#basically the question is: how well is the cat living up to their wind or are they still a work-in-progress? and that changes things a lot.

[deconstructthesoup]

Some miscellaneous stuff for the Fantasy High Leverage AU:

After getting kicked out, Kristen got taken in by Ankarna and Cassandra, who are living their best country-lesbian vibes out on a farm together---a farm which eventually gets in financial trouble and almost gets shut down by a corporation, which is how the crew learn about Kristen's past before she was a hitter. The farm winds up doubling as a safehouse. (Also, Ankarna wears flannels and has a shotgun, and Cassandra does tarot readings at their stall at the farmer's market on weekends. They also have a little black cat, with no relation to Kalina.)

Despite all the rumors swirling around, the way Fig and Fabian met is surprisingly mundane: when Gilear moved from Portland back to London after he and Sandralynn divorced, Fig went with him, and she got enrolled in the same school that Fabian was attending. The two of them became fast and immediate friends, wound up becoming the most popular kids there due to their combined chaos and the fact that they were kind to those who needed it, and were pretty much inseparable from that point forward. And when Fig introduced Gilear to Fabian's mom, who'd been widowed for a while and was looking for someone stable... well, as much as Fabian complained, it meant that he and Fig were officially siblings. (They learned how to grift from Hallariel, who was a very well-renowned thief in her day. It's how she met Bill, after all.)

Fig is the sibling who's the "bad actor in a theater setting, good actor when she's breaking the law" type, though it's a bit more complex than that. She's amazing at coming up with a character on the spot, building off of the questions that people ask her, and remembering details so none of the information contradicts what she's already said, but she finds scripts "boring and restrictive," and always tries to put her own spin on things... which doesn't always fit well. She does get a little better at following a script of sorts when she's on the crew---at least, she learns to follow the plan.

Kristen hasn't gone by "Kristen Applebees" since she was fifteen---instead, the criminal underworld knows her by "Kristen Justice-Forester," referencing her adoptive moms. Mostly because that sounds generally more badass, but also because she really wants to forget about her old life as the church girl next door.

Gorgug's legal name is "Gavin Thistlespring," but he's been going by Gorgug since he was twelve---it was the name of his first ever D&D character, and it eventually became his hacker handle. (This is really because I just needed an explanation as to why a perfectly normal human in a world that's basically ours would be named "Gorgug." I do something similar for Fig in a lot of my AUs---her name's either just "Fig," or she's named after a character from a fantasy series that Sandralynn likes.)

Someone suggested that Kalina is the Sterling equivalent, and I liked it so much that I decided to make it canon---but instead of being Riz's former partner, she's his dad's old partner and mentor who was forced to help cover up Pok's death. She's not necessarily bad, but she does have a very black-and-white view of morality, and she's not a fan of Riz's new, less-than-legal idea of justice.

Adaine still has the Parker rep of being "crazy," but in a very different light. Rather than being a thrill-seeking ball of chaos who's an unpredictable wildcard in every way when the story begins, she's unsettlingly quiet, perceptive to the point where she can predict things minutes in advance, and acts seemingly without morality and with her own skewed logic. As she spends more time with the crew and warms up to them, however, everyone starts to see that Adaine is unflinchingly and unfailingly kind---and that once she actually warms up to you, she will talk nonstop about anything she's invested in, whether it be obscure history facts, thieving tips, or whatever show, book, or video game that one of the others has gotten her hooked on. She's just closed off as a defense mechanism.

Fabian is the sibling with a deep and personal bond with Riz---not that Fig isn't close to him, but Fabian and Riz shot each other when they first met, and you can't beat that. And while Fabian used to have a thing for Riz, he eventually realized that Riz wasn't interested in any kind of relationship, though neither of them fully had the words for it (because, y'know, this story still starts in 2008). Still, though, he considers Riz his best friend and vice versa, and once he's on the crew, he never dates anyone without introducing them to Riz first. And his affections tend to bounce back and forth between Gorgug and Ragh. Or both. Let's just say that Fabian's got the most romantic drama out of any of them.

Riz is still close with his mom, despite the fact that, as a lawyer and former cop, he knows that she probably wouldn't approve of what he does. He just tells her that he runs a private detective agency, which isn't too far from the truth---hell, it's their cover story, after all.

Fabian's father was the greatest thief in the world when he was alive, but that came with a lot of enemies, and that's not something that Fabian wants to deal with---not to mention, he's always been adamant about making a name for himself, and to not just skate by on the Seacaster name. If that means that he has to refer to himself as "Fabian Faeth," well... so be it. He reasons that it's Fig's last name. Not Gilear's.

Fig has never met her bio-dad before the story begins... but she does meet him eventually. There's a whole thing there.

Adaine does not kill Angwyn in her backstory. However, she does get to do that eventually, and it's cathartic as fuck.

[ultimateissuessimp]

Aaaa the cat king fic was amazing tysm!!! If possible a pt2 would be swell.

Did I say before that I love writing for the Cat King? No? Well, I LOVE writing for the Cat King ✨ I need to also mention that writing part two might have made me slightly emotional 🥹

Oel ngati kameie, Nga Yawne Lu Oer (I see you, I love you) Part 2

The Cat King x Male Reader

Word count: 1,974

Warnings: Talk about past traumas and deaths like the death of a relative and of the main character (A sacrifice being a life and being skinned alive), it's hurt/comfort though and there are no graphic descriptions of said deaths.

From the moment they walked away together, the poor ghost detective left behind, they immediately started talking. Y/N wasn't sure and convinced at first to completely open up to the Cat King, still thinking about the fact that he trapped his friend in Port Townsend, but the pull he felt towards his soulmate made him more willing to just... Try.

So he did. They talked about the smallest of things as a start. Favourite colour, favourite season of the year, favourite food even though the Cat King's choice was slightly... Questionable, but who was he to judge someone's taste.

They barely even noticed when they got to the warehouse, many cats greeting the both of them as they passed the felines. That's how engrossed in their conversation they were. So fascinated about the other, barely noticing the world around them.

-You still haven't told me how you ended up with those three babbling, bumbling band of baboons and their not the brightest star in the sky of a friend - the Cat King asked, a highly amused look on his face as he walked over to his throne and sat down on it, slightly spreading to get more comfortable and patting his thighs as an invitation for Y/N to sit down since he didn't exactly have another place to sit in there, yet at least, and he would rather lose another of his lives than let his soulmate sit on the dirty floor.

Y/N felt unsure about the action, after all they still just so barely licked the surface of knowing each other, but at the same time he didn't want to make Thomas feel as if he was rejecting him in a way, so he walked over to the throne slowly before sitting sideways on the Cat King's lap, letting him wrap and arm around his middle while the other hand laid gently on his knee. It was quite comforting and soothing yet Y/N still couldn't completely relax which wasn't exactly that hard to notice.

-You know that you can say "no" if you feel uncomfortable about doing something, right? Just because we're soulmates doesn't mean we have to do everything the other wants. You have free will for a reason, sweetheart. If you don't want to sit here we could just go to the bedroom and sit on the bed. It's much bigger and, in my opinion, more comfortable - he said, looking at Y/N with a soft smile, the arm around the man's middle going up to affectionately fix his hair that got all messed up because of the wind at the docks.

-I... I know, I do. Could we go to the... Bedroom? - Y/N asked, quickly wanting to change the scenery to a more comfortable one, where they both could simply chill and talk about nothing or something. Somewhere were they could have more privacy.

-Of course, right away - he said before swiftly teleporting them to the bedroom, right onto the bed where they landed with a soft thud. While Y/N sat up, Thomas laid on his side, his hand bent at the elbow supporting his head as he looked with a grin at his soulmate.

-Now tell me, because you still didn't, how did you end up with those four misfits? - he asked with a chuckle, his free hand reaching out to take Y/N's and gently rub circles into the back of it with his thumb.

-Hey! Those are my friends you're talking about! I'm more so friends with Charles and Edwin, we kind of picked up Crystal and Niko on the way not too long ago. I met them like... Five years ago? Maybe? Something like that basically - Y/N started explaining after gently hitting Thomas on his arm for that comment about his friends. - I was a mess back then, I had problems with sleep. I could fall asleep anywhere at any time when I wasn't even tired. I would just... Pass out - he said, looking down at their joined hands as he tried to bring back all of the memories from that time.

-Turned out I had this... Awful sleep paralysis demon looming over me, leeching off of me. You are probably wondering now "How did the boys get to know about it and decided to help you?". Thanks to my aunt. We were close before she... Died. I always felt a presence around me, a warm presence and even though I was there when she died, I couldn't see her afterwards. I still don't understand how that works. But she was the one that asked them for help, so they could get rid of that parasite that glued itself to me and so she could move on, knowing that I'm safe - He continued, smiling softly at the memory of his aunt as it flashed in his mind. - She contacted them, they got rid of the demon and she... Moved on. Yet there was something that united all three of us that made me stick with them and them wanting me around. We simply wanted, desperately needed even, that little spark of hope that would make everything okay. Then that spark appeared again, just bigger and brighter when colours started to show up. Thanks to you. You're my hope - he ended telling his little story, giving Thomas a shy smile, his own thumb running over his knuckles.

Thomas looked at him, his own smile being the most genuine he ever gave to anyone. It was soft, sweet and full of admiration. All for Y/N. His adorable, loving soulmate that made him feel alive after so many years of emptiness.

-You're genuinely the only reason that kept and still keeps me going throughout life. For all that time that I've been alive I could only think about the moment of meeting my soulmate. About finally seeing how many colours, that I've only heard a lot about, could be surrounding me on a daily basis. That's how I lost my first life. Centuries ago. I was still trying to figure out what to do with myself, with my role. I didn't know how to cope with not seeing the world the way so many others did, I was... Tired of waiting, because deep inside I knew I would have to wait a lot longer. So I tried to deal with my problem in the dumbest of ways... - The Cat King started. Feeling like it was finally time to tell his own story. One that not many heard. One that he felt like Y/N deserved to hear. - I tried to make a deal with a powerful being. One that I thought could make it possible for me to see colours without the soulmate bond being activated. But I was young and stupid, believing that this could work. The price for my stupidity was my life. When I woke up after dying for the first time, terrified out of my mind, I finally started to realise that what I was trying to do was so incredibly dumb... It wasn't worth it and it didn't even work out. Not until I finally met my soulmate. The right way - he explained how he lost his first life, shivers going down his spine at the phantom pain that appeared only for a second, reminding him of how so not worth losing that life was by wanting to speed up the process of seeing the coulours around himself.

-Then there was my second life. I was more mature, knowledgeable, I tried going on another path, finally wanting to simply wait for my turn to be happy. Until I of course had a run it with a coven of witches. They were the reason why the saying "there are many ways to skin a cat" even exists... I hate it and I hated actually being skinned alive. They trapped me in my cat form, performed a ritual to summon some sort of deity, but they needed a sacrifice. Animal sacrifice. To be specific: a cat. It hurt like hell, honestly worse than the first death, but I wasn't... I wasn't as scared when I got my third life. I was relieved it was over. Now I'm here. With you. Finally having what I longed for for so long and I do not plan on giving it up anytime soon, so I'm sorry, but you will have to deal with my whiny sorry ass - he finally put an end to his story with a soft, barely there chuckle as his mind still whirled around the memories of his past lives. His past... Deaths. Y/N could see it too.

-You're not alone anymore. You don't have to be alone anymore. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. You're safe, your heart will be safe. With me... I promise - Y/N said, finally laying down on his side next to Thomas and reaching out to cup his face softly with his hands, thumbs immediately caressing his cheeks and wiping away that one stray tear that dared to fall.

-I know. I always knew that. My heart and soul wouldn't settle for someone who wished to hurt me and many tried, but not you... Not my little rainbow on a rainy day - Thomas said, observing carefully each detail of Y/N's face and loving them all equally. He loved him. Purely, with his whole being. He only hoped that Y/N loved him too in the same way.

He moved slightly, keeping himself up on his arms as his free hand went to place itself around Y/N's hips and pull him closer. He smiled adoringly at his soulmate before leaning in to softly press his lips against the younger man's. They fit like puzzle pieces while their souls sang and danced together, finally completely united. They could feel their wrists tingling so they broke away from the kiss for a small moment to take a look. The sight put large smiles of both of their faces. A magnifying glass with cat ears and a tail wrapped around the handle, paw print right in the middle of the glass.

-Now you can't get rid of me, kitty cat - Y/N said with a chuckle, pressing his forehead to the Cat King's.

-As if I'd even try. You're mine now as I'm yours - he huffed in response to his soulmate's words before quickly joining their lips together in a full of joy, but slightly needy kiss.

-Wait, wait. I will have to go back to the guys soon, we're still working on a case. A lot of cases actually - Y/N said, letting out giggles in between each kiss and mewling when his lower lip got bitten gently and tugged on.

-They will be fine on their own, four heads are better than one and right now I need you more than they need you. They can wait for a few hours or a day. I've waited for centuries and now that I have you in my arms, I do not plan on letting you go so soon - Thomas said while slowly changing their positions, fully placing Y/N on his back while he hovered over him.

Y/N's couldn't beat any faster. If it did, it would probably jump out of his chest and present itself on a silver platter to the Cat King since he already owned it. He finally felt truly happy and not just "feel the void for a moment" happy. Maybe Thomas was right? They could deal with the case without him. At least for a little bit. And with that thought he whispered a small "I love you" into the kiss before letting out a laugh when Thomas nearly pounced on him in joy, peppering multiple kisses all over his face. Yeah... They'll be fine.

[atdwarriorsau]

bc im making one rn, do the clans have a creation story?

Oof okay this is gonna have to be a four-parter.

Directory:

Part One: Ancient Ancestors/Mythology

Part Two: Why DotC is ass The Tangled Mess of Canon's Creation Story

Part Three: A Basic Overview of the AtD Timeline

Part Four: The Founder's Stories

-☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆◇☆-

Part One: Ancient Ancestors/Mythology

-

Explained in this post, anything not directly stated in TPB is free game for me. I am a very big mythology nerd, so I allowed myself to add some stories and rituals that can fit inside canon.

One thing I've noticed is how often Lionclan and Tigerclan and Leopardclan are brought up in the first arc. And how seemingly ever following arc seemed to drop the premise entirely. I always thought that was such a shame because there were SO many interesting things you could have done with that concept.

In this fictional land the clans live in (not britain), big cats emigrated up north, eventually becoming the wild cats known now. (At least this is what the clans believe). Cats with lion/tiger/leopard traits are held in high esteem, and NOT naming a kit with these traits those names is seen as very weird ad probably a bad sign for the cats life.

There are no stories about specific big cats, they've just been relegated to specific stereotypes and roles for whatever narrative the elder needs to tell. It's like in certain folklores that use animal characters. The fox is always sly, the mouse always scared, the bear always tough, the owl/crow always wise.

Tigers are bold, strong, but also clever and quick. They are NOT 'the bad ones' who the writers equate with Shaowclan, because that is bad and sucks. Tigers are actually (irl) incredible swimmers, so Shadowclan AND Riverclan hold them in the higher esteem.

Lions are what inspired Thunderclan's somewhat unique and very intense ideal of 'nobility'. The 'kings' who do good by all, leading without question. In an older age, Skyclan held lions in the higher esteem as well, though that has long since faded. They are still basically Thunderclan's mascot to this day.

Leopards are beloved by Riverclan and Wndclan. While strong, they are not AS strong as lions and tigers, so Thunderclan and Shadowclan tend to brush them off. Leopards were rumoured to be fast as the wind, and favoured intelligence over raw strength.

The Old Clans, as the are known, are often put down by the older apprentices as being 'kit tales', but elder warriors know the wisdom these stories hold. Due to the vague nature of the stories, many older cats question whether or not they hold any truth, but understand the importance of these stories and know to let them be.

As for whether I, the author, have decided if they are true or not, well, I'll never tell : )

[artpoint420]

A Long Winded Analytic Defense of Nermal Cat from Garfield -DRAFT

I’ve said before, Nermal isn’t that bad, y’all just mean.

Go ahead. Hate me. Send me to Abu Dabi. But I am a Nermal apologist. I think Nermal makes a good addition to the Garfield cast and he's even a bit of an interesting character, the world's cutest kitty cat yet the most overhated.

I can understand why he's hated, certainly. I'll admit he does deserve some hate.

HOWEVER

As a cat crazy individual, I will never hate a cat. That's my main reason for not hating Nermal. In fact, I want to adopt Nermal so bad but he's just a cartoon character at the end of each Monday (and everyday), unfortunately. There are other reasons I defend him too and here (and next parts) I'll give a detailed overview/ analysis of all Garfield media Nermal has been in, the role he plays, his dynamics with the other characters, and his behavior.

PART 1: THE COMIC STRIPS (early era Nermal)

Let's start with the obvious, his first appearance in the comics.

... to which Garfield immediately hates him. But hey, it's a great way to immediately establish their dynamic, and show the main reason Garfield dislikes Nermal is his jealously (and annoyance at how he interuppts his naps.) The fact Nermal looks so happy to meet him though <3

The next few strips feature Garfield telling Nermal how he hates cute, his general disappointment in Nermal, and all the little ways Nermal annoys him. Here, Nermal is just the naive baby of the group and doesn't seem to mean to annoy Garfield. It's honestly reminisent to how Garfield and Odie were when Odie was introduced early on as well as a reflection on how cats tend to treat new cats, which is usually not very well until they get used to each other. (I have three cats trust me.)

Nonetheless, it doesn't take long until we get strips showcasing the ways they actually enjoy their time together, finding ways to play that shows their friendly side with each other without completely altering their established dynamic.

These are some of my overall favorite Garfield comics. Jim Davis honestly deserves kudos for being able to draw and write his characters in ways that feel like a natural sibling rivalry with both good and bad moments. But when the moments are good, they're so damn good. Here's more examples:

God this is my favorte Nermal and Garf stirip. I can hear them giggling as they confuse Jon.

I don't blame you for thinking that Nermal.

He's just his little baby brother and I will accept no other answer.

However there's this one:

If nothing proves Garfield's hatred is fueld mainly by jealously, this will. So much for Nermal being the "evil" one. (They both have their evil moments I suppose.)

In this one, Garfield fully admits it.

To move forward because I can analyze each and every comic, truly I can, but I also have so much more I want to talk about, I'll just say there's a few basic formulas for a Garfield and Nermal strip in this era I've observed, and that's one of these few:

-Nermal being snobbish towards Garfield to which Garfield is reasonably annoyed.

-Garfield just being a jerk to Nermal unprovoked or scolding him harshly usually ending with Nermal being tossed out the door.

-Garfield yearning for Jon's attention upon Nermal getting attention.

-Garfield trying to copy Nermal and/or have Nermal teach him to be cute (you are cute though Garfield, you're a cat, of course you're cute, Jon or Nermal just won't admit it.)

-Nermal and Garfield asking each other what seems like genuine questions out of a true interest about each other's lives.

-Something a bit more on the wholesome or brotherly side.

Or something kinda random.

Now, before both our attention spans die out, lets quickly look at modern Nermal comics and how Nermal's character has developed over the years. As we can see, early on, he had his snobbish moments but could also be sweet enough to break through Garfield's walls he puts up. Does that sweetness remain or get replaced?

To be honest, their dynamic hasn't actually changed too awfully much. There's so many modern ones with Nermal that feature Garfield's age and birthday more often than the past one's. Nermal is usually insulting Garfield's age but there's one where he does try to comfort him, proving he's still a cute sweet kitty despite his smart-aleck attitude. But I'll have to continue in part 2 because there's already 29 pictures in this post and I can only add one more which isthis one, which I coudn't leave out:

"Garfield! You're blocking my sunlight!"

Tee-hee, yep, one more cute one for the road. Can't get enough of it? Tune in for my next post because we'll have to do a Part 1 part 2!

[piratefishmama]

Forgiven Not Forgotten | Part 8

The mirror wasn’t weird anymore. But Eddie still found it sort of unnerving to look into it. To see scars on his face. Scars that told the story of time having passed. Time he didn’t remember passing, and knowing that, from context clues and behaviours of the people around him…

He should remember it passing.

They weren’t telling him something. Keeping truths from him for his own good and while yes, nice, lovely, they were protecting him from something undoubtedly harsh, the urge of wanting to know was more of a pain in the ass than it’d ever been before.

Curiosity killed the cat and all that jazz.

Unfortunately he wasn’t a cat, he didn’t have nine lives, he had one, and that’d already been taken from him, so he was really pushing his luck. Especially considering he wound up on that little trip out into town, partnered up with team super girl. Or team Byers-Hopper. He’d wanted to be with the people he knew, Steve, Robin, Nancy… but no, Eleven, the actual superhero had linked her arm with his, and that was that.

She basically adopted him. Pulled him into the direction of team Byers-Hopper.

“She’s comfortable with you” Joyce explained from left field, they’d wound up in a music store after several clothes stores, and Eddie, while mindlessly flicking through the metal vinyl’s, had been watching the psychokinetic teen perusing bins with Will for tapes, Hopper somewhere down the aisles looking for an album to replace one he’d lost in the chaos.

“Can’t imagine why, I don’t know her.” He knew of her, but only through the brief ‘there’s this girl, she has superpowers’ run down during the great Eddie Munson manhunt of ’86. She was the girl. He didn’t know what he expected, but… it wasn’t her.

She looked so fragile. Her hair at her chin, styled in a way that Eddie recognised as someone who also didn’t quite know how to handle natural curls. With a brush and nothing else.

Too young to have been through what she’d been through. She should be in a mall somewhere, trying on clothes, gossiping about boys, or girls, or anything not related to fighting for her life.

She shouldn’t have been through what she had. But then, none of them should have been.

“We find it best not to question it when El takes a shine to someone, it means good things, that’s what we’ve found so far. It means there’s something good in you.”

“Well… if anyone were going to see it… m’glad it’s the superhero.” Joyce smiled, gave him a gentle pat on the back that shouldn’t have been as comforting as it was, probably the overwhelming amount of mom energy she seemed to just radiate, “…do you know what they’re hiding from me?” Just as out of left field as her appearance beside him was, and it had at least some of the desired effect.

She looked surprised. She looked uncomfortable, she looked… like she knew.

“It’s nothing that you did, Eddie, I promise you. I think… I think they’re keeping it quiet because… if you did wind up remembering… the government would likely try and blame you, they’d have an excuse to blame you, the fact that you don’t, well I think that is what’s keeping you out of a lot of trouble.” It was keeping him safe. Keeping him out of the line of fire. Even if it was also keeping the people he’d tentatively begun thinking of as friends… out of reach. “They’re probably trying to avoid jogging that memory of yours for your own safety.”

“So there should be memories…” finally, some kind of clarity. While they’d all been nice to him, while they’d all been glad he was okay, nobody acting like he didn’t belong there, nobody being mean to him… Steve wouldn’t even help him unpack! He and Steve had been fine during the whole Vecna thing, they’d been okay, they’d laughed and joked, they’d gotten along, and now— “did I hurt Steve?”

“Not that I know of, he wouldn’t have told anyone if you did though, knowing him he’d be keeping it to himself to stop you from receiving the fury of The Children. So if you did, you’d have to pry that from him yourself.” Right… pry the knowledge from Steve. Okay, he could do that… if he could get Steve alone then maybe, just maybe, he could talk to him.

Steve was the only one who knew about his void, right? He was safe with Steve, he could talk to Steve. “I suppose I’ll speak to Steve then, thanks Mrs Byers”

“It’s Joyce, Eddie… you can call me Joyce.” He nodded, his smile small, but there.

“Eddie!” And there was the Supergirl, having left the bin to join them, taking his arm to pull him back with her toward Will “there are tapes you will like here. Will says you like Metal, I think I have found some, the name says Iron something, and I am certain that that is a metal.” Joyce offered him a smile, before releasing him from their conversation with a gentle shoo motion.

His attention switched to El as she pulled him along, and with a much bigger smile, he confirmed that “yeah, that’s a metal, Ellie, why don’t we find something for Max too, since I’m sure she could do with something other than Kate Bush by now” and gosh couldn’t that smile of hers just light up a whole goddamn room and make all those negative thoughts just disappear into the wind?

“Yes, I think so too.”

They dropped off the new tapes at the hospital on the way back to home base, the car fully loaded with clothes,it was intended to be a quick visit, Max was still asleep, so they didn’t plan to stay long, but Lucas was there beside her as usual, reading wonder woman comics to her as she slept. She’d wake up soon. The doctors said she would, and he’d be there when she did.

El added a new little woollen friendship bracelet to Max’s wrist, alongside the three others she’d already placed there through the week and whispered something to her, nobody caught what it was, nobody tried to. If El wanted everyone to know what she said, she’d have said it out loud.

It was Lucas who made him feel less like a piece of the background, just by smiling at him and asking him “you doin okay, Eddie?” Checking in with him.

“Feels like I need a montage to catch me up on what I’m missing but… yeah m’good man. Red likes Wonder Woman?”

“Mhm, big on the girl power, y’know? As if anyone could be tougher than her” as if anyone could be braver.

El was pretty damn special but… El could throw things with her mind, could snap all the bones in a human body with a thought, Max was just… Max, impossibly brave, but so very human.

“Princess Diana would bow at her feet, I have zero doubts. What about you though? You’ve barely left this place, can’t be good for you…”

“I’ll rest when she’s awake, she’d do the same for me. And before you say it don’t worry, I’m fully prepared to endure her attitude when she finds out how long I’ve been here. She can be mad at me all she wants, I’ll be here when she wakes up.”

“Good…. m’glad y-you’re… you’re prepared, stalker…”

Part 10

[crazycat010]

A Wonderful Surprise

Bakugou Katsuki X reader series part 1

part 1, part 2

IN WHICH : Y/n life takes an unexpected turn when she receives a mysterious letter

(spoiler alert) talk of an Orphanage, drama queen AND ironic y/n😎, chaos of the mha facility. (The series will probably be about fem!reader but there aren't any human body references yet, there's only a small talk about hair and freckles.)

word count = 3,289 words

If your personality were to be described in one word, others would probably say cheerful, many would say joyous or altruistic, some may even say sensitive; but if you had to answer the question, right now more than ever, you’d probably just say anxious(it’s one of the only things you didn’t have a hard time deciding what to do or, in this case, say).

Besides, you weren’t not the kind of anxious who has trouble concentrating and panics, or experiences nausea and heart palpitations, or even starts sweating and shaking. No, you had been so lucky as to get the family package, everything included to make sure your life would resemble literal hell.

That’s how you’d found yourself, nervously tapping your foot after the second vomit-stop, while the heroes in front of you, Shinji Nishiya AKA Wood Hero/Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady, were making a terrible attempt at keeping it cool and acting nonchalance.

You were all cooped up in a huge limo, with an anxious you seated in the back, facing the two pro-heroes while the taxi drove the little group on a 6 hour long drive from where you used to live, to THE place of my dreams.

You remembered what had happened as if it was yesterday (well, it in fact had been, yesterday. I’m just trying to fancy it up here). You’d woken up to the beautiful noises of coffee sizzling, birds chirping, kids yelling and screaming while throwing toys at each other and teachers miserably failing at being in control of the situation. It’s not like you hated it there, or maybe you did, but, it just didn’t feel like home. You know where, in basically every lovey-dovey film, in the end, the character always says something, in a voice so high-pitched only cats can hear them, along the lines of: “I don’t care if my house got destroyed; my parents were eaten alive by a dragon and then pooped out of his butthole( yes, I could’ve cut that out and no, I don’t think I ever will). I don’t even care if I don’t have any friends anymore because they were exterminated by the plague with the rest of Earth’s population, or if I lost all of my money because it flew away in the wind with all the chaos and I look like a half-dead raccoon with rabies. As long as I have you, I’ll be fine, because you’re my home!” And then they end up kissing and multiplying like rabbits. Well, this place, others FORCE me to call home, it still hasn’t clicked to me that way, nor do I think it ever will.

After carefully paving your way through the shared bedroom transformed into a landmine, you finally reached the room reserved to meals and important gatherings. There, your ears found relief from the previous chaotic situation. You slowly began sipping on your cup of hot milk, that successfully destroyed your taste buds, making it possible for you to eat the burned toast and undercooked bacon our mistress called breakfast (she had never eaten it since you’d gotten there, which had been quite a while, somewhere in between the 8 and 9 years. Instead she usually treated herself with a whole tray of freshly baked pastries from the pastry shop nearby). You poured the rest of your so-called-breakfast in the garbage bin, which consisted of a couple of kgs of scrambled eggs the chef insisted on making, even though, to nobody’s surprise, they always ended up untouched, as many myths and legends revolved around the stories of the few courageous souls who had tried them.

The only class you had to attend that day was Maths, so you decided to skip it and run off to the gym, as per usual. As if it wasn’t already difficult enough, some geniuses around the world, had decided to replace numbers with letters, successfully ruining your precarious relationship with all kinds of scientific subjects.

After that, you’d go reassure and comfort the new kids and give them small jobs to do to keep them entertained throughout the entire day, for example by making them to some drawings, invent new stories based on the ones you’d told them, or elect them to be your personal helper for your daily tasks.

Finally, you were going help the chef cook lunch. She was indeed a brilliant woman to be around; her quirk was to identify if foods were poisonous or not, nonetheless, people were starting to thing it just stopped working once she started cooking.

You didn’t think much about the afternoon, as it probably would’ve gone by exactly like the morning had, adding a bedtime story for the younger and a scolding for the elder. You weren’t even one of the oldest, yet you had been here the longest and were the mentor for everyone.

You were heading to the bedrooms when the cook stopped you in your tracks, handing you over a letter with teary eyes and a proud smile.

You didn’t often see her so delighted, so, without caring about the letter, you asked: “What got you so happy today?”

“You” She replied, blowing her nose in one of her handmade handkerchief, pointing to the letter you had rapidly forgotten about.

With confusion printed over your freckled face, you took the white envelopment out, checking the sender.

You gasped in shock at the fancy ink writings, as the back of the letter read:

“ From the Hero Academy U.A. Highschool    Musutafu, Japan    To Y/N  Y/LN    Hope Haven All-Girls Orphanage     Tokyo,  Japan ”

OK, what?

What did U.A. Highschool have got to do with you?

You hadn’t been able to even partecipate in the entry test and the school year had already started, so what should I have expected the content of the letter be?

You didn’t know why, but your hands started trembling and your sight became dizzy, making you stumble in your own feet and fall over not-so-graciously.

The letter had fallen out of your hands, while you tried regaining composure, pulling yourself up to your feet in a terrible attempt at masking your previous poor figure.

To not risk making a fool out of yourself again, you took out a chair and sat yourself down rather harshly, impatient to read the letter the cook had already grabbed from underneath the table.

Heavy silence filling the air, you could only feel your heart thumping as you torn avidly the envelopment.

A white piece of parchment fell out into your open palm, neatly folded. You were quick to open it, wanting an explanation about what all this fuss was about.

“ Dear Miss Y/LN,   On behalf of the faculty, staff, and student body of the U.A. High School for Heroes, it is my great honor to officially extend an invitation for your immediate enrollment, effective February 12, 2016. While it is rare for us to accept students mid-academic year, your recent heroic actions have proven beyond a shadow of doubt that you possess not only great power but also the courage and character of a true hero. Two weeks ago, when faced with a threat that endangered your classmates, you demonstrated extraordinary bravery, resourcefulness, and selflessness. You acted decisively to protect others in a situation where most would falter. Such valor embodies the very ideals we seek to cultivate in our students. At U.A. High School for Heroes, you will receive advanced training in heroics, ethics, and combat techniques, as well as the traditional academic curriculum. We are confident that your presence will inspire your peers and contribute to the growth of our school community. Your journey as a hero is just beginning, and we are excited to stand by you as you take these important steps toward becoming the hero you were destined to be. Please find enclosed your class schedule, a list of required materials, and details on the school's orientation for mid-year admissions. Should you have any questions, do not hesitate to contact us.  As your headmistress has informed us, you’d be enthusiast to join our school, so, we’ve decided on our own to arrange the papers and send two of the pro-heroes we work with: Shinji Nishiya AKA Wood Hero/Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady, to pick you up tomorrow morning at 1:00 p.m. and bring you to the High School site. We look forward to welcoming you to campus and witnessing your continued growth and heroism. With great admiration, Nezu Principal, U.A. High School for Heroes ”

Believing it must be a dream, you read the parchment over and over and pinched your cheeks repeatedly until the cook went to immobilize yourself as your place had become redder than a fresh tomato.

Realizing she hadn’t been able to know what the letter was even about, you handed her the piece of paper, unable to form a sentence without mumbling incoherently like a madwoman.

Tears began to flood her cheeks like overflowing rivers in April.

With a pair of strong arms she hugged you, and in the corner you saw your headmistress smiling and nodding, subtly telling you that your biggest dream had really just realized itself and she was secretly proud of your doings.

A mix of emotions hit you hard like a heavy truck going at high speeds and you were finding it difficult to rearrange your minds as chaos had broken out in your mind like a small fire in an expanse of dry grass.

Once the imposing woman had freed you from her bear hug, still unable to properly speak, you went to your room to pack the few things of your property.

You didn’t have many clothes, as you’d always turned down the offer to go out shopping. You were left with the book you were reading, a horror novel from an American writer Stephen King entitled “Shining”; an old collection of fairy tales your parents used to read to you every night; a couple of the Orphanage’s uniforms; some sweatpants, hoodies and t-shirts along with two pairs of shoes, some fancy ballerinas and some everyday overused sneakers; a bag of candy and 4 unfinished notebooks.

The day had been full of tears and goodbyes, nonetheless, you refused to shed a tear, almost as if you were afraid it would’ve made you look weak and the High School would’ve suddenly decided to take back their offer.

The other girls around your age decided to bring you on a last minute shopping-spree, knowing you couldn’t turn down the offer and forcefully made you try on all kinds of sweatpants, jeans, t-shirts, sweaters and skirts.

You let them ‘use’ you as a mannequin, already feeling nostalgic, though you’d arrived with clear ideas on the articles  you would’ve bought: 3 pairs of jeans, 1 pair of gray sweatpants with matching hoodie, 2 other sweaters , 5 t-shirts, a new pair of gloves, even though you usually only wore the right hand one and a tank top you’d let the girls choose. Considering you weren’t going to bring the Orphanage uniforms, you didn’t have that much clothing, but the letter had informed you that once they got your measurements, they would’ve got you their uniform, which you were pretty excited about.

The headmistress had also told you that they had already prepared your dorm room and you didn't have to worry about any expenses, considering your economic and social state.

You hadn’t been able to sleep that night, finding yourself staring at the cracked and moldy ceiling, just like the first days after you’d first arrived her.

It may have not entirely felt like home, but you had still spent almost 10 years of your life in this place, so you knew you were going to miss it anyways, with all its flaws and defects.

You were brought back to reality once you noticed the taxi had fully stopped and the two pro-heroes were watching you curiously while the taxi driver was unloading the bags from the trunk.

You quickly got out of the vehicle, but, right upon setting foot on the ground, you felt like your world was spinning and you grabbed onto to the car, panting and heavy breathing.

Thousands of potential endings flew through your mind, raging like a wild storm. What if nobody liked you there? Did you really deserve to be here? What if there had been an error and the letter was meant for somebody else? What if it was all just a very bad joke? What if you never fit in there? What if…

“Hey kid, are you okay?” Questioned you Mt. Lady, waving her gloved hand in front of your face.

You promptly blinked back all the tears, faking a smile to not worry the hero. “Y-Yeah. ‘M fine. It’s just really big here, even bigger than on tv”

She laughed a bit and ruffled your hair “It sure is.”

In the meanwhile, a golf cart approached the small group, and as the heroes were freed from their job as babysitters, you sat in silence, contemplating your worn out sneakers while you were led to the principal office to meet most of the teaching staff.

They welcomed you kindly, yet the Principal’s words flew in and out of your ears in record time as you found yourself once again on the golf cart, this time directed towards the dorms.

You hadn’t been able to meet your classmates, which you didn’t know if you felt more excited or uneasy about, as night was approaching and you yourself found it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. At least that night flew by quickly, without any dreams or nightmares.

You woke up to your alarm drilling literal holes into your cranium. You pressed your pillow against your ears to find some peace from the excruciating noise, though you soon realized the alarm had been going off for 20 minutes now…what a nice way to start the day!

“Holy Mary mother of God!” You exclaimed, realizing you were not very far from being late your first day.

Yes, you did panic and yes, you forgot to stop the alarm, which continued to ring for another good 15 minutes before you accidentally slammed it against the wall while searching for your phone.

With a fearful look on your face, you ran out of your room, bumping into quite a lot of students. Having missed the shuttle that would’ve brought you to the main High School’s facility, were your new class was awaiting you, you had to make a run for it.

You arrived to the facility just in time and started looking around for your class.

After losing your way a couple of times, a group of girls saw your disoriented look and decided to help you.

The first one to approach you was a short girl, even shorter than you were. She had brown hair cut short in a bob that adorned beautifully her oval face, complementing her big brown eyes.

A pitiful look on her face, she asked you: “Hi, are you lost?”

You simply nodded in response, your throat feeling dry after the sprint.

“We can help you! What’s your name? Mine’s Mina Ashido, nice to meet you!” Exclaimed a pink skinned girl from behind you.

You gasped in shock, not having heard her arrival.

“Calm down Mina, you don’t want to scare her.” Scolded her a taller girl, with long black hair tied neatly in a pony tail and eyes that pierced through your soul like pointy knives.

Feeling surrounded, you panicked even more, only wanting to go back to the Orphanage and bawl your eyes out, cooped up in the cook’s familiar embrace.

An unimpressed girl with small eyes, blue short hair and two peculiar rope thingies attached to her ear lobe rolled her eyes at the confusion, probably just wanting to go to class.

Trying to mask the anxiety up, you responded to the girls initial questions with a meek smile: “Hi! I’m Y/n Y/Ln and yes, I’d really appreciate it if you guys would be kind enough as to show me around. The corridors are never-ending!”

“Happy to help.” Replied cheekily the brown haired girl. “Where do you have to go?”

You showed her your schedule: “It says here I have to go to class 1A, but I can’t seem to find it.”

She gasped cutely, while the other girls looked at you with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“But that’s our class! You must be our new classmate! You don’t know how happy we are to have another girl in the group!” Said the girl excitedly.

The pony tail girl intervened: “We are in fact joyous to welcome you in our class, Y/n. I’m Momo Yayorozu and they’re Ochaco Uraraka, Mina Ashido, Kyoka Jiro, Tsuyu Asui and Toro Hagakure.”

The girls she was referring to each gave you a little wave, while Tsuyu Asui, a green haired girl with big black eyes told you to call her by her given name.

You were confused upon only seeing the clothing of this Toru Hagakure, so Mina reassured you, whispering in your ear: “Toru’s quirk is invisibility.”

Hoping to remember all their names, you followed the group to the opposite side of the facility (Good gracious was it big!), until a little sign informed you you had arrived to the right classroom.

While the other girls entered the classroom calmly, you felt your heart skipping way too many beats, as passing students watched you amused.

Taking a deep breath, you caught up with Mina, who had been by far THE most talkative (not that you didn’t like. As a matter of fact, you preferred listening to her rather than talking yourself).

There weren’t many others in the classroom, so you got seated right next to Ashido, who had previously told you not to worry about the seating arrangements as there were many empty spots prior to your arrival.

Being a few minutes early, you decided to take a check your appeal. You took out of your backpack a small mirror the cook had gifted you two days before; it had been one of the best gifts ever, since it held a picture of you two the first days after you’d arrived. She had been a mother figure to anyone at the Orphanage, but had bonded with you the most, so it had quite saddened you that you wouldn’t have been able to see her for a while unless through a teeny tiny screen.

While Mina talked your ear off about the classmates and the professors, you took a quick glance at your reflection: your cheeks were red from the run and the anxiety caused from being in such a new and different environment, but, thankfully, your high ponytail didn’t look half bad and your long straight brown hair swayed gently as you moved, having been tied firmly.

After swiftly fixing your bangs, you put back your mirror and patiently waited for the professor’s arrival.

All the talking ended the second the door opened. With a graceful and composed expression, you observed professor Aizawa enter the classroom with heavy steps and the same bored look from the meeting the day before.

Without even having reached the teaching post, he said, in a monotonous voice: “As many of you might have already noticed, we have a new student in this class. By now, she must have surely introduced herself to the lot of you, so we’ll head to the track field right now to not waste any time.”

You gulped down, it was a huge favor not having to introduce yourself in front of the whole class, but going to the training fields right now? What did he have planned for you?

Hiii! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you've appreciated this post. Part 2 is coming up soon but you're more than welcome to come check out my account with my other posts and/or make requests(MASTERLIST). Do NOT plagiarize this or any of my content.

Love you guys! See you soon!😘

Written by crazycat010 © 2025 crazycat010

[synestheticwanderings]

20 Questions (for fanfic writers)

thanks for the tag @shizuoi 🖤

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

21

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

93,846

3. what fandoms do you write for?

lockwood & co.

4. top five fics by kudos:

can’t leave the night

flooded

sick of this lonely air/designed for me

A Handy Excuse

sugar in my tea

5. do you respond to comments?

yep!

6. what is the fic your wrote with the angstiest ending?

where the winds sigh, but Road to Hell is literally a greek tragedy so...

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

sugar in my tea lives up to its name

8. do you get hate on fics?

not in my ao3 comments anyway

9. do you write smut?

i’ve been known to dabble.

10. craziest crossover:

i don’t do crossovers, but my road to hell casting is controversial.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

possibly...

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

someone asked to translate can’t leave the night and sick of this lonely air/designed for me, but i’m not sure if there was ever any follow-through.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

A Handy Excuse with @cats-and-metersticks @monsterbananatv @menina89 @hailqiqi and sciroccoorion was super fun to write! got my sapphire walk fic out of the way with a lot of support from friends.

14. all time favorite ship?

oof this is hard, but i have to go with mr. darcy and elizabeth bennet. i’m a basic girl at heart.

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

if we’re being honest, the Wildcard series, but the two stories stand on their own so at least i can live with that.

16. what are your writing strengths?

i’m good at writing efficiently, saying a lot in a little, and packing a gut punch in under 1,000 words. i’ve been told that i can change writing styles fairly easily, but i think i just write what the situation calls for.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i’m a little too good at writing efficiently, and by that i mean i really really struggle to write long, and this is across all genres. part of it’s that i’m just not a fast writer, and so it’s a patience thing. i’m getting better at recognizing where a story needs more meat on the bones, but actually putting it on is another matter.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

it can be done very well, just not by me.

19. first fandom you wrote in?

harry potter. from voldemort’s perspective, and you will never find it.

20. favorite fic you've written?

it depends on the day you ask me, but Knave of Clubs (Wildcard) is very solid even when I’ve gone back to it.

who else wants to play?

[ghost-lavender]

bat, banshee, fantasy, owl, yearn 😊

Bat - What’s your favorite creature associated with Halloween?

Probably ghosts! As basic as that sounds. There’s just something so special about the imagery of them that I love. Even when it hurts.

Banshee - Have you ever had a paranormal encounter? If so, do tell!

When my maternal grandfather was still alive, he had pretty severe dementia at the end. He would constantly talk about people in the house that none of us could see, and some of the descriptions were a bit horrifying. One day he and I were alone in the house, and my door slammed shut REALLY hard and loud. My door could not do that even with a pretty strong gust of wind because of how it was situated (it was kind of broken). I opened it up and looked out into the living room where my grandpa was and he said, “well, you’ve really gone and pissed him off now.”

Shortly after that event, my cat’s food and water bowls in my bedroom moved to the direct opposite side of the room on several different days. Like when I’d come back into the room after being out for a few minutes, they’d be across the room. I initially thought maybe the cat did it, but on several of those occasions she was dead asleep the entire time I was out of the room, which was for just a couple minutes at a time. Anyway, I’ve just never been able to explain either event, lol.

Fantasy - What’s your favorite mythical character?

I like faeries and dragons most! Also big fan of a huge percentage of cryptids.

Owl - What creature would you have as a familiar?

My current familiar is my kitty, miss Cotton Adarna Ball. 🥰 But if she were not mine and I could choose another animal, it would likely be a fox.

Yearn - What’s something you’re looking forward to this spooky season?

I’m planning on having an autumnal equinox gathering that I’m looking forward to! I’d also like to dress up this year. And visit a pumpkin patch. Reading/watching lots of horror books and movies. The weather will also be less dire here in October, lol. I haven’t set up a lot of plans yet but I really hope to attend a few fun events this season!

Thank you for the questions, my sweet friend! 💜✨

[deadrlngers]

formal, informal, outerwear, and footwear for fenix and zefyr? 👁️👁️

character design questions

formal: What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?

fenix: god it's so difficult to imagine him in smth formal, i feel like he'd dress up only if forced. he loves looking fashionable but more in a disinterested type of way. if he somehow gets forced into smth formal i so bad imagine him wearing either a double breasted jacket or like a very plain combo of blazer jacket + shirt and slap on some dress pants. no tie or whatever, he greatly hates those, you really need to put in some hard work to convince him to wear one. STILL THO once he gets all dressed up his mood goes from grumpy cat to smug peacock the moment he realises he looks pretty hot. he'd take a photo, send it on the group chat and write smth dumb like 'who's going to suck me off sloppy style in a corpo office now?' (<he gets kicked out of the chat)

zefyr: i think they don't exactly care about looking formal but they DO care to look important, statuary, like oozing off power. so if the occasion calls for it i think they would wear smth like some cool ass sorcerer robe, just to underline that they are a big shot, someone to fear for their power. many silver decorations, maybe an intricate breastplate that's more for show than any use. they would wear jewels on their horns, bracelets or gems hanging off them, maybe a few on their tail as well. decorate their claws, wear their hair in some complicate style with something pointy poking out of it like spikes or idk. zefyr would 100% go off with the style, they came to serve cunt

informal: What's your OC's lazy-day look? How do they like to dress when they're winding down?

fenix: picture this. some kind of t-shirt with holes in it because 'who cares, it's not like anyone is going to come judge me at home' and with smth dumb written on it like this guy has fire bussy, that or he doesn't wear any shirt at all, i wouldn't complain tbh. either some plain shorts if it's hot or sweatpants (AND SOCKS. HE'S COLD.), he basically looks like he just came back from a 20 hours shift.

zefyr: they basically live in the middle of nowhere of a forest in some kind of cozy cabin sorrunded by a forest so their lazy-day outfits consist of something very simple, light fabrics, a tunic or a shirt and an opened jerkin on it. something comfy for their legs like wide legged pants or maybe they are wearing a light robe and breeches and they sometimes tend to walk barefoot in their own home or out in the nature

outerwear: What's your OC's outerwear situation? Jacket, sweater, cloak? What sort of weather do they deal with most and how do they protect themselves?

fenix: he lovessss a good jacket, if it's not like extremely hot then you can bet it all that he's going to wear a jacket. leather, denim, suede, shearling jackets, all of it (vesper steals them a lot). tho he doesn't wear anything that goes past his waist (so like a coat etc) because he needs to show off his ass, god bless. sometimes you could see him wear a turtleneck but everyone makes fun of him every time he does so he doesn't do it often..the gang just loves to make fun of him, vesper genuinely likes the look <3 if it's hot outside then he's going to pull out his light shirts and tank tops, he hates sweating, summers back in italy where hell for him (i get him)

zefyr: draconic bloodline and all i want to believe zefyr isn't greatly affected by the cold, hot blooded creature they are!! but at the same time they really don't like the cold in general so they will cover up a lot, cloaks, more layers, fur, whatever you could do to fight off the cold. they like warmer temperatures better but not extreme, thankfully they don't have to deal with it. they don't wear any cloak if they are wandering through the forest, they dress pretty plainly if they are exploring for erbs and whatever they might need

footwear: What does your OC wear on their feet?

fenix: talked a bit about his obsession for boots in a previous ask..he loves cowboy boots baby!! brown, lightly worn out just enough to make it look cool, black boots that get to his ankles, and his absolute faves which are pointed boots, either plain slick black or smth decorated. he likes combat boots as well, but he wears them way less, usually when he wears a very simple outfit or has no big plans for the day or he's just lazy and tired

zefyr: a pair of boots never failed anyone!! they wear comfy plain boots that get just below their knees mostly, sometimes they could go wander around barefoot and if they want to Go Off as said in the first question then they are going to pull out something extreme like idk, boots with pointy ends with intricate designs

[mollyxprewett]

free as the wind. free as the clouds. free as a song when you sing it out loud. there ain't no stopping or slowing down. let's be wild and free. we are the wild. we are the free and our fire burns eternally. we'll travel far; far as the eyes can see. we are the wild and free.

basics.

name: molly ava prewett. meaning: of the sea. to live. nickname: mols. birthday: august 2nd. leo. age: twenty. pronouns: she + her. sexuality: bisexual. siblings: fabian prewett. gideon prewett. parents: augustus prewett. coredelia prewett née fawley. languages: english.  current residence: hogwarts. born: nottingham, engiand.

wizard fun.

hogwarts house: gryffindor. hogwarts year: tenth. area of study: charms. extracurriculars: dueling club, charms club, gay straight alliance. affiliation: order of the phoenix. pet: tuxedo cat named jeeves. blood status: pureblood. species: witch. patronus: basset hound. boggart: fabian and gideon being tortured. wand type: aspen wood. dragon heartstring. 10 ¾"

appearance.

height: 5'4" hair color: black. eye color: dark brown. hair style: usually down, long past her shoulders. fashion style: tomboy but girly when she feels like it. basically whatever she feels like when she wakes up in the morning.

personality.

positive traits: + compassionate + adventurous + confident negative traits: - mischievous - stubborn - prideful

spotify.

quick facts.

grew up in a manor with parents, fabian and gideon but weren’t the typical pureblood family. parents disowned for not believing in blood purity.

molly was an accident but made a huge impact in the family. have the twins a hard time, mothered them but looked up to them.

hogwarts gave her the chance to find herself without aside from her brothers.

skateboards, bakes, knits, and into music and records.

discovered the order.

headcanons.

updated frequently.

bio.

it took a little bit of luck, a little bit of fate, a slight accident and a lot of spice to welcome molly into the prewett clan. she was a spitfire from the very beginning. she demanded attention but usually in the most loving way possible. however, she had her toilsome ways as well from time to time. both a reflection of who she would become.

the family grew up in a manor in nottingham. their mother was a fawley, their father a prewett, both purebloods expected to live the life of typical purebloods. little did the families know they would be more relaxed, they allowed their children to live as children, they didn’t believe in arranged marriages and, most of all, they didn’t believe in pureblood purity. the family was disowned. but they still had the home, they still had the money, they still had the means to give their children the life of leisure, though none of them truly cared for the finer things in life. they just lived.

growing up in a household with a set of older twins, gideon and fabian, molly had to make her mark. she wasn’t going to take it lying down. she wasn’t going to be the younger sibling who sat back and let her older twins run the house. no, not in the slightest. she asked them questions constantly, demanding the correct answers, seeing through their bullshit being the smart young witch she was. on the other hand she also mothered them. when they did something questionable she was the first to call them out. she tried to be gentle but with them that was virtually impossible. however, she loved them to pieces and looked up to them. they had fun, they were smart and lived life to the fullest. that’s how she wanted to live but in her own way. she wouldn’t have asked for any other brothers.

when fabian and gideon went off to hogwarts the manor was quiet. molly missed them terribly and couldn’t wait for her chance to get back with them. she would never admit it but they were her rocks. in the meantime she spent in the library reading all she could and practicing all the magic she could. she was going to be ready to enter hogwarts with experience. her parents helped her learn, supportive as ever. molly’s perseverance paid off once her letter came.

upon entering hogwarts she was sorted into gryffindor with little question. she couldn’t have been happier. she was there with fabian. once again the little sister but tried to reign it in, wanted to be cool. but she also found herself, making herself cool aside from her brothers. she began skateboarding, she got into music, she made her own friends and got into baking and knitting. she was everywhere and loved it. hogwarts was helping her find herself. even that she was bisexual. she was molly ava fucking prewett.

as she grew into herself and a war on the horizon she immediately wanted to be part of the order. she may have been young but knew what she believed about blood purity and that it was a fight worth fighting.

[collectorofwebs]

In a Mess with a Succubus Ch.4

The rustling of leaves and the gentle kiss of a breeze against his skin stirred Peter from his unconscious state. His nerves, still very much intact, sent a wave of sensation across his body, a reassuring reminder that he was, in fact, alive. At least, he assumed so; the world around him was shrouded in a deep, inky blackness, the kind that makes it impossible to discern even the most basic details of one's surroundings.

As his eyes fluttered open, he stared up at a canopy of towering trees, their gnarled branches stretching out like skeletal fingers against a star-studded sky. The air was cool and damp, filled with the scent of earth and pine, a far cry from the concrete jungle of New York City. He took a deep breath, his lungs expanding with the fresh, clean air, and felt a sense of peace wash over him —a stark contrast to the adrenaline-fueled chaos he was accustomed to.

"Well, this is different," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to blend seamlessly with the night sounds of the forest. He pushed himself up, his body aching from the impact of whatever had caused him to black out. His spider-sense tingled, but not with the usual warning of impending danger. Instead, it was a soft, gentle pulse, a reassuring hum that told him he was safe, at least for the moment.

Looking around, he took in the sheer scale of the trees, their trunks like ancient pillars supporting the vast, star-strewn sky. The forest floor was a carpet of moss and leaves, soft and yielding beneath his touch. He could hear the distant hoot of an owl, the rustle of small animals moving through the underbrush, and the soothing sound of a nearby stream, its water babbling gently over smooth stones.

"Okay, so not New York," he stated, a note of amusement in his voice. "But where am I? And how did I get here?" He stood up, brushing the dirt and leaves from his suit, his mind racing with questions. Whatever had brought him to this place, he knew one thing for certain: he was far from home, and the adventure was beginning.

Along with the realization he was no longer in costume.

Indeed, upon realizing that he could not only feel the wind but also the moisture of morning dew lightly kissing his skin without any sense of cloth for protection (albeit his prowess and defense more or less came from the bite of the radioactive spider itself), Peter looked down to see that he had been nearly stripped of all save for a sparse amount of clothing in the form of what seemed to be some sort of fur pelt bearing the skin that once belonged to the red-striped cat he had been referred to on more than one occasion. While his body was completely bare except for that article of clothing, the photographer found that in place of armor, his very skin had transformed into a sort of tapestry.

Seeing a nearby source of water in the form of a conveniently placed river, Peter dashed over to take a closer look at his reflection, his puzzlement growing as he beheld the transformative art that had been etched onto his body. With ink seemingly infecting and coloring every pore, he stood in awe, taking in the intricate design that adorned his flesh. His limbs, torso, chest, neck, back, hands, feet, and even his face had been colored with a contrasting array of dark lines and sections of blue and red, reminiscent of the ancient Britons and their intricate body art.

The design was a mesmerizing fusion of his Spider-Man costume and the traditional tattoos of ancient Celtic warriors. Swirling patterns and complex knots adorned his skin, the lines thick and bold, the colors vibrant and stark against his pale flesh. Spiders and webs were intricately woven into the design, their legs and bodies flowing seamlessly with the Celtic knots, creating a living, breathing tapestry of ink and flesh.

He turned his arms over, examining the detailed work, the lines flowing like rivers, the colors a stark contrast to his natural skin tone. The tattoos were not just surface decor; they seemed to pulse with an energy of their own, a living extension of his being. He could feel the power in the designs, a primal, ancient force that resonated deep within him, awakening something wild and untamed.

"Well, this is something else," he murmured, his voice a low rumble of awe and confusion. "It's like my costume has become a part of me, a living, breathing extension of my being." He flexed his muscles, watching as the tattoos seemed to shift and move with him, the spiders and webs seeming to come alive, their eyes glinting with an otherworldly light.

The puzzlement in his eyes grew as he wondered what this meant, how it had come to be, and who—or what—had done this to him. But despite the questions swirling in his mind, he couldn't deny the raw, primal power that coursed through his veins, the feeling of being connected to something ancient and profound. Whatever lay ahead, he knew that he was ready to face it, his newfound strength and the mysteries of his transformation guiding him on this unexpected journey.

"Wait..." Peter murmured to himself, his hazel eyes scanning the dense woodland that surrounded him, taking in the symphony of scents and sounds that filled the air. The earthy aroma of damp soil and the crisp, clean smell of pine needled his nostrils, while the cacophony of bird songs and the rustling of leaves above created a soothing, natural melody. He recognized the trees, their shapes, and sizes etched into his memory from countless adventures and studies. This place... he knew it, or at least, his spider sense tingled with a familiar recognition.

His eyes roved over the varied flora, from the towering giants that stretched towards the heavens to the delicate underbrush that carpeted the forest floor. He identified well-maintained pine trees, their needles a deep, vibrant green, and the slender, papery bark of both downy and silver birch trees, their white trunks a stark contrast to the darker hues of the forest. Alder, oak, ash, hazel, willow, and rowan trees dotted the landscape, each one a familiar sight, yet foreign in this context. But it was the presence of a particular tree that sent a jolt of confirmation through him—a tree with blueish-green leaves and reddish-brown bark, its needles a unique shape that he knew all too well.

"Pinus sylvestris," he whispered, the scientific name rolling off his tongue as he finally placed it. "Scots Pine, or Scotch Pine," he added, his voice barely above a whisper. He paused, taking a deep breath as he surveyed his environment once more, the reality of his situation sinking in. "Native to Eurasia," he concluded, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation. “Guess it was worth taking that botany class for some extra credit in high school.”

A Short Time Later

“Granted, it’s been a while since then, so I could potentially have a tree or two mixed up,” the mostly undressed and tattooed Peter mused as he continued his trek through the unfamiliar environment, noting how the details were rather precise for a section of the world he had never seen nor been to thus far. “Maybe taking a trip or two with the Avengers when they’re globe-trotting would help out in the long run.”

The forest around him was a vibrant, living tapestry, a stark contrast to the concrete jungle of New York. The trees stood tall and proud, their roots deeply embedded in the earth, a testament to the passage of time and the endurance of nature. And there, amidst the familiar yet foreign landscape, Peter knew that he had been taken to a place far from home, a place where the rules were different, and the dangers were unknown. But with his newfound strength and the mysteries of his transformation, he was ready to face whatever lay ahead, his spider sense guiding him through the uncharted territory of this ancient, enchanting forest.

"If I had to guess, and it certainly seems that way," Peter thought aloud, his voice a low rumble that blended with the natural symphony of the forest. His senses remained heightened, scanning for any potential dangers, but his spider sense was quiet, offering no warnings of imminent threats. "I'd say I've been teleported to a Celtic rainforest."

He paused, his brow furrowing as he delved into the depths of his memory, sifting through the information he had absorbed from a class he had taken more for the GPA boost than out of genuine interest. "Somewhere in Wales, maybe Scotland?" he mused, his voice trailing off as he tried to piece together the fragments of knowledge. The dense brush around him seemed to respond to his words, the rustling of leaves and the distant knock of a woodpecker creating an ambiance that only served to emphasize his isolation and solitude.

"Still, wherever this place is, I think it would've taken me longer than a few minutes to get here," he continued his voice a mix of awe and confusion. "So, the only conclusion I can reach is that I was brought here. But by whom? And for what purpose?"

The forest seemed to hold its breath, the usual cacophony of sounds fading to a hushed whisper, as if the very trees were leaning in to listen to his thoughts. The air was thick with anticipation, the scent of pine and earth a grounding presence amidst the swirl of questions in his mind. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead, his newfound strength and the mysteries of his transformation a beacon of courage in the face of the unknown.

Amid the constant, soothing rhythm of the nearby river, a new sound caught Peter's attention—a deep, resonant roar that hinted at a water source far more massive than the stream he had been following. His ears perked up, and he tilted his head, trying to pinpoint the direction of the noise. The sound was unfamiliar yet beckoning, a primal call that stirred something within him.

With a burst of speed, he dashed through the forest, his tattooed limbs moving with the grace and agility of a wild animal. Trees blurred past him, their gnarled roots and low-hanging branches barely registering as he leaped and weaved his way toward the source of the sound. The forest floor shook slightly with each of his strides, the impact of his feet kicking up leaves and debris in his wake.

As he ran, the roar grew louder and more insistent, and the scent of saltwater filled his nostrils, a stark contrast to the fresh, earthy aroma of the forest. He could feel the pull of the unknown, the promise of something vast and powerful, and he found himself eager to reach its source.

Breaking through the final line of trees, Peter found himself standing on a cliff overlooking a vast, sprawling ocean. The tide was rising, the water churning, foaming mass of power and might as it crashed against the rocks below. The sight was breathtaking, the sheer scale of the ocean a humbling reminder of the force of nature and the smallness of man.

"Whoa," he breathed, his voice barely audible over the roar of the waves. "This is... incredible." He took a step closer to the edge, his toes curling over the crumbling earth as he marveled at the sight before him. The ocean stretched out endlessly, its surface a shimmering expanse of blue and grey, the horizon a thin line where the sea met the sky. “Still…” he continued, his brow furrowing as he took in the stark contrast to the familiar landscapes of his hometown, “Cape Cod or Coney Island, this is not.”

He turned his gaze from the majestic sea to the landscape behind him, and his eyes widened in astonishment. The area was completely barren of any hint of civilization or human touch. No buildings, no roads, no signs of modern life—nothing but untouched, pristine nature as far as the eye could see. It was as if he had been transported to a time when civilization was just beginning, a world untouched by human hands.

The forest behind him was dense and wild, the trees growing in a chaotic, untamed manner, their branches intertwining to form a natural cathedral. The underbrush was thick, a tangled mass of ferns, moss, and wildflowers, their colors a vibrant contrast to the dark, gnarled trunks of the trees. The air was fresh and clean, free from the smog and pollution of the city, and the only sounds were the natural symphony of the forest and the relentless roar of the ocean.

Peter took a deep breath, the scent of pine and saltwater filling his lungs, and he felt a sense of awe and wonder wash over him. He was standing in a place untouched by time, a sanctuary of nature and wildness, and he couldn't help but feel small and insignificant in the face of its vast, untamed beauty. "This place is... incredible," he whispered, his voice a reverent murmur. "I've never seen anything like it." With a final, lingering look at the ocean, he turned and made his way back into the forest, his mind racing with questions and his senses heightened, ready to explore the mysteries of this ancient, enchanting land.

And then, he felt it.

Spidey Sense is tingling…?!

The thunderous roar of a particularly massive and powerful wave crashing against the shore captured Peter's attention, drawing him toward a cluster of jagged rocks jutting out a short distance into the ocean. At the center of this rocky outcrop stood an imposing structure—an elongated stake or towering wooden post that loomed above the frothy surf, weathered and worn by relentless tides. The salty breeze carried with it the scent of brine and seaweed, invigorating his senses as he approached. Yet what truly set his heart racing was the eerie realization that, despite this seemingly untouched wilderness, he was no longer alone. Shadows danced at the periphery of his vision, hinting at the presence of something—or someone—hidden within the wild, stirring his curiosity and trepidation alike.

Secured to the weathered pole was a striking humanoid figure, their arms firmly bound behind them and ropes tightly cinching their form to the sturdy post. Despite Peter’s keen senses absorbing the myriad of details surrounding him—especially the potent aroma of fresh, briny salt wafting in from the sea—their appearance remained shrouded in mystery. They wore a simple yet elegant tunic, or perhaps a kirtle, its fabric flowing gently in the breeze, while long, silken strands of hair cascaded down, enveloping their face in a curtain of shadow.

“Shame the ocean water couldn't take cues from its buddy, the ocean air,” Peter remarked, his voice carrying softly over the rhythmic crash of waves against the shoreline. The cool breeze was refreshing, a momentary respite from the relentless heat of the sun, yet the relentless surf roared with an unyielding force, a reminder of the powerful depths just beyond the shore. “Still, if someone’s been tied up there, it’s probably so the tide can take care of them.”

Simply put, even with caution still at the forefront of his mind, leaving the stranger to drown was simply not an option.

With a burst of speed, Peter launched into a sprint that carried him down the shore, his footsteps leaving deep impressions in the soft, yielding sand. The terrain, though beautiful, provided a challenge to his speed, the grains shifting beneath his feet, slowing his pace compared to the solid pavement of New York's streets. The relentless waves crashed against his legs, their foamy embrace a hindrance to his progress, but not enough to deter him.

With a determined effort, he pushed forward, the power of his limbs propelling him through the surf until he was fully immersed in the sea. The water was cold and invigorating, a stark contrast to the warm, humid air of the forest. He swam with powerful, efficient strokes, his body cutting through the waves with the grace of a dolphin.

Reaching the outcrop of rocks, he pulled himself up, his fingers and toes finding purchase in the crevices despite the slick, moisture-laden surface. His body's natural "stickiness," a result of the microscopic fibers that coated his skin, allowed him to cling to the stone with ease, even as the waves crashed against him, trying to dislodge his grip.

Perched atop the rocks, Peter took a moment to catch his breath, the salt spray stinging his eyes and the taste of the sea on his lips. He knew that while his abilities were extraordinary, no spider or Spider-Man was immune to the dangers of drowning. The ocean was a powerful, unpredictable force, and he was but a small speck in its vast, watery realm.

Taking in the sight before him, he marveled at the raw, untamed beauty of it all. The waves rolled in, one after another, their ceaseless rhythm a testament to the enduring power of nature. The sun, a golden orb in the sky, cast shimmering rays upon the water, creating a dazzling display of light and color that danced and sparkled across the surface. It was a sight unlike any other, a symphony of nature's forces that left him in awe and wonder.

His eyes fixed on the figure tied to a wooden pole further ahead. As he drew closer, he could make out the details of the woman—her clothing, her position, and the determined set of her jaw. He swam with renewed vigor, his heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and curiosity.

Just as he was about to reach her, he stopped in his uneven trek across the rocks, his body still as a memory surfaced in his mind. The trees of Eurasia weren't the only subject he had signed up to take in his last years of high school; he had also taken a class on Scottish history, and with it, the tales of the Killing Times and the martyrdom of Margaret Wilson came flooding back.

The Killing Times, a period of brutal persecution in Scotland, where those who refused to conform to the established church were often subjected to horrific punishments and public executions. Margaret Wilson, a young woman who had been tied to a stake and left to drown in the rising tide as a result of her refusal to renounce her Presbyterian faith. The image of her brave stance and ultimate sacrifice flashed before his eyes, a chilling reminder of the historical atrocities that had taken place in this very region.

Peter's eyes widened as he took in the woman before him, her situation eerily reminiscent of Margaret Wilson's final moments. The pole, the rising tide, the remote location—it all pointed to a similar fate. And yet…and yet, there was something off.

Tingles are still going off…I’m missing something here.

Before Peter could fully grasp the anomaly before him, the woman turned her head upward, the slow, deliberate motion revealing more of her features to his eager eyes. The young adult found himself staring at a face that was at once familiar and utterly foreign. The woman's eyes held a depth of emotion and a spark of something wild and untamed, yet there was an undeniable resemblance to the enigmatic blonde he had been pursuing.

"Kathleen?!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of confusion and disbelief. As he drew closer, he took in the finer details of her face, the shape of her eyes, the curve of her lips, and the proud set of her jaw. There was no denying the similarity, and yet, this woman was different—her hair a cascade of vibrant green, her features more angular, and her eyes holding a depth of something ancient, remembrance of a time that Kathleen couldn’t have ever experienced.

Peter's mind raced as he compared the two women, trying to reconcile the similarities and the stark differences. He thought of the green-haired woman he had seen briefly before he lost consciousness, her ethereal beauty and otherworldly grace etched into his memory. Could there be a connection between them? Were they somehow related, or was this merely a cruel trick of fate, a coincidence that defied all logic?

The woman before him held his gaze, her expression unreadable, and Peter found himself drawn into the depths of her eyes, a vortex of mystery and intrigue. He knew, in that moment, that he was standing on the precipice of a great revelation, a truth that would shake the very foundations of his understanding and plunge him into a world far more complex and dangerous than he could have ever imagined. With a deep breath, he steeled himself, ready to face whatever lay ahead, his curiosity and determination burning brighter than ever.

"Thank you for the save, Tiger," the green-haired woman purred, her voice a smooth, silky melody that seemed to caress Peter's senses. It was rich and thick, like the slow drip of honey on a warm summer's day, evoking mental images of rose petals floating gently through the air. Her words wrapped around him, a seductive embrace that sent a shiver down his spine. Yet, despite the pleasurable sensations, his spider-sense continued to activate cautionary neurons in his brain, a persistent warning that all was not as it seemed. She leaned in closer, her breath hot on his cheek, and whispered, "Since you went through all that trouble, what do you say I leave you with a little reward?"

Before he could respond, her lips met his, soft and gentle at first, then growing more insistent and passionate. Peter was shocked initially, his eyes widening in surprise, but as the kiss deepened, he felt a wave of contentment and pleasure wash over him. It was as if every nerve in his body was alight with sensation, the taste of her lips intoxicating, the feel of her body pressed against his electric. He found himself kissing her back with equal fervor, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her closer. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the intensity of the moment. The roar of the ocean, the cry of the gulls, the once overpowering scent of salt—all of it faded into a distant hum, drowned out by the pounding of their hearts and the symphony of their shared breath. Peter had never experienced anything like it, a kiss that consumed his body and soul, leaving him craving more, desperate for the connection to last forever.

So engulfed in the haze of heat and lust, Peter was barely aware of his surroundings, his senses heightened yet narrowly focused on the intoxicating connection between them. The urgency to free the bound woman from her watery grave had all but faded from his mind, pushed aside by the overwhelming tide of passion that threatened to consume him whole.

He was only vaguely conscious of her arms wrapping around his lower back, the sensation of her touch sending pleasurable shivers cascading up his spine. Her nails, long and smooth, gently clawed their way up his back, lightly marking his flesh amidst the prominent tattoos that adorned his skin. Each delicate scratch sent a jolt of sensation through him, a bittersweet mix of pleasure and pain that only served to deepen his desire.

Peter's hands roamed her body, exploring the curves and contours hidden beneath her clothing, his touch hungry and eager. He could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the heat of her body pressing against his, and the way her breath hitched in her throat as he trailed kisses down her neck, tasting her sweet, intoxicating scent.

The world around them seemed to fade into a blur, the only reality the two of them lost in their embrace, their bodies moving in sync as if guided by an ancient, primal rhythm. The danger of the rising tide, the mystery of her appearance, and the enigma of her identity were all but forgotten, pushed aside by the all-consuming fire of their passion. In that moment, there were only the two of them, their bodies entwined, their souls intertwined, and their breaths mingling as one.

Then, in a brief, fleeting moment of clarity, Peter remembered that he was indeed a creature of flesh and blood, and not just a being of pure sensation and desire. He drew away from the green-haired woman, his lungs craving the salty, refreshing air of the sea. As he took a deep breath, his hazel eyes, wide with newfound awareness, caught a shape out of the corner of his vision.

A humanoid shape. A woman.

"...huh?" he murmured, his brow furrowing in confusion as he turned his head to get a better look. The woman he had been embracing, "Margaret," appeared equally confused, her eyes searching his face for an explanation as to why he had suddenly pulled away.

Peter's gaze was drawn to the other side of the wooden pole, and his eyes widened in astonishment as he spotted another figure tied to the rock, her form destined for a watery grave. This woman, however, was significantly different from the one before him. Her shape was semi-transparent, ethereal, almost ghostly, as if she were a spirit from another realm. She seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, her edges blurring and shifting like a mirage.

Her hair was short, cropped neatly at the nape of her neck, and unlike the vibrant sea-green of "Margaret," this woman's hair was a striking, unnatural purple, like the deepest, richest amethyst. Her features were delicate, almost elfin, with high cheekbones and large, expressive eyes that seemed to hold a universe of knowledge and secrets. She was dressed in a simple, flowing garment that billowed gently in the sea breeze, her form barely substantial, as if she were made of smoke and memory.

Peter's heart pounded in his chest as he took in the sight of the ethereal woman, her presence a stark contrast to the passionate, fiery embrace he had just shared with "Margaret." He could feel the weight of her gaze, her purpose for being there, and her drive that seemed to radiate from her very being.

"Wait…" Peter muttered, his brow furrowing as the pieces began to click into place. "Margaret… she wasn’t the only one."

The green-haired woman appeared puzzled, her head tilting to the side as she regarded him with confusion. "What do you mean, love?" she asked, her voice a soft, melodic purr.

Peter's mind raced as he recalled the history lesson from his high school days, the tales of the Killing Times, and the brave women who had sacrificed their lives for their beliefs. "Margaret, or rather, Margaret Wilson, she was sentenced to drown at sea," he mused aloud, his voice barely above a whisper. "But she wasn’t the only one. She had a fellow martyr in Margaret McLachlan."

As he spoke, the ethereal, purple-haired woman seemed to take notice of him, her gaze locking onto his with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. He could feel the weight of her stare, the ancient power that radiated from her very being, and he knew, in that moment, that he was in the presence of something truly otherworldly.

Before he could react, a massive wave crashed down upon them, its foamy crest towering overhead like a monumental wall of water. Peter was caught in its relentless force, the wave pulling him under, the world around him becoming a chaotic symphony of bubbles and churning sea. He kicked and thrashed, trying to swim against the current, but the power of the ocean was overwhelming, dragging him deeper and deeper into its watery embrace.

As he was pulled under, he caught a final glimpse of the two Margarets, their forms merging and shifting, their eyes locked onto his, a mixture of sadness and determination etched onto their faces. And then, the sea claimed him, the cold, dark depths enveloping him in a crushing, inexorable embrace.

The melodic symphony of birdsong, a harmonious chorus that managed to overpower the relentless crashing of the waves and the deafening roar of the water, gently coaxed Peter Parker from the depths of his unconscious state. His eyes fluttered open, and he shot upward, his body convulsing as he gasped for air, heavy breaths raging in and out of his lungs as he desperately tried to convince his body that he was no longer mere moments from drowning in the icy embrace of the sea.

His chest heaved with the effort, each breath a ragged, desperate pull of air, as if his lungs were starved for oxygen. The taste of saltwater lingered on his lips, a bitter reminder of his near-death experience, and the memory of the crushing wave that had pulled him under sent a shiver down his spine. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest, a primal rhythm that echoed the raw, untamed power of the ocean.

As his vision cleared, he took in his surroundings, the stark beauty of the coastline gone before him, and in its place, a more familiar yet alien setting awaited him. The sun was a brilliant orb in the sky, its golden rays casting a warm, inviting glow through the window, a stark contrast to the cold, foreboding depths that had threatened to claim him. The birds continued their song, a soothing melody that seemed to wash away the remnants of his terror, replacing it with a sense of awe and wonder at the power and beauty of nature.

"Whoa..." Peter exhaled, his breath shuddering as he brought a hand to his forehead, feeling the sheen of sweat that coated his skin. "I think that's one trip I don't plan on taking again anytime soon," he remarked, his voice a low, raspy murmur. The memory of the wave crashing over him, the relentless pull of the current, and the icy grip of the sea still lingered, a chilling reminder of his brush with supposed death. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady his nerves and calm his racing heart. "Still, that felt a little too 'real' to be just a dream," he continued, his brows furrowing as he turned his attention to his surroundings. The landscape was a far cry from the familiar comforts of his room or Aunt May's cozy home. "This is definitely NOT my room, let alone Aunt May’s," he said, his voice filled with a mix of awe and disbelief.

As he stood up, he noticed that he was no longer on the shore but in a bedroom that was as fancy as it was eerie. The room was adorned in a gothic style, with dark, rich colors and ornate details that gave it an almost oppressive atmosphere. The walls were draped in deep purple velvet, the fabric a lush, luxurious contrast to the cold, hard stone that lay beneath. The ceiling was a vaulted masterpiece, the arches and ribbing a testament to the craftsmanship of a bygone era, the dark wood stained a glossy black, the intricate carvings a swirling, chaotic dance of shadows and light.

The furniture was equally impressive, a grand four-poster bed dominating the room, its frame a twisted, gnarled affair of dark wood, the curtains a heavy, opulent brocade that pooled on the floor like a pool of spilled wine. The rest of the furniture matched the bed in style and opulence, each piece a work of art, a testament to the skill and craftsmanship of the artisans who had created them.

Candelabras lined the walls, their tall, twisted candlesticks holding a forest of tapering candles, the flames casting a warm, flickering glow that danced and shimmered on the surfaces, creating a living, breathing tapestry of light and shadow. The air was thick with the scent of beeswax and something else, something sweet and intoxicating, like the fragrance of exotic flowers.

Peter took it all in, his eyes wide with amazement and a touch of unease. This room was a world away from the modern, comfortable surroundings of his own home, a step back in time to an era of darkness, mystery, and decadence. And as he stood there, taking in the gothic splendor, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was a guest in a place that was both beautiful and dangerous, a place where the lines between reality and dream were blurred, and the rules of his world no longer applied.

As the last notes of the birds' songs faded into silence, Peter's curiosity peaked at the sudden quiet. The distant hum of the city echoed in his ears, and he was left pondering the avian vocalists' abrupt departure. A sense of anticipation stirred within him; they wouldn’t leave without a reason, and he could almost feel that something significant was on the horizon, waiting to unfold.

Then, he felt the first shake.

As the initial shake intensified, another followed, then another and another. The entire room began to tremble violently. Books toppled from their shelves, and picture frames crashed to the floor, glass shattering into countless pieces. Peter's heart pounded in his chest as he grasped the magnitude of what was happening. He knew he had to act fast.

The shaking grew more ferocious, and Peter could hear the ominous creaking of the building's structure groaning under the force. Furniture skidded across the room, and the lights flickered before plunging the space into darkness. Peter's instincts kicked in, and he rushed towards the window, his only escape route.

With a swift movement, he threw open the window and clambered onto the windowsill. Just as he pushed himself out, he felt the building lurch violently beneath him. The sound of crumbling concrete and splintering wood filled the air as the structure began to collapse. Peter leaped clear of the window just as the building gave way, sending a cloud of dust and debris billowing into the air.

He hit the ground hard, rolling to absorb the impact, and quickly scrambled to his feet. Turning back, he watched in disbelief as his home crumbled to the ground, reduced to a pile of rubble in a matter of seconds. The earthquake had been swift and brutal, leaving him shaken but alive.

Peter stood there, catching his breath, as the aftershocks rumbled beneath his feet. The city, once a distant hum, was now a chaotic symphony of sirens, screams, and the crashing of falling structures. He knew he had to move, to find safety and assess the damage, but for a moment, he stood in stunned silence, grateful to have escaped the clutches of the earth's fury.

Peter's relief at his narrow escape was short-lived as he spotted a wrecking crew in the distance, their bright vests and hard hats stark against the backdrop of destruction. He realized with a jolt of surprise that the building had been set for demolition. The crew was already moving in, their machinery rumbling to life, ready to tear down what they had already brought into ruin.

“Those guys were responsible for that?!” Peter reflected from behind a few luckily placed trees, steadily dressing into his costume. “Heh, Jameson would probably get a kick out of that: Spider-Man, Squished by the Everyday Working Man!” A small chuckle escaped him as he slipped on his mask. “Believe it or not, JJ, they wouldn't have been the first. Let alone by pure accident.”

Still, despite his small expression of humor, Peter felt a mix of emotions wash over him—relief that he had escaped, yet anger that he had been caught off guard so suddenly and easily, both now and the night before.

And still, no sign of Kathleen, let alone…her.

New York City

Spider-Man, his body a blur of red and blue, swung effortlessly through the bustling morning streets of New York, the city's skyline a backdrop of towering steel and concrete. The multicultural metropolis was alive, its energy pulsing through the air as he soared over the heads of hurried pedestrians and honking taxis. Peter Parker, beneath the mask, mused aloud, his voice a low rumble against the city's symphony, "Margaret... no, that can't be right." He swung from one skyscraper to the next, the wind rushing past his ears as he contemplated his thoughts. "A martyr for Presbyterian Scots, perhaps, with an affinity for the emerald isle's namesake color, but I can't imagine her dyeing her hair that shade of green. Unless, of course, she was a specter haunting the Scottish Greens, those eco-warriors who got their head start in the early nineties." His body arched and twisted, performing a graceful dance with the city's web of steel and glass as he continued his internal monologue, the city's chaos below him a stark contrast to the clarity of his thoughts.

With a sudden jolt, Peter realized he was cutting it dangerously close to being late for work, and he hadn't even taken a moment to freshen up for the day. Yet, the masked web-slinger found himself engrossed in the puzzle of the previous night's events, his mind racing as he swung through the city. What had started as another routine patrol as the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man had quickly spiraled into a surreal adventure through a haunted house nestled within a dilapidated apartment building. He recalled the eerie atmosphere, the creaking floors, and the whispers that seemed to echo through the abandoned halls. Then, he woke up in a bedroom that was most definitely not his own, the decor unfamiliar and the air thick with a sense of foreboding.

As he swung lower, drawing closer to his home, memories of jolting awake to the floor giving way underneath him had confirmed Peter's initial suspicion that the building had already been condemned, a relic of a bygone era, its windows broken and walls already crumbling before the demolition crew arrived.

All save for the space Kathleen entered.

The building's once-grand facade, marred by time and neglect, now served as a ghostly reminder of a past long forgotten, manifesting in the form of rubble. Yet, this knowledge only deepened the mystery. If the building was indeed abandoned, what could explain the vivid and terrifying encounters he had experienced within its walls? The haunted house, the eerie apparitions, and the sense of being watched—all of it pointed to something more sinister and supernatural than a simple case of squatters or urban decay. Peter's curiosity was piqued, and he knew he wouldn't rest until he unraveled the enigma of that haunted apartment.

Then again, perhaps the city’s new arrival was the one that was truly haunted.

[cloudaintfair]

April 1, its Neon's birthday.

We all know how her birthday turned out last year. So I decided to post headcanons about her..

Neon has actually moved out of her father's mansion and live there for the foreseeable future. Of course, this didn't sit well with her mother but she acquiesced and let her live there, on the condition that she keep close contact with them.

Neon has had the help of the Sakurais in helping her refresh her memory about doing the daily chores like washing the dishes, sweeping and mopping the floor, and the chores that generally keep the upkeep of the place she bought.

And no sooner, she could make the place she bought with her own money, liveable.

April 1, and she would naturally flashback to when everyone seemed to have turned their backs on her. It made her question if she even deserved to share a birthday with Akari or what her age would be.

"Neon-chan is Neon-chan. right?" Keiwa would assure her.

Coincidentally, Sara would also use the same words as her brother when she confided her troubles to the older woman.

"I don't see the need for things to change even with the new information that came up." Ace had told her, which really assured her.

"Neon-chan, why don't you make a birthday stream and maybe make it a dance tutorial, just something special." Sara had suggested.

Which Kyuun surprisingly approved of.

"Keiwa could be your student on camera."

"Nee-chan..." Neon couldn't help but smile at the Sakurai siblings' antics.

Later in the evening, when Keiwa and Neon were alone, Keiwa confided to her about how he wanted to spend time with her to forget what happened to him on her birthday.

"That's right! They kidnapped you!"

"Nee-chan knows that's why she wanted me to be your dance student earlier."

I'm so sorry, Keiwa... I thought I had it bad.

"No, you do have it bad, Beroba really waited for your birthday to reveal the information."

"Still... but you're right, let's, just, enjoy the night together."

If there was one thing Neon appreciated on this year's birthday it was that everyone seemed to realize that she wasn't in the mood for a surprise party, the things that happened in the last year were still fresh in her mind.

Not even her parents organized a party for her.

After her supposed kidnapping, her mother had always organized a party, a formal event to commemorate her birth and her apparent rescue from the kidnapper, but not this time.

Not unlike the impromptu party they held on Keiwa's birthday to celebrate their victory against Suel, even if Ace had told them to forget, Keiwa's ID core remained, however, and they still remembered him anyway.

Everyone's well wishes were enough for her for this year.

With a Dash of Taneko (might or might not contradict with the set above lol)

Keiwa, was the first to greet her through text and personally.

Keiwa greeted her through text as soon as the clock struck 12 Midnight and he basically dragged his sister to her condominium unit very early in the morning to greet her happy birthday personally.

Making Sara, the second-ever person to greet her Happy Birthday on that day.

Kyuun was next, bringing a slice of cake and a bouquet of flowers..

Keiwa immediately stored the cake inside the refrigerator while Sara took his flowers and immediately placed them in a vase and placed it in the middle of the table as Keiwa resumed cooking some of Neon's favorite food, well the favorite food that Keiwa's managed to know about in their months of dating.

"This was supposed to be the gift I was going to buy and give you on your birthday last year, but I got kidnapped and all that, sorry it's late." Keiwa handed Neon a calico cat key chain.

That was when Sara suggested that she make a birthday stream with Keiwa as her dance student.

And so that's how Keiwa winded up relearning the steps to Neon's dances.

Evening came, and over the course of the day, she has met with everyone, giving her gifts based on whatever she they knew she liked, like how Sae gifted her a pair of handcuffs and a registration form for a male model contest where she hinted she should let a certain Tanuki join.

Both of which made her blush.

Tsumuri's gift to her was a hammer-boost hammer keychain she had commissioned someone involved in the DGP before, but not someone she knew.

Michinaga's gift to her was nothing, other than the cheapest cat plush toy.

Ace's gift were equal parts teasing and genuine.

It was a tanuki plush toy, made with high-quality materials (made by a certain zyuohtheworld) and a white muscle shirt for men with a whisper "wet white clothes can sometimes be see-through"

As the sun set, Sara dragged Kyuun away from both Neon and Keiwa.

"Kyuun-san, let me teach you new ways of editing Neon-chan's videos."

"Heh, Sara-san can edit videos too?

"She did edit some of the videos of me when I was a kid."

"Heeh, I wonder how many things she'll teach Kyuun."

"Believe me, Kyuun-san will learn a lot from nee-chan"

"So where do you want to eat for dinner?"

"Can we visit my parents first before we eat outside? I'm trying to see If we would be okay sharing a meal on this day, Akari-chan did die on her birthday."

In the end, her parents were still grieving for Akari, to which Neon understands.

The result was her eating out with Keiwa in a moderately-priced restaurant.

[meowcitymotherfucker]

Awwwww you have so many pets!! Agh they sound so cute. One day I will have a cat and I plan on naming it Pringles (if it is orange) and Pickles (for any other color)!!

OH THE ADVENTURE ZONE IS SO GOOD! But... you need to like their humor in order to like it- so I can understand if it isn't for you lol. Until the end of the first arch they are just following a module and having a good time, nothing really story heavy happens until later. (OH BUT ITS SO WORTH IT OMG-)

Favorite was ELA I always loved writing, I was just sad that it was almost NEVER creative writing. Just boring essays n' stuff. Least favorite was history/geography and... it shows. I am... REALLY dumb when it comes to those two things.

Favorite stuffed animal... hmmm. I would probably have to go with either Fred the GIANT stuffed bear, or my dragon with no wings (totally not a dinosaur- I refuse to admit that-) and his name is Quest!

As to what I am drawing: Right now I am working on my comic! I would show you but it might give away who I am haha (also- can't send pictures via anon)

Questions: What is underland chronicles about? Funny how similar our taste in shows was because MAN I know none of the books you listed. Do you have a favorite video game?

(also this is so fun! Thank you for doing this with me! I love meeting new people on here!!)

-🌻

History is my downfall as well!

Ok, so The Underland Chronicles follows the story of this 12 year old kid named Gregor. He lives in a small New York apartment with his mom and 2 sisters. One day, he and his baby sister fall down a vent shaft in their apartment building laundry room... and then keep falling. And falling. They wind up in this place called the Underland. It's an absolutely massive cave system running underneath like, the entire U.S. Down there is a full on city of people called Regalia. There, Gregor learns that he's a great warrior foretold by the prophecies of their people. And that basically all the animals in the underland are massive and sentient. There are giant bats that people "bond" with and can fly on the backs of. Giant man eating rats that want to kill all the humans in Regalia, giant cockroaches, giant mice, giant lizards, and just so much more.

This poor kid has been prophecized to basically save this kingdom from like a billion different threats. He has to kill this entire rat army, find a cure for a deadly plague, slay this extra giant rat dude, and like so much more. Also, this is written by Suzanne Collins, the author of the Hunger Games. So while these are books intended for 12 year olds, they are violent and graphic. So many characters die, and I think I cried over like every book. The last one really left me messed up. They are great. Like, for example, there's a scene where a character gets eaten alive by a giant pitcher plant, and they try to save her, but when they pull her out she's like completely dissolved by acid from the waist up. And on multiple occasions Gregor has been described as "drenched in blood" (not his own) and just absolutely traumatized. This kid gets messed up.

I love it literally so much. This series was like, the best thing my little 10 year old self ever read. I still encourage people to read it no matter your age cause it's just so good. It's also really hard to describe so my little summary does not do it justice at all.

My favorite video game is Little Nightmares! Specifically the first one, but I'm also a big fan of the second! I was also a big Undertale kid, but for some reason now I don't remember much of it?

Questions: Do you have a favorite video game? And aside from Warrior Cats, what's your favorite childhood book? Or favorite book in general?

(It's past 12 am here so I'm probably gonna go to bed in a bit!)

[solacefruit]

Under which wind do you think Mudclaw and under which one Onewhisker/Dustwhisker (love that prefix for him!) were born?

Hello there! Thank you for writing in--I’d been wondering how long it would be before I got asks like this. I’ve gone back and forth on how I want to answer, but I think ultimately this is too much behind the curtain. 

Personally it’s a lot more fun for both of us for me not to give answers for things like this, at least at this stage. I have a wind in mind for most significant Windclan cats, but I sort of feel it’s more fun for that to be revealed in stories, if at all. I feel like there’s a lot of fun in speculation also--thinking and hypothesising about who has which wind, and what that means for them; or even deciding which is right to you, in your headcanon, rather than simply being told my answer. 

Finally--and I get that this is possibly just a me thing to find interesting and exciting--but something I like so much about the nine winds is considering that any cat could, theoretically, be born under any of the winds. Meaning is sort of what you make of it. 

So I guess once again I’m answering a question with a question: which winds do you think? 

[acertainmoshke]

New and Improved Writeblr Intro

I didn't really know what I was doing the first time and my WIP priorities have changed, so here we go again.

Call me Moshke Palmoni (they/them). I spend as much time as I can writing, but that is not as much as it might be because there's also a lot of life going on right now. I also like to read, knit, collect vintage ephemera, and play with my cat. Most of my time currently is taken up with fixing up the 100-year-old house I just bought. It's lovely but it was not cared for in the last couple decades and the previous owners made some interesting decisions. I also visit libraries and museums as much as possible.

Active WIPs

(respond to this post to be added to or taken off any taglists!)

General taglist: @blind-the-winds

To Die Among the Stars

First draft about half done at ~50k words.

In the future, 20 people are sent into space on a second test of an FTL drive, aiming for a habitable planet. The first test was a disaster, so this time they’re more careful—the volunteers are only needed for data on how humans fare at faster than light speeds, so they are selected from prisons and “mental wellness centers” and areas where people would agree to a suicide mission for the promise of feeding their families. No one expects them to live, just to provide enough data to improve the next test. Told from 4 POVs: Pixel, a semiverbal black market modder; Ri, who has so many illicit mods embedded in his body he can no longer experience the world the way most people do; Zippy, a young disabled woman desperate to support her family; and Peppermint, a genetic experiment combining human and cat DNA raised in a lab with only a sentient android for company. Despite all expectations, the group bands together for survival.

Taglist: @hd-literature

A Blade of Ice

In the outlining stage.

Working title. Part of the Legends of Halara series, which follows 1,000 years of fantasy kingdom history. About 300 years into that history, Princen Aryel is born. Aryel is never good at going along with expectations but has a certain duty eso must follow to take care of eson kingdom. Aryel is one of three royal children and not expected to rule, but after eson youngest sibling dies relatively young Aryel has to take on the responsibilities of both leading the army in a generation-long war and leading the kingdom through a time of shortages and despair. Aryel often clashes with the noble advisors in ways eson sibling never did, and the balance between who Aryel is at war and who eso is at court is not an easy one. It certainly doesn't help that in a world of politically arranged marriages, Aryel always seems to be in love with the wrong person.

Worldbuilding Links for Halara: cultural genders are explained here (with pictures of clothing styles here) and non-human gender systems here. This is a basic post about their pantheon of deities and this is a post containing maps of all the local kingdoms.

Cold Iron

In the outlining stage.

Shakatra is 107 years old. They are also 33. They are a rare case of a Fae changeling surviving to adulthood without being killed or dying from iron exposure or the weak constitution common among Fae children chosen to be left. They survived long enough to gain magical strength not only beyond any human but beyond many of the more minor Fae. They used to use this to exert power over Wild Fae, to protect humanity, to exact revenge, or just for fun. Now, however, they are widowed and retired with two kids to take care of. Their brother Kris, also their best (only?) friend is equally happy to be done with that world. Neither of them are prepared for it to find them again. When there is a Fae threat against the entire world, Shakatra may be the only one with the power to stop it and enough love of humanity to bother. But things are not what they seem and questions of betrayal, priorities, and what they are willing to do to protect the life they've built are harder to fight than a direct battle, insidious like the creeping poison of iron.

Links: Character posts here and here.

Backburner WIPs

Time to Kill

Working title. Esther Dahan is part of one of the first teams ever sanctioned to use time travel technology. Against all historical odds, they aren’t cops or soldiers—they’re anthropologists. Her team specializes in Jewish history specifically, and as tough as it is to leave her young daughter behind for long stretches the team is like her family as they get to truly experience what life was once like, always careful not to change anything (the butterfly effect having been disproven, they must still not share too much information or come in contact with major figures). And yet, something is off. In more and more time periods, they find suspicious activity. But they can never quite get enough proof to convince anyone why this matters—why they should believe that these scientists found the first known rogue travelers. It’s not until trying to solve the mystery on their own leads to Esther’s life being torn apart that they’re taken seriously, and even then her team might be the only ones capable of finding out the truth and stopping something even worse.

A Tangled Knot of Gold

Also in the Legends of Halara series, about 200 years into the kingdom's history. Tlapil is the cousin of the heir to the throne, Soter, who is also the only person who treats eso like a person because eso is semi-verbal with unusual body language and interests. Tlapil's main useful skill seems to be mapmaking, but when the kingdom needs unusual solutions Tlapil's ready to help—along with eson only other friend, who happens to be a slime. Having proven esonself, eso holds a respectable position as advisor to eson cousin, but when tragedy threatens to tear apart the entire kingdom it might be up to Tlapil to find a way to hold it together.

Falling Petals

A story of imperfect love and family and undiagnosed disability across generations (they're all autistic before they would have been called that). Ira Katz was born in 1913, the only child of Russian Jewish immigrants. He was clever and charming, but there was always something off-putting about him. He didn't understand why blunt observations and mean jokes went unappreciated. He would give long and detailed lectures on his interests, which included photography, without regard to anyone else's level of interest. He spent his adult life working in the drugstore he inherited from his father and had 4 children with his wife, though he never knew how to connect, loving them from a distance.

Ira's second child, Daniel (born 1939), was also odd and isolated. He was gentle and generous but mocked for being sensitive, for his silly attempts at being serious and adult too soon. So he learned to channel his pain from tears to rage and disappear into comic books to forget about the world. He learned to script friendly conversations so no one could see his confusion or pain. He studied architecture because it was more manly than becoming a librarian, married a teacher, and had twin daughters. He refused to become his father--he never mocked his kids and he spent some time with them--but the pain and overwhelm and frustration would burst out of him in rages that terrified them.

One of Daniel's daughters, Shoshana (born 1961) was also odd. She was bright but seemed young for her age, clinging to toys her sister had long discarded. She had a bad habit of freezing when confused or scared, so she would stare blankly and just not answer people. She cried easily. She read constantly but failed out of college and ended up back with her parents and no chance of marrying or living alone. She convinced herself she was stupid.

And then Shoshana's sister had a daughter, Naomi (born 1987). Naomi was odd in a way Shoshana recognized, and she was determined not to project her own pain onto her niece but to use this chance to break the cycle of pain and give a child a chance to grow up loving herself and her differences.

[happi-tree]

plot or storyline(sent those the same thing?) for your beloved Witch AU? It Tis beautiful.

Hi there, Nonnie!!! Hope you’re doing well and sorry I took awhile to get around to this. And thank you so much for the compliment! 🥺🥺🥺

There are multiple ways to approach this question, so I guess I’ll start with an overview of the basics and then get into the central plot/storyline. 

Marcy in this AU is a witch, and Anne is a cat shapeshifter who is Marcy’s familiar! The two of them live together in a tiny cottage at the edge of a small town named Wartwood. Wartwood itself is very open to magic and is something of a safe haven for casters and magical creatures, so Anne and Marcy have no need to hide their abilities. Sasha is a regular ol’ human with no knowledge of magic who got cursed to live as a toad for the foreseeable future. They’re all adults here, around their mid-twenties. 

The main plot kicks off with Anne finding and dragging a cursed Sasha to the cottage she shares with Marcy. Anne found her in the woods while foraging for potion ingredients to bring back to Marcy, and since she was able to sense that Sasha was actually a human inflicted with a really nasty curse rather than a regular toad, brought her back to Marcy as a “potential customer.” Marcy does a lot of magical jobs and favors for people in Wartwood, and while curse-breaking isn’t exactly Marcy’s specialty, Anne is confident that her witch can help this girl out.

Sasha is… quite the piece of work at the start of all this. Rude, haughty, manipulative, selfish, a know-it-all, and overall very unpleasant to be around (which is why the curse on her is so strong - its potency builds off of the negative feelings others have towards her as well as the ones Sasha herself exudes). She doesn’t know exactly who cursed her, and her memories of the time spent as a toad before Anne found her are very foggy, but together, the girls eventually figure out the cure. Over the weeks she spends in Marcy and Anne’s cozy cottage in the countryside, Sasha reevaluates what is most important to her and learns quite a few new things about herself. Anne teaches her to find happiness and fulfillment in the little things, and Marcy teaches her that she can be helpful without burning herself out in the process.

That said, Sashannarcy is indeed endgame with preexisting Marcanne. However, both relationships are actually queerplatonic! So not friendship and not romance, but a very, very close bond that is different categorically from both. I feel like I haven’t seen a lot of fics that attempt this concept, and while I am by no means an expert I thought it’d be fun to take a shot at it!

Outside of the main plot, though, I actually have quite a few ideas for how exactly Anne and Marcy become witch and familiar, so there will probably be a few tiny ficlets around that! 

Lastly, just to clear things up: I won’t be updating in multi-chapter format (it intimidates me too much >.<), and they won’t necessarily come out in chronological order either. I’m planning on doing a sort of collection of one-shots, if that makes sense? They’ll all be tagged under “#ccc au” and I’ll likely link them all together, too!

Apologies for the VERY long-winded response, but I hope that answers your question! Have a good rest of your day/night, lovebird! 💗💗💗