#been chewing on warriors lately

[sunnymoon-sunshine]

The first passage is SO GOOD it made me actually get the book and start reading (something I do embarrassingly rarely) and man, it’s just interesting. Like, even going in knowing that the books have a lot of theme issues later on, it’s good for inspiration, I think. The salute is so creative and interesting and auuugh.

Thank u mister Bonefall for reading so I would end up reading too

A fire happens, the cute little stallion gets torched, and Clan territory is totally incinerated. They spent the night on the beach and Ratha wakes up to the proper introduction of Mr. Meoran, Our Antagonist For Today

[ID: Ratha bares her throat in a customary greeting and worried Meoran might abuse his ceremonial right and just bite her open]

I have SUCH a softness for big bads like this, man. I love this king caveman of a brute, and the idea he's such a primitive beast that there's a real chance he will enact the Law of the Jungle on her.

Aside from this custom being a really neat way to feline-ify a salute, it's just super cool how quickly we get across that Meoran is more animalistic than other Named cats.

With his hatred of the Unnamed, it would have been a really neat way to establish right off the bat for the series, "The real threat is an animal in our own midst, and he keeps us fighting against people who are not our enemies"

But ho hum. Anyway, Chad Meoran time

[ID: Thakur gently tries to suggest that maybe Meoran shouldn't bring the clan back to a barren, fire-ravaged wasteland. Meoran says Shut Up]

This is so funny djfhdjd brainless fucking dude. "I WANT TO GO HOME THE HORSECOWS WILL BE FINE."

"Sir this is a bad idea"

"1-800-DID-I-ASK?"

[witherby]

what would be littlest wayne's first word be?

I was thinking of something simple or sweet, but then I got the funniest idea on the planet.

The Littlest Wayne: First Words

You were babbling a lot more lately. Your family all knew it meant you were likely going to say your first words soon, and the fighting over who got to have your attention increased tenfold. It had gotten to the point that your brothers were practically kidnapping you to monopolize your time and attention. Bruce put his foot down and ended that whole charade when it stopped being endearing and became dangerous.

("Really, Damian? Your skill in combat is not in question, it has never been in question, but you cannot bring them on patrol with you on the off-chance they happen to say their first words in the middle of the night!")

So, Bruce takes you to the Watchtower anytime he has a Justice League meeting. It pisses off all of his sons, but he's arguably bringing you to the safest spot in the galaxy. Also, he's your father. It's not kidnapping if you're kidnapping your own child. Okay, it is, it very much still is, but that's not the point.

"Okay, Mouse," he murmurs, easing you onto the floor and handing you a stuffed teddy bear. "The meeting's only an hour, then we're going back home. Dada will take you home."

(Maybe he wants to steer you towards your first word himself. Sue him, he's just a man at the end of the day.)

You take the bear, staring openly at your father. You don't see him often in the Batman suit, so he's very visually appealing at the moment. Bruce allows himself a small smile, gently pinching your cheek, then he steps out of the way when Diana arrives.

"The babyyy!" She whisper-yells, kneeling next to the playpen. "Hello, little one! It's such a treat when Batman brings you around!"

You make some soft, babbling noises. Mostly you're making raspberries. It's a fascinating sound. Diana melts and wipes some drool from your chin.

"Someone's getting close to their first words. My mother said mine was "maim." I remember that conversation fondly..."

Bruce has to remind himself that Diana grew up on an island inhabited by immortal warrior women. "Maim" is a perfectly normal first word for an immortal warrior baby.

The other Leaguers start quickly filing into the meeting room, each of them stopping cheerfully to greet you. It makes something fond bloom in Bruce's chest, and you coo and openly admire all the people with bright, primary colors all over their bodies. You're busy trying to chew on Superman's cape when a glowing, green light enters your periphery, and you drop the fabric in favor of staring at the Green Lantern.

"Oh, bring your kid to work day, huh, Spooks?" Hal actually scoops you up out of the pen and cradles you to his chest, grinning down at you. "Hey, kiddo!"

"Mmmnnn," you mutter intelligently, reaching for his mask. Every time you manage to pop it off, he just wills another one on. You think this is the most entertaining game ever.

"The kids are taking them out into the field, now," Bruce sighs. "They all want to be the one to hear their first word. Which is fine. It's adorable. I love that they love the baby. But the baby does not belong on Gotham's streets in the middle of the night, especially if guns are involved."

"Oh, yeah, that's pretty bad," Hal says, smiling at you. You pop his domino mask off again, squealing when it dissolves in your fingers and another one materializes over his face. "Uncle Hal would never do that to you, would he? No! No he wouldn't! That's very dangerous!"

"Huh...Hal!"

Everyone freezes. Bruce's jaw actually drops.

"No fucking way," Barry blurts across the room.

"Language. There's a whole baby here, Flash," Oliver says, but he's grinning like an idiot.

"Hal!" You chirp again. "Hal!"

Bruce sinks to his knees. Clark looks like he's trying not to laugh. Barry and Oliver are definitely laughing. Diana is pouting over the fact that your first word was so tame and boring. J'onn doesn't understand why your first word is so important when it just means you'll eventually learn to say more.

Hal is nearly trembling with the flood of emotions. His thing with Bruce is very new, and he's been by the Manor often enough that you obviously know him, but he really hadn't anticipated his name being...being...

"The boys are going to kill me."

"Maybe," Bruce admits, still on the floor. "...it couldn't be dada? It couldn't be uppies? Or Mouse, or any of the other words you hear ten thousand times a day? Even Alfred thought you might try his name first."

"I think we're going to need to postpone the start of the meeting," Clark declares, coughing as a way of clearing his throat and definitely not to disguise his amused huffs. "Let's push it back fifteen minutes."

"Hal!" You chirp again, delighted. You finally pulled Green Lantern's mask off and it didn't disappear. You win!

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home AU: baking with nora & mat

summary: a small au where Mat knew about Nora since the beginning from “girl at home”🩵

notes: if you guys have any ideas about some small blurbs like this or even just soft thoughts about what their life would be like had they been a family from the start 🫶🏻

Mat notices your exhaustion the moment he walks through the doors. Being young parents is tough, but when one of the parents travels a lot - it’s much harder. You have your family and friends, but nothing compares to having Mat home with you and Nora.

“Nora asleep?” he asks, dropping his bag by the door and walking straight over to you and pulling you into a warm hug. You snuggle in his arms, the tension of the past few days melting away.

“Yeah,” you reply. “She tried to stay awake so she could see you but crashed an hour ago.”

His arms tighten around you and you know how hard it is on him sometimes. Being gone so often but his career is only just starting, so he needs to prove he deserves a spot with the team which means attending any optional practices and working as hard as he can. This means sometimes not being around as much as he wants to be and while you understand, Nora doesn’t quite yet.

“Bed?” he eventually says, pulling away but not letting go of your hand. You nod, leading him to your shared bedroom and getting ready for bed in a comfortable practiced silence. When you’re curled up together in bed, you can feel your body finally relax for the first time in a week.

. . .

You wake the next morning to soft giggles and a hushed voice.

“I told you not to wake mama, peanut,” Mat whispers.

“But her pancakes are ready!” she argues, jumping on the bed. You crack open an eye and smile when you see your daughter’s face close to yours. She squeals when she realizes you’re awake and immediately tackles you, wrapping herself around you like an octopus.

“Mama! We made you pancakes.” she says as you sit up, still holding her. You smile at the breakfast in front of you.

“Thank you baby” you say, kissing the top of her head before letting her move so you can pull the breakfast tray closer. There’s pancakes, fruit, tea and a glass of orange juice. Both Mat and Nora watch closely as you take a bite of the pancakes, chewing and swallowing it before smiling.

“I think those are the best pancakes I’ve ever had,” you say, grinning when Nora cheers, jumping into Mat’s arms.

They have matching grins and sit on the bed while you finish your breakfast. Nora is explaining to you about a princess warrior who saves dragons and also plays hockey on the side. Mat is looking at her fondly, glancing at you every so often and smiling softly.

Once you finish breakfast, Mat takes your dishes and hussles you out of bed, telling you to get ready.

“I didn’t know we had plans,” you say as he pushes you towards the bathroom.

“We don’t,” he replies. “You have plans with Marlee and Jax. Spa day and then a late lunch, followed by some shopping.”

You love this man so much.

“And what are you two doing?” You ask so you don’t start crying. Your emotions have been out of whack lately.

“Just hanging out,” he tells you, which sounds a little suspicious, but how much trouble can the two of them get into?

. . .

After a long but fun day spent with your friends and having a break from real life, you make your way home. Mat told you not to worry every time you texted, assuring you he had everything under control and that according to Nora, they were having “the best day ever in the whole entire world”.

When you open the front door, you hear chatter coming from the kitchen so you follow the noise and stop, taking in the scene before you.

Mat and Nora are covered in flour, head to toe. There’s chocolate icing on Nora’s face, like she’s been eating it straight out of the container and if you look close enough, you can see some on Mat’s face too. The entire kitchen is a disaster and for a split second, you regret leaving the two of them home alone but when you see how excited and happy Nora is, and the twinkle in Mat’s eyes, you can’t do anything but smile.

You love this little family you and Mat have created together and there’s nothing more you could ask for.

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Forty

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Whitecloud, taking after his predecessor, wasted no time. The Clan was back to work and hunting as much and as safely as possible. Apprentices (except for Aspenpaw, of course, by her own will) were permitted to travel in the southern part of the territory, so long as they were accompanied by a warrior. The apprentices were quite happy about this—though, try as they might, they couldn’t encourage Brightpaw to leave camp for anything more than making dirt. Any reports on potential dog-scents sent shivers down the marred molly’s body and she would shut down into silence. Frostfur stayed close to her, watching the entrance of camp like a dog was about to burst through and slaughter them all.

But it seemed the dogs were content with their carnage, at least for now; the one Fireheart had encountered was not seen again, its scent fading away with the piling snow. No massive pawprints littered the ground, no barks in the daylight… perhaps they had returned to the Houses, or wandered into another territory. Whatever the case was, everyone hoped, they would stay away as long as possible, if not forever.

Fireheart was, oddly, asked quite frequently about this by Whitecloud. He and Dustpelt, when not training their apprentices, were kept busy by leading patrols or by helping organize sessions for the apprentices to practice outside of camp without being in danger. Fireheart wasn’t bothered by it, but he was a bit curious about the very keen way Whitecloud looked at him and Dustpelt.

Dustpelt was fortunately in his element—he’d have answers before Fireheart could digest the questions, and went to work as soon as Whitecloud dismissed him. But in his downtime, Fireheart noticed his steps becoming more jittery, his tail tapping the ground where he sat as he chewed air. It was a very strange switch, and Fireheart didn’t know what to do with it or how to help.

One night, before they had even eaten breakfast, Whitecloud called the toms to him again, sitting by the elders’ den while One-eye and Halftail dozed inside the fallen log.

The deputy blinked at them in greeting. “Fireheart, how did the patrol you ordered last night find the Sycamore’s part of the territory?”

“Oh– right.” Fireheart straightened up, having the faint sense of being quizzed. “Mousefur said that they couldn’t find traces of anything over there. No dog, but no prey either. They stayed out as long as they felt safe, so they came in late.” He paused, blinking himself. “...I thought I told you that last night?”

“You did,” Whitecloud said. “But I wanted Dustpelt to hear it, too.” He turned to the brown tabby now. “You approached me earlier with questions about tonight’s patrols. What do you think about that news?”

Dustpelt cleared his throat, nodding curtly. “I hesitate to be overly optimistic, but we’ve gone quite a while without a new scent in the north. I think that we can potentially send a scouting patrol towards the Houses and check to see if they’ve made the neighborhood their home.”

“And if we don’t scent them there?” Whitecloud looked at Fireheart.

Fireheart tilted his head thoughtfully. “Then the other options are that they’re in another Clan’s territory. I don’t think they’ll head into the Aulmir, not with so many humans there.” He sighed. “I thought humans would help us here, but I guess the dogs are just as wary as we are.”

“Unfortunately,” Whitecloud agreed. “Then what do you two think our next move should be?”

Fireheart hummed, thinking.

Dustpelt was the first to speak. “I think our next move is to keep hunting where we can, but we should keep our patrols the same size and keep apprentices close to camp until we can confirm the dogs are gone for good.”

“Yeah…” Fireheart looked at Dustpelt. “Having them train in the south has been fine for now, but I think you’re right. We should train them closer to home if we can help it—at least, if we have even a hint of the dogs coming back. We pushed our luck too hard before, and, well… that cost us a lot.”

Dustpelt’s eyes darkened, but he simply nodded again.

Fireheart added to Whitecloud, “Not to mention that I think Brightpaw will feel better if her brothers and friends are around her to keep her company. She needs to have some sense of safety if we want her to recover from her trauma.”

Whitecloud gave him a contemplative look. “Is that a new idea?”

“Well, I just noticed she’s a little more relaxed when Cloudpaw or Cinderpaw are around to eat with her and tell her about their night.”

“That is true.”

“If she’s watching them train, she might want to get back to it herself.” Fireheart’s eyes flicked down to the ground unhappily. “I can see she’s feeling powerless to the dangers of the world outside of here. She flinches if anyone brings up something like poisonous plants or a stray owl they saw overhead.”

Dustpelt regarded him with surprise. “I never noticed that.”

“I’m glad you did, Fireheart,” Whitecloud said, eyes glittering. “It’s important to have an eye on all of your Clan, not just your closest friends.”

There was that keen look again. More importantly, there was apprehension on Duspelt’s face. The way he glanced at Fireheart was… weirdly afraid? About what?

“I have another question for you two,” Whitecloud said, both younger toms jolting and refocusing on him. “What should we do about border patrols? We haven’t had any in a long time, and our scents are sure to have faded by now.”

“Er…” Fireheart hesitated, wondering if Whitecloud would accept his thoughts. “I don’t think that really matters at this point.”

Dustpelt gave him a baffled look, but Whitecloud leaned forward a little in interest. “Why not? Shouldn’t we make sure everyone knows where our borders are?”

“If they don’t know by now, then there’s no helping them,” Fireheart said with a twitch of his whiskers. “The other Clans aren’t idiots, sir. They know the forest is ours. We already have the land split up by the river, and it’s clear where the treeline stops. ShadowClan has no reason to come over here, and the kittypets and loners are scared to even sniff a fern sticking out over the border.” He stood a little taller, more confident at the piqued curiosity on Dustpelt’s face. “Besides that, we shouldn’t risk wandering all around the entire territory, where a patrol could be found by the dogs, just to mark a bush or two. And wouldn’t that give the dogs a scent to go on? Or at the very least, something that tells them we’re still here and can be killed.”

Whitecloud and Dustpelt watched him in an almost impressed manner. Fireheart briefly fought the urge to look down sheepishly and just met Whitecloud’s eyes.

“You’re making more sense than I anticipated with that idea,” Dustpelt said, and now to Whitecloud, “At the very most, a hunting patrol could check on the border if their trail leads them there, but Fireheart’s right. We can probably do without testing our luck, especially when the dogs might be close by.”

Whitecloud slowly nodded, his voice carrying the faintest purr. “Very good. I’ll concede to that; hunting patrols only for now, and we’ll see how that goes. Why don’t you two get something to eat? I’ll get some patrols going, and I’d like you to train your apprentices later.” His eyes crinkled. “In camp, if that’s better.”

“Yes, sir,” the young toms said together, both dipping their heads respectfully.

Whitecloud dismissed them with a tail-wave before turning and walking away, heading over to Willowpelt. Fireheart shook out his pelt, flinging some antsy energy off of him like water droplets, and trotted for the prey-pile, dimly aware of the now-awake One-eye and Halftail peering at him and Dustpelt.

The prey-pile was thankfully larger than normal, and Fireheart caught sight of a mole. Thin though it was, he scooped it up and turned around to eat with Greystripe and Ravenwing, only to see an unsettled Dustpelt right behind him.

“Mind if I eat with you?” he asked, voice low.

“Uh…” Fireheart blinked. “No, that’s fine.”

Dustpelt moved past him, picked up a rat, and gestured with a tilt of the head for Fireheart to follow him. They made their way over to the lonesome corner of camp, across from a curious Ravenwing and Greystripe, and crouched down. Fireheart settled his mole between his paws and was about to take a bite when his eye caught sight of Dustpelt rolling his rat forward and backward in front of him, his jaw clenched.

Fireheart kept his voice muted. “Are you okay?”

Dustpelt didn’t answer at first, rolling a few more times, before turning his head with lizard-like quickness, his eyes wide and stressed. “Can I tell you something?”

Fireheart tilted his head. “Of course.”

“And you won’t repeat it to Whitecloud?”

Fireheart sensed trouble. “Y…yeah, of course. What’s…?”

Dustpelt jerkily glanced around, like he was expecting Whitecloud to be standing right over them, then leaned in towards Fireheart’s head and whispered, “I don’t really want to be leader.”

Fireheart squinted a bit, confused.

“I know what Whitecloud’s doing.” Dustpelt glanced in the direction of the tom in question, now talking to a group of cats that were assumedly a patrol. “He’s testing us to see which one he wants to make his deputy.”

Fireheart almost gasped and leaned closer, eyes wide. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Dustpelt whispered. “That’s why he’s been talking to us so much and having us organize patrols. He probably didn’t even intend to have border patrols, since he’s only been giving out hunting ones; that was just a test to see how we’d respond.” His tail tapped nervously on the ground, ever-so-slightly bristling. “He needs a young deputy who works hard and will be around for a long time after he’s gone. We’re his best options, so he’s been focusing on us.”

It took a long moment for the words’ implications to sink into Fireheart’s mind. When they did, he jolted and hissed frantically, “Wait, he thinks I’m an option? How does he—”

Dustpelt’s own tense air dissipated for a moment for him to give the shorter warrior a deadpan look. “Fireheart, you’ve been taking on deputy tasks since Bluestar started losing her mind, and everyone but Darkstripe listens to you. Of course you’re an option.”

Fireheart fumbled out several attempts at an argument or denial before giving up and staring at the ground. Shock seemed to have paralyzed his tongue.

“The only problem is that we haven’t finished training our first apprentices,” Dustpelt went on, musing to the ground as well. “I know there’s a loophole in the law that lets a young cat into the deputy rank so long as they’re on the path to successfully raising an apprentice, though I don’t remember exactly where. Thornpaw and Cloudpaw are both doing really well—yeah, I’ve seen him, Fireheart, don’t give me that look—so as far as Whitecloud’s concerned, they’re already warriors.”

Fireheart finally found his voice. “But… but I’m not even two years old, and you’re hardly older.”

“That’s the gamble.” Dustpelt looked up at him, almost relieved at the distress that must be on Fireheart’s face. “We haven’t been tested by life yet. Not in the way a senior warrior has. We’ve got a lot of capacity to make mistakes, just because we’re so inexperienced.” Another less-than-subtle glance at Whitecloud. “But on the other paw, we’re young enough for Whitecloud to be confident ThunderClan will have a leader and stability for a long time after he’s gone. He’s not all that young, you know—he needs someone who won’t die so quickly after him. Or before him.”

Fireheart didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find anything to say. His head was whirling with disbelief, shock, and a healthy dose of fear.

Dustpelt dropped his voice even lower. “I mean… look, I want to serve my Clan however I can. I’ll do anything for ThunderClan, and I know you will too. But… stars, the idea of having to stand on the boulder at Fourtrees, or lead a battle, or– or make such huge decisions…” He shivered. “I don’t think I can do that. I really don’t.”

This, at least, Fireheart could respond to. “You’re a lot more capable than you think, Dustpelt. Anyone could see that, even if you don’t.”

Dustpelt weakly attempted a chuff. “Well, thanks, I guess, but still. I’d rather just be a normal warrior who can lead a patrol and have that be the end of it.” He peeked at Fireheart, apprehensive. “And it looks like you’re not very eager to take on the role either.”

Fireheart stared down at his mole, giving himself a long moment to absorb and address his thoughts, which were mostly screamed questions about how in the world Whitecloud saw anything in him that could put him in such an important rank.

“I feel about the same as you,” he said at last, looking back up at Dustpelt. “I can’t imagine becoming leader—not me being who I am. I’m a kittypet from the Houses, and, well… I can’t see everyone following me, when they have much better options.”

“That’s the thing,” Dustpelt said. “We are the better options. Can you imagine Teaselfoot or Mousefur being leader? Or even Willowpelt?”

“…Fair point.” Fireheart watched Whitecloud pad away out of camp. “I guess… if I had to, I’d do it. I’d like to take care of my Clanmates however I can.” He shuddered, a bit more jokingly than sincerely. “But having me on the boulder next to Rookstar and Blackstar… they’d all be staring at me, thinking ‘What is this runt doing in ThunderClan’s spot?’.”

Dustpelt did chuff a bit more humorously at that. “Crookedstar would make so many jokes.”

“Which is why you’re the better choice.” Fireheart tapped his side with his tail. “At least then, ThunderClan would be taken seriously.”

“Yeah, right up until I stutter and stumble over my words.”

“You haven’t stumbled over a word in your life.”

“And you haven’t disobeyed the code or your superiors a single time, then?”

Fireheart sniffed. “Hey, I just do what’s right. It’s not my fault if someone disagrees with me.” Realization hit him and he shook his head. “Honestly, that’ll probably get me disqualified. I’ve broken and helped break a lot of Clan rules.”

Dustpelt rolled his eyes, his anxiety gone. “Must be why everyone’s telling Whitecloud, ‘You’re making a mistake, you should exile Fireheart right now for not letting Lionface scare off elders’.”

“That was��”

“I’m joking, ant.” Dustpelt gave him an amused look. “It seems like pretty much every time you’ve broken a rule, it works out in your favor. Did you even get in trouble for disobeying Lionface?”

Fireheart shook his head. “Or for hunting for RiverClan—er, honestly, before we had to. I mean, that was Greystripe’s idea, but I went along with it.”

“I knew it,” Dustpelt hissed to himself, slapping the ground with a paw. “I knew there was no way Lionface and Bluestar would’ve ever given them food on their own.”

Fireheart stared at him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m not going to question our leader and deputy!” Dustpelt’s whisper got a bit louder while still fighting to stay quiet. “Sandstorm said you must’ve come up with the idea yourself, because that’s such a ‘you’ thing to do. But Greystripe did it first?”

“He felt bad for his friends,” Fireheart admitted. “He explained himself to me and Ravenwing, and I thought it was a good idea, so I helped.”

“No wonder RiverClan likes you so much.” Dustpelt shook his head in a humorously-disappointed way. “Well, if you become leader, maybe they won’t fight for Sunningrocks anymore. They’ll be your best buds and just happily pass it over if you ask nicely.”

Fireheart snorted. “There’s advantages to being kind, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen that with you.” Dustpelt’s whiskers twitched as he bent his head to start on his rat.

The conversation seemed to be at a positive end, so Fireheart was content to eat, too, but he didn’t miss his friends staring at him. Greystripe said something under his breath to Ravenwing, which, if Fireheart was reading his lips right, was, “What in the world is going on over there?”

[smallraindrops-blog]

Sacred Ingredients

Zagreus/Male!reader 

Fandom: Hades (2019 game)

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: There was a new cook in the house

warnings: Implied reader death, no beta.

Notes:

The fic that is the reason yall have been seeing so many food posts lately.

This is the first response for the wholesome Zagreus x male reader request. I took my time with this since I wasn’t sure if I was following the prompt.

To the anon, thanks for the wait. If this isn’t what you wanted, please lmk and I will be happy to redo it. I do hope you enjoy this one.

Important: often people would use other names for the gods to avoid bringing unnecessary attention to themselves. Our reader is one of those people.

Enjoy!

~

One of your first memories was of your Mom holding a small bit of cake between her fingers. 

It was made of thin layers of dough, heavy with sheep cheese, crushed nuts and honey, so heavy with it that the dipping honey caught the sunlight just before you bit in.

Sweet. Creamy. Nutty. All combining together in your mouth as you chew.

You groaned in pure delight as she laughed, getting you a plate with a much bigger piece. See? I told you that you would like it. Mama is never wrong. Not with food.

Just like that, food had became your life. To you, there was no better way to say ‘I love you’ than by cooking someone a good meal.

You learned how to perfectly roast fishes, how to stuffed chicken, the right moment to add herbs or how to use olive oils or butter to add rich flavors to the dish. You learned how to knead the bread, how to time the rise just right and the best spots in the stone ovens to place the loaf. 

Food was everything. It was the bittersweet memory of your mama’s hand on your cheek after a sickness took her far too soon, it was a way to feed your family while working hard as a fisherman, it was a way to earn your place among warriors and kings. 

You loved all of it, even as the other men had scoffed at you for enjoying women’ work. However they never turned away a meal you cooked, at home or in the war tents.

The very last thing you cooked, a recipe your mama taught you, was a simple bread, meant for dipping in wine. 

Barley flour. Dry yeast from the grapes. Then you added the simple spice mix you came up with and always added in. The one that had people waiting outside for your bakery before the markets opened.

Parsley. Rosemary. Oregano. Garlic cloves smashed up and added into the bread, and just a little dash of salt.

You had set one aside for yourself for later.

You never got to eat it. 

~

When the news came that the terrifying god of the underworld was looking for a new cook, you didn’t hesitate.

To get a spot in the house of the gods was prime time. It meant respect, a place to live and most importantly it meant regular income. That was money you can send to your mama and sisters so they can get into a better area of Asphodel.

You had spent hours over the cake. 

You made sure that each layer of the dough was perfect, thin and flakey with a satisfying bite, that the cheese was the perfect amount of tangy creaminess, that nuts were crushed to the right size, that the honey was placed in the perfect spot to complement the cheese and nuts.

This had to work because your family worked hard to get the coin to order such things from the expensive shop of the boatman.

Even the neighbors had pitched in, with the promise that you will pay them back.

You took a nervous breath as you shifted on your feet, winced as the terrifying King of Below tossed aside the meal someone brought him, promptly dismissing them. 

“And another one bites the dust.” The sleep god muttered as he crossed something off a list.

He looked up, blinking heavy downturned eyes at them. You and the other commoners were careful to keep their gazes low, not willing to show any disrespect to any of the gods.

The gentle one huffed and gestured for the one before you to go ahead. You were up after this, assuming that the person before you didn’t have something amazing. 

The underworld King made a loud gagging sound and wordlessly dismissed the shade. Gentle one only clicked his tongue as he crossed out another line and shook his head, white curls flopping around. 

“Good luck, buddy.” He told you with a cheerful grin, using his quill to point to the desk.

Did the gods normally call people buddy?

With a deep breath, you went to the looming desk, feeling like you were meeting the fates themselves. 

“And what is this?” The King of those below growled, his haunting eyes locked onto you like a predatory bird. His hellhound shifted next to him, their three noses twitching at the food.

“This is a plakous, my lord.” You said, proud that your voice was stronger than you expected. “Made with wheat dough, rich honey-“

The King held up a large hand and you stopped speaking, fearing you had already lost your chance. A shade took the plate from you and brought it to their master. 

You held your breath as he took the first bite, your heart no longer beat but you swore you felt it in that moment, slamming against your chest. He chewed slowly and his bloody red eyes slowly went wide.

A hush fell over the grand hall.

Then the King did something he didn’t do with any other meal, he went back for a second bite.

After that bite, he peered down at you for a long, long time.

“Is this all you can cook?” His voice broke over you like thunder. You shook your head, your hands curled up nervously 

“No, my lord. I have created meals for kings and I can cook many things. Meat of all kinds. And bread, vegetables and so on.” You wished you were a more eloquent man, but that had never been needed before.

Not to mention such an education was beyond your reach.

And your food alway did the talking for you. 

The king took a third bite then tossed the rest to the hellhound, the animal eating in a single swipe of its tongue. The tail wagged once, thumping on the floor. 

The Wealthy One nodded slowly.  “You may start today.”

~

The kitchen size alone would have made your mama weep with joy. The amount of fresh produce, herbs and clean grains along with plenty of meat made your jaw drop. 

You clapped your hand together in thought then…You hit the ground running. 

There was an endless list of tasks to be done before the kitchen would be ready to open and you went through all the tasks with horse blinders on, determination fueling you.

The first meal you officially served Master was a few of salted and peppered trout with a garlic lemon sauce with butter and herbs along with a hearty lentils soup, warm sourdough bread for the soup and sauce.

You added a fresh cucumber salad along with a large plate filled with cheeses and fruits that would compliment the fish.

When the plates came back, clean of even a drop of sauce, you felt something loosen in your chest. 

~

Eventually you began to learn the house's routine and the many shades. You learned to always have some type of bread readied with olive oil. 

You learned what went fast and what you had to jazz up to get rid of. 

The most important lesson you had learned in life and one that remained unchanged even now was that most souls just wanted something that tasted like home. 

It was toward the end of the kitchen hours when you heard someone take a seat.

Even at this late hour and working alone, you weren’t one to turn away a hungry soul so after wiping your hands on your apron, you turned with a smile.

“Welcome! What can I…” your words trailed off, your eyes going wide as you realized who was sitting in one of the barstools.

The Prince of the underworld gave you an exhausted, crooked grin. There was a curious gleam in those mismatched eyes, the strong lines of his cheeks softened by the dim lights of the lounge.

He was inhumanly beautiful in the ways all divine beings were.

But there was something different to his handsomeness.

Unlike the soft loveliness of Sleep, the sleek grace of the Fury or the dark shocking beauty of Night herself, this god before looked almost moral like. It was his eyes that revealed his godhood. It was the power in his broad shoulders.

You were surprised by how much you liked it.

“So you are the new cook everyone is raving about.” The Prince said, leaning on his forearms to peer at you. You saw the strength in his arms, his quick grace as he moved. Strong and muscular with thick tendons upward from the knuckles. 

It was clear this god was a warrior of a sort.

Your eyes flickered down in embarrassment when you realized you were being disrespectful in your staring. 

“I believe so, your highness.” You said, bowing your head in a show of respect for his position. “How may I serve you?” 

“Honestly?” The Prince leaned, scanning the area behind you. “Whatever you have will work. The last cook we had working here would just give us sliced onions if we came in this late. Once he gave Hypnos a single apple peel for daring to ask for something else.”

He sounded amused, chuckling to himself at the memory. It was a nice laugh, deep and rich.

You couldn’t imagine being so rude to the gods. Your mom was a pious woman and even a quiet sigh during prayers would get you a disapproving look.

With a nod, you went to get the Prince his meal and drink.

Thankfully you had a leftover trout and tossed one onto the grill to cook as you prepared a bowl of cabbage for him, added in spices along with honey vinegar and silphium.

You had some bread and garlic cheese so you plated those as well with olives and grapes.

You decided to give him a rich red that most enjoyed, filling it up to the brim.

“Oh wow.” The prince muttered as you set everything in front of him and with a bow, you rushed back to the fish, flipping it over. Once it was ready with some garlic butter sauce, you brought it to him. 

“Please let me know if you would like for me to serve you more or cook something else for you.” You told him and the prince blinked at you, his mouth filled with bread and cheese. 

The prince waved a hand before you left him for his meal. He drank the wine deeply before placing it back down. You immediately refilled it. “This is plenty, my good shade. Thank you.”

With a respectful nod, you resumed cleaning up the kitchen. Counters got wiped down, supplies restocked but it wasn’t the usual relaxing routine it normally was.

You felt the weight of those divine eyes on you. The Prince was quiet as he ate but you caught quick glimpses of his curious gaze on the shine of the plates, or reflection in your knives.

It was only when the Prince left that you let yourself breathe.

~

Master liked large meals but only if they could be eaten quickly. The only thing you had been warned never to add was pomegranates. No one would tell you why.

The Gorgon, the creature was surprisingly sweet for all the horrible tales you heard of her kind, ate in a rush as well.

If you were smarter, maybe you could have made a clever joke about how the lowest server and the King of the Underworld ate the same way.

But one look into her smiling face held your tongue. She was always kind so you would be so in return.

The Fury was a regular companion of hers, requesting simple meals of fish and some types of roasted vegetables. Mostly she would drink deeply, often you would have a pitcher of wine put aside for her. 

Sometimes Dreaded Death would join her, unwelcoming to all and cool. He rarely ordered any food, his fingers drumming on the table sounded like funeral marches to your ears. 

His twin was the complete opposite, Gentle Sleep had a sweet tooth unlike anything else you have seen. Often he would ignore the dinner option altogether and eat slices of cake, candied figs or honeycombs. 

If you weren’t careful around the god, plates of cookies that were meant for the whole house would go missing around him. 

You still haven’t found the last two plates he stole from you.

And...

There was The Prince himself. 

He was a regular now, always sitting close to wherever your work station was that day. He also was the only one who ate anything you put on a plate for him, and would shove the meal into his mouth like a starving creature. You always made sure to give him larger servings.

“Tell me your name.”  He ordered you one day. His tone was deep, firm. Making it clear he wouldn’t take no for an answer.  “You keep feeding me delicious food, no matter the hour. And I don't know what to call you.”

Then he added with raised eyebrows, sounding more like a playful suitor than a Chthonic god. “Please?”

You considered it, your hands still on the bowl of the hardy stew just placed before the god. You stared at the stew for a moment, then at him.

Or just past him, not willing to meet the god’s eyes, life and death danced in those unusual eyes of his.

You were a moral, a simple one at that. 

You never picked up a sword, never learned all the fancy learnings that a prince might, never learned much beyond what you needed to but you knew names had powers, could decide whole destinies before a babe even wailed out their first cry. 

Names could summon the gods themselves.

Quietly, you told him.

The prince grinned at you, his smile fierce and beautiful like a victorious lion. Your breath hitched, forgetting that one was to never look the gods in the eye.

Then the next words he spoke early jumped started your heart into beating once more. 

“It suits you, my good cook. Call me Zagreus.” 

~

Later, alone in the kitchen, recipes laid in front of you, you tried to will yourself to focus.

Schooling was too costly for your family especially after your Mother’s death. Your reading went far as basic words and numbers, just enough to get by in the markets.

You never needed much. 

Right now, however, the recipes might as well be another language. 

You were too lost in thought, several times you had already caught yourself even daring to think The Prince’s name in your mind.

What would happen if you dare to…

Zagreus.

A soft noise came behind you and You whirled around, glancing everywhere as if expecting him to appear right behind you. 

He didn’t. 

You realized you heard the sounds of the Wretched Broker restocking his shelves. Thankfully, he was too busy to realize that the House’s cook had gone mad simply by learning a God’s name. 

Maybe you should start wearing a pot on your head.

“Zagreus.” You whispered, fingernails digging your palm nervously. “Zagreus.”

When the god didn’t appear, you didn’t know if you were disappointed or relieved.

~

Slowly, you learned more. 

There were the loud fights between Father and Son that would cause the house to rattle. Many shades would escape into the lounge, hands over their ears.

”Tell me, do you get along with your father?” Zagreus grumbled, his plate cleared of any crumbs. His legs were bouncing, filled with an endless energy you knew you would never be able to match. 

“No.” You said, not wanting to think of that man. You knew he was somewhere in the underworld but the less you knew, the better. “I suspect few do.”

Once, over a glass of white wine and a simple meal of sourdough bread and warm vegetable soup, He told you was looking for his mother.  

“You will find her. I know you will.” You told him quietly, holding his stare. “Have faith, Zagreus.”

Another time, over a cake from a new recipe you came up with, Zagreus asked about you. Maybe it was the exhaustion after a successful dinner rush but you told him everything. 

His smile was warm, his eyes watchful of your every move as you told him of your family and their new place you brought for them. 

Your cheeks flushed when you realized he was staring at you.

“I will have to stop by then.” He teased, his hand almost brushing against yours. 

“Yes.” You agreed in a whisper, your mouth suddenly dry.

~

“Cook me your favorite meal.” Zagreus ordered one day, not even bothering to sit down. You lifted a cool eyebrow, well used to his impulsiveness by now.  

“Hello, Zagreus.” You greeted dryly, wiping your hands on your apron, not actually that upset.

Not too long ago, you would have wilted from the thought of being so playful with a divine creature but things changed.

Zagreus brought it out of you somehow simply by being himself. 

“I am doing well, thank you.” You continued to teased despite his oddly serious expression.

Zagreus blinked, then chuckled with a bright grin. “I am a horrible influence on you, I fear.”

You laughed, cheeks flushing at his smile. “I am afraid so, your Highness. Now what is this about a favorite meal?”

“Yours. I want to know what your favorite food is.” 

“Oh.” You grabbed an apple, rolling it in your hands for something to do. Butterflies dancing in your stomach as Zagreus leaned in, his hands on the counter. This close, you caught the scent of copper.

unwillingly, your gaze tangled with his, caught like a fly in a complex web. A stray thought reached you, could a mere fly understand the geometric structure, beauty of such things?

You swallowed nervously. “It’s nothing special, Zagreus. Just something my mom cooked up for me.”

Zagreus narrowed his eyes, his jaw firm in his resolve. “Excellent, then. I trust you have all the ingredients you need?”

You nodded but opened your mouth to dissuade the prince from his idea, however he was already walking away, “I expect a meal to be waiting for me when I get back!”

~

One day, staring at a wooden spoon in your hand, cake batter dipping from the tip, you realized that Zagreus had became someone very, very dear to you. 

Morals and gods didn't mix together well. At least, not for the morals. Cracked eggs and spilled milk and all left would be a big mess with no one to clean it. 

What did it mean when a shade, a mere ghost of who you were, was in love with a god that shone like the sun, whose very presence made you felt like you were alive once more?

~

When Zagreus returned, his hair was still damp from the Styx river and you had to look away from his beauty.

Quietly, you put the final touches on your favorite meal. You swallowed nervously as you picked up the plate and went over to him. 

Thin layers of dough. Creamy cheese. Crushed nuts. Honey.

A long ago memory of your mom's smiling face as she watched you take a bite. Sunlight made her golden and immortal in that singular moment in your very heart.

You offered it up like the cake was a sacrifice, like you were offering yourself up to the god to make the final decision of the worth of your mortal soul.

“This is the first thing I can remember my mom making for me.” You whispered, your work rough fingers curled nervously against the counter. “This meal is what got me a job here. I got to know you because of this cake.”

Zagreus took a small bite, then closed his eyes in bliss. He said your name with a weight that you never heard before. 

When he looked at you, his expression gentle and hopelessly fond, there was no need for more words. 

~

When he kissed you for the first time, he tasted like home. 

[clangenrising]

Month 11 - Leafbare

Aldertail’s legs were more raw than they had been in a long time. She knew she shouldn’t lick them, she knew it wasn’t right, but every time she thought about the news - that another house cat was dead - she fell into a panic and the only thing that seemed to help was going over her pelt a few more times. Now not only her front legs but her hind legs and her back had patches of missing fur that grew dry and raw in the arid air of Leafbare. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” Oddstripe fretted as he examined her new sores. “We’ll have you feeling better soon enough.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, holding very still, “I just can’t stop myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“You’re sick,” grumbled Sagetooth. “It’s not a failing to cough when you’re ill. That’s all this is.” She snapped a root in half and began to chew it into a poultice. Aldertail recognized the smell as burdock, one of the several treatments she’d been given for her sores before. 

“I don’t feel sick,” she said dumbly. 

“Remember, sweetheart,” Oddstripe said gently and Aldertail blushed, “ it’s not a sickness you feel, it’s a sickness in your mind.” 

“Right…” she frowned. Maybe that was the reason she’d been marked as Chaff. The Folk could tell that her mind was broken. What use was a cat with a broken mind? Sagetooth spat the burdock mixture out with a grimace and pushed the leaf it was on over to Oddstripe, then fixed Aldertail with a scowl that made her want to squirm. 

“Look at me,” she said. Aldertail sat up straighter and nodded. Sagetooth continued, “I’ll have no more moping about this, you understand? It’s not your fault you’re sick. You’re not bad for being ill. In fact, if you’re sick for the rest of your life, that would be fine. Do you understand?” 

Aldertail nodded instinctively. “I-I think so?” 

Sagetooth gave a dissatisfied “Hmph!” and continued to stare her down. 

“Oh, I think your tone is maybe confusing her, Sagetooth,” Oddstripe said, taking Aldertail’s leg in one paw so he could spread poultice up her leg. Once he had his bearings, he looked up to meet her gaze with a soft smile. “You’re not in trouble. What Sagetooth is trying to say is this is normal and it’s okay if you’re sick because that doesn’t change how much we care about you.” Sagetooth grumbled but didn’t contradict him, instead wandering off into the back of the den. Aldertail glanced in her direction, then back to Oddstripe, then down at the ground. She didn’t know why such a kindly stare made her feel so miserable. 

Oddstripe sighed slightly but continued to apply the poultice. “Have you been extra worried lately?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, glancing back up. “Aren’t you?”

Oddstripe’s lips flattened into a thin line for a moment and he glanced over his shoulder in Sagetooth’s direction. “I am worried about my boys, I’ll admit. But I have a feeling that’s not why you’re worried.” 

“I just…” Aldertail shifted uncomfortably, wishing she could groom her legs. “We’re all going to die. Me especially.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Oddstripe said. 

“Your warriors killed one of the Exalted!” Aldertail hissed fearfully. “They killed my brother for doing the same thing. And his mate. And my sister. And they wanted to kill me. Razor won’t stop until all of us are punished!” Oddstripe shifted uncomfortably, looking solemn. 

He sighed, switched to her other leg, and said, “That is a frightening thought, but I have faith in Goldenstar to keep us safe. StarClan will look out for us.” 

“StarClan…” Aldertail repeated. “Remind me which one that is?” She tried to picture the cats who had rallied in their camp the week before.

“StarClan are the spirits of the dead,” Oddstripe smiled down at his work. “They know things we can’t and they guide us from the stars.”

“So, magic?” asked Aldertail. 

“Yes,” Oddstripe nodded with a little laugh. “This time it really is magic.” 

Aldertail considered that. As powerful as the Folk were, they didn’t share their power with cats, at least not outside of social power. If the Clans had magic on their side, maybe there was a chance they could defeat Razor.

“Can they help us fight?” she asked.

“They rarely help in such a physical way,” Sagetooth said, stomping back over to them with a bundle of thyme leaves in her jaws. “Instead, they give us guidance and help us make the choices that lead to victory. For instance, they told us to attack on the night of the snow storm and in doing so we drove the rogues out and they haven’t returned since.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re not coming back,” Aldertail whined. “Has StarClan said anything else? Have they told you what to do?” The idea felt like something sturdy to hold onto, the idea that magic ghosts could give them all of the answers. If they just did what StarClan said, maybe everything would be alright.

“Not yet,” Sagetooth said. “But they will, in time.” She started separating the bundle of thyme into two piles. 

“Can we ask them?” Aldertail said as Oddstripe moved on to her back. “There’s a way to talk to them, isn’t there?”

“There is,” Sagetooth said, “but we can’t just demand they give us all the answers. Part of the test is making choices for ourselves.” 

“The test?” Aldertail squeaked. She hadn’t known she was being tested!

“The test of life,” Sagetooth clarified. “What would be the point of living if someone just gave us all the answers?” 

“I-I don’t know,” Aldertail shrugged. “Finding peace?” 

“Finding peace wouldn’t be meaningful without chaos,” Sagetooth shook her head. “Joy wouldn’t exist without pain. StarClan gives us trials and misfortunes so we can learn from them and fully appreciate the blessings in our lives.” 

“Okay, sorry,” Aldertail mumbled, realizing she had been speaking out of turn. 

“It’s fine,” Sagetooth sighed. “You’re learning. Now here, chew these for as long as you can before swallowing.” She pushed a bundle of thyme towards Aldertail who took a deep breath of the aromatic scent. It seemed to grab her and pull her thoughts into focus for a moment. Obediently, she leaned down, took the leaves into her mouth, and focused on chewing them as finely as she could. As she did, she started to feel her breath coming easier and her mind clearing. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled around her mouthful.

“Happy to help, dear,” Sagetooth said, offering a rare smile. Aldertail closed her eyes and focused on the herbs, on their smell and the texture of the leaves as it changed between her teeth. By the time Oddstripe was nearly finished with her hind legs, she swallowed and took a deep breath, the smell of thyme still thick on her tongue. 

“Good girl,” Sagetooth nodded. “Now, the burdock root should start numbing your sores soon enough. Be careful not to lick it off or your tongue might go numb too. Besides, you’ll get a stomach ache if you ingest too much of it.” 

Aldertail paled a little. “I’ll try,” she said weakly. That was going to be tricky.

“Oh,” Oddstripe frowned. “We can put cobwebs over them if necessary.” 

“No,” Sagetooth said firmly. “That’s a waste of supplies and who knows, a numb tongue might get her to finally kick the habit.” Oddstripe met Aldertail’s eyes sympathetically. Aldertail nodded, offering a smile as best she could. It was like a punishment. If she messed up and licked her legs, she’d get a nasty surprise and, hopefully, that would teach her a lesson. That felt right. 

“You’re good to go,” Sagetooth said, bundling up the rest of the thyme. “Keep your tongue away from your legs, you hear?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Aldertail nodded. 

“You can get someone to help you groom your pelt if that helps,” continued Sagetooth.

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Oddstripe said. “Let me know if you ever need help with that, okay?” 

“Alright,” Aldertail nodded again and stood to leave. As she did, her tail brushed up against something feather light and startled her. She turned around, fur bristling, to find a dead moth. 

“Oh, sorry about that,” Oddstripe said, “Barleypaw brought me that this morning. I’m not sure what to do with it, to be honest.” 

“You can’t just leave it around,” Sagetooth huffed. “Just get rid of it. She’ll never know.” 

“It’s so pretty though,” Aldertail said, tilting her head to admire the little trinket. 

“Here!” Oddstripe said, reaching towards the moth. Very carefully, he pulled the wings from the moth and then reached up to tuck them behind one of Aldertail’s ears. She blushed again, holding very still as he did, then tried to look at them without turning her head which proved impossible. 

“I saw Blazingbrush wearing cicada wings like that,” he said. “She’s one of the other healers.” Sagetooth huffed under her breath as she headed back to return the thyme to the stores. 

“Do they look alright?” Aldertail asked, still unable to look at them. 

“Oh, they look beautiful on you,” he said. Aldertail bit her lip and swallowed.

“Um, thank you,” she whispered shyly. 

“Don’t mention it,” purred Oddstripe, seemingly unaware of how he was affecting her. “Let me know if you need me to help you groom your pelt okay?” She nodded mutely and he turned and went back into the den with a little smile. 

Aldertail headed out into the snow. He had called her beautiful. No one had ever called her beautiful before, at least not genuinely like that. She decided she needed to find a reflection and see for herself. As she headed out of camp, Branchbark and Ospreymask passed with mouths full of fish and smiled in her direction.

“Aldertail!” Ospreymask squealed, dropping her catch. “I love the moth wings!” 

“Really?” she asked, blushing again. 

“Yes! Oh my stars, you look amazing sweetie!” 

Branchbark chuckled and gave a nod of agreement, then pushed the fish Ospreymask had dropped in her direction. She rolled her eyes and picked them up again, the two passing to head towards the fresh-kill pile. 

Aldertail bounded out of camp, feeling all bubbly inside. Was she pretty? She had always assumed that people were lying when they’d complimented her. She knew how she looked, she knew she was ugly and broken and stupid. Or… she had known. Now she wasn’t sure. She quickly made her way over to the closest stream to investigate. As she approached, she held her breath, wanting to believe what they had said was true. 

Her face swam into view in the chilly stream. She let out her breath, disappointed. She was still herself. She still had the same dull brown fur and ugly, scabby legs, the same unflattering wrinkle permanently affixed between her eyebrows. 

The moth wings looked nice though… She tilted her head back and forth, admiring them from different angles. She wasn’t as thin, she realized. Her cheeks had filled out, her pelt hung more neatly on her bones. She was sleeker, even, with a shine to her fur that only Exalted cats seemed to maintain in the city. Maybe, she reasoned, she wasn’t pretty yet, but she wasn’t ugly anymore. 

She smiled, touched by the thought, and decided to go looking for herbs like Oddstripe had taught her. She needed to thank him for his lovely gift.

UPDATES:

- Aldertail starts wearing moth wings behind her ear.

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[umbran6]

An Error In Divine Bureaucracy

It all starts when Odin's scheme backfires. There are disadvantages to going incognito, after all. Taking the role of 'X' (which personally speaking, sounds foul considering Twitter's still trying to fall into that brand) means that although the King of the Gods can view the workings of Hotel Valhalla, he cannot influence how his hotel is run. Sometimes, that makes the battles a bit too bloody. Sometimes, the thanes decide to overreach their authority. And there was one time they all decided to break convention and make a mock high-school Prom (to the death).

One of these slip-ups is more unconventional: Gunilla decides to patrol Long Island when rumors of a deadly conflict behind the shadows spread to Hotel Valhalla. If Odin was, well, Odin, he could've stopped it. However, Odin, acting as X, cannot keep his lone eye on his Valkyrie Captain.

Thanatos is overworked. He needs to catch up on hunting down all the souls that escaped the Greek Underworld. So, despite his best efforts to keep all the Giants and monsters dead, he can't be perfect. He can't be there when Leo is burning to ashes as he and Festus soar ever higher.

Octavian is a bit slower and more hesitant. Maybe Will's words get to the legacy's head for a few precious seconds, or maybe Nico's aura of death puts fear inside his soul before he steels his nerves. So when he fires himself at Leo and Gaea, it is far too late. Leo has enough time to finish the job.

So when Gunilla spots a boy with flames so bright they mimic a second sun riding a bronze dragon and fighting a monstrous earthly hag, Gunilla doesn't hesitate. The second Leo's body crumbles to ashes, she flies his soul to Hotel Valhalla with Festus as both his luggage and the weapon he died holding. Olympus doesn't catch on to what's happening, which is for the better.

Leo, of course, is extremely bewildered. He's heard Percy and Annabeth's story of how they went to the Underworld—the lines of dead waiting to be judged, Cerberus waiting to chew any and all trespassers into his next meal, and Charon's desire for garish Italian suits. He did not expect to be handed a rune stone, given a mini-bar key, and shuffled into a luxury suite that would make his section of the Argo II look like a shady motel room while his body suddenly looked fit AF. If it weren't for the fact that he had read up on some Norse mythology during his time in the streets, he would've been completely clueless. For fun and convenience's sake, I'll put him on Floor 19.

Like Magnus, Leo thinks he's hallucinating. His room is like a mix of Bunker Nine, Charles Beckendorf's room in the Hephaestus Cabin, and his old room in the apartment he and his mom lived in, all smashed together. For a second, he grounds himself in the familiar — playing with the inventions in his tool belt, petting Festus, and cooking himself some food. Only when he inspects Festus and finds the physician's cure fully intact does he realize something has gone horribly wrong.

Odin, of course, is aware of Leo's arrival at Hotel Valhalla. He only really understands the nature of the hotel's newest guest once Leo's heroic feat is displayed in front of everyone. The thanes, Helgi, and Valhalla's warriors cheer Leo's name. Only the Norns and Odin are silent, both realizing just how exactly things have gone FUBAR.

See, here's the thing about pantheons worldwide when they interact with their divine neighbors: They don't. We're talking about beings functioning under several different rules of reality and their own brands of magic and godly firepower that could tear apart continents and perhaps even the world if they get too sloppy. Syncretism and divine fist-fights have sprouted either differing degrees of bad blood and conflict. If a pantheon chooses to mess with another's favorites, you can be assured the rest of the divine mafia will be out to get them.

Though Leo did the feat with support, he single-handedly masterminded the death of a primordial being. In the Greek Pantheon's view, he should enjoy a peaceful life in Elysium or even join the ranks of Olympus. Leo being chosen as an einherjar is like your favorite athlete getting kidnapped and pressed into military service by another country. Though Leo is getting physical upgrades, the Olympians would see this as an attempt to subvert their sovereignty by kidnapping a hero under their noses. And Odin knows that he and the rest of the Norse gods will need as much einherjar as they can get- losing them in a possible war between pantheons would thin out their numbers.

So Odin decides to break the masquerade, albeit in a limited fashion. Using his ravens to summon Leo and Gunilla, he sheds the disguise of X and reveals why he hid himself from Hotel Valhalla and just how exactly things were screwed up. He apologizes to Leo for essentially kidnapping him, explains to Gunilla just why Leo's recruitment shouldn't have happened, and that touching another pantheon's demigods was a tremendous faux pas.

So he proposes two different possibilities - they can send Leo back to the mortal world and pretend nothing is wrong, or he can stay in Hotel Valhalla until they find a way to spin things so Olympus isn't sending out its best and brightest to do their best to merk the rest of Asgard.

And, well, Leo accepts the second choice. Mainly because he has a bit of an agenda. First, he knows he can't precisely break Calypso out of Ogygia in the state he's in. His master plan to simultaneously kill Gaea and help her relied on the fact that he was dead while Festus brought his body to Ogygia's airspace. He knows it's too much of a stretch, but perhaps the Norse pantheon will have a solution to bypass the magic surrounding Ogygia and allow him to free her.

Aside from that, Leo just wants some peace. He worked himself to the bone, building the Argo II and then maintaining it during the entire month and half-voyage. Most of it had been a thankless job with several near-death experiences. The least he could do was treat himself to a vacation despite the constant TO THE DEATH! experiences Hotel Valhalla had to offer. Heck, maybe he could make some friends here.

Thus begins Leo's stay at Hotel Valhalla. Of course, such a start involves him being impaled several times after the rest of the hotel's guests gang up on him after they make it through Festus during battle training. But he gets used to the constant bloodshed and conflict throughout the hotel, using it to sharpen himself in the ways of combat that Camp Half-Blood didn't entirely teach him. He also learns of the runes, which leads to him scheming. If he can learn how to wield the power of the runes, he can begin conjuring a magical solution to circumvent Ogygia's barriers.

So, for the months Leo is in Hotel Valhalla, he learns. He picks up knives as his primary weapon, second to the hammers; he refines his inventions and upgrades Festus. He low-key (lol) pesters Odin in his X form to teach him the runes. Odin, of course, is having none of it. He would have been willing to teach a knowledge seeker a few tricks in a different situation. But he knows that different pantheon's magics either work beautifully or have disastrous results. One need only look at the Serapis Incident.

Of course, he also makes his own friendships within Hotel Valhalla. We learn another side of Gunilla as Leo tries to get along with the Valkyrie Captain (which is expected because of all the pranks he pulls). He makes friends with TJ and Mallory while trying to get on Odin's good side by showing that he can keep up with the Valhallians (I'm punching myself for that pun).

Then, Sword of Summer comes along, and things get interesting because Mimir tells Odin about Magnus's role. He knows that Magnus will need all the help he can get, and though Blitz and Hearthstone are servants that Mimir trusts, he wants to reinforce any and all chances of winning. He can't help directly since he still wants to maintain the façade of X. However, Leo can. An einherjar demigod who has experience in fighting threats larger than him? Already saved the world once? Seems like the perfect candidate to help stop Ragnarok.

So he sends Leo in—of course, it's not without a price tag. Although Odin may be the king of the gods in Valhalla, he's still ordering a demigod from another pantheon to essentially act as his hand. One that could quickly turn tail if things went to crap or become a turncoat if someone tried to give him a strong enough bribe. Or, you know, alerting Olympus the second he steps on Midgard. Odin knows what Leo wants but not why he seeks it. So, he reluctantly offers to teach the demigod how to wield the runes if he aids Magnus Chase.

Leo is more than happy to accept the task, not only because of what he gets out of it but also because Odin is offering him a deal. He's not going about this like the prophecies that demanded attendance or the apocalypse would come about. He even gets a guaranteed reward once the mission is completed.

So Leo, with help from Gunilla, enters Midgard. He easily fits into the clique of homeless people Magnus is a part of—Leo lived on the streets for most of his life when he wasn't in the foster home system, after all. Festus is with him in his suitcase form, slyly hinting to Hearth and Blitz that he is in the know. Leo is essentially turned by Odin into his divine 007 if 007 lived on the streets as a homeless guy.

He does his best to gain Magnus's trust. He befriends him, proving himself reliable without betraying his awareness of the mystical cloaks and daggers behind the scenes. And, well, he connects with Magnus more than he expected. Maybe it's because he understands Magnus's bitterness and cynical outlook on the world - he went through the same thing when he was younger. Leo just hides it better with a smile. Part of him just wants to protect Magnus.

In the meantime, Magnus is a bit shocked that beyond Blitz and Hearth, another guy his age is willing to look out for him and be his friend. This is most likely something Magnus has never had since his mother died. The first thing that we notice is that during the beginning chapters of Sword of Summer, Magnus is alone. Hearth and Blitz have a few moments in which they show up, but Magnus himself has no one close to his age that he can connect with. This means that despite Leo being the one to do the attaching, Magnus is quite happy that they're attached to the hip.

You guys can probably guess the direction I want to take their relationship. I've read The Homeless Demigod Club. It's one of those fics that lowkey made me realize that crossover ships can be magnificent if you are willing to put in the work to make it work and show how two characters can connect. I would've added this as a spiritual successor to that fic. I will link it here so everyone can read it. (Link)

And then the promised day arrives. Annabeth Chase and her father set foot in Boston, and Leo does his best to hide from their presence while helping Magnus. He discourages Magnus from breaking into his uncle's house but is still willing to do so either way. He follows Magnus's decision because he believes that Magnus has been jerked around so many times that he deserves his own sense of agency. So when Magnus decides to follow Randolph, Leo follows Randolph even though the guy has enough red flags to rival the CCP.

Then Magnus calls forth Sumarbrander, Surt appears, and everything happens. Blitz and Hearth try to intervene and are just as quickly curbstomped like canon. Leo watches, forcing himself to stop and examine each action Surt takes. Then, when Surt entirely focuses on Magnus does he step up.

Magnus POV

"You know, Mr. Volcano, I thought you'd just go for the head. I wonder why you're wasting so much time." Leo stepped forward, suitcase in hand.

"Leo, go away. Get in there and get Hearth, but you don't need to get involved." I protested.

For a second, I was wondering just what all of my homeless friends were smoking because they were suddenly getting all these courageous ideas. Hearth had shot his arrows, Blitz had swung his watch out for ducklings sign. Now Leo - stick thin and somehow not fainting because of the heat - was apparently willing to go mano-a-mano with a guy who was taller than he was.

"Blitz was right, though. It was their mission to protect you. As for me, it's my duty." Leo dropped the suitcase.

I expected it to melt like the cars nearby and the asphalt beneath our feet. But then it grew. Parts started to jut out, panels began to unfold, and Leo's luggage grew despite the laws of physics that were screaming this shouldn't be happening. At first, it was a pure mess, but then a pair of wings sprouted out. A reptilian head somehow appeared from the chaos. Before I knew it, what was once a suitcase my friend dragged around was a bronze dragon that was as tall and wide as a semi truck.

It let out a roar into the sky that made the entire bridge vibrate. Right beneath it, Leo pulled out a pair of knives from that blasted tool belt with an ease that told me he'd done this before. Those brown eyes scanned the entire bridge, and I could feel the air near me dropping a few degrees. If anything, the area around Leo started to blur as if he was absorbing all the heat the 'Black One' radiated.

Surt's gaze turned severe as if satan had dissed one of his takes on fashion. "What are you?"

"You could say I'm a bit like Maggie here — a demigod from a slightly different brand." I was a bit too shocked at the fact that my friend had a mecha dragon to even snark at that.

Leo smiled, but the killing intent it radiated made me want to flinch. "But if you want my full name, you can have it."

Leo beckoned Surt with one of his knives. "I am Leo Valdez. You messed with my friend. Prepare to die."

End POV

The conflict nearly destroys the entire bridge. Leo and Festus's time in Hotel Valhalla has yielded fruit. Though it can be laconically described as a Jujutsu Kaisen-level gang-up, the demigod and his mechanical mount are in sync to the point they can rarely be matched. While Festus is physically stronger than Leo, Leo is faster and has more variety in his attacks, which combine to keep the King of Muspelheim off balance.

However, Leo is still a demigod. No matter the power upgrade being an einherjar and the combat experience he's earned at Hotel Valhalla, he doesn't have the physical might to permanently disable Surt, even with Festus. And although the Jotunn can't burn Leo, Leo can't overcome Surt's own fire and make it non-vice-versa. It is a stalemate until Leo cannot keep up, and Magnus can see that. He awakens Sumarbrander and intervenes, still cutting off Surt's nose. Surt still seizes the chance to kill Magnus, impaling the unknowing son of Freyr with his scimitar. It is only Leo's own reaction that prevents Surt from seizing the sword.

History repeats. Samirah chooses Magnus and brings him to Hotel Valhalla. Blitz and Hearth confer with Mimir on what to do next, while Gunilla returns Leo to the hotel so they can scheme with Odin. When Magnus is fully resurrected, Leo is the familiar face amongst a crowd of strangers, one Magnus can still rely on. Magnus's body is still recovered. Everything seems perfectly in line with canon.

Until it isn't.

Annabeth POV

I've seen my fair share of mortal panic. There was that time at the Gateway Arch during my first quest with Percy (and boy, did part of me want to go back to those days). Then there was the time Kronos and Morpheus broke the chronological sleep bubble that covered all of New York, leading to a human stampede.

So when Dad (I was still getting used to calling him that) got a call from the BPD stating that they found my uncle Randolph in a rabid panic close to ground zero of an explosion, I defied all convenient laws of mortal logic and ran toward the sirens. And the fire truck engines. And probably all emergency services that are known to man.

I will admit that part of me had a raging hatred for my uncle at the moment. It was bad enough that whatever he did had apparently led to the entire mortal side of my family imploding into what was described by my Dad as essentially a nuclear meltdown, with us being split into chunks. Then there was the fact that he somehow hid the death of the only aunt I liked and that the only cousin I trusted was now homeless for two years. And last but not least, the disgraced professor of Harvard called us at midnight saying Magnus was in danger, leading to us getting the closest red-eye flight to Boston.

When we arrived at the scene, I did my best not to pay attention to the people who were hurt. The best I could describe them was that everyone was burnt—some easily mistaken for sunburns, others who would probably need a visit to the hospital. Medics nearby were doing their best to triage the scene while cops were doing their best to get statements out of people who were clearly still shell-shocked from what their eyes may have witnessed.

I quickly spotted Randolph and marched through the chaos, vaguely hearing Dad follow me. He looked physically spared, though a bit shaken up. Which part of me noted was bizarre since, according to Dad, BPD told him a couple of weirdly dressed homeless dudes had dragged him from the epicenter of the explosion.

I had no sympathy, so I got right down to business. "What happened?"

He kept rambling to himself, and I could barely hear his hushed words - sword, black, beast, machine, giant - before I grabbed his shoulder and pinched in a way Chiron taught me would make anyone scream.

"Focus. What the T-" My mind flipped into a Tartarus flashback before I caught myself. "Hell happened?"

Thankfully, Randolph didn't scream, which meant he was either brave or still drunk on adrenaline. But something must have happened because the man's wrinkled face focused on me. "I found Magnus in my home accompanied by another boy. I was bringing him over to you when the meteor struck the bridge-"

My mind was already poking several holes in his discussion - he could've called Dad if he had already found Magnus and the bridge where the explosion took place was farther away from us. Still, I pretended to follow along and nodded.

"What happened to Magnus?" I asked, and Randolph turned pale.

"He - he fell out of the bridge. The meteor hit us head-on. I somehow got lucky, but Magnus got launched out of my car and - "

"Randolph." My father's voice turned deadly serious. "I saw your car in a twenty-minute parking lot. Already ticketed. So if I may speak so frankly, let's cut the bullshit and tell us the truth."

I winced at that. Mainly because my father rarely cursed - he had been giving off an air of wholesomeness when I stayed with him. The fact that he was willing to start cursing showed just how far things had gone wrong.

Randolph surrendered at that and started talking — about Aunt Natalie's death and its supernatural causes and how he thought Magnus was the next in line to die. How he believed Magnus was the son of a Norse god and that his birthright was apparently an all-powerful sword. Then he stated he found Magnus in the Chase mansion with the other boy and how the boy had insisted on sticking with Magnus. He told us how he urged Magnus to claim his birthright and that my cousin had succeeded before a man claiming to be Surt appeared.

Then, I learned how some of Magnus's homeless friends had tried to defend him before the other boy stepped up. "Wait. This guy claimed to be a demigod?"

Randolph nodded at that. "Yes. I didn't believe it either - the kid was so thin I could've folded him into my drawers and still have space for my clothes."

"But he still stood up. He and that blasted suitcase-monster of his. He matched Surt, if only for a while. Then Magnus got involved and he was - and he was -"

Randolph shed a few tears, and I almost had to recoil at his words. Still, I soldiered on. Death had always been part of a demigod's life, whether they were victims, witnesses, or causes. I would have time to mourn for the cousin that my family had failed.

"Can you describe what this guy looked like? He may be able to tell us about his relationship with Magnus. And what he knows about the truth." I asked, doing my best to keep the conversation going.

Randolph vibrated, clearly still shaken up. Yet he kept talking. "Of course. Give me a second. Frederick?"

My dad pulled out a few tissues from the pocket of his suit jacket, which Randolph blew into so strongly it reminded me of an elephant. Disposing the tissues into a nearby trashcan, my uncle looked at us.

"Yes. Very recognizable fellow. He disabled all of the electronic alarms I put in there. Thin, of course. Kind of looked like - what do teenagers call pretty boys these days? Never mind. He looked like one of those. Light brown skin. Curly black hair, brown eyes. Magnus probably had a crush on him, considering how he looked at the boy."

I rolled my eyes. "Clothes?"

"Yes, yes. White shirt with a bit of a collar. A green jacket that was too big for him - probably a woman's? Blue jeans. He also had a tool belt."

Suddenly, I felt like I had taken a dip in the Boston River. I had been willing to dismiss the initial description because anybody could've had a similar face and hair. I would've ruined the search if I just looked for the most likely person. But the tool belt was too much out of left field to ignore.

I seized his jacket lapels, almost tempted to lift him up. I could do it, too. Because there was no way the person Randolph was describing to me could've been in Boston, much less alive.

"What was his name?" I whispered out.

"Pardon?"

"What was his name," I repeated myself, tempted to pull out my knife.

"Oh yes. Thankfully, he was upfront about it. Who the hell quotes The Princess Bride?" Randolph gave a small laugh about it before he looked at me straight in the eyes and flipped my world upside down. "His name was Leo Valdez."

End POV.

The Sword of Summer is also flipped upside down because it is no longer just a mission to stop Fenris Wolf from being unleashed upon the nine worlds. With Annabeth finding the truth about Leo's location, nearly all the members of the Argo II crew (Frank and Hazel can't drop their posts in New Rome after all) do their best to get to Boston ASAP. They had never heard any whispers or truths about Leo's circumstances - you know, because Odin needed to keep everything in the DL. Finding out a guy that they believed was dead for six months was actually chilling with homeless dudes in Boston is a recipe to make your friends both pissed and worried at the same time.

Unfortunately, this also puts a kibosh on any plans to follow canon because Leo is now being hunted by his friends in a situation where staying incognito is vital. Of course, they can't break into Asgard or Valhalla because they don't know how to get there. Any attempts at Iris-Messaging Leo go horribly wrong because Iris needs a cross-dimensional roaming plan for her services to work in this situation. When Leo returns to Midgard to help Magnus, the gloves come off on the search.

Leo's involvement doesn't just add spice; it force-feeds the plot enough Carolina reaper peppers to set its mouth on fire and cause diarrhea that needs its own fallout zone. The crew of the Argo II chases him down when Annabeth meets Magnus, leading them to accidentally stumble across the Nine Realms when Percy tracks Magnus and Sam after their encounter with Jormungand. They each end up getting scattered across the Nine Realms - Jason into Jotunnheim, Piper into Svartalfheim, Annabeth falling into Folkvanger, while Percy gets the short end of the stick and is stuck in Midgard.

The Seven think that Magnus and Co. are holding their friend against his will. Magnus believes it's people from Leo's past who want him dead. Leo can't get a single word about the truth as things erupt too easily into conflict, and Odin's mandate for secrecy stops him from giving the full story. Regardless, he tries to keep the peace as he, Magnus, and the rest of the crew run into each other through the realms.

It all accumulates at Lyngvi. Surt arrives. Fenris Wolf tries to break free. The warriors of Floor 19, alongside the Valkyries, actually join up with Magnus and co because Gunilla has been briefed by Odin as to what exactly is going on. And the crew of the Argo II makes landfall right in the middle of the fight. They're all quick to realize that the fire giants are their opponents, and the tide of battle is turned with the sudden influx of reinforcements, no matter their origin.

Having an additional four out of seven heroes who also had a hand in saving the world? One of them, you know, having powers over the ocean in the middle of a freaking island? That's no longer a battle; that's the opposing side being Amazon-delivered to the closest morgue with same-day shipping.

When things are settled, and everyone is tired from simultaneously kicking Surt to the curb and imprisoning Fenris Wolf, things finally get cleared up. Odin reveals himself early to explain to the Seven what happened to Leo on August 1. Of course, Odin does his best to spin things in the best possible light for the Norse Pantheon and portray himself as doing his best to help Leo recover from the post-death experience. Leo is always welcome to stay at Hotel Valhalla or return to Camp Half-Blood, but he urges the rest of the Seven that they will have to keep their experience secret.

The Seven think Leo will go back to Camp Half-Blood. After all, in their eyes, Camp is the place that Leo is most familiar with. It's the place that he should belong. This is his chance to take a clean break from his stay at Hotel Valhalla and return to Camp Half-Blood. Only Odin knows differently, while everyone on the 19th Floor, alongside Magnus and Co., is wondering if Leo really is going to drop them like a flaming bag of turd.

And Leo declines. In another lifetime, in another set of circumstances, he may have joined the Seven and returned to Camp Half-Blood. But now? Well... he would admit, he has grown to love Hotel Valhalla. Though he gets bodied daily, he feels included compared to the months he spent in Bunker Nine hammering away at the Argo II. He has friends with which he can actually be friends, compared to his time being the only person in a sea of couples. And maybe he's gotten attached to Magnus, but they didn't need to know that.

He doesn't say goodbye. With enough time, they can genuinely be friends instead of the coworker dynamic he always felt he had with the rest of the Argo II crew. So, instead, he hands Piper the last invention he made before his world was once again dominated by a quest to save the world. For a second, she thinks it's a remote. And in a way, it is. His name is written on it in ancient Greek. But it only has a single button, with a single rune.

ᛗ

Mannaz (For those more knowledgeable, please excuse me if I'm wrong and correct me) is the rune of humanity as a concept—of society, friendships, individuality, and a person's willingness to help one's fellow human. The intention is clear—he's always a button press away if they ever need help.

With that, the two pantheons go their separate ways. And hopefully, things should be at peace now. Right? Right? ... Right?

But as everyone knows, they aren't. The sun hasn't reached its final verse, Ragnarok still has many triggers, and people scheme to bring everything down behind the shadows. Peace is still a long way off. And Ragnarok will eventually eradicate the world. All everyone is doing is staving off the inevitable.

But then again, isn't that just part of being a demigod?

FIN

P.S. @pjowasmy1stfandom- I've cooked. Hope you enjoy the meal.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Scar Tissue (Good Omens One-Shot)

Aziraphale x FTM!Reader / requests are open

Summary: It's been one year since your top surgery.

Fic type: fluff

GOMENS: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 @motionlessindoubt @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @florduarte @complimentary-breadbasket @thekirbishow @jaziona92 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A year. One whole year. Three hundred and sixty-five days. That’s how long it’s been since you had your top surgery. 

It had been a long time coming and amidst family members worrying that it was a waste of money or that you would change your mind or regret it in ten years, Aziraphale had been a breath of fresh air. 

You’d clung to him when you’d mentioned casually that you’d booked in and he’d answered that comment with praise and excitement for you. He was the first to respond to you with genuine joy and not concern. 

He took you to your surgery- or rather he came with you because he didn’t have a car, and he waited for you to wake up. When you did, you’d caught him reading Pride and Prejudice for what you were pretty sure was the seventieth time. 

“My dear, are you up?” You hear, and the honey-smooth sound of his voice breaks you out of your memories. Aziraphale appears over your shoulder in the floor-length mirror and he gives you a soft smile. Your fingers trail over your chest and the soft bumps of your scarring. 

Aziraphale clocks the movement, and presses a kiss to your shoulder. 

“You know I like to see you shirtless, my dear, but I might be a little unsure how the theatre will take to it,” he teases, eyeing you appreciatively up and down. You snort, turning to wrap your hands around his neck in a tender embrace.

“Do you know what day it is?” You ask, and Aziraphale crinkles his face in that unamused way he sometimes does when he doesn’t realise you know that he knows what you’re talking about. 

“I believe today is the anniversary of your procedure,” he answers with a soft nod. “Do correct me if I am wrong, however,” he added. 

You nod, and a grin splits over your lips. You can’t help it. Aziraphale’s expression catches the bug, and he’s then grinning too. He walks you back to the bed, and when your knees hit the frame, you sit down, leaning back with your arms propped behind you. 

“I was so proud, do you remember?” He asks, trailing a warm finger over your cheek. “And my, aren’t you handsome? I’ve heard some humans don’t care for scars- but yours are stunning. Breathtaking.” 

His lips trail your jaw, down your neck and over your chest. He presses a feather-light kiss to the top of one of your scars, and the soft tickle causes you to suck in a breath. 

“To be so brave, and so true to yourself, my love. It’s- the truest we can be to God, do you agree?” 

You suppose that’s true enough. 

“You were incredibly brave, my handsome warrior and the trials have certainly paid off. Why- I can see you in a Greek painting. You would certainly suit the style.” 

You have to bite back a laugh as he caresses a soft finger over the scar. He presses more kisses to your skin, seeming to have forgotten about the movies. Not that you’d mind that. You were only really going to keep him company. What else were partners good for? 

You note a glint in his eye and make a mental note to dissuade him from trying to get a painting of you commissioned. Because he will, you can see it on his face. He’s thinking about it. 

“Alright, love,” you say, tapping his nose with the tip of your finger. “Come on, we’ll be late if we don’t go soon. Pick a sweater for me?”

Aziraphale steps away and peers at the two options you had sitting on the wardrobe handles. 

“I rather think the brown. It will match with my tartan, no?” 

You chew on your lip, adoration sweeping you off your feet for him. 

“Good choice.”

[gabessquishytum]

Heyo, original bath attendant au anon here. LOVE the addition of huffy humiliated Dream but I keep circling back on it and have a variation that settled in and chewed my brain for a while-

Dream is a Niad/Dryad/nixie water spirit Im sorry It's been a while since I studied mythology terminology. Water Spirit. Who inhabits a sacred spring where great warriors, poets, etc go to cleanse themselves and receive blessings. Hob is a traveler coated in dirt and blood, making his way from one war to the next to fill in as a mercenary when he stumbles along this remote, holy place and is just grateful for fresh water, drinks and dips his hands in, stripping and sinking in not knowing he's being intently watched by Dream. You think he'd be offended by the sullying of his waters, but he's more interested in Hob's heart and soul, reading his spirit before his body, and he is very interested in both. Dream has never been handled so roughly, only reverently. He likes this different kind of worship ❤️ kind of lost my train of thought at the end there but you know what I mean.

Oooh yes dirty (in more ways than one) warrior Hob and water spirit Dream is such a delicious combination!

At first Dream is like, how DARE you use my sacred waters for your BATH?! but then he gets a good look at Hob and suddenly changes his mind. He's quite flattered that such a handsome man would choose him. And it does feel kind of nice to have Hob’s warm, pulsing body so close, caressing him all over and trickling his sacred waters into the most intimate places...

Dream slips out of his hiding place and Hob nearly jumps out of his skin, rushing to cover himself up. Too late, Dream has seen everything. He calmly explains that he is the guardian spirit of the sacred pool, and that Hob is welcome to continue bathing. In fact, Dream will help him.

Dream has never manifested his physical body to a human before, let alone touched one. But he can't resist pouring water from his cupped hands to wash the blood and dirt from Hob’s chest. The thick hair pleases and fascinates him, and he makes sure to wash it thoroughly until Hob groans his appreciation.

Hob is so grateful and he rambles on about how Dream’s water is the clearest and most beautiful he's ever seen. Dream loves the praise and at this point he's hoping that Hob will stay forever (or at least until the moon rises and shines on his water... that's when he's at his most beautiful, in his own opinion).

Alas Hob can't stay, but he can give Dream a parting gift - something raw and rough and very human. He pulls Dream into his broad, strong arms and kisses him with a passion that Dream has never experienced before. One of his rough calloused hands even squeezes Dream’s delicate little arse!

At which point Dream just knows that he's going to need to find a way to make sure his human comes back... as soon as possible.

[thewalkingwillowtree]

His Fierce Flower

Series Part Listing Found Here

BF2L, Slow Burn - Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Neteyam and Enyu, childhood best friends are both obliviously in love with each other. This is their story.

Important to note before reading:

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam is 22.

En'yuna or Enyu for short (pronounced as N Yunna or N U), is my own creation.

Full recognition, rights and credit is given to the owners of Avatar.

~

PART 6 - Open

“Open.” 

Enyu mindlessly chewed on the berry Neteyam fed her while she focused on the tablet in her hands. 

“Open.” He fed her another. 

She sat cross-legged on the floor of one of the food storage tents, conducting inventory on a few racks of cured meat that came from the smokehouses that morning. 

What was supposed to be a simple task turned out to be a much bigger issue. Many of the other items in the tent had not been catalogued nor organized. The tent was in complete disarray- not to mention the mess of data she was currently looking at. 

Meanwhile Neteyam, who had completed his patrol all of last night and also already managed to have an early morning training session, had the rest of the day off. As per his usual routine, he tracked her down and decided to keep her company until they could go do something “more fun”. His words, not hers.

“Open,” he repeated. He was laid stretched out on his back, ankles crossed with his head comfortably resting in the well of her folded legs, feeding- or more like sneaking her berries from the bowl balanced on his chest. 

“Open.”

“Mmpff-'Tey, you have to at least let me chew first,” she spluttered, grasping his wrist. “And I told you already, I’ll eat when I’m done here. I still have a lot to do. Also, you promised to not distract me if I let you stay.” 

Enyu knew it was a futile promise. At first he was quietly sitting in a corner- as agreed, sharpening his knife then whittling a piece of bark. And then the next thing she knew he was nestled in the cradle of her legs, trying to force feed her. 

Ever since their little “misunderstanding” a little over a month ago, he’d been extremely apologetic. It also seemed as if their friendship shifted a bit as well- for the better she would say. They'd seemed to be further attached to each other lately.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but he seemed even more attentive and affectionate than usual- which she just chalked up to be that he’d been afraid of losing their friendship and was now trying to compensate. They’d never fought like that before and she was just as glad as he that they were fine again. 

He released an annoyed sigh. “Flower. You haven’t eaten anything for the day.” He tried to sneak another berry past her lips which she took, but in retaliation she nipped his fingertips and, still staring at her work, ignored his cry of protest. “Why are you even doing all this anyway? Isn’t this Väriä’s job?”

“Yes, but I’m covering for her. Which is good because this whole thing is messed up and I doubt she’d be able to fix it since judging by these last entries- was all her fault in the first place.” She frowned at the tablet in her hand then looked up at the items stacked around the tent.

The humans they lived with had shared their technology with the Na’vi over the years. While the warriors were taught to use their weapons; guns and communication devices to name a few, they also influenced other areas of the clan. 

The clan's food inventory, for one, had been computerized- and so new roles were created. Inventory clerks was the human term for it and Väriä somehow was lucky to have gotten one of the spots. 

It was a simple enough job and Enyu enjoyed it whenever she was asked to help out. All fresh meat, dried meat, fresh fish, dried fish, fresh fruit, dried fruit, herbs, spices- basically everything coming in and anything going out was recorded.

Even though technically Enyu’s permanent role in the clan was “harvester,” she- like Neteyam had taken on many other responsibilities over time. When the humans had introduced the inventory system some years back, she was so fascinated that she volunteered to cover shifts in her free time. 

Inventory was overseen by one of the Elder Chief Officials who ensured that the clan was sufficiently provided for while still making conscious efforts to not waste what was given onto them by Eywa. It was why every person in the clan had their part to play. No job was more important than the next. And sure some Na’vi saw some roles as being “above others” but if it weren’t for those “lesser roles” as they so liked to call it, there would be no balance. 

“Why are you covering for her again? That’s like the sixth time in two weeks! What’s she even doing?” Neteyam asked while grasping her wrist with a frown, so that she paid full attention to him.

“It’s only been the fifth time and I don't know, you know she never tells me anything. My tent mates think she’s actually being courted- well except for F’vailii. She thinks she’s just dodging her duties and off sunbathing or combing her hair somewhere.”  

“Courting. Really?” he asked, shifting his head to see her face better. “Huh... But she’s so… vile. If it is courting, I wish whoever the poor soul is, good luck,” he snorted, while twisting the ends of her hair with his other hand. 

Enyu glanced down at his face. “Yeah you laugh now but was it not just last month that she had her eyes set on you? That could’ve been your poor soul. What was it she’d say again? Oh yes, “Ohhh Neteyam can you come help me lift these heavy baskets? Ohh, you’re so strong, what would I have done without you Neteyam! Neteyam can mpff-” Enyu, mimicking Väriä’s sultry annoying voice was cut short when he reached up and stuffed another berry in her mouth to shut her up. 

For good measure, he flicked her forehead playfully. “Har har har. Not funny. That’s a very scary thought and I’d rather we not talk about it. Seriously though, why hasn’t anyone reported her to the Chief Official, yet? I’m sure she wouldn’t be pleased to hear what Väriä’s been doing. She could do something about it.” 

Enyu swallowed her bite and shrugged. “Like you said, 'Tey, she’s vile. No one wants to cross her. She’s untouchable anyway you take it- being the niece of one of the council members. I’ve seen her use it as a shield and get away with a lot of crap no other Na’vi’d be able to since I’ve been living with her.” 

Neteyam hummed, thinking. She flicked his forehead knowingly then tilted his chin so he’d look at her again. “Don't even think about telling anyone. I live with her, remember?” 

“My dad could help. Their next council meeting is in the-” 

She smacked her palm on his chest, halting him. “That’s even worse than telling the Chief Official!” she cried. “Can you imagine they’re having a council meeting, and your dad goes, “Oh right, your niece is being a little bitch to her roommates. Can you tell her to stop?” Please don’t say anything to your parents. It’ll be fine.” 

“Bitch?” he questioned amusedly, his hand mindlessly moving to intertwine their fingers on his chest instead. “You need to stop hanging out with my brother.” 

“Actually, I got that one from Kiri,” she said proudly.

“Her too then,” he said seriously. “How about you just stop hanging out with my entire family then, hmm? They’re just corrupting you anyway. It’ll be great for me! No more Tuk hogging you the whole time.” He smiled wishfully, as if it were the best idea in the entire world.

“Yeah, that’s not happening. I already miss them a lot right now. My schedule’s been crazy lately.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I wonder why.” He said it so sarcastically that it came out bitter instead. “Shit. I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly. “I didn't mean it like that... Can we just- not talk about him?” 

“Fine. Alright.” She squeezed their entwined fingers reassuringly. “Back to the topic at hand then. I didn’t hear any agreement, 'Teyam- about not telling your parents.”

“Yes, alright. Fine! I won’t say anything to my parents about the fact that your roommate has been slacking off and making you do all of her work which is preventing you from spending any time with me-” he spat, sneering at the piece of technology she'd just put down as if it offended him. “But, only if you stop to finish this,” he said, raising the bowl toward her with a hopeful smile. 

She snickered at his dramatics but took it from him and placed it to the side shaking her head. “After,” she responded.

He groaned peevishly and rolled around restlessly, laying onto his stomach. “You are frustrating, woman!” he exclaimed, sounding very much like that one time she heard Jake addressing his wife during an argument. “How much longer? I’m sooo bored. Ugh!” His complaint was muffled into the inside of her thigh, so she grabbed the braids at the back of his head to see his face again. 

“You know, I don’t come and bug you when you’re out on a hunt or patrol and whine and complain that you’re taking too long. You don’t have to stay. You’re acting like I’m holding you hostage.” 

“Well maybe you should, come bug me. It’d be a lot better if you were there. And I’m quite happy where I am right now, thank you very much,” he shot back, with a naughty grin before snuggling back into her thigh and gripping her ankle. “Now shhh, my lack of sleep from last night is catching up to me. Can you do that thing to my back, please?” 

“Oh, now I'm the one bothering you? 'Teyam, I’m supposed to be working!”

That meant nothing to him it seemed because the next thing she knew, his tail sailed around blindly before finding and wrapping around her wrist, guiding it to his back in silent demand. 

She scoffed at his antics but being unable to say no to him, she glanced at her forgotten tablet then turned to focus on the needy Na’vi before her. 

She soothed and scratched his back for a little while before moving his hair aside and began to knead the tense muscles from his neck to as far down his back she could reach, then back up again. He groaned in contentment, squeezing her ankle appreciatively at her ministrations, causing her to bite her lip at the sounds he was making. His grunts and moans and sighs sparked something inside her.

Neteyam’s back was well defined and toned from all his training. His skin, soft yet hot to the touch felt sinful beneath her hands as her nimble fingers moved over and over his body, working out all the kinks and knots they could find. 

“Enyu,” he growled breathlessly, sounding like he was falling into a pit of pleasure. She inhaled at the sound of his raspy voice and gasped when he bit into the flesh of her thigh when she rubbed a particular spot too deeply.

Eventually, after a while of working the muscles on his back, she shakily sat up straight, slowly removing her hands from him, deciding that that was enough for the day. There was an unfamiliar coil inside her that had come to life, fluttering in parts of her that were private, and she was very unsure on what to do about it. 

Feeling breathless and a tad light headed, Enyu stared at the Na’vi in her lap who had fallen asleep. She’d given him many massages before but none had quite affected her like that. Had he felt it too? She shook her head. Maybe she was getting sick?

While he dozed, she was able to get a lot completed without any interruptions. She just couldn’t move, unfortunately. The actual tent organization would have to be done later but for now she focused on fixing the data.

An hour and a half later however, she heard a rustle and looked up to see Neytiri enter the tent, pausing at the scene her son and his friend displayed. 

Enyu froze also, her ears perked with alertness, one finger stilled, hovering over the tablet. Glancing down, she blushed furiously when she paid attention to her and Neteyam’s current and extremely intimate position. First Jake, now Neytiri? Was she being punished by Eywa?

Neytiri moved gracefully into the tent. “Hello, Enyu. Kiri said that I would find you here. I see you have company already though,” she mused as she observed the stock surrounding them. She peeked into a few of the crates and baskets curiously- sniffing approvingly at the smell of the smoked meats, and then, eventually sat across Enyu on the blanketed floor. 

“Hi, yes… he kind of- fell asleep,” she responded a bit sheepishly. 

Even though Enyu had known Neytiri all her life- having grown up alongside her children and fortunate enough to have been one of the few who got to see inside the private lives of the clan’s leaders- their softer sides, Enyu was still very much still intimidated by her best friend’s mother. Jake and Neytiri had been nothing but kind to her all her life and though she knew they weren’t her parents, she found herself constantly seeking their approval. 

Neytiri’s eyes fell on her son again, who was lost to the world. His cheek was squished against Enyu’s thigh, mouth ajar with a little drool trickling down and his hand was now wrapped around her tail. His own tail was spasming now and then in his sleep. 

Enyu bit her lip nervously. She knew that the mother was extremely protective of her children. She remembered how long it had taken her to warm up to Kiri’s "friend" Spider. Years! It had taken years. She knew Neytiri and Jake approved of her friendship with Neteyam, but lately she’d been a bit awkward around them ever since her conversation with Lo’ak and Kiri a while back, about the whole “mate” thing. 

His mother snickered. “He’s always slept with his mouth open like that since he was a baby. He snores too sometimes.” They both giggled quietly at her revelation. 

Enyu looked down and couldn’t help tucking away a stray braid behind his twitching ear and when she raised her head again, Neytiri was watching them with a soft fondness. Her eyes though- held a hopeful expression but when she shook her head as if shaking her thoughts away, it was gone. 

“Is everything alright?” Enyu asked.

“Yes.” Neytiri smiled. “I haven’t been seeing you lately, so I had to track you down myself. I only came to say that I am taking Tuk and Kiri to the valley in the morning to pick éveshik for the Eywa prayer tomorrow night. Would you like to go with us?” 

The younger Na’vi’s jaw dropped a fraction at the offer, lips tugging upward. “I would love to. Thank you.” Even after all these years, she still felt touched when the Sully’s wanted to include her in their family activities. 

“Good. Kiri said you can fly with her… So… Is my son behaving? He’s not bothering you is he?”

“No,” Enyu replied almost too quickly. “I like having him around.” She couldn’t help but be honest about it. This seemed to please Neytiri because she smiled in response.

“Have you recovered from your kidnapping? I hope that is not why you have been avoiding us lately. My Jake said you seemed quite mortified at being caught.”

“Oh Eywa…” Enyu mentally face-palmed, unable to control her blush. “Yes. No! I- well it wasn’t- we,” she blew out a breath to compose herself, “we had a bit of miscommunication and I’ve just been busy lately, is all- not avoiding any of you, I promise… Your son can be very-”

“Passionate? Yes, he can be. I know my son. He is so like his father. They are very protective over their-” she seemed to think for a moment, “most precious belongings. They do not like to share,” Neytiri emphasized, eyes squinting with hidden something. She nodded towards her sleeping son. “He clings to you as if you would disappear.” 

Enyu huffed and grinned a little. “I’ve grown used to the clinging. Although it seems to have gotten worse lately. We’re working on the sharing part- though I don’t think we’ve gotten far since he’s been like this since we were children.”

Neytiri chuckled at the fact that Enyu did not get her meaning. “Yes, I remember. My husband has this saying about you two, “thick as thieves”, it means never one without the other.”

Momentarily distracted, Neytiri glanced at her forgotten tablet and then at the harvest stock surrounding them, realization gracing her face. “Have you been doing all this on your own? Where is the Na’vi who should be on shift?”

“Uh- yes? It’s not that much though, really. I can manage,” Enyu said, biting her lip.

Raising a brow, Neytiri responded, “This looks like two day’s work, Enyu.” 

Saved from answering, the loud screech of an ikran roused Neteyam from his nap. He rolled onto his back, his head falling back into the cradle of Enyu’s legs as he stretched and yawned loudly. Blinking up at his friend and rubbing sleep from his eyes, he smiled sleepily and tugged on one of her braids. “Hey, how long have I been out? You finally finished yet, Flower?” he asked cheekily, voice deep and raspy. 

“Good morning or shall I say good evening?” 

At the sound of his mother’s teasing voice, Neteyam scrambled off Enyu’s lap, almost comically. Sitting up, he wiped the drool trail from the corner of his mouth, wide eyes taking in her presence.

“Mother. Mom, hey.” He shifted awkwardly then shot Enyu a look that clearly read, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Neteyam, as if suddenly realizing something horrifying, looked suspiciously between the two women. “What are you two up to?” 

“Bah! Nothing. We have just been talking. Can I not talk to Enyu without you always intervening or accusing me of something?” his mother cried. 

“Yes of course. I- I was just...wondering,” he said, clearly lying. The truth was Neteyam hated leaving his mother and Enyu alone. When he was a teenager, he walked in on his mother giving Enyu a very detailed explanation about why he was being more “cranky” than usual, citing that his, “body was changing and he was turning into an adult Na’vi now- becoming a man.” Another time, he overheard her telling his best friend that he peed his bed until he was five. He was mortified! Only Eywa knows what other embarrassing shit his mother had said about him. 

As if sensing his untruth and wanting to teach her son a lesson, Neytiri turned and asked Enyu about his most hated topic ever. “So Enyu, I’ve been meaning to ask you about your tutelage. I figured that’s why you’ve been so busy lately. How is your student- Yaćksön, was it?” 

Neteyam’s jaw ticked and his nose flared in irritation. He hung his head and massaged his temple while trying to drown out Enyu’s excited chitter chatter with his mother on said disliked topic. He sighed, whatever tension Enyu had worked out on his muscles was back again- tenfold this time. 

After Enyu’s explanation to him about Yaćksön a month ago, Yaćksön went before the council and his father with his confession. He was stripped of his title and position and given a two year sentence of ikran excrement collection duty. On top of that, he officially chose his “new position” for training as a harvester and to Netayam's displeasure, the fool asked Enyu to be his tutor.

To say that Neteyam disliked this new development was putting it mildly. At first he didn’t seem to mind, this was a great opportunity for his best friend. She always liked teaching and was very excited about officially being a tutor. She used to practise her teaching skills on Neteyam when they were younger, since it was her dream job. 

After observing the two returning with the other harvesters one evening however, he saw something that made his blood boil. Yaćksön was flirting with his best friend.

Enyu had laughed off his observation when he told her and her response of course, was that he was “just being nice to her.” He knew the fool though, Neteyam wasn’t stupid. Lo’ak and Spider had to both physically restrain him from going over and causing a scene when he’d first seen them.

Neteyam looked around the tent, refusing to take part in their conversation. His eyes caught sight of the still full berry bowl next to Enyu and he became even more agitated. Was she seriously trying to kill him with her stubbornness?

“Mother, I’m sorry to interrupt but-” Neteyam said, interrupting their discussion and leaning closer to Enyu. “You still have not eaten anything,” he hissed quietly at her. 

“Neteyam, don’t be rude,” she chided quietly as well, eyes glancing at his mother.

“Enyu! How do you forget to do something like eating? Eating!” Neteyam scolded. “You frustrate me woman. Honestly.” He leaned over her to pick up the bowl, deposited it on her lap and gave her a look that said, “Eat.”

Neytiri’s gaze bounced between the two, quite entertained. She bit down a smile when she saw Enyu pinch her son in the side for the scene he was causing but still yet she obeyed and took a bite of the fruit.

“Well, it is getting late, I should go pick up Tuk from her afternoon class. Enyu will we be seeing you tonight? My mother is making that fish you like,” Neytiri asked while getting to her feet. 

“I’ll be there,” Enyu responded with a smile. 

“And this mess,” said Neytiri gesturing to the stock around them. “I expect that you leave it to be taken care of by the Na’vi responsible for its state in the first place.” Neytiri had her no nonsense expression on now and Enyu nodded in obedience.

“Yes ma’am,” she said respectfully. 

And with that Neytiri bid them goodbye and then the two were alone again.

“That’s it? Yes ma’am? Why do you agree so quickly with her but yet I have to get a lecture every time about how I’m “nagging you too much?”

Enyu pushed a handful of berries in her mouth to refrain from answering, smiling sweetly at him through her mouthful. 

“Oh now you want to eat, huh?” he teased, grinning at her overstuffed cheeks. 

'Gosh she’s beautiful.'

~

Jelly Tey back at it again! And it seems like mama Sully approves.

Anywhooo as always:

I'm sorry if there were any errors.

Please reblog, like and let me know if you enjoyed it in the comments :)

Take care for now.

@love13tter @behindthearcane

[bonefall]

BB!Brushblaze

[ID: A grown version of Brushpaw from Warrior Cats. He is a ginger-and-white tabby cat with splotchy patches, a white butt, tail, paws, and 'bib'. He has yellow eyes with a distinct blob marking on his right side. He has a round notch in one ear.]

Because he's been coming up a lot lately, here he is! BB!Brushpaw is an ex-BloodClan cat who joins WindClan along with Snapper.

After the BloodClan Battle, Firestar opened up diplomatic negotiations in an attempt to see how much of Tigerstar's Impossible Deal the Clans could still honor. The answer was so simple as to be ridiculous; flowers, wood, novelty food. Things BloodClan can't get in the concrete alleys of Chelford. Leo and Snapper were only two of the traders who would regularly visit WindClan and ThunderClan.

Leo was head-over-paws for Onewhisker almost right away. He rarely went to ThunderClan, always trying to get chosen to go to the moor. He was so smitten, he never realized any of the red flags. Onewhisker wouldn't do public displays of affection, or tell his friends they were seeing each other, and when Leo floated the idea of joining the Clan... Onewhisker gave an affirmative, but not enthusiastic answer.

Tallstar decided to allow Leo and Snapper to join, but only if they went through apprenticeship as a formality. Onewhisker told Brushpaw that it's forbidden for warriors to be with apprentices, even if they are adults, and Brushpaw understood and respected that.

But it didn't get better.

Next, his ceremony was delayed over the destruction. His mentor, Mudclaw, even accused him of being a jinx and that he was bringing the humans to the moor. He went on the Great Journey forced to remain Brushpaw, Tallstar only having the strength to give Crowfeather his Honor Title and leaving him and Snappaw in the dust.

His scar is from fighting in the WindClan rebellion-- one of the rebels jumped on his back and tried to snap his neck. After the fight, Onestar gave the two their well-earned names; Brushblaze for the muirburn that Mudclaw sabotaged, and Snapstorm for the rain that put it out after.

When Onestar became leader, he changed, or... maybe it just revealed something that was always there, that Brushblaze didn't see. Either way, whatever they had was over.

Eventually, he became an ironic friend of Heathertail, helping her bring back tunneling. He died helping her and Breezepelt escape The Kin through a secret passage he constructed with Harespring, collapsing the tunnel so that they couldn't be followed.

Lots of info under the cut

Design & Meta Stuff

It bugs me how in Onestar's Concussion they copped out on the idea that Onewhisker was cheating on his lover with Smoke, by making it SUPER clear there was no overlap in the relationships. Soo instead yeah poor Brush was cheated on.

I feel like the fact that Canon!Brushpaw was a ginger tabby was supposed to invoke the image of Firestar, because the whole point is that "Firestar succeeded where Brushpaw failed" so like... I DESPERATELY tried to make sure Brushblaze is a ginger tabby who looks nothing like my Firestar lmao.

Total opposites, my Firestar is bright and skinny, Brush is dull and sturdy. Fire has no stripes and no white and Brush has stripes and white patches.

I gave him a spotty white tail for the irony of it looking like Darktail's but inverted.

I don't know if this makes sense but I tried to channel the energy of a gay dude who owns snakes.

Personality

Waaaaay smarter than you think, but can be a bit passionate and oblivious.

Prone to biting off more than he can chew and getting in situations above his head.

A yes-man, doesn't like saying no to people, especially when he feels like he can help.

Most ex-BloodClan cats look scary but are friendlier than they seem.

Surprises people with the way he casually remembers everything. Names, recipes, offhanded comments... say it once and it's in his head forever.

You really think that he's going to be a grump with that face, but it's far from the truth. He's tired, but super friendly.

History

Leo was a BloodClan Solver, a position that has to do with intellectual work.

Snapper was his assigned Problem, kind of like a BloodClan warrior.

His mother Bailey is actually one of the most respected Solvers in BloodClan. He didn't really like being in her shadow, though.

Looking back on it, Brushblaze is embarrassed about how quickly he was ready to commit to someone who, in hindsight, wasn't into it as much as he was.

They were dating but Onewhisker was... flaky. He didn't want to tell others about their relationship, never wanted public affection.

It was really obvious looking back on it that One was never brave enough to commit.

Snappaw and Brushpaw had to fight a lot of xenophobia to earn their place. Mudclaw's distrust of a cat he was supposed to train like an apprentice was a major factor in why Tallstar changed deputies so suddenly.

Unknown to Brush, Onewhisker had already rejected an old lover, Smoke, when he found out she was pregnant and wanted to join the Clan. He couldn't handle the shame of telling Brush he had been cheating AND the idea of waltzing into camp with a brazen kittypet lover.

Brush did eventually move on, but it took a long time. Onestar had Heathertail via honor-siring, never getting back into a romantic relationship again.

After this, he's very grudging of Onestar. Obeys him as a leader, but clearly dislikes him as an authority figure and as a person.

One of Onestar's many regrets.

One day in the Po3 Era, he overheard Heatherpaw and Breezepaw scream for help and came running

They were digging a tunnel, and Harepaw got buried

He pulled him out, and the three of them begged him to not tell their parents

Heatherpaw: "If my dad finds out he'll want to use this to do something stupid"

Brushblaze: "well... can't argue with that."

But he made them promise that the next time they dig that far down, where they could get hurt by a cave-in, they would come get him.

He became something like a safety friend, helping them work out how to reinforce a tunnel, doing good estimates of how to dig from Point A to Point B.

Onestar, of course, did eventually find out about tunnels... from Sedgepaw, boasting about the naturally-occurring ones under the Lake. It sure did give the four of them a scare that he'd learned about their little resurrection of tunneling as a practice.

Brushblaze eventually found love again; ironically, it was with Whitetail!

They had two kittens; Galekit and Smokekit.

He found it REALLY weird though that Onestar was so... aggressive? About Smokekit

"you didn't have to do this," said Onestar, glaring at the baby.

Brushblaze blinked several times. "....have a child???"

He would learn the truth less than a month later, when Darktail brought The Kin to the lake

Breezepelt joined quickly, and Heathertail went with curiosity when it was revealed that Darktail was her half-brother.

Harespring, deputy at the time, knew that his childhood friends were in danger. Him, Brushblaze, Crowfeather, and a few others immediately started digging to help save their Clanmates

Brushblaze's final act was shoving The Kin escapees in the tunnel, lagging behind, and collapsing the tunnel on himself and their pursuers.

[realmsofgames]

Tens of thousands of knights have been executed. The royal houses from across the land send their bravest sons to the boy king's court, lamenting their inevitable demise. "I will serve you to my utmost ability, my liege" states knight after knight as they try to avert their eyes from the men being executed to their side. The boy king rattles "the battlepass is ending! You are no knight!" as the stone faced executioner swings his blade. Some are sent to the dungeons to grind fortnite, some to the tower to meet their end in apex, all of them dread the day when they will watch fresh recruits swear fealty as they too face execution. Late at night, when the king's men are asleep, honorbound knights whisper. "The northern lords march on our capital and we're meant to idle behind our battlements?" questions one of the new knights. "The armies of the north have long since penetrated our keep, boy" replies a veteran knight as he raises the visor of his hounskull helm. "There lad" he adds, gesturing to the screen where their brother knights are hurridly consuming chug jugs, hoping to secure a victory royale for the boy king. A knight in regal golden plate pilots Darth Maul into the closing circle, "ONE MORE!" he shouts. The dungeon is alight with anticipation, if he can defeat the last remaining player, the battlepass will be complete and he might live to see another day. Just as their spirits begin to rise their hopes are crushed in an instant by the crack of a sniper's rifle. Darth Maul falls to the ground as Jonesy griddys on his holographic corpse. The screen displays "#2 downed by NorthNeverLoses4689." A the beginning of the war men would have cried, shouted out in rage, or consoled the poor bastard, but the same story has been told countless times and all the knights can muster is a look of shame and a nod to the man who would meet with the executioner in the morning. "Again!?" shouts the veteran knight as he looks over the screen. "That same northern bastard hasn't lost a single battle royale yet...." he mutters. It seems that, despite the deaths of his brothers, the aged knight has almost come to respect the flawless record of the northern warrior. "Who is he...?" he asks himself.

In the frigid north a blizzard assails a lone castle. The guards and servants are nowhere to be seen. The amber hue of a flame emitting from a portal at the highest point in the castle watchtower is the only sign that the fortification is inhabited at all. "BUHHHHH HEHEHEH." A simple minded chuckle echoes from the tower. A northern simpleton grips his sodacan cock and tugs on it as he celebrates his 900th victory royale. "I liiiike this game buhuhhhhh" the simpleton remarks as he chews upon a flank steak with his mouth agape.

In the capital the boy king shrieks "the battlepass is ending! THE BATTLEPASS IS ENDING!!!" and the executioner hefts his blade once more.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 47

Chapter 46 || Index || Chapter 48

The sun was warm on Fireheart’s pelt as he watched his niblings enthusiastically playing with a mossball in the camp clearing. It was late morning, and the hunting patrols would no doubt be back laden with prey shortly; but for now, there was no reason not to let them play, so long as they didn’t disturb the elders.

They had divided into two teams, with Cloudkit, Rainkit, and Sootkit on one team while Sorrelkit and Lynxkit were on the other. While the division had initially seemed unfair, the two sisters were now busily terrorizing their brothers. Fireheart purred as he watched Sorrelkit pounce on her Cloudkit and begin furious chewing away on his ear, while Lynxkit swept in to steal the mossball away from him. “Ge’ off me!” Cloudkit howled as he writhed around, helpless beneath his sister.

“Sorrelkit’s such a little menace, isn’t she?” Fireheart blinked out of his thoughts as Peppermask spoke up beside him, turning to her friend with a wink. “Whoever mentors her is certain to have their paws full.”

“It’s a little early to be thinking about mentors, isn’t it?” The deputy asked out loud, even though he truthfully had no idea. The kits were about a season old now, he supposed, but it would surely still be a while yet until he had to start thinking about mentors for them.

“It’ll only be a few moons until their apprentice ceremonies.” Peppermask pointed out, her green eyes glimmering as she looked into Fireheart’s eyes. “I’m sure you’ll mentor one of them, of course, but do you have any ideas as to the other four? I would think at least one would be obvious.”

Fireheart felt as though he’d been caught napping on guard duty. “I- I don’t-” He stuttered out, staring pleadingly at Princess over Peppermask’s shoulder. The queen only smiled sweetly at her brother before turning back to watch her kits play. Traitor, he grumbled bitterly to himself.

“Oh, come on, Fireheart! Surely you happen to know a wonderful hunter that hasn’t yet had an apprentice. One who, perhaps, already knows these kits well?” Now Peppermask was smiling sweetly at him, blinking thrice as she caught his gaze. 

Fireheart stared blankly at her for a moment before it finally clicked. “You want to mentor one of them? Why didn’t you just say so?” He mewed, slightly relieved that the solution was so obvious. “Of course you can mentor one. Whichever one you want to be your apprentice, they’re yours. Right, Princess?”

His sister glanced at them with a roll of her eyes. “He can be such a mousebrain sometimes, can’t he?” She purred to Peppermask, who nodded firmly in agreement. Fireheart frowned at both of them, not sure whether to be cross at the insult or pleased that Princess had picked up some Clan words. “It’s more than alright with me. I can’t think of another cat I’d want to mentor them more - except maybe you, Fireheart.”

“Maybe?” He scowled at his sister for a few heartbeats before looking back at Peppermask. “Do you already have one in mind, or did you want me to choose?” He asked her curiously.

She glanced out at the five kits coyly, appraising each one with a small smile on her face. “Well, if I happened to get Sorrelkit, I think I’d be quite pleased.” The other warrior purred at last.

“Didn’t you just say she was going to be a menace?” Fireheart squinted at Peppermask in confusion. Why would she want to bring such trouble on herself?

“You didn’t meet me as a kit, Fireheart.” Peppermask responded, her whiskers twitching in amusement. She turned to watch as Sootkit and Rainkit tag-teamed the mossball away from Sorrelkit, while Cloudkit wrestled with Lynxkit. “My mom has all sorts of stories about me! That’s why Bluestar chose Dappleshine to be my mentor; my mom wanted someone experienced with troublesome apprentices.”

“And yet she still chose Mistspring to mentor Cinderspark?” Fireheart wondered aloud. Mistspring had ended up doing well with her apprentice, he knew, but it had been quite difficult on the younger warrior for a while. Cinderspark certainly hadn’t been an easy apprentice by any measure.

Peppermask just giggled in response. “Anyways, if you and I are both getting an apprentice, don’t you think Graystripe should also get one? He’s just as experienced as the two of us.” She pointed out steadily, turning back to her friend with an inquisitive tilted head.

Fireheart swallowed back a cough of surprise. In theory, she was right - Graystripe would be a logical choice. Yet his entire being balked at the idea of giving one of his niblings to Graystripe, of all cats, to mentor. Apprentices were often impressionable. What would it do for them to see their mentor sneaking off every opportunity he could to go see his Riverclan mate? Though Graystripe had been staying in camp and doing everything asked of him and more, Fireheart had to wonder how much of that was because he was sorry and how much of it was because Silverstream was in the nursery with her kits, unable to sneak away to see her forbidden mate.

“Fireheart.” Peppermask’s voice was low so only the three of them could hear it. “How long are you going to hold him back?”

“Until he shows me he’s truly sorry.” Fireheart growled back, his tail lashing once. “He’s only remorseful because he got caught, and because he knows I can do something about it now. If Tigerclaw was still deputy, you know he’d be off seeing her right now. He hasn’t even apologized for attacking me and getting me in trouble.”

“Don’t say that.” She snapped in return, giving him that look of slight disappointment that he knew too well. “He still cares for you, Fireheart. If you trusted him with one of Princess’ kits, he wouldn’t betray that trust.”

“He sure has a funny way of showing it.” Fireheart understood why she was defending him - that was her brother, after all - but he wouldn’t be shamed into trusting Graystripe again so easily. His belly still boiled with rage every time he thought about where his old friend had been during Tigerclaw’s attack - and the sheer gall he had announcing his half-Clan kits to them afterwards. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s already betrayed my trust. I need proof he’s truly reformed and won’t go running off every chance he gets.”

Peppermask was silent at that. He searched her face, wondering if he had accidentally said something offensive, but she seemed to be wrestling with her obligation to defend her brother versus knowing he was right. “Just - promise me you’ll think about it?”

“We’ll see.” Fireheart wanted to trust Graystripe again, but his pelt still sometimes stung from where his ‘friend’ had raked him with his claws. “I might let him attend this moon’s Gathering. If he doesn’t immediately run off to see Silverstream, I could consider it.”

She sighed softly in response. “I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.” She replied evenly. “You never know. Perhaps having an apprentice will be reason enough to ground him in Thunderclan.”

As if his family and Fireheart weren’t reason enough already? He kept his retort in the back of his head, preferring to consider the matter settled for now. “What about the other two mentors? Any ideas?” He wondered out loud to her.

Peppermask considered the five kits playing in front of her. “Maybe Whitestorm for Cloudkit? He’s about the only one I see being patient enough to handle him.” She joked, her whiskers twitching in amusement.

“Actually.” They both perked their ears as Princess spoke up, turning back to the two warriors with earnest green eyes. “I was hoping that you would mentor Cloudkit, Fireheart. He’s my firstborn, after all; I want him to have the best mentor possible.”

“What, besides me?” Peppermask purred, nudging the queen with her shoulder. “Well, Cloudkit’s bound to be a difficult first apprentice, but if anyone can- Hey!”

Fireheart sat up at Peppermask’s shout, turning to see Cloudkit and Lynxkit tumbling towards the leader’s den as they tried to wrestle the mossball away from each other. “Cloudkit! Lynxkit! Don’t-” He cut himself off as they went through the lichen curtain, immediately hauling himself to his feet and bounding across the clearing. He should have been paying more attention to them- If they disturbed Bluestar, he’d-

He came to a stop as Bluestar pushed her way out of the lichen curtain carrying the mossball. Cloudkit and Lynxkit were right on her heels, staring up at her eagerly.

“Pick my team!” Cloudkit begged, hopping up and down beside her.

“No, mine!” Lynxkit yowled, planting herself in the dirt in front of Bluestar as she came to a stop and dropped the mossball in front of her.

Bluestar looked up as Fireheart approached, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m not sure, Fireheart. Which team should I pick?” Her voice was light and joyful - almost youthful.

“I-” Fireheart glanced back at Peppermask and Princess, unsure what to say. Of all the outcomes he’d been expecting, Bluestar wanting to join their game of mossball wasn’t one of them. “Well, right now the teams are Lynxkit and Sorrelkit - the two tortoiseshells - while Cloudkit, Rainkit, and Sootkit are on the other.” He explained slowly. 

“Sounds like it’s up to me to even the balance.” Bluestar ducked down low, giving Lynxkit a knowing smirk. “What do you say, hmm? Shall we show your brothers the what-for?”

“Yeah!” Lynxkit immediately dashed forward, biting into the mossball with a solid crunch before beginning to drag it away behind her. Cloudkit raced after her, while Bluestar trotted behind them, swiping languidly at Cloudkit to try and fend him off. Sorrelkit, Sootkit, and Rainkit were on them almost immediately, Sootkit and Rainkit bowling Bluestar over with a well-timed leap as Sorrelkit pounced on Cloudkit once more.

He watched Bluestar yowl in fake pain as Sootkit and Rainkit began climbing all over their stately leader, poking her all over with their needle-sharp claws. This was not a scene he would have expected to see in a hundred moons, and he had to admit that he was absolutely bewildered by the sight of his leader playing with his niblings. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel lightened by it as well; this was a good thing, wasn’t it? If Bluestar was well enough to play with the kits, and even enjoy it, then perhaps she was finally returning to the great leader she had once been. That was what the Clan needed more than ever now, after all. 

This was good news, and good news was always welcome.

[redheadscribe]

So Fire Emblem Three Houses was my first ever Fire Emblem game and since I LOVE the Three Houses casts I was pretty curious to see what this alternate timeline would be like. My first impression is that we would get more of a Those Who Slither vs Church. I got the idea that that Shez was meant to be the anti Byleth and in this timeline, Those who Slither had their own Sothis that they wanted to revive. However like Three Houses TWSITD was the weakest part. I know this pretty late review but after finally getting some time to play some games I have to say that the Warriors style game is not my cup of tea, and this game felt more incomplete than Three Houses.

With Three Houses I felt there was some sense of completion, granted there were a few plot holes but with each route there was a sense of completion in my opinion. The story was pretty interesting because I do like the idea of alternate timeline routes I felt the pacing was off. With the new MC Shez connected to the Agarthans they seem to be an after thought as the writers were more interested in the conflicted countries and factions and yes that is the most interesting part!!! The Agarthans are the weakest part of both games. Like I said on my first impressions of the trailer I thought the Agarthans would get more development as I said from the trailer Shez was giving me the impression of them being the anti-Byleth. And it would be good writing wise that there conflict with the church of Seiros is the reason why the three countries are in conflict. We have development of the Church of Seiros faction, but nothing about the Agarthans, now we don’t have to route for them but The Agarthans are sooo boring as an antagonistic group.

Don’t even get me started with how Edelgard was handled in the Blue Lions Route. I love my Blue Lions but the conflict between the tragic step siblings Edelgard and Dimitri was compelling and Edelgard being brainwashed was something I HATED. Because Edelgard doing all she did on her own was what made her great. Her ended up being brainwashed was awful, also I just don’t like the trope of a young lady being brainwashed by a creepy man(something I realized is a known trope in Fire Emblem:, Nyna, Deirdre, Julia, Celica, Ninian just to name a few)

World Bulding wise it has been nicely expanded but while it’s great, the story still felt incomplete. Like I was glad to see The Adrestian noble houses, especially when you could beat the shit out of Bernie’s father. It is interesting to see this idea of how the Agarthans were able to infiltrate society and added a nice horror angle, but a lot seemed incomplete.

So with that out of the way, they wasted Byleth. Now it is compelling to see how the students would act like with out Byleth, they were wasted, and I thought there would be more between Shez and Byleth but no. Now I do like Shez, I loved their laid back personality and motivations. But why did Arval chose them? Why did they get powers? Why? Like I said for a character connected to the Agarthans they were an afterthought.

With this out of the way, the things I liked, glad to see Byleth have lines finally. Shez compelling but wasted potential, the three factions are great, The Three Houses cast is great in both games especially with the What If Timelines in Three Hopes. The new timeskip designs are great as well, especially Edelgard’s new timeskip designs as she looked very magical girl like.

Overall, this game was fine, I don’t think the will do any other warriors games but I felt this was more incomplete than Three Houses and what I learn from the behind the scenes of Three Houses development they bit off more than they could chew. This was fine but that is it in my opinion.

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Twenty-Nine

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Fireheart was grateful for the snow that arrived that morning, powdering the territory and covering up the tracks he and Cloudpaw had left on their visit to Rosy. They had arrived home a little late—a bit wet from rolling in snow to get the scent of Rosy off of them—but no one said anything to them about it, merely greeted the pair and went about their business. Cloudpaw, luckily, stayed quiet and ate his dinner like nothing was amiss.

“He’s getting taller already,” Ravenwing remarked while he, Fireheart and Greystripe sat together, observing Cloudpaw chatting with Brightpaw and comparing their prey.

Greystripe swallowed part of his pigeon. “Maybe he’ll catch up to his width.”

“It’s just his fur, really,” Fireheart said. “He’s smaller than he looks. That coat is really long.”

Greystripe tilted his head, watching Cloudpaw. “Huh. Longer even than ThunderClan’s usual. Interesting.”

“His pelt doesn’t change his height, though,” Ravenwing said, gesturing with a flick of his paw. “He’s going to be bigger than you, Fireheart.”

Fireheart twitched his whiskers. “Who isn’t in this Clan?”

Ravenwing snorted and Greystripe chuffed, reaching over to ruffle Fireheart’s head like he was a young apprentice. Fireheart shoved at his broad paw with no real bite, Greystripe jokingly yanking it back like he’d been struck.

After a small pause, Greystripe spoke. “It’s pretty wild that you both have apprentices. I mean, I wouldn’t have expected that when we were apprentices, or even first graduating warriors.”

“It’s big, yeah.” Fireheart chewed at his mole’s remaining foot. “You should get in on this, Greystripe! It’s really fun. I mean, it’s work, but it’s good work.”

Greystripe shook his head. “Oh, boy, no way. I am the last cat that should get an apprentice. I’d have no idea what to do.”

Ravenwing looked up at him. “No, the last one who should get an apprentice is Darkstripe, but he has one. You could do it.”

“Eh.” Greystripe lolled his head to the side. “Maybe one day. Not now, though. I’d be floundering.”

“It would mean that we could all train our apprentices together,” Fireheart offered. “And that’d be fun. It’d be like when we were training!”

“Oh, that’s a good idea.” Ravenwing turned to Fireheart now. “We should take Cloudpaw and Snowpaw out together tomorrow. We can try hunting at Sunningrocks. I’ve been meaning to take Snowpaw there anyway.”

Fireheart brightened up. “Let’s do it! Greystripe, do you want to come?”

“To Sunningrocks?” Greystripe said dryly.

“Oh.” Fireheart’s mood fell a bit. “Right, yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Greystripe flicked his tail in a dismissal. “We can go out another time. Speckletail’s probably going to put me on a patrol tomorrow, anyway.”

“We can change where we’re going—” Ravenwing started.

“It’s cool, bud,” Greystripe said, firm but friendly. “Go ahead. Tell me about it when you get home. I’ll try to find some prey for you all while I’m out.”

Ravenwing and Fireheart exchanged glances, Fireheart saying, “If you’re sure, then.”

“I’m sure.” Greystripe went for his pigeon again, ending that conversational trail with a chomp.  

The next evening, the pair of mentors and their pair of apprentices set out early at an easy trot—fast enough to cover a distance without being too brisk for conversation.

“This is a good exercise for you,” Fireheart told Cloudpaw. “Can you talk to Snowpaw without Ravenwing telling you what he said?”

Cloudpaw balked. “Yeah, of course! I’ve got it!”

Snowpaw, watching his mouth, glanced up at his own mentor questioningly. Ravenwing signed what Fireheart could tell more or less translated to, Talk to Cloudpaw without us. Snowpaw nodded at this and turned his head to the smaller apprentice and started signing. Fireheart caught “walk” and “prey” before he looked ahead again, tail high.

“We got lucky,” Ravenwing said suddenly, quietly. “He’s quick to learn and he’s got a good attitude. If he argued about anything, I don’t know how well teaching him would go. Still…”

Fireheart blinked. “Has there been some problem in training?”

“Not anything that’s his fault.” Ravenwing shut his eyes briefly, face lined in concern. “He’s doing great on pretty much everything. But every time we go out into the forest, especially now…” His eyes went pale. “All I can think about is a dog sneaking up on him, with its scent hidden by the snow. He wouldn’t hear it crashing through the bushes. By the time he smelled it, it’d be too late.” Another drop in volume. “I don’t know if he can ever be out here alone.”

Fireheart tilted his head in a sympathetic half-nod. “Maybe when it’s spring, he could smell enemies better.”

“Among everything else, sure, I guess, but they could smell him too,” Ravenwing murmured. “That’s the main thing that I’ve been thinking about—even as quiet as he is, he doesn’t know when he’s being loud. He could push right through a fern without thinking about it and he’d alert every animal in the woods to his location. And it doesn’t help that with his fur, he sticks out in every season except now.”

“Frostfur and Whitecloud do, too,” Fireheart said reassuringly. “They’ve been just fine all their lives.”

“But they can hear,” Ravenwing returned. “And– well—”

He peeked back at his apprentice, who had just signed something that had Cloudpaw chuffing hard.

“Frostfur told me she had a brother,” he continued to Fireheart. “He was deaf, too. And he just walked into the woods without telling anyone where he was going, and– and they never saw him again.”

Fireheart’s eyes widened. “She had a brother? She’s never said anything about him.”

“It’s a bad memory for her. She only brought it up because I asked about deafness in her family.” Ravenwing shivered. “And now all I can think about is Snowpaw forgetting to ask me to go with him one night, and not seeing a shadow or smelling a fast-approaching scent…” The shivers intensified. “I know I need to let him grow on his own. I know. But that’s so much easier to say than to do with a special apprentice.”

His eyes cast downward, his ears back against his head, he looked so much smaller, like he was trying to compress himself as he stood. Neither of the apprentices had noticed the shift in his mood, but Fireheart could hardly bear it. Gently, he reached his tail over and pressed it against Ravenwing’s side, the best he could do without leaning right into him mid-walk.

“I’ll tell you what I told Frostfur,” he said soothingly. “You’re not the only one who can take care of him - if he even really needs to be taken care of in the future. He’ll be alright. We’ve got all of ThunderClan to assure that.”

 Ravenwing didn’t say anything, but his head lifted a bit and his ears relaxed. He sighed out a slightly shaky breath. “…Okay.”

Fireheart gave him an encouraging blink and lifted his tail away once the stress disappeared out of his friend’s eyes.

The pair went quiet after that, both half-listening to Cloudpaw chattering about something to do with battle practice. Fireheart glanced back once to see Snowpaw’s ears and whiskers twitching out a story about fighting a cat (going by the flick of exposed claws, he seemed to be referring to Thornpaw), and Cloudpaw’s eyes shining in amazement.

When they reached Sunningrocks, a singular, stretched-out hole in the clouds overhead hovered directly above the river. The stars, thickly populated, shone down exactly on the water. With the usual white splashes where the current hit a rock, the effect was quite dazzling. Cloudpaw even stopped for a moment to stare at it with a whispered, “Wow…”

“This is Sunningrocks,” Fireheart said to him, pausing in his steps. “How do you like it?”

Cloudpaw recovered enough to look around, turning his head this way and that to examine the long stretch of land. He finally said, “It’s so open! Why didn’t we come out here before?”

Ravenwing gave Fireheart a cheeky look. “Your uncle really hates it.”

“I don’t hate this land,” Fireheart protested. “I hate that anyone even fights over it. It’s just some rocks—”

“We are not getting into this tonight.”

“Then why did you bring it up?!”

Cloudpaw had a brief look of worry that he lost as soon as Ravenwing chuffed and held up a paw in submission, saying, “Alright, sorry. He asked.”

Fireheart grumbled indistinctly and started for the water, crooking his tail for Cloudpaw to follow him. They stopped at the shoreline, Cloudpaw experimentally tapping the water with a paw and making a face when his pads came back wet.

“RiverClan really swims in this?” he asked. “It’s super cold. Wouldn’t they be wet all night?”

“Our fur is meant for it!”

The toms looked up (Snowpaw lagging behind). Over the crest of the slope leading down to the river, a colorful group of RiverClan warriors padded closer. Most of them looked surprisingly delighted. Their leader, the ginger-and-brown calico Leoparddawn, glared across the river, eyes zeroed in on Fireheart.

“We stay nice and dry close to the skin,” a brown tortoiseshell added, calling over the current. “It’s just the outside of our fur that gets wet.”

Fireheart lifted his tail. “Good evening! Is that you, Mosspelt?”

“Fireheart! Good to see you!” The tortoiseshell took a step into the water, eyes glittering with curiosity. “Who’s that lovely point you’ve got with you?”

“Oh—” Fireheart nodded to the cat in question. “This is my nephew, Cloudpaw. He came to live with us.”

“How generous of your Clan,” a grey-and-white molly said. “Didn’t think they cared about any kittypets. Little lad, you’re far too pretty to be living in the forest! Where’d you get a coat like that?”

Cloudpaw didn’t appear to know what to do with the many eyes on him. “Um… m-my father, I think. I used to be all white.”

“Ha!” The grey-and-white molly trilled. “You kittypets never fail to amaze me. I’ve heard about the crazy colors you all come in. What a lucky cat you are! I’d give a lot of fish to be pointed.”

“Vain, vain, vain,” a black tom said, shaking his head in disappointment. “You’re going to give ThunderClan something to lord over us.”

Cloudpaw still looked a bit startled and lost, but at Fireheart’s nudging he bobbed his head, saying uncertainly, “Um, thank you.”

“Look at the little thing, you’ve made him shy.” Mosspelt gave the patched molly a light shove with a paw.

“My apologies, kittypet.” The molly exaggeratedly bowed in submission.  “You’re fine where you are. Unfortunately.”

“Enough of that,” Leoparddawn said sharply. “We’re supposed to be on a patrol.”

The black tom rolled his eyes with a wink to the ThunderClan cats. “She’s got us parodying you, can you believe it?”

Fireheart squinted jokingly. “Are you telling me you’re actually doing hunting and border patrols now? Not just taking walks and lounging on rocks?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe!” Mosspelt sighed dramatically. “I don’t know how you ThunderClanners could enjoy this brisk pace. I can’t even look in the water for a spirit without someone yelling at me.” Her eyes creased in amusement. “But I suppose Crookedstar made her deputy for a reason.”

Thank the stars Greystripe isn’t here, Fireheart thought at the glare on Leoparddawn’s face darkening into a fierce scowl. She’d probably swim across the river to kill him, if she meant what she said back then…

Ravenwing spoke now. “Is there any news on the dogs?”

“Thank the Three and all their halls, we have nothing,” the black tom said. “I haven’t a clue where they could be. Perhaps they’ve run off for greener pastures.”

“We can’t find them, either,” replied Ravenwing, but he didn’t look particularly happy.

Leoparddawn jerked her chin to her followers. “We’ve found out who was talking. We need to get back to work.”

The RiverClan cats groaned in unison, waving their half-tails farewell and trotting back up the slope after their deputy. Fireheart called goodbyes and turned to Cloudpaw and the approaching Snowpaw.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” he asked.

Cloudpaw nodded. “They’re kinda weird, but I think that could be cool.”

Snowpaw waited until Ravenwing joined them to sign a question to his mentor: who was that cat?

“Spotted?” Ravenwing said, over-mouthing his words. At a nod, he continued. “Leoparddawn.”

Snowpaw tapped with his tail along his own pelt, batted his eyelashes, and then made a deeply-wrinkled, ugly face and shook his head.

Ravenwing chuffed and nodded.

“What’d he say?” Cloudpaw asked.

“He thinks her coat is very pretty, but that grumpy face ruins her looks.”

Cloudpaw trilled, and even Fireheart couldn’t resist a snort.

“He’s not wrong,” Cloudpaw said with an affectionate nudge of the older apprentice’s shoulder.

“That doesn’t mean he should say it,” Fireheart said, his whiskers twitching and tail curling.

Snowpaw, with an expression of absolute delight at his joke landing, puffed out his chest.

Ravenwing purred and shook his head. “Alright. Fun as that was, we should get these two hunting.”

“We don’t have to hunt in the river, do we?” Cloudpaw asked, his amusement replaced in an instant with apprehension.

“Not if we don’t want Leoparddawn coming back and biting our tails off.” Fireheart cocked his head in beckoning. “Come on. We’ll see if anything’s still awake out here.”

The apprentices set off together, spaced out enough to let them sniff the air without getting in each other’s way. Fireheart walked slowly after them, Ravenwing at his side. The clouds closed up the hole in the sky, the air still and the only sound around them being the soft hiss of the river.

It could be a worse night, Fireheart supposed.

[themonotonysyndrome]

Hey, hope your doing okay I was wondering if you could write about Celica not being able to eat during her pregnancy again? I’m sorry but I just live for worried castin being ready to kill everyone that ever told his wife to eat poison

Hello, Anon! I'm okay. Thanks for checking up on me. My writing progress has been slowed down lately. My muse... where has she gone!? 😭

Lol, but seriously, let's take a crack at this and expand more on one of Celica and Castin's most challenging trials during the pregnancy arc - her lack of tastebuds and, consequently, her appetite due to the side effects of poison withdrawal.

-

Castin says nothing. To be precise, he doesn't know what to say exactly.

His wife, his darling beloved Celica, is playing a new game he dislikes from the get-go. This causes Rhett to rear back in surprise when he admits it during their hunting trip for the King, and literally everyone in Intacia has heard of how their strongest warrior is besotted with his Imperial wife.

So what change? Castin Hammer likes - no, loves - everything about Baroness Anesidora. He loves how her golden hair shimmers with the early light of dawn as she turns around to greet him good morning. He loves the quiet hums of her voice whenever she's lost in a good book. He loves her no-nonsense tolerance for bullshit, cutting straight to the meat of the matter even in the face of hardships. He loves how pliant and soft her body is to his touches, as if she's subconsciously known that she will always be safe with him.

Right now, though? Castin Hammer dislikes - no, hates - how obtuse Celica is deliberately playing just so she could pacify him.

Enough is enough.

"Celica." Castin begins sharply, and he hates how his wife grimaces at his tone, but he has to press on. He has to make her see reason. "You can't continue drinking that... that special tea of yours after our babies are born. I didn't say anything when you insisted it was tradition, even when it slowly killed you. Guess what? It's still killing you even when you're not taking it now."

The Baroness juts her chin up in defiance. There's a small dining table worth of space between them here in their bedroom. She felt too exhausted today to leave her personal sanctuary, so it's been transformed into a makeshift office and dining hall. "I'm fine."

Enough is enough.

Castin abruptly pushes his chair backward. He swipes his untouched bowl of chicken shorba, rounds the dining table, and places it gently, as if it were a newly hatched chick, in front of Celica. "Then finish it, baby." His voice is equally soft, but there's a hint of coldness behind it. This is the most furious he has been for his wife. He knows it. Celica knows it.

Celica's lips pressed into tight, thin lines. The broth smells divine. The shredded chicken meat looks soft to chew. It's the perfect dish for a pregnant woman. She picks up the spoon and scoops the broth to her lips...

And it tasted absolutely nothing. Her stomach, growing with hunger, now cries in dissatisfaction. It hurts, and she can only imagine -

"You can't, can't you?" Castin answers for both of them. Some of his anger (never at his wife. Never anger. Only sorrow) abates. Sighing, he pulls his chair nearby to sit beside Celica instead of across to her. "You know... if I'm not 5 seconds away from tearing my hair out in a panic, this would be hilarious. I've seen you down a hill of raw, marinated crabs all on your own like a competitive eater, baby. Now though? Now you can barely finish a soup because of your missing tastebuds!"

"Tastebuds or no. I will not jeopardise the health of our babies. I'll force myself to finish this." Celica resolutely says, eyes hard. She continues eating slowly. Ignoring how distressed her husband is.

"Like how Zeke forces you to eat fuck all back then?"

"Castin, we've been over this - "

"You're right, we did. We agreed to help you look for a therapist once the children are a bit older. But we didn't talk about your poison intake. So, let's start now. Let's take that cat out of the bag."

"Castin..."

"No, no. Food and conversation. You like those, right?" Castin stonewall his wife and snatches back the bowl of food so he can feed his wife. He grins painfully wide when Celica glares at him and opens her mouth. Castin waits until the bowl is almost empty to ask, "So who do I gotta beat up for making you think that grape flavour arsenic is appropriate for kids?"

"It was Belladonna. Not arsenic." Celica sneered, and for that, she found herself a mouth stuffed with soup.

Castin rolls his eyes despite the fact that everything in him is raging on behalf of his wife. He'd learned a thing or two about playing an actor from Celica over the years. "Of course, you'd go for the fancy flowers. Also, don't get sidetracked. Who, Celica?"

"Is this an interrogation?"

"Nah. Take it as your obsessed and highly protective husband wanting to unravel everything about you."

"Really? That's your excuse?"

"What can I say, babe? You made me into a lovesick puppy that may or may not need the muzzle after this. So?"

It's Celica's turn to sigh. "My first governess - Madam Bianca - took it up with Ezekiel. It was a day after my tenth birthday, and by customs, I was only enough to practice mithridatism. The rest is history."

"What!? No, not history! Babe, that's insane! And after your birthday, too!?"

"It is what it is, Castin - urk! Will... you... stop it!?" Celica chews and swallows furiously. She bats away Castin's hand before he can shove the last bit of the food into her mouth.

"You being all nonchalant like this freaks me out, you know? Are you finally full?"

Celica immediately rubs her tummy. The pregnancy swell is starting to show. "Yes, darling. I'm genuinely satiated for now. Please, believe me."

"Awesome!" Castin stands up once more and steals a startled kiss from his wife. Mm, chicken shorba with a faint taste of cherry; more things to love about Celica. "You want some ice-cream? Cake? Ice-cream cake? Lemme get you some, actually. You just sit tight and look pretty."

"...Why are you grabbing your sword? Castin? You're just going to the kitchen!"

"You'd never know if a rebel is gonna ambush me from the bathroom, Celly! Or if a certain head butler is in the hallway. It'll be nice to have a quick chat; man-to-man. Husband to his abusive father-in-law."

"CASTIN, NO!"