart," said Eddie, trailing his fingers along Richie's hand without looking, feeling the peeking veins, the sharp bone of his thumb. It resonated in his groin, even the smallest of contact. God, I've wanted you for so long, it's killing me.

"Everyone falls apart eventually, Eds. You crash, then you burn, but you recover. Like a phoenix, you know? It's that simple," said Richie as if it was that simple. Maybe there was only one way to find out.

"Take me home," said Eddie so suddenly and with so much confidence as if it almost came from someone standing right behind him, speaking through his body.

Richie seemed to be taken aback by the bluntness, but his pupils widened, the darkness in the gaze amplified by the light foundation and the dark purple circles around it.

"Your wish is my command, Captain Spaghetti," said Richie smirking, a dirty, sinful glint in his eyes. And not even the nicknames were going to stop them now.

[mitchbeck]

CANTLON: PACK LOSE IN A SHOOTOUT TO LAVAL

BY: Gerry Cantlon, Howlings LAVAL, QUEBEC - After a truly hard fought 65 minutes of Sunday afternoon hockey, the Hartford Wolf Pack saw Alex Belizle scoring the lone goal in the shootout to give the Laval Rocket a 2-1 win. Belizle used a delayed toe drag and then flipped a backhander past Wolf Pack netminder, Adam Huska. Ice bags would be necessary for both teams in this highly physical contest that took nearly three hours to play. The third period saw the two teams push hard to score the second goal. The Wolf Pack thought they had a game winning goal when defenseman, Mason Geersten, was in front of the net only to have his first shot stopped by Cayden Primeau. On his second chance, Geersten was knocked into Primeau by Laval’s Antoine Waked with 8:16 left. The red light was on and the Wolf Pack were celebrating, but a little prematurely as the referees and lineman consulted and waved off the goal for a crease violation. They looked at the video board showing a replay and denied Geersten the game winner and what would have been a, "Gordie Howe Hat Trick." Wolf Pack head coach, Kris Knoblauch, raced down the bench screaming at the officials Connor O’Donnell, and Carter Sandlak. He was very unhappy with their decision when asked about it in the post game. “’We thought we had scored the go-ahead goal. The arena puts the replay on the screen (video board), which they are not allowed to do (when its under review). The referees are looking at that replay, so they changed their minds. "I’m very frustrated. We worked so hard, and played so hard, to have it taken away like that,” Knoblauch said while doing his best to contain himself. When asked if a notice would be sent by the team to the league, Knoblauch replied, “The league has already commented on it, that it was the wrong play (call) very simply, they (the officials) messed up." Geersten had a jagged Zorro-like cut on his nose and was a bear on his skates as he made his presence felt all night. He was stoic about the events as he headed for post game medical treatment. “They're a quick, fast team out there. It was a pretty physical, chippy game. I really thought I had it there,” He said. The defensive duo of Geersten and Joey Keane were excellent from the start of the game and on both ends of the ice. “They were both so good out there all night. Defensively, being physical, and offensively they were solid. Geersten obviously has the reputation of being a physical defenseman. (Joey) Keane doesn’t get enough recognition for his play as a physical defenseman. He’s always giving his body laying it down out there and finishing his checks. Those two were just outstanding.” After a long stretch with the Wolf Pack tightening the defensive screws, Huska came up with a ten-bell-ringer save on Jake Evans. Huska was ready as Evans was in the right wing circle and dove forward and getting a piece of the shot with just 1:12 remaining in regulation. “I was just lucky there. I threw myself out there,” Huska said with a Cheshire cat smile. It was a skill move by the humble rookie goalie to make that stop. At the start of the second period, the Pack continued their late first period progress and tied the game just 49 seconds into the second frame. Keane was at the right point and took his defensive partner's pass and just sent it on net where it eluded Primeau, who was screened by Matt Beleskey. For Keane, it was his team leading fifth of the season. “It was a good, low shot on net, and it was made possible by the screen of Beleskey taking away Primeau’s eyes. He doesn’t get the assist, but that play made it possible,” Knoblauch said of the veteran winger. Huska was named the game’s Third Star and was able to repel several of Laval's wide open chances. Matt Peca, the one time Quinnipiac University product, is off to a slow start. He's a minus-six through five games. He had a solid goal scoring opportunity at 8:18 off a breakaway chance that Huska denied Then he made another gorgeous pad save on Ryan Poehling’s wide open chance. With 3:01 remaining, Huska stopped Michael McCarron twice, the second time coming with a screen from ex-Pack, Dale Weise. Vejdemos' backhanded attempt was denied by Huska's left pad and then he was denied again a shot from the left wing side. “In the second period, we gave up way too many quality chances. Adam was just sensational. We’ve had a lot success so far this season because of our goaltending,” commented Knoblauch. The game was physical and a chippy contest from the outset. There was plenty of hitting with skirmishes breaking out several times in the second period as both teams had played three times in the last eight days with animosity getting well-established. Geersten was in the middle of it. After hitting Laval’s Jake Evans with a clean hard hit, in the left wing corner, he turned and dropped his gloves knowing somebody was coming. Anthony Waked was outmatched against the much bigger player. On the next shift, Vinni Lettieri and Weise jostled each other and near the end of the period Danny O’Regan was hit with a double minor for high sticking. Vejdemos tried to wrestle him to the ice with 7.5 seconds left in the period. The Rocket started their game picking up were they left off in the last one with a 7-2 shot advantage over the first half of the opening period. Huska was in top form, especially on Victor Olofsson’s open blade redirect that looked like it had the top shelf. Huska made a strong lateral save using his right shoulder to make the stop. Alex Belizle followed with a quality opportunity from 20-feet-out several seconds later. “I felt pretty good today. It was the best I felt so far in the AHL. I saw him coming backdoor and I knew he was gonna pass it to him. I just waited for him to make that pass,” Huska said ever so nonchalantly of the superb play. The Rocket's next shift and next shop came with the shot hitting the back of the net. Former Quinnipiac University product, Matt Peca, came down the left wing and got a gift as Vincent LoVerde’s clearing attempt hit the metal stanchion and the puck came right to him. From 15-feet out he made the pass to Antoine Waked who found the puck through a maze of players, and then registered his first goal at 12:28. Waked was just recalled from Adirondack (ECHL) and earned a half bear hug from head coach ex-Pack, Joel Bouchard. At that point, the Pack needed a quick pick-me-up and Mason Geersten tried his best to please his teammates. First, he challenged Michael McCarron in front of the Pack bench and he wouldn’t go. He got him with a high-stick earlier and was cut that neither official called. Then his next shifty he lined up Waked for a good clean hard hit at center ice that was amazingly called a roughing penalty. The Pack killed off the chance and then got a surprising late power play chance as Laval got their man-advantage. It looked like Keane and Belizle had dropped the mitts after a collision near the Pack blue line, but the linesman stepped in but gave Belizle got the extra two for a crosscheck. That woke up the Pack offense. They went on to launch six shots on net before finally forcing Primeau, the son the ex-Whaler Keith to have to work. Phil DiGuiseppe fired two and Matt Beleskey had one. The two teams don’t meet again till Valentine’s Day. Pretty safe bet that they will not be exchanging candy or flowers. PACK LINES: Nieves-Beleskey-Di Giuseppe Gettinger-Lettieri-Fogarty O’Regan-Fontaine-Newell Jones-Meskanen-Zerter-Gossage LoVerde-Raddysh Taylor-Ebert Geersten-Keane SCRATCHES: Sean Day Ty Ronning NOTES: The Wolf Pack power outage on the power play continues as the team went 0-for-6 with their success rate dropping to an abysmal 8.8%. When asked if Geersten had had any "Gordie Howe Hat Tricks" in his career, he responded with a laugh saying, “Had a few in juniors none yet in the pro’s. Thought I had one tonight.” One of the first "Gordie Howe Hat Tricks" in Wolf Pack history came from big Steve McIntyre in Hershey circa 2004-05. Weise was in the opening lineup with McCarron and Charles Hudon. Igor Shesterkin continues to produce strong numbers in the AHL on par with what he did in the KHL. He was rewarded with being named, "The CCM/AHL Goaltender for the Month of October." In six games, Shesterkin has a 5-1-0 record, with the AHL's fifth best GAA of 1.49. He's surrendered just nine goals. The three he allowed on Wednesday were the most in any of his six games. He also sports a .942 save percentage, good for the AHL's sixth best. The Russian rookie is not classified as such because of his time in the KHL. He has the AHL's sixth highest minutes played at 363:19 behind only Cal Petersen (Ontario), Garrett Sparks (Toronto), Ville Husso (San Antonio), Casey DeSmith (Wilkes Barre/Scranton) and Chris Dreidger (Springfield). Shesterkin will start Saturday night in Belleville. Ex-Pack, Josh Wesley, was recalled from Tulsa (ECHL) from San Antonio. Cole Cassels, the son of former Hartford Whaler, Andrew Cassels, was loaned from Utah (ECHL) to Belleville, where the Wolf Pack play tomorrow night at the CAA Arena. After five games, ex-Pack, Shawn O’Donnell, has three points. He has left Allen (ECHL). The Toronto Maple Leafs continue their roster shuffle to remain cap compliant and it affects their AHL farm team, the Toronto Dreidger. Nic Petan was reassigned this morning after playing just four games with the Leafs. He had two goals and an assist against Belleville in a 7-4 win where he played on a line with former Yale Bulldog, Kenny Agostino. The team also traded former Canadiens farmhand, Ryan Johnston, to the San Diego Gulls. He was with Montreal for two years. Johnston was in Sweden last year with Mora IK, but the Leafs signed him to a one year AHL-deal in July. He has yet to play this year. Johnston played ten games with no points over two seasons with Montreal and played on the last two of the Canadiens' farm teams in St. John’s. The Flyers sent down Big Samuel Morin, and recalled three players from Lehigh Valley in German Rubtsov, Carsen Twarynski, and Philippe Myers. Tanner Jago was recalled by Texas from Idaho (ECHL). After just nine games, ex-Sound Tiger, Mike Sislo, had three assists with EHC Wolfsburg (Germany-DEL). He has requested that his contract be dissolved and he announced his retirement because of a back injury. He played 483 games in the AHL, mostly with Albany, but he has also spent time with San Antonio, Toronto, Tucson, and Bridgeport. Future Wolf Pack center, Karl Henriksson, a second round pick (59th overall) last summer by Vancouver was elevated from Frolunda HC J-20 (Super Elite) to Sodertalje SK (Sweden-Allsvenskan). Henriksson is off to a strong start. In 17 games, he has 18 assists and 23 points for Frolunda and is now playing in the second highest league in Sweden as an 18 year old. He had a very strong camp in Traverse City opening the eyes of many. More than likely, Henriksson will be on the Swedish WJC team in December when the annual Christmas time hockey tourney hits the Czech Republic in Ostrava, and Trinec. While currently unsigned don’t be surprised next spring when his Swedish season is done, he will be pulling a Wolf Pack sweater over his head. Read the full article

[katwriting]

Fic: Redecorating

Just some cute, domestic Malec fluff I wrote this week, inspired by this amazing drawing by mundanelion.

It was the first genuinely warm day after what seemed like an eternity of cold, rainy weeks in New York. And Magnus Bane intended to make the most of it. His entire week had been extremely busy – he felt like there was hardly a downworlder in New York that had not been one of his clients over the course of the past few days.

Today, he was going to make up for that.

Word count: 2,835 | Read on AO3

It was the first genuinely warm day after what seemed like an eternity of cold, rainy weeks in New York. And Magnus Bane intended to make the most of it.

His entire week had been extremely busy – he felt like there was hardly a downworlder in New York that had not been one of his clients over the course of the past few days. Apart from that, Maryse Lightwood had him renew the protective wards at the Institute, resulting in him constantly alternating between working at the Institute and fulfilling the requests of his other clients. He had only been at his own apartment to sleep and collect ingredients for potions and spent more time portaling between places than actually at home.

Today, however, he was going to make up for that. It was Sunday, he was done with reinforcing the wards and there was no imminent warlock work to do. At least nothing that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

It didn’t take the warlock long to decide what he was going to do with his day off – actually, it only took him a look around his apartment. The place definitely could use a makeover. He was already way too used to its current appearance.

If Magnus loved one thing (besides Alec, of course) it was redecorating his apartment. Normally, he wouldn’t need a special occasion to give the interior of his home a new look. But if there was one, even better. And what better reason could there be than those dull winter days finally vanishing and making room for his favorite season of the year?

He started with his rooftop patio, removing the dust and dry leaves with a snap of his fingers. With a wave of his right hand, the weathered floor tiles were replaced by sandstone in a light beige that would look spectacular in the sunlight.  He frowned at the sight of his outdoor furniture – suddenly, the orange padding didn’t match the floor anymore, so it had to go. Snapping his fingers once again, he replaced the orange fabric with a dark brown one that went well with the new floor tiles.

+++

Magnus was just about to go back downstairs and continue with his apartment when a low meow a few feet away from him made him turn back around. A soft smile ran across the warlock’s features when he turned around and noticed who dared to disturb him in his redecorating-frenzy.

“Oh hello, darling”, he said softly and crouched down. He held out one hand and rubbed his fingers together, so the cat would come closer. “You must be new. I haven’t seen you around.” When the cat came closer and rubbed its head against his hand, he concentrated for a second and ran a small ball of blue magic over its fur, just to be sure. After the fiasco that had been Max’s rune party, he would not allow any more feline intruders with dubious intentions to enter his home.

When his magic proved that the cat was really just a cat and not a warlock in disguise, he picked it up ad cuddled it to his chest. The cat immediately began to purr, the sound growing even louder when Magnus conjured a bowl of milk into the far corner of his patio. He placed a kiss onto the cat’s head and then put it back onto the ground. “You may stay, little one. But don’t you dare chewing on my new cushions”, he scowled. The cat didn’t seem too impressed by this, it just looked at him curiously before it let out another soft meow and then made its way towards the bowl.

Back inside, Magnus started with the living room. The first piece of furniture to get a little makeover was the couch, the black pillows quickly being replaced by dark blue ones. The new color looked a bit more elegant than the classic black. Also, he figured that his apartment could use some new colors now that spring was around the corner. Then he moved on to the coffee table and with a snap of his fingers, it was replaced by a new model with a nice glass surface.

And that’s how Magnus spent the rest of the afternoon – leisurely wandering around his loft, changing fabrics, patterns and colors wherever and as much as he pleased. Magnus felt himself getting more and more relaxed with each new – or restyled – item. Interior design had always been his guilty pleasure and he genuinely enjoyed the new look his apartment was getting. After a while, however, he felt the stressful week and the sleepless nights take their toll on him. His magic got weaker and his body got more and more tired. And spending hours redecorating his apartment by using a significant amount of magic was probably not the best way to deal with that.

Luckily, the fatigue didn’t really get in his way until he was almost done. That’s when he started to get really tired and couldn’t deny the fact any longer that his body was in desperate need of some sleep. With one final swirl of magic he pushed back the curtains in front of the balcony doors and let the glass doors fly open. He flopped down on his couch and breathed in deeply, letting the scent of the fresh spring air fill his lungs.

Relishing in the soft rays of sunshine, he swiftly unbuttoned his shirt and threw it over the back of one of his new armchairs – he might as well treat his skin to some sunlight when he had the chance. Magnus stretched out on the couch and made himself comfortable, laying on his side and resting his head on one of his brand new pillows. And before he could even start to worry about the wrinkles his shirt would probably get, he was already asleep.

+++

Unfortunately, the universe didn’t grant him too much downtime. Magnus could barely doze for an hour before the sound of keys unlocking his apartment door pulled him back into reality, followed by a dull thud and a muffled curse coming from the hallway. Magnus smiled softly when he recognized the voice. He heard Alec shuffling closer, muttering something that sounded a lot like “By the angel, why does he have to redecorate all the time?”

The warlock chuckled at the adorable frustration in his boyfriend’s voice, but apart from that didn’t move. He just shifted a bit so he could lay on his back and listened to Alec’s steps coming closer – completely aware that he was still not wearing a shirt – and also fully intent of making the most of that situation.

A few seconds later, the shadowhunter came walking through the living room door. Magnus was still casually chilling on the couch, face and shirtless upper body tainted in the soft orange glow of the sunlight, eyes closed.

“Hey Magnus, did you – uh -“ Alec stopped talking mid-sentence, his breath audibly hitching in his throat. Whatever he had wanted to say, the world would probably never find out. Not that Magnus cared about that – he was too busy trying to suppress the laugh he felt bubbling up in his chest. The fact that he had the ability to make his favorite shadowhunter speechless like that was just too amusing.

Magnus’s eyes were still closed so he couldn’t be entirely sure, but he was petty certain that Alec was blushing, which made the entire situation even more adorable. Magnus was definitely enjoying this – and, who was he kidding, he wouldn’t be Magnus if he didn’t try to play this game for a little while longer. So he kept stalling.

“Did I what, Alexander?”, he asked in the most innocent tone he could muster, his lips drawing into a sly smile. He did his best to keep the calm façade up on the outside. Internally, however, he was having serious trouble containing the butterflies that seemed to be having a party inside his chest. His shadowhunter was just too cute when he was this flustered.  

“I…well…uh…never mind”, Alec stammered a few seconds later.

With a soft chuckle, Magnus decided to drop his façade and open his eyes. Alec was standing a few feet away from the door, cheeks adorably flushed, eyes bright and lips slightly parted. If Magnus had not already been totally endeared by the fact that he could charm Alec so easily, he sure would have been by now. He met his boyfriend’s gaze and smiled at him. “Well, since you’re not cooperating, I can only guess what you were going to say. And if it was whether I gave the loft a makeover – yes, I did. Do you like it?”

The direct question seemed to pull Alec out of his statuesque state. The shadowhunter tore his eyes away from him and ran his gaze over the living room. “Yeah, looks good”, he breathed and cleared his throat, his expression suddenly turning serious, “we need to talk about that wood statue in the hallway, though. I just almost broke my toe because of it. You need to put that thing somewhere else.”

Alec visibly tried to keep a stern expression, looking at the warlock with a truly adorable frown on his face. However, it was only a matter of seconds until he caved in. He just couldn’t be mad at Magnus for long, even if he was just pretending.  

“Duly noted”, Magnus retorted and sat up, still a bit drowsy from his nap. He yawned and rolled his shoulders, then stretched his arms in an attempt to get some of the tension out of his upper body. This past week had been much more exhausting than he had realized. He got up and strode over to Alec to greet his shadowhunter properly. Once he was only a few steps away, he felt the shadowhunter’s arms circle around his torso and pull him closer.

The warlock smiled at the feeling of Alec’s fingers running over his bare back and placed his own hands against his boyfriend’s chest before he leaned up and placed a sweet kiss on Alec’s lips. His own smile got even bigger when he opened his eyes and was met with the softest, most loving gaze expression in Alec’s eyes.

“So, how was your day?”, Magnus asked casually, because this was something they would do now. No matter how long or exhausting their days may be, as soon as they were done with work, they would meet at Magnus’s apartment and just talk about their days.

As Magnus had soon found out, it helped both of them. Alec’s recent promotion to the official head of the New York Institute hadn’t helped at all with his habit of always blaming himself for everything that went wrong when he was in charge. If only, it had made things worse. Magnus had stopped counting the nights he had woken up to an empty bed, Alec pacing in the living room and overthinking every single decision he had made that day. Talking about what happened at the Institute had helped a lot with that, even though it had taken Alec some time to really understand that Magnus was not going away, however grave his doubts and insecurities about his new job may be.

As for the warlock himself, he was always glad if he could vent a bit when he came home from an all to demanding customer. And maybe Alec wasn’t the best at addressing his own problems, but he was one of the best listeners in the world. And he gave the best bear hugs and sweet kisses when Magnus was too stressed out to function.

Today, Alec’s reaction to the question left the warlock thinking that his boyfriend’s day had been one of the worse ones. As soon as the words had left his mouth, Alec groaned and dropped his head onto Magnus’s shoulder and let out a deep breath against the warlock’s warm skin. “Don’t even get me started. Those kids Jace has been training are such a nightmare. I swear, he teaches them more of his cockiness than actual skills. Today I told one of the guys we’re training for their parabatai-ceremony that he should work on his combat technique and he totally snapped at me! How can 14 year-olds be so arrogant? When I was that age, I never would have dared to speak to my instructors like that.”  

Magnus smiled and ran one of his hands up Alec’s back. He placed a soft kiss against the side of Alec’s face still cuddled against the crook of his neck and then ran his right hand through Alec’s hair in a calming manner. Usually, Alec loved training with younger shadowhunters. Ever since the Valentine drama had calmed down and he had taken his position as head of the Institute, he had put a lot of work in improving the training of the younger generation. “Just to make sure they don’t get us all killed when they go out on actual missions”, he would always say and most of the people at the Institute believed him. But Magnus knew that this was not the only reason for Alec putting so much work into the training routines – his boyfriend cared way too much about his fellow shadowhunters, especially the younger ones, to put this off as a simple necessity.

Magnus let his hand travel down Alec’s back and began rubbing slow circles over the strong muscles underneath the shadowhunter’s black V-neck. “That’s because you are the son of Maryse Lightwood. Your mother would have put you on blade-cleaning duty for weeks if you’d ever so much as thought about revolting.” Alec snorted, and lifted his head from Magnus’s shoulder to look at his boyfriend, eyes soft and full of fondness. Magnus smiled back at him before he continued talking. “Also I hate to break it to you, Alexander, but your brother is a terrible influence on young people.”

That comment had Alec genuinely laughing, throwing his head back in amusement. Magnus’s chest fluttered with warmth at the sight of his boyfriend so happy and careless. It had been a rare sight in the last few weeks. Actually, it had been a rare sight ever since he’d met Alec all those months ago.

“Yeah, you’re probably right”, Alec admitted, eyes still sparkling with amusement, “I think I’m gonna make Jace and Lydia switch training groups. Someone needs to teach those kids some respect. They can’t – “

Alec was cut off by his boyfriend’s index finger on his lips, shushing him successfully. He arched an eyebrow at Magnus, but the warlock just shook his head slightly, eyes taunting. “No more making plans for work. I asked you how your day was, not to come up with ideas how to improve the Institute. You have the rest of the day off, let someone else worry about those kids.”

When Alec opened his mouth to protest, the warlock silenced him successfully with another kiss. It started out slow, their mouths just lazily moving against each other, but quickly turned more heated and most definitely had the potential for more - if the both of them hadn’t been so drained from the day. With a soft peck to Alec’s lips, Magnus pulled away and tried to stifle another yawn, failing miserably in the process.  

“Nice to know that I’m boring you”, Alec laughed, his hazel eyes full of mischief.

“You’re not”, Magnus retorted, voice muffled by his hand still in front of his mouth. “I’m just totally exhausted. It’s been a rough week. Also, you just pulled me out of a really nice nap.”

“Well I’d better let you continue that nap, then. I could use some sleep anyway”. Alec took Magnus’s hand and lead him through the room over to the couch. He laid down on his back, leaned his head against the armrest and then reached out for Magnus. “Come here?”

If Magnus had had any intention to refuse, he would have been totally unable to – those long lashes and soft smile were way too difficult to say no to. Also, who was Magnus to deny those soft hazel eyes any wish?

He laid down next to Alec and let himself be pulled close into the shadowhunter’s side. Magnus cuddled into his boyfriend’s side and dragged one arm across Alec’s torso, feeling his chest rise and fall with every breath. His boyfriend wrapped one arm around his back to hold him close. Magnus smiled softly when he felt Alec place a soft kiss on his forehead.

With Alec’s warm body so close and strong arms around him, it didn’t take Magnus long to fall asleep. Even though he was slightly worried that they may fall off the couch at some point. For something so expensive, the piece of furniture really offered a ridiculously small amount of space. Even though they were cuddled up together so closely.

But honestly, Magnus wouldn’t have it any other way.  

[huntertales]

Part Three: Left Handed People are the Spawn of Satan. (I Believe the Children are Our Future S05E06)

Useful Links: Last Part | All Episodes Word Count: 5,513. A/N: I couldn't help myself, I had a bit of fun with the title for this part. (Yes, I am left handed. I thought it'd be amusing to add a little myth into the story.) And, after four seasons, we're finally at the moment I've been waiting for. You could say the cat's out of the bag. I really hope you enjoy this, the last part should be out soon!

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You and the boys arrived back at the motel just after sunset, you were exhausted from the long trip back and forth across the state, and the information that was digesting inside of your head. At first it seemed unlikely it was possible Jesse could be demonic, he seemed like a sweet and innocent from the few minutes you've spent with him. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe your judgment was playing tricks on you, making you think Jesse was just another child who had no idea the power he was capable of, and everything was just a pure, innocent accident. Maybe, just maybe, he was an evil little thing who was having a bit of fun, perhaps pushing his abilities he was growing into and and with the help of his demonic mother she turned him into the perfect liar. Your hunter instincts would have believed that. But it was the other side, the one which made you look for the best in everyone, that made you believe Jesse was a kid who had no idea what he was doing. You followed behind the boys into their motel room to grab the case file you left on the table before heading off to your own room so you could get out of these stupid heels. The light was turned on by Sam, stopping in the doorway for a brief second so he could figure out where he was going. He noticed right away there was somebody in the room, but a second later, you leaned over the boys' tall frames to see it was the angel himself occupying by the silence, waiting for you and the boys to arrive back. Cas sat in the corner of the room with his position facing the doorway. He must have popped in when you left him the voicemail and waited in the darkness of the room until then.

“I take it you got our message.” Sam said, heading for the table as you and his brother walked inside.

“It's lucky you found the boy.” Cas said. entire world.

“Oh, yeah, real lucky.” You remarked to the angel, shutting the door behind you as you finally took the chance to kick you heels off in the direction of one of the beds, not particularly caring where they had ended up. “What do we do with the boy?”

Cas responded not a second later, “Kill him.”

You accidentally stumbled in your footing from the answer, making you roughly lean against the door, Sam tugged on his tie to loosen it, but he stopped dead in his tracks. The brothers stared at the angel with absolute bewilderment, but it was you who questioned his motives, not knowing you were about to open Pandora’s box. All of the years you kept it hidden, now, thanks to Jesse, it would all be put on the table for discussion. “What?”

"This child is half human and half demon, but it's far more powerful than either. Other cultures called this hybrid cambion or katako." Cas explained to the three of you. He still had a few things to learn about keeping secrets and finding out when the timing for admitting dangerous information. You felt like you could sink into the ground and dismiss yourself for the rest of your life. And knowing Cas, he wasn't done talking, he just had to continue talking, dragging your name through the mud without even saying it. "There's only two cambions known in the entire world. Jesse is one of them. You might know him as the antichrist.”

Sam opened his mouth and ask the question that made your fingernails dig into the splintered wood in nervousness, "And what about the other one?"

"The other cambion is far less powerful than the antichrist, but still plays an important part to the apocalypse. All of you understand that Lucifer could only be freed if he had an anchor, per se, that keeps him grounded on earth. It was intended for a way for him to understand the creation of humanity. But Lucifer made a creation that was part human and part demon. With both of these cambions together in the same town, who knows what they could be capable of." Cas decided to give the boys a bit of a history lesson of information they had already learned before. You inhaled a deep breath as you watched the angel turn his gaze away from the boys, and almost felt like time was moving in slow motion, you made eye contact with his icy blue ones. "That's why Y/N needs to leave town. She's the other cambion. With her and Jesse together, who knows what either one of them are capable of."

Just like that, the word was out, and you’ve been called a lot of things over the past few years. Most of them was mutt. You first heard it from the infamous demon, Meg, you brushed it off nothing more than an insult she used to get under your skin. But then as time progressed more, and the layers of the apocalypse with the plans Yellow Eyes had intended, things started to become more clear. You learned more things about yourself, and came to terms with the idea that you weren't...well, all that human. Part of you never wanted to tell the brothers, you were afraid of their natural reaction, and what might come after it. You've had dreams about this very particular moment, too. Mostly they ended with them kicking you out, abandoning you forever. But when your anxiety skyrocketed and things became too emotional for you to handle, the dreams turned more deadly, you would wake up in a cold sweat when one of the boys killed you in cold blood when your nightmare ended.

Silence wasn't a good sign. You were at least expecting Dean to chuckle to himself, thinking Cas must have gotten some bad intel as Sam jumped for your defense from the harsh accusation. But the room was dead silent. You could only hear your pounding heart against your chest, it was beating so loud, you wondered if it was going to leap out of your chest. After what felt like a lifetime, you finally gathered the courage to stop staring at the carpet and faced the man you loved and your best friend. You were honestly expecting cold and disturbed looks from hearing this information, but when you looked in the Winchester's direction, you were rather surprised to see them so...calm.

When you looked a little further into their expression, you noticed both of them looked uneasy, but it wasn't the kind of look that seemed like they were disheartened by the news. They seemed more like they were guilty of keeping a secret themselves, and it was finally out. But the act only lasted for a few seconds, only before they jumped back into their normal selves, doing the exact behavior you expected after the information processed in their minds.

Dean chuckled to himself as he shuffled around in his footing, trying his hardest to act as if what he just heard was a bad practical joke the angel was playing on him. "Come on, Cas. We've been hearing a lot of different stuff these days from angels and demons. That's a harsh accusation you're throwing Y/N's way."

“Dena's right. We can't trust everything we hear right now." Sam added, jumping to your defense, just the way he would. He thought about how you were brought into this world, by a demon deal no less, it would make anybody think it might lead to a child that wasn't fully human. “It's like saying....all left handed people are the spawn of Satan."

“I don't understand. Y/N is left handed. And she is, per se, a spawn of Lucifer. He demanded her to be made. But that has no correlation with one another. It's just a pure coincidence." Cas furrowed his brow from what the Winchester brothers were saying. You covered your face with your hands from the conversation that was turning south, and going a direction you didn't know if you should laugh or start cringing at everything that was happening all at once. "All of you have known the truth for quite some time. Why are you still lying to one another?"

"Wait. You...The both of you knew?" You dropped your hands to your side again from what you just heard. You looked over at the boys, your face scrunching up in anger at what Cas had just said. The boys immediately dropped their gaze to the floor and, just like that, their guilt was coming back. "Let me guess, this is some 'See no evil. Speak no evil' crap, isn't it?"

You were tempted to hear their side of the story to get some deserved answer, but before anyone could make eye contact, you found the tension in the room ease up the slightest from what happened next.

Slowly, you looked away from the brothers, and to the table where Cas had innocently taken a seat across from Sam. You furrowed your brow when you heard a farting noise coming from the direction of the angel. Cas tried to adjust himself in his seat, hoping it would stop, only it continued on for a few more seconds before the room fell silent. "That wasn't me." Cas defended himself, knowing he wasn't capable of human bowel movements, or in the need for them. He lifted himself up from the seat to pull out what appeared to be a deflated whoopee cushion. Your face fell as your eyes wandered over to the older Winchester, knowing he was to blame for the tasteless prank that must have been intended for his little brother.

"Who put that there?" Dean innocently asked, trying his hardest not to smile. You rolled your eyes in frustration, suddenly overwhelmed with anger at what was going on here.

"Anyways, I don't get it." Sam turned his attention to the angel sitting in front of him. "You're saying Y/N and Jesse are the Devil's kids?"

"No, of course not. Your bible gets more wrong than it does right. Y/N and the antichrist are not Lucifer's children. This child is a demon spawn, as Y/N has a soul almost close to a demon. It would take far less torture for her to become a full demon like other human souls. But with the demon blood Sam has given you and the previous torture in Hell you've endured from Dean, it's likely you're capable of powerful things, Y/N." Cas explained more infromation to you about things that you didn't know. You found yourself subconsciously crossing your arms over your chest, your hand resting against where you could feel your steadying heartbeat. "But the antichrist is one of the Devil's greatest weapons in the war against heaven."

"Well, if Jesse's a demonic howitzer, then what the hell's he doing in Nebraska?" Dean asked.

"The demons lost him. They can't find him." Cas said. "But they're looking."

"And they can't find him because..."

"Because of the child's power. It hides him from both angels and demons." Cas said. You could feel his eyes slowly linger itself over to you, as if you might give the little boy's whereabouts out to the things you wanted to protect him from. "For now."

"So, he's got, like a forcefield around him." Dean said. He was trying his hardest to think of the positive from all the information he was hearing, and give advice that might help steer away from the plan that would cut a child's life short. "Well, that's great. Problem solved."

"With Lucifer risen, this child grows strong. Soon, he will do more than just make a few toys come to life—something that will draw the demons to him." Cas warned all of you. "The demons will find this child. Lucifer will twist this boy to his purpose. And then, with a word, this child will destroy the host of heaven."

"Wait, wait, wait a second." You stopped the angel, suddenly finding all the information that you were hearing all at once overwhelming for you to handle all at once. "You're saying that—that Jesse's soul purpose is to to take out all the angels?"

Cas nodded his head, "We cannot allow that to happen."

You and the brothers did a lot of things that were frowned up in a civilized society. They drank too much, stole from the innocent, had countless people die in their place and so many other things that kept you up at night. But there were things that you would never do. And what Cas was asking of you, that wasn't one of them. You pushed yourself up from the door and walked forward to the table, protesting this idea before the boys could.

"Wait, wait, wait—Wait a minute." You shook your head, nervously you let out a quiet chuckle from what was happening all at once. You felt lightheaded as your nerves were getting the best of you, making you speak first before your brain could process what might lead to fatal consequences. "We're the good guys. We—We just don't kill children."

Cas didn't like your answer. You heard the legs of the wooden chair scrape against the floor, and before you knew it, he was right in your face, not backing down from the plan he suggested. "A year ago, you and the Winchesters would have done whatever it took to win this war."

"Funny. A year ago, you would have nuked an entire town to save just one seal." You argued with him, pointing your index finger directly into his face. You weren't going to back down from him. Whenever it seemed you and Cas were getting along, a situation always made you butt heads with him and put all of you back at square one. "Things change. I always thought you did. But looks like I was wrong. You're still the same ignorant, spineless son of a bitch that wants to kill anything that is just a bit different."

"I didn't kill you."

"Yeah, because I served a purpose for everyone. Jesse doesn't."

"Okay, okay. Break it up you two." Dean jumped into the argument before either one of you could start throwing punches. You didn't realize your fingers wrapped themselves into a tight fist before Dean reached out and gently placed a hand on your arm, pulling you away from the angel. You let out sharp breath, your eyes never leaving Cas as the both of you stared at one another. "Look, we are not going to kill him. All right? But we can't leave Jesse here. Either. We know that. So..we’ll take him to Bobby’s. He’ll know what to do.”

“You’ll kidnap him?” Cas speculated. Dean looked over at his brother, shrugging his shoulders as the both of them contemplated about the plan of action that sounded decent in their mind. But Cas knew that was dangerous for all of you. “What is going on in this town, it’s what happens when this thing is happy. You cannot imagine what it will do when it’s angry. Besides, how will you hold him? With a thought, he could be around halfway around the world."

"So we—”

"So we tell him the truth." You cut off the older Winchester, knowing out of anyone in this room, you were exactly like Jesse. And you knew how scared he would be if someone was coming after him with black eyes or someone from above he probably was made to believe was supposed to be the good guy. You were thrusted into this lifestyle without someone explaining what you were. You had to learn the hard way, but with this, maybe you could make things different for Jesse. "You say Jesse’s destined to go dark side—fine. But he hasn’t yet. So if we lay it all out for him—what he is, the apocalypse, everything—he might make the right choice.”

Cas turned his head to look at you. The room fell to a complete silence for what felt like forever, until, the angel spoke up. "You didn't. None of you did."

"I didn't know what I was. Nobody told me before it was too late.That's why we're here." You said, not falling for the petty jabs he was throwing your way. Cas stared at you, not saying a single word, but you could tell from his facial expressions that he didn't change his mind. He was going to actually attempting at ending a child's life early. "You touch a single hair on his head, and I swear—”

You tried your hardest to change the angel's mind before he would do something that could haunt him forever. You wanted him to open his mouth and agree, deciding what you had said was good enough for him to believe. But it wasn't. When you blinked, you noticed a gentle breeze touched your cheeks, and nobody was standing across from you. Cas was gone. You clenched your fingers into a tight fist and hissed a few inappropriate words underneath your breath.

+ + +

You and the boys didn't waste a second before you were heading back to the Turner residence. You didn't even wait for Dean to park the car properly before you were ripping open the backseat door and running across the street so you could make it to the front door before it was too late. The boys followed behind just seconds after you, but you were the first one to put your hands on the door handle, where you hoped it would be magically unlocked. But you found that Jesse was smart enough to keep it bolted up. You were about to pound on the door to make him open up, but before you could, Dean decided on a much quicker effort. You were yanked backwards, and before you could question of what Dean was trying to do, he swung up a leg and broke down the door without breaking a sweat. All of you headed inside, fearful that you might have been too late.

You walked inside the living room, keeping yourself at a slower pace, but you frantically looked around the room hoping to find Jesse safe. You turned your head just in time to see the little boy in the corner of the room, with the expression on his face, something happened while you were gone. Your lips stretched into a smile as you let out a sigh of relief, happy to see that he was unharmed without a scratch on him. As you approached the little boy, you made to proceed with caution, still keeping in mind of the warnings Cas had given you.

"Was there a man here? About this tall?" You asked the boy, keeping your voice fairly normal as you gestured the estimated of the angel's height with your arm. "In a trench coat?"

Jesse nervously answered your question by pointing a shaky finger to the ground. You furrowed your brow slightly from what he was doing, but you followed where his finger pointed. Glancing down to the floor, you noticed there was something just a few feet from where you stood. It almost appeared like an action figure of some sort. You took a few steps forward and grabbed the toy from the ground so you could take a further inspection of it. When you took notice of the facial features and what it was wearing, you noticed not even a second later that it was Castiel. He was turned into a toy. Your mouth parted open ever so slightly in surprise as your eyes jumped to the little boy, who looked more scared at what he'd done than anyone in this room.

For a moment you were overcome with confusion at what was going on here, but when you realized Jesse was still staring at you, his eyes just as wide, you decided it was best to take your plan of action. You composed yourself and offered Jesse to take a seat on the couch, he was safe. Dean took ahold of the new action figure, Cas, and stared at it for a few moments. Jesse walked over to the couch and took a seat, he watched as Dean stared at the small plastic toy before putting him up to the fireplace for safekeeping.

"Was he your friend?" Jesse asked all of you.

You pointed your finger at the toy, wondering if that's what he meant. "Him? No, he wasn't."

"I did that." Jesse said. He stared at the boy for a few seconds as his brow furrowed. "But how did I do that?”

This was the part where you dreaded the entire car ride here. You looked away from Jesse and to the boys who were standing right next to you. All though you wanted to tell him the truth, you couldn't risk the chance of having him get angry and do something far worse than turn all of you into toys without a chance of getting you back to normal. So, you decided to take a swing at this, telling him the truth in the most gentle way possible. You took a step forward to him and crouched down at his level, you gave him a smile at the little white lie you were about to tell him.

"You're a super hero, Jesse." You told him with an exciting tone, and when he looked at you with surprise, you could feel your smile growing, and your heartbreaking for what you were really trying to say. "Yeah. I mean, who else could turn someone into a toy? You're Superman—minus the cape and spandex. See, my partners and I," You gestured to the boys with a nod of your head, "we work for a secret government agency. It's our job to find kids with special powers. In fact, we're here to take you to a hidden base in South Dakota, where you'll be trained to fight evil."

"Like the X-Men?" Jesse asked, you nodded your head with eagerness.

"Exactly like the X-Men." You reassured him. Jesse chuckled as he started to smile with excitement, which was a good sign for you. "In fact, the guy we're taking you to—he's even in a wheelchair. You'll be a hero. You'll save lives. Sounds like fun, right?"

Before you could get an answer from Jesse, the perfect moment you'd been trying to build up was ruined, by an unwanted guest that had been gone for the past eleven years. You turned your head at the exact time an invisible force thrusted Dean into the air, all before pinning him against the wall.

"They're lying to you."

That voice, you'd heard it earlier this morning. You quickly jumped to your feet and grabbed Jesse by the arm, hiding him behind your body when you noticed it was Julia, but from her black eyes, she wasn't here, it was the demon that possessed her all those years ago. Sam was about to attack the demon, but before he could, he was in the same predicament as his brother. "Stay right there, dreamboat. Can't hurt you. Or, your little friend here. Orders.” You narrowed your eyes when the demon turned her attention over to you for a moment, all before her focus turned to Dean. "You, on the other hand? Hurting you's encouraged."

Your hands wrapped tighter around Jesse's shoulders as you watched Dean suddenly fly across the room, heading face first into the wall, all before being slammed into the other wall again, joining his brother. "Leave him alone, you black eyed whore!" You spat at her.

"Language, Y/N. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" The demon asked. You gave him a cold stare, but it only lasted for so long, all before you found yourself being roughly thrown against the wall when the demon flicked her wrist, wanting to see her child after all these years. You inhaled a deep breath and watched her every move. But the demon didn't dare hurt the boy. She just bent down to his level to finally inspect every little detail on the boy's face.  "Jesse. You're beautiful. You have your father's eyes."

"Who are you?" Jesse asked in a quiet tone.

"I'm your mother." The demon answered with a warm smile.

Jesse shook his head, "No, you're not."

"Mmhmm. You're half human," Julia stood up to her full height to prove her point to the little boy as her eyes flickered black, "And half one of us."

"She means demons, Jesse!" Dean warned the little boy.

But it seemed the demon didn't like the interruption coming from the Winchester, she reached out a hand to silence the boys, and by that, she made sure it was hard for them to speak by clenching an invisible force around their throats. She looked over at you, daring to see if you would test her limits, you only glared at her from your position.

“Those people you call your parents—they lied to you, too. You’re not there's—not really.” Julia said. Jesse denied her claims by telling the demon that his parents loved him. She dared to question what he thought to believe was the truth. "Is—Is that why they leave you all day? Because they love you so much? These people—these imposters—they told you that the tooth fairy was real and that your toys could hurt you and a hundred other things that aren't true. They love you so much, they made your whole life a lie. Look into your heart, Jesse. you've always known you weren't theirs. You've always known you were different. Everyone has lied to you." Whatever chance at gaining Jesse's trust seemed to have vanished when the demon looked over at you and the boys, dragging you into this mess. "They're not FBI agents. And you're not a superhero."

"Then what am I?" Jesse asked.

"You're powerful. You can have anything you want." The demon said, trying to persuade Jesse with a lifestyle that would come with a deadly cost. "You can do anything you want."

"Don't listen to her!" You tried warning him, but before you could say anything else, your head roughly banged itself against the wall. The demon snickered to herself at what she’d done.

“Don't listen to Y/N, Jesse. She's a traitor to her own kind. You're so much better than her. Nobody trusted you. Everybody’s lied to you. Doesn't that make you angry?” The demon asked a simple question, and she gotten a response that made her happy. Jesse wrapped his fingers into a tight fist, and before you knew it, the entire room felt like it was rattling. You nervously swallowed as you looked around to see that even the lights were flickering. "See? It does make you angry. But I'm telling you the truth, Jesse. Wouldn't it be better if there were no lies? Come with me...and you can wash it all clean. Start over. Imagine that—a world without lies."

Jesse was slowly getting worse. You watched as the fire that was quietly going began to grow even more as the objects around the room rattled, a few vases broke as the family picture hanging right above you slipped from the nail it was on, and went crashing to the ground. Glass was shattered across the ground as the happy family stared back at you. "She right. We lied to you." You spoke up, your eyes jumping to the little boy as you gave him an apologetic look. "But I'll tell you the truth. I just want to tell—" You tried your hardest to speak, but suddenly your words were cut off by the demon. Her eyes turned black again as she pointed an arm at your direction, making it feel as she wrapped her fingers around your throat, squeezing it to the point where it was getting harder to breathe. But you worked through the pain, wanting to finish your throat. "the truth."

"Stop it." Jesse ordered at the demon. And with the simple vocal command, you felt yourself inhale a breath of air, suddenly feeling the pressure around your throat disappear. You managed to push yourself to your feet when the invisible force holding you down vanished, too. Jesse watched you with a curious look in his eye. "I want to hear what she has to say."

"You're stronger than I thought." The demon said.

You waited for the demon to try and make an attack, but when she remained still, you pushed yourself to your feet and focused all of your attention on Jesse. "We lied to you. And I'm sorry. So here's the truth." You said, deciding it was time to let it all out. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N. These are my best friends, Sam and Dean Winchesters. We hunt monsters."

"Except when you are the monster." The demon said. "Right, Y/N?"

"And that woman right there, her name is Julia. She's your mother. But the thing inside of her, the thing that you're talking to," You explained to him, ignoring the taunting voice. "It's a demon."

"A demon?" Jessed asked, you could hear the confusion in his voice.

"She's done nothing but lie to you since the moment you met her. Don't listen to her." The demon tried to persuade Jesse, she was only getting on your last nerve. "Punish her."

"Sit down and shut up." Jesse commanded. A chair from across the room suddenly flying forward without anyone touching it. The demon fell into the chair, and while she tried to speak, nothing came out. She was pinned to the chair and turned mute from Jesse's command. You slowly looked over to him, suddenly nervous for what you were about to say to him, afraid how he would react.

"There's, uh, kind of a..." You tried explaining your hardest to an eleven year old about the apocalypse, but it seemed harder than you thought it would be. "It's a war between angels and demons, and...you're a part of it."

Jesse furrowed his brow, making you presume he had no idea what you were talking about, and how dangerous he really was. "I'm just a kid."

"I know. And I understand how hard this is for all of you. You can go with her if you want. I can't stop you. No one can. But if you do," You warned him about the consequences with a gentle voice, trying your hardest to make this easy as you could for him. "Millions of people will die."

"She said I was half demon." Jesse said. "Is that true."

"Yes. But you're not alone. I’m just like you." You told him, admitting the truth that you had been trying to hide from yourself for too many years. "We're half human, too. You can do the right thing. You've got choices, Jesse. But if you make the wrong ones, it'll haunt you for the rest of your life."

"Why are you telling me this?!" Jesse questioned you with his voice breaking, you could feel your eyes suddenly watering at what you were putting him through. It was bittersweet, but you knew it needed to be done. You walked over to him and crouched down to his level.

"Because I wish someone told me what I was when I was your age. If they did, a lot of people would still be alive. I could have made the right choices, but I didn't. I need to make sure what happened to me doesn't happen for you." You said. You reached out and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "I'm sorry you've got to go through this, Jesse. I really am."

You dropped your hand to your side, allowing Jesse to process and take the information as what you presented itself to be. You wondered if he was going to get angry again and lash out at all of you, but instead, he took you by surprise. You watched as Jesse turned his attention to the demon. He clenched his fist, and with a simple verbal command, he exorcised the demon. You watched as the cloud of black smoke escaped from her throat, all before disappearing into the fireplace, escaping into the night. You heard the loud thumping of bodies hitting the ground, finally after being kept in the air, the boys were free from whatever force that was keeping them there from the demon. You turned your head slowly to see how they were dealing with all of the information. For some reason, you found Dean's reaction the most important, almost as if you were afraid he was going to look at you differently from what he found out tonight.

"How'd you do that?" Dean asked Jesse, he replied with shrugging his shoulders. The older Winchester, being the man that he was, cracked a smile as he gave a compliment that would only be appropriate from him. "Kid, you're awesome."

[dunmerofskyrim]

2

“For eight, ser, I won’t go lower’n three.”

“Eight? Three? Lower?” Simra’s face twisted in frustration. “Listen. Just for a moment. I’ve reckoned it all out. Two-hundred-and-some pages? That’s fourteen gathers in octavo maybe. Fourteen skins scudded and stretched and dried and cut. Folded, bound, cut, covered. And I’m short on time. A fine blank book, made fast — that’s no small thing, I know that. Way I see it, you’ve got the right to name your price here.”

“Three yera’s what I named. I won’t go lower.”

Simra drew in and let go a long thin breath. “For eight, yes, but I don’t want eight — I want fourteen. Fifteen if you can stretch to it. I don’t want lower, I want better, and at three yera for an eight-gather octavo, you’ve got me fretting what you’d turn out.”

The parchmenter’s heavy mouth stiffened almost to a sneer. “‘What I’d turn out’..?” A cold echo.

“I only meant… I mean… S’clear these’re quality materials!” Simra hurried to say. “Knew that when I saw and that’s what got me asking myself ‘bout them, so I thought… Fine craftsmer like you? I don’t want you underselling your skills!”

The parchmenter made a guttural rattling sound, somewhere in the start of his throat. “Think you’ve made it clear what you think of my ‘skills’…”

“Listen—”

“—You listen. Mine’s simple work. Practical. I parch skins. I wax skins. Walls and windows, proofed against the weather. I don’t make books, and no coin from you will make me make books. Now…I can sell you seven skins. Edged. Three yera for ‘em — I won’t go lower.”

“You said eight!”

“And now I said seven, outlander, take or leave it.”

The next breath Simra took was longer, thinner, straining harder at the reins of his patience. “All this…” he began, tight and hard, gesturing around them. “And all you can spare is eight..? You’ve got a full workshop!”

Shelves on shelves lined one wall, stocked with rolled parchments, drawers of tools and pots of reagents. Across from it, the far and back walls were hedged with low workbenches. Above them, racks of skins hung from the ceiling, each pinioned four ways, parching as they stretched. The morning light spilt over it all from a long parchment window set into the roof. The sun that spilt through dyed the scene in shade and jaundice-yellow.

“And I’ve got all Bodram to work for before I start promising to outsiders. Seven’s what I can spare to you.”

So that was how it would go. Simra’s lip curled. His eyes locked firm with the craftsman’s, amber-red against red-brown clay. “Listen,” he said.

And he gathered his mind together, working it til its shape was right. A knotting tangling pattern, more felt than seen. It clotted in his chest. Prickled like danger on the back of his neck. The shape trembled in the air between his fingertips for only a moment, struggling, held in a haze of heatless heat and caged inside his gesture. Then Simra leaned in across the shop’s counter, hand darting out. The parchmenter flinched from what was almost a slap, but it came to lay soft and flat on his cheek.

The spell’s flow from Simra’s body wrenched like a pulled muscle. The breathless stinging gasp of losing more strength than he ought to spend. A crawl of white smoke rose from the bandages wound tight about his his right palm. Against his skin, the cloth felt singed. That was good. Something to focus on. His own hand, his own skin — Simra pulled himself back into himself with that thought, confused as his mind crashed into another’s and recoiled.

“Listen,” he repeated, dark and slow and molasses-sweet, like to a stupid child or a skittish pony. “Help me help you. I’m offering you more money than you hoped to make from me. Four yera for fifteen and you’d have my thanks. Think on that and tell me how it sounds.”

Simra’s eyes never left the craftsman’s, but the craftsman’s were glossed and elsewhere.

“Sounds…good?” The parchmenter mulled the word round his slack heavy mouth, tasting it. “Fair…” he decided.

“Fair’s fair,” Simra smiled, too wide and without warmth, too hard behind the eyes. “No need to wax them. Edged and rolled’ll do fine, thank you.”

The parchmenter nodded, then shook his head like a cat waking up from too long asleep. Simra’s heart clenched and dropped. Had the spell already slipped? He raised his eyebrows in a silent question, waiting for one strained stretched instant. But the parchmenter frowned, nodded again, and turned about to gather up the order.

Simra sighed, and fished the coin from his purses. Two looped leather cords strung with round pierced coins of tin, lead, and iron. A one yera piece of polished redware, and four more bulls of Imperial copper. Piece by piece, the pay clashed onto the counter. The counting ought to have helped, but Simra’s nerves still thrummed high and taut.

Outlander, he’d said. He’d treated Simra like a cur. Whatever came after was kinder by far than what part of Simra had wanted to do. A pale-blazing streak of violence, guttering in his eyes as he stared at the parchmenter’s back…

In time he turned back to Simra, wearing an idiot smile on his blunt face. Kinder this way, Simra thought as the craftsman handed over the long bundle of treated parchment. Kinder by far. The mindbreak charm would wear off with time. Broken thumbs heal harder.

Outside the sunlight was slanting shorter, moving towards midday. A wide pale sky scarred with pale brittle clouds.

The parchmenter’s workshop lurked on the outskirts of Bodram, where the living town met the still-dead city that waited silent around it. A sourness hung in the nearby air. Wet hides on outdoor racks and washing pits for their liming. The pickled scent of halted decay, trapped between freshness and rot. Here at least, a ways from the town-proper, it would bother no-one but the parchmenter’s customers. No further reason to be among them anymore — Simra was glad of that.

He put it all to his back, but the smell followed, chasing him on the breeze. “Fuck you and the wind you rode in on…” Simra muttered, cursing the reek as he walked. True tanneries at least would have reeked of home: the piss and flesh stench of Crucible, the neighbourhood that crowned the Grey Quarter. Instead, the parchment-maker’s scent was subtler, and stranded his thoughts in the workshop, where they lingered on, lingering, lingering on…

The roll of skins were bundled long against his shoulder. No matter how he carried the scrolled up shape, it found a way to rub. It bothered his patience, or stirred up pain. Now against the faded silver scar of the arrow-wound near his neck, where the muscle still knotted sometimes, remembering Weeping-Cloud Hall. Now against the awkward slope of his bony shoulders.

Worse was the way it grit in his mind. Here was a booksworth of pages – a thing he’d hoped to bear with him for a good long while – and already he hated carrying it. His jaw set grim at the idea, trying not to make an omen of it. But it proved difficult. To tell it true, the longer he dwelt on what he’d bought, the more cheated he felt by it all.

The cloth bag of supplies he’d bought was little better. Hooked over his forearm, it cut into the muscle til the whole limb felt blue and dim from the elbow down. At least what it held suppressed simpler needs. Essential things, bought hard at good prices. Think on that instead, he told himself. So he did. Or he tried.

Away from the riverside, Simra shambled further from the living part of Bodram. Across the water, a short reach of valley eddied with dust and rippling scrub. A slow drift of shapes shoaled over the landscape: a herd of squat barrel-bodied guar the size of hogs, at forage on the brief rough plain. Ahead, the city ruins closed in.

If all of Bodram had been built of wood, it would have burnt. Perhaps then its leavings might have been less eerie. But the Hlaalu built often in brick and earthen plaster, and most of the city’s structures still stood. Rubble and cinders would show destruction. The empty adobes and scorched walls, gnawed but not felled by wind and rain, showed only disuse and decay. And perhaps in its way that was sadder.

In Simra’s path was one of the few walls that had fallen. Flame had chewed the plaster, and baked cracks in the structure, but he reckoned it was seasons of rain that did the worst of it. Built of mud it returned to mud, and had long since set solid once more. Now it looked like some body-swelled burial mound, rising from the ruins around it to half-swallow the uncollapsed rest of the building.

Simra clambered up one steep sudden side. Sat with a huff. He was tired. The spell had wrenched more from him than he’d reckoned and left him all but emptied out. But then again it always did. It and all new magic.

Always with him, any new kind of casting came slow. Boiled down its bones, the issue was a struggle between sections of himself. On one side fought the inturned hate held for his own clumsiness, urging him to give up before he’d begun. The part that whispered how there can be no failure where there’s no attempt. Against it fought a slower-burning more stubborn hate for the whole idea of staying stupid. Two kinds of clumsiness, grappling clumsy.

But this was a spell he scarce let himself practice. Sometimes it was for the guilt. The invasion of it. Working an unwilling will til it buckled and went soft. More often though, it was for the lingering confusion its casting left behind. The fear that came with it, of failing, or struggling past his own strength.

“You’re no mage, you just do magic,” he muttered, voice dry and quiet. “No scholar that’s for-fucking-certain. Need a reminder, Sim? Here’s your fucking reminder…”

At least in the sun his strength was returning. Like slow rain fills a bowl left under the sky. Like drinking, and drinking, feeling warmth in the humming alcohol, then realising in a sudden flush that he was already drunk. Under the light and in the open air, Simra’s magicka came back slow. Clarity lagged behind. Simra slipped a coral pink sliver of dried guljana root into his mouth and began to chew. That helped.

Getting up, he walked the long way through the ruins, to better renew what he’d lost. It would be underground afterwards, and no sun down there to be found.

The way in wasn’t half so long as the first time, thanks be. Bodram had any number of ways into the stormtunnels beneath it, Simra had found. The trick was in finding the right entrance, and not walking in circles after. And here as much as in the Pale-Shod warrens beneath the Grey Quarter, his memory served him well.

Simra stooped under a low hidden archway and into a hooded stairwell. A few steps and it crooked back on itself, and stopped at a hardwood door, flush to the tunnel’s sides and ceiling. The dark wood was plain but prickled with magic. Beyond, the whole tunnel crawled with it. The distinct reptile weight of Noor’s magic, warm and numb, like the first trick-welcome heat that comes before frostbite.

Tammunei had given him something for it. Simra searched for the right pocket in his jacket, and brought it out. A smooth black river-pebble, wet-thick to the touch, even when dry, like it remembered the blood he’d seen Tammunei wash it in. A strange kind of key, for guest-glyphs far stronger and more suspicious than Simra’s mother had ever made. Held tight in his palm, he walked through the open door and into the waiting dark.

A feeling clotted round him. Like sinking through water without getting wet. A breaking meniscus. It rippled as he went, swallowing him further. Six paces, turn left, a dozen steps. He stumbled down by touch, hand to the wall. Fifteen paces, counting down, and still no light allowed til they were done.

And then they were.

As he cupped his hands and whispered a magelight to life, Simra swore he felt the darkness purr around him. A shudder of terror. He looked over his shoulder, jerking about, feeling watched, then scolded himself. Of course he was being watched. Like a spider in her web, she felt every part of this place. But that only stays a comfort so long as she’s a friend, Simra thought.