#bright eyes x tom cat

[twisting-echo]

Romantic moodboards of Tom Cat (Tom and Jerry) x Bright Eyes (Pound Puppies 1986) with the themes of childhood friends to lovers.

The first moodboard has an adult Tom Cat from the classic Tom and Jerry cartoon and an adult Bright Eyes from season 1 of Pound Puppies (1986). The second moodboard features a child Tom Cat from Tom & Jerry Kids and a child Bright Eyes from season 2 of Pound Puppies (1986). (They decided to make Bright Eyes way younger than she was in season 1.)

Inspired by - Timothy meets Bright Eyes by MartoonSzucsCartoons.

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 3

SDE MASTERLIST - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 4677

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate (soulbound) & time travel au, english is not my first language, i took names of professor in harry's time (it's easier that way)

You were walking through the Hogwarts courtyard, bundled up in your robes as the wind carried a hint of the colder months that were coming. The sun filtered through the canopy of orange and red; it was a cold day without the sun. As you approached the Gryffindor common room after breakfast, you spotted Lucas—tall, with his messy black curls and easygoing grin—leaning casually against the wall.

“There you are!” he called out, pushing off the wall and strolling over to you. “I’ve been looking for you. Fancy coming with me to Hogsmeade? I’ve got some things to pick up, and I thought you could use a break from all the studying.”

You raised an eyebrow, interested. “And by ‘things,’ you mean what exactly?”

“Important stuff!” Lucas replied with mock seriousness. “Like sweets from Honeydukes and a new quill, since I keep losing mine. And, of course, we have to stop at Zonko’s - can’t leave without some supplies for our next prank on Maeve.”

You let out a laugh, feeling the tension of the past few years slip away. You figured you could use a shopping day - it was a Saturday after all; you could just study after. “Sounds like a plan, though I’m not sure if Maeve would be happy with another one of your ‘masterpieces’.”

“She’ll survive. Besides, I’ve got a new idea that’ll totally blow her mind; just wait and see,” Lucas nudged you playfully.

As you made your way down the long, winding path to Hogsmeade, a sleek black cat caught your eye. It seemed to be lingering just out of reach; you’d seen the cat a few times today, always trailing a few paces behind, watching you with its bright, curious green eyes. It had followed you from the common room to the courtyard, through the grounds, and now it was walking behind you and Lucas as though it belonged with the two of you.

“Look at that,” you murmured, glancing over your shoulder at the cat. “It’s been following me this entire day.”

Lucas turned around, narrowing his eyes slightly at the feline. “Huh, that’s a little weird, don’t you think? Cats don’t usually follow people around for no reason.”

You crouched down and extended a hand toward the cat. To your surprise, it didn’t hesitate. The cat padded forward and nuzzled your palm; its fluffy and soft fur was warm, despite the chill in the air. You smiled, scratching it behind the ears.

“I think it likes me,” you said, looking up at Lucas. “Maybe it's a stray. What do you think?”

Lucas crossed his arms and looked at the cat with a suspicious expression. “It's a little too good to be true, don’t you think? A mysterious black cat following you around Hogwarts. You know there are loads of horror stories about witches using cats as spies, right?”

“You're paranoid,” you rolled your eyes at him, but smiled.

“I’m cautious,” Lucas corrected, though there was a small teasing glint in his eyes. “But if you’re set on keeping it, we should make sure it’s not... I don’t know, an Animagus or something. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“You think someone’s been using this little thing to spy on me?”

Lucas shrugged, but he was already pulling out his wand. “Could be, perhaps. There’s a simple charm to check for such things; it won’t hurt the cat - you have my promise.”

You stood up and took a step back, “Okay, but I’m telling you, it’s just a normal cat.”

Lucas raised his wand, pointing it at the cat as he muttered the incantation under his breath. A faint blue light shimmered from the tip of his wand. It surrounded the cat for a moment before fading away.

You both stared at the cat in silence, holding your breath, waiting for whatever was about to happen. But the cat just blinked up at you, then licked its paw nonchalantly.

Lucas let out a breath, “Phew... what do you know? It’s just a regular old cat.”

“Told you,” you smirked, “looks like you’re now stuck with me and my new pet.”

The cat - as if it sensed your affectionate words - let out a soft purr and wound itself around your legs once more. You knelt down and scratched behind its ears again. A bond was already beginning to form. The only problem was the lice and many more things that were scattered across its fur.

"Alright, alright," Lucas said, laughing. "I suppose it shouldn’t be a problem.”

With the cat in tow, you and Lucas continued down the path to Hogsmeade. The bustling village was already alive with students and locals; shops were gleaming with fresh stock and festive decorations for upcoming festivities. As you entered Honeydukes, the warmth of the shop’s interior enveloped you, along with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate.

“So, what’s your go-to sweet?” Lucas asked as he grabbed a basket, eyeing the chocolate frogs with heart eyes.

“Maybe the peppermint toads?” you said with a grin, grabbing a small bag from the shelf. “They’re the perfect balance of sweet and refreshing.”

Lucas pulled a face, “You’re a maniac. It’s all about the fizzing whizzbees.”

Both of you wandered through the aisles, piling your basket high with various candies - sugar quills, licorice wands, jelly slugs. At one point, Lucas tried to sneak a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into your bag, but you caught him just in time.

“You’re not tricking me into eating vomit-flavored beans again!” you narrowed your eyes at him.

Lucas laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I'll save it for someone else.”

After stocking enough sweets to last almost a month, you and Lucas headed to Zonko’s. The shop was just as chaotic as expected, filled with exploding fireworks, laughing gas, and all manner of joke items. Lucas was in his element, darting from one display to the next with an excitement you hadn't seen since your first year at Hogwarts when you'd go shopping with the Weasleys.

It made you wonder if there was a Weasley in this timeline, or a Potter; surely there must—

“I’ve got it,” Lucas broke your trance, holding up a box of nose-biting teacups. “We’ll switch Maeve's regular tea with one of these. Can you imagine the look on her face?”

You shook your head, grinning, “You’re terrible.”

“Hey! You’re the one who agreed to come with me,” he replied, winking. “Makes you an accomplice.”

After spending almost an hour in Zonko’s, you finally dragged Lucas away before he bought the entire store. The two of you made your way back to Hogwarts, the pockets of your robes stuffed with sweets, joke items, and - in your case - also a black cat nestled happily in your arms.

“Already thought of a name?” Lucas asked as you strolled along the path.

You looked down at the cat, who had fallen asleep in your arms, still purring softly. “I’m not so sure yet; maybe something like ‘Shadow’?”

“Shadow,” Lucas mused, “hm, not bad; fits the whole ‘following you everywhere’ thing it’s got going on.”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of the cat’s fur against you. Despite the whirlwind of chaos that had brought you here, there was something so comforting about the small creature that had decided to be your companion.

And as you and Lucas made your way back to the castle, joking and teasing each other, you felt like things were normal, like you were just a regular student at Hogwarts, living in a time untouched by war and dark magic.

You went to sleep that day feeling better already, with the small feline curled up at the end of your bed, purring, its little collar having a little bell that you bought in a shop.

The following morning, you made your way down the main hall, the familiar hum of chatter and clicking of cutlery filling the air. It was officially your second week at Hogwarts, and though you were still getting used to the time period, you started to have a routine.

You reached the Gryffindor table and spotted your friends, already gathering around a platter of toast and eggs; some of them had pancakes. They waved you over and made space as you slipped onto the bench beside them.

“Morning, y/n!” Maeve greeted brightly, pushing a pitcher of pumpkin juice toward you. Her curly hair was a little wild this morning, as if she didn’t care. “Sleep well?”

You poured yourself a glass. “Pretty well, all things considered. I think I’m getting used to these weird ancient beds.”

Alicia snorted, her red hair falling into her eyes as she reached for a stack of pancakes. “Weird ancient beds? Try getting used to the weird ancient ghosts! I had Nearly Headless Nick hovering over my bed last night, telling some kind of story about jousting. I barely slept.”

“Better Nick than Peeves, though. That poltergeist kept chucking ink at me during Charms yesterday,” Maeve giggled, spreading jam on a piece of toast.

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest that you weren’t expecting. These girls had made everything feel… lighter. The constant worry in the back of your mind lessened. Here, in the morning sunlight with breakfast laid out before you, you almost forgot the real reason why you were here.

“Mm, speaking of Charms,” Maeve said, glancing at her timetable. “We’ve got it again this morning. Think Professor Flitwick will finally let us practice summoning spells?”

“I certainly hope so,” Lilith spoke as quietly as ever, but her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “Right? I’ve been dying to try action on something bigger. Imagine being able to summon an entire plate of pastries!” Lucas exclaimed.

“As if we need more reasons for you to get distracted during class, Luca,” Alicia rolled her eyes.

They continued to chatter about the day ahead while you found your gaze wandering around. The students were busy with their own conversations; some were studying, others were yawning over cups of tea, while some were also scribbling down last-minute notes for their morning classes. Everything felt so normal.

When your eyes landed on the Slytherin table, the illusion of normalcy shattered. You’d almost forgotten about him.

Tom Riddle. He was sitting at the center, surrounded by his usual group of admirers. He was composed, elegant even, as he buttered a piece of toast, speaking quietly to a blonde male next to him.

You looked away quickly before his group—or him—could notice you staring. “You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Maeve nudged you with her elbow.

“Everything alright?”

You gave a smile, hoping it didn’t look too strained. “Yeah, just thinking about today.”

“Don’t worry about it too much; it’s only the second week,” Lucas smiled. “Besides, you’re part of the group now. We’re in this together.”

“No backing out,” Lilith added, and for a second, you thought you’d melted.

You smiled, relaxing. You felt it reach your eyes; a sense of belonging wandered around in the back of your mind.

Breakfast continued, and so did the conversation to a more light-hearted topic: Alicia’s and Lilith’s excitement about the next Hogsmeade trip, Lucas’s plans for another elaborate prank on their dorm mate, and Maeve’s ongoing battle with Peeves. You listened, laughed, and chimed in the conversation whenever you could.

Maeve slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up. “Come on, y/n. Let’s see if we can make it to Flitwick’s class before Luca drags us to the kitchens for more pastries.”

“I resent that,” Lucas called over his shoulder, “but I do want more pastries.”

You smiled and grabbed your bag as you followed them out of the Great Hall, trying to savour the last few minutes of peace before the day truly began.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡charms class:

When you arrived at the Charms class, it was buzzing with quiet energy as tired students filed in, quills and textbooks clutched in their hands. You took a seat next to Maeve on your left side. Behind another desk with space in between you two sat another girl—Slytherin.

“Good morning, everyone! Today, we will be practicing summoning charms—Accio!” Professor Flitwick said loudly, standing on a stack of books at the front of the class as he clapped his hands to get the attention of all the students.

An exciting murmur passed through the room. You realized how, in their fifth year, they learn about summoning spells in this timeline, while in Harry’s timeline you learned more defensive spells or memory spells. The difference was huge.

Summoning charms were pretty basic, but growing up in times like you did, you almost had no time getting used to a simple spell like Accio while you could easily Obliviate someone or use the Patronus charm.

“Partner up!” Flitwick instructed. You turned to look at Maeve, who was already grinning at you.

“I’ve been practicing this all week,” Maeve said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Let’s see if I can summon a bigger thing than a quill this time.”

“Alright, but if you summon a desk by accident, you’re responsible,” you teased her, setting your wand on your desk.

Maeve pointed her wand at one of the cushions Flitwick had left for practice. “Accio cushion!” she shouted, her wand slicing through the air.

The cushion zoomed toward her, though it wobbled slightly before landing in her arms. “Not bad, right?”

You clapped lightly. “That was impressive!”

Maeve jokingly gave a little bow to you. “Your turn!”

You focused on a cushion that was lying a few feet away, envisioning it flying smoothly into your hands. After a flick of your wand, you called out,

“Accio cushion!”

The cushion shot toward you with more speed than you expected, hitting you on your chest slightly and knocking you back slightly. You laughed, catching it just in time. Maeve burst into giggles beside you.

“Well, at least it's working,” you said with a grin. Putting the cushion down, you glanced around the room and caught sight of Tom. He was practicing at the far end of the classroom. He performed the spell flawlessly, his cushion gliding into his hands with barely a flick of his wrist. His focus was intense, almost unnerving.

You quickly turned towards Maeve again, not wanting to dwell on him.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡potions class:

The potion classroom in the dungeons was dark and cool; the only source of light was flickering. A mushy and earthy scent of ingredients filled the air as you sat down next to Alicia at one of the tables near the back.

“Right,” Alicia said, pulling out her ingredients. “I’ve got a good feeling about today’s potion. We’re supposed to make something simple, so there’s no way I can accidentally melt my cauldron like last week.”

You snickered. “Simple or not, I still think you have a way to make the easiest potions chaotic.”

Before Alicia could respond, Professor Slughorn’s jovial voice boomed across the room. “Today, my dear students, we will be brewing a calming draught. Quite useful for, uh, stressful situations.” He winked at the class. “-“I’m sure none of you feel stressed, though.”

You could feel the irony of the assignment, given how much stress you were actually under without anyone really knowing. You could probably use a calming draught or two just to get through the day.

Slughorn’s face was surrounded with enthusiasm as he demonstrated the first few steps, his eyes darting over the class with interest. You gathered the ingredients you needed and carefully measured out the valerian root, hellebore syrup, and the fluxweed oil.

“So, you think Slughorn’s going to invite you to one of his little parties?” Alicia asked as she ground some peppermint into powder.

You shrugged, keeping your focus on your cauldron as you stirred it clockwise. “Not very likely. I don’t really know what those parties are even about,” you lied. You went to one meeting with Hermione and decided to never go again. Simply a waste of time.

Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Well, Slughorn kinda ‘collects’ talented students. You’re smart, plus you’re new and kind. So, I’d say you're prime Slug Club material.”

You smiled at her. “We’ll see,” you said quietly. “Plus, I think Riddle is in Slug Club,” Alicia whispered.

You almost spilled the peppermint that you were trying to add into your potion. “Sorry, what?” you gaped at her. She scoffed at you and smiled. “Don’t act dumb; I always see you looking at him.”

Your potion turned to a soft blue—that was a good sign. “What??? No, I don’t…” you mumbled and glanced over at Alicia’s cauldron, which was bubbling a little too vigorously.

“Uh, Alicia... are you sure you didn’t add too much oil?” you asked her, eyeing the bubbles. “You’re not getting out of this conversation, Y/N,”Alicia said while she kept adding oil.

“No, no, I’m serious; look at those bubbles.”

“Oh, oops,” Alicia gasped and quickly turned down the heat under her cauldron. “Well, at least it’s not melting this time.”

You laughed softly, helping her adjust the potion before it boiled over. Potions was always a mix of stress and humor with Alicia. Seems like you're not as slick as you thought you were.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡transfiguration class:

Dumbledore’s class, there was a different energy in the air. The room was spacious and bright; high arched windows were letting beams of sunlight in that illuminated against the desks. Dumbledore was standing at the front. “Today,” Dumbledore began, “we will attempt one of the more advanced transfigurations: turning inanimate objects into animals. Quite the leap from last week’s matchsticks to needles, wouldn’t you say?”

Maeve leaned over to you, whispering, “What if we give a four-legged animal six legs by mistake?”

You snickered quietly.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and a stack of stones appeared on each of the students’ desks. “Your task today is to transform this stone into small creatures of your choosing: a mouse, perhaps, or a bird. Be gentle and focus.”

You pointed your wand at the stone, visualising a small bird. With clear focus, you flicked your wand, saying the incantation softly.

To your surprise, the stone started shifting, wings sprouting from its sides as it transformed into a tiny sparrow. It fluttered its wings in confusion before hopping onto your desk.

“Well, aren’t you just the star pupil,” Maeve teased with a grin. She was still poking at her half-transformed stone, which looked more like a stone with some fur on it.

From the front of the class, Dumbledore’s eyes met yours briefly, and he gave a small approving nod. You continued helping Maeve when you caught a glimpse of Tom Riddle a few rows ahead. His magic was perfect—obviously. The stone in front of him had turned into a sleek, black raven that perched on his desk with eerie calm.

You sighed, forcing yourself to focus more on Maeve and her furry rock. There would be plenty of time to think about Tom later, but the time was ticking, and you knew it

Shadow, the cat that you’d taken in, padded silently beside you as you made your way to the library. You smiled down at him; Shadow had proven to be nothing more than a sweet, lovely companion. The cat had followed you everywhere except for classes.

“You like books, don’t you?” you murmured to the cat as you entered the library, earning a few curious glances from other students. Shadow flicked his tail and trotted ahead of you, his sleek form disappearing between two towering bookshelves.

The library was quiet and warm, even after dinner. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and dust. You loved it in the library; it felt like a sanctuary, a place where time stood still.

Wandering through the shelves, you scanned the spines of the books you passed. Every so often, you’d glance behind you to make sure Shadow was still with you. Reaching a shelf tucked in a quiet corner of the library, you found a book you'd been looking for - The Founder’s Legacy: A History of Hogwarts. It was a book you needed for your Muggle Studies.

You pulled it down and tucked it under your arm, turning to leave the aisle; but when you did, you noticed Shadow was gone. “Shadow?” you called softly, careful not to disturb the other students. The silence of the library seemed to grow louder, your eyes searching for the black fur you had grown accustomed to.

Frowning, you stepped out of the aisle, looking around for any sign of the cat. Only a few students were scattered around the tables, their heads buried in their studies. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted him.

At one of the far tables, seated in his usual spot near the back of the library, was Tom Riddle.

With Shadow.

Your breath caught in your throat. The sleek black cat had made himself comfortable on the edge of Tom’s open book, his paws kneading the pages as he purred contentedly. Tom didn’t seem bothered by the interruption. In fact, he was watching the cat with an odd expression - almost as if he was amused, though his features remained calm and composed as always.

For a second, you just stood there, contemplating all your life’s choices. Seeing Shadow so comfortable made your heart race. Tom Riddle, the person you were meant to change, was casually petting the cat you had taken in, and it made your situation feel even more surreal.

But only you couldn't keep standing there forever, staring at Tom Riddle.

So, you summoned up your courage and slowly walked over to the table, forcing yourself to remain calm even though you could feel your chest preparing for a panic attack.

“Looking for this?” His voice was soft but cold as he gestured to the cat with a slight raise of his hand. Shadow meowed happily and stretched out his paws, pushing against Tom's book as if he had claimed it for himself.

Hearing Tom’s voice changed something in you; a warm feeling spread through you.

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady, trying to ignore all the feelings you were feeling at once. “I didn’t realise he’d wandered off.”

Tom’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, studying you with the same unsettling intensity you’d noticed in class. Then he looked back at the cat, one hand absently touching behind Shadow’s ear. The cat purred louder, pressing into the touch as though he had always belonged there.

“He seems to like me,” Tom observed. You had to hold back a scoff, so you forced a smile. “He’s a friendly one.���

“I can see.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. You cleared your throat and stepped forward, reaching for Shadow. “Well, I should get him out of your way; he’s probably disturbing your reading. Or studying, or whatever…”

Tom didn’t move at first, and for a brief second, you thought he might not let you take back your cat. But then he pulled his hand back. Shadow, oblivious to the tension, stretched lazily before hopping off the table and rubbing against your leg.

You cradled Shadow in your arms as you tried to steady your nerves.

You felt Tom’s gaze linger on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to his book, his expression unreadable. “Be careful,” he said, his voice low. “Not everything that follows you is harmless.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. Was that a warning? Or something more? Before you could reply, Tom had already turned the page of his book, his focus shifting away from you as though the conversation had never happened

A chill ran down your spine as you hugged Shadow closer. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you turned around.

Tom’s cryptic words echoed in your thoughts. You were halfway to the library’s entrance when you spotted Lucas striding toward you, hands tucked in his pockets, that ever-present grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He seemed completely at ease, as though the world was just a big joke waiting to be told.

“There you are!” he called out in a low voice, somewhat mindful of the library’s strict silence policy. He walked right up to you, his sharp blue eyes scanning your face before flicking over to the spot where Tom was sitting. “I saw you over there, chatting with Riddle.”

“Yeah... Shadow wandered over to him,” you smiled slightly, still not fully calmed down, but Lucas’s presence helped a bit.

Lucas smiled. “Look, I’m just gonna say it: I’ve seen you stare at him at times, and you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Whatever he’s said to you—”

“He said something about not everything that follows you is harmless,” you interrupted him, needing to get it off your chest.

“Okay, stop. That’s freakishly creepy,” Lucas gaped, stealing a glance at Tom. “Just... try to ignore him. Riddle’s either got everyone thinking he’s the hottest thing to walk these halls, or they think he’s bloody weird.”

Your curiosity piqued. “And what do you think?”

Lucas paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the question. His grin returned. “Both.”

You chuckled at his bluntness. “Both?”

You walked out of the library, your book long forgotten on the table you were supposed to be studying at. “Yeah, he’s good looking. I mean, objectively speaking,” Lucas said. “But there’s something about him that’s off. Like, he’s too good at... well, everything. It's unnatural; people are drawn to him, but they’re also... I don’t know, scared of him. You know? Even if they don't want to admit it.”

You nodded, thinking back to how Tom had looked at you - the way his eyes seemed to see right through you. There was definitely something unnerving about him. “He’s strange. Almost like he’s always one step ahead of everyone.”

“Exactly,” Lucas agreed. “It’s like he’s playing a game no one else knows the rules to. Trust me, best to keep your distance.”

“I wasn’t planning on making friends with him,” you said, shifting Shadow in your arms. The cat blinked lazily up at you.

“Good, I’ve got enough trouble without having to rescue you from the dark and mysterious Tom Riddle,” Lucas replied, giving you a reassuring smile.

You let out a laugh. “Thanks, Lucas. I’ll be sure to tell you first if I get in over my head.”

Lucas grinned. “I’ll be there, wand at the ready.”

The two of you started to head toward the common room together, the tension that had been knotted in your chest since your encounter with Tom slowly began to ease. Lucas had a way of making things feel lighter, like no matter how complicated the situation got, he’d find a way to make it less scary.

“Anyway,” Lucas said, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked, “enough about Riddle. Did you get what you came for? Or are we heading back in for round two of ‘Tom the Cat Whisperer’?”

You smirked, shaking your head. “No more rounds with him for today, thanks. I think I’ve had my fill of mysterious brooding for the time being. But I do think I might’ve left my book in there.”

Lucas laughed again, his voice carrying through the halls. “We’ll get it first thing tomorrow. And if you do like him, just don’t go falling for that whole dark-and-mysterious thing. I won’t judge you.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. “Please. You know I prefer my friends a little less brooding and a little more… fun.”

“See? That’s the right attitude.” He gave you a wink, his smile warm and genuine. “Stick with me. I’m way more fun than some dark wizard-in-training.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. As strange and intense as things had become, Lucas was a constant source of light. Maybe, just maybe, he’d help keep you grounded as you navigated the dangerous path ahead.

a/n: posted a bit earlier, but umm, i was thinking of naming the cat crookshanks first - so she has a reminder of hermione, harry and ron. but idk :( alsooooo, i'll probably update on sunday for this serie (loads of homework)

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[alessiasfreckles]

fasching (georgia stanway x reader)

you've had a crush on georgia for a few months after meeting her at a party in munich. now it's fasching, and you're determined to show her the intricacies of the german holiday - i.e. getting drunk.

warnings: alcohol, fluff

a/n: wanted to write something about georgia and fasching/karneval since, y'know, it's fasching (which is a german holiday at the start of lent where everyone wears costumes and gets drunk, basically)! short and sweet x

----

“Well, can I just wear the dirndl I wore for Oktoberfest again?” Georgia asked, frowning. 

“No!” you exclaimed. “You need a real costume.”

“What if my costume is an FC Bayern footballer?” she grinned.

“That’s not a real costume. Or at least, it would be if it wasn’t just basically your work uniform,” you said, rolling your eyes. You got out your phone and started swiping through pictures. “Look, one year I went as a cat. Oh, this is when I went as a clown- but, like, a sexy clown. Ugh, this one year we walked in the parade with my grandad’s political party and they were going as sewage workers for some reason? I was like, 13. I was so embarrassed.”

“So it’s basically like Halloween except with a parade,” Georgia said, an eyebrow raised.

You shrugged. “Kind of, but don’t let anyone hear you say that. Germans take Fasching very seriously. Oh, and if anyone tries to tell you it’s called Karneval, ignore them. It’s Fasching.”

“Right,” she nodded slowly, arms folded. “I still don’t really get the point.”

“Do Germans really need an excuse to get drunk and party?” you asked with a grin, and the English player laughed. “Nah, I think it’s to do with lent, but no one really cares about the origins.”

“Oh, like pancake day!” she said, brightening up.

“Oh! Yeah, I guess. I forgot about pancake day,” you shrugged.

“How could you forget about pancake day? It’s the best holiday.”

“English holidays are weird.”

She hummed. “So, what are you going to go as this year?”

You thought for a minute. “I’m not sure yet. Usually it’s something sexy, because if you can’t pick up girls at Fasching when can you, you know?” you said, not meeting Georgia’s eye. You’d had a crush on her since the two of you had met at a party a few months ago. You had hit it off instantly. Since you were half English and had lived there as a child, and she was new in Munich, meeting another English person felt like a breath of fresh air. 

She laughed, cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. What d’you think I should go as?”

“Hmm,” you tapped a finger to your chin, eyeing the footballer. “Well, it depends. Do you want to be hot or funny?” 

Now her cheeks were bright red. “Uh, I dunno,” she said, laughing nervously. 

“Well, we could do a costume together, if you want. That’s a little more fun than just by yourself,” you suggested, and she nodded eagerly. 

------------

By the time Georgia found you at the parade, you’d already had a drink or two and were decidedly on your way to feeling tipsy. 

She saw your costume before she saw you. The two of you had spent a while deliberating on what to wear, going back and forth between ideas, before finally settling on Tom and Jerry. You were going as Jerry (although you felt more like Karen from Mean Girls), wearing a grey dress and mouse ears, and Georgia was wearing a cat onesie, with a nose and whiskers painted on her face. 

Seeing your mouse ears from across the busy street, she hurried over to where you were waiting with your friends. 

“Gee!” you exclaimed when you saw her, pulling her into a hug. “Hi!”

“Hey!” she said, cheeks pink, and nodded to your friends, who were all eyeing her curiously.

“Aha, also sie ist die Fußballerin, in der du schon seit Monaten verknallt bist?” one of your friends said, looking Georgia up and down.

“Klappe!” you said, glaring at her. 

“Was? Sie spricht doch eh kein Deutsch, oder?” the friend asked. 

Georgia wasn’t sure what you and your friends were talking about. All she really picked up was ‘Fußballerin’ and ‘Deutsch’, so she figured it was about her. Feeling awkward, she tapped your arm. 

“Hey, um, I can head out if you want to hang out with your friends a bit,” she suggested, making your heart drop.

“No, no!” you insisted. “They’re being rude. I’d rather hang out with you anyway. I’ve been to plenty of Faschings with them before, this is your first one! Come on, let’s go. Tschüss, Leute.”

Your friends whooped and whistled as you left, making you roll your eyes. 

“Sorry about them. I swear they’re really nice, usually. They’re just protective of me,” you explained. “And I’m sorry about the German - they do speak English, it was rude of them not to.”

“Protective of you? Do they see me as a threat?” Georgia laughed.

You shrugged, cheeks pink, not wanting to say that they knew about your huge crush on the footballer. As you headed into a big square filled with people, you quickly changed the subject.

“Okay, so, rule number 1 of Fasching: bring your own drinks,” you told her, pulling a bottle of premixed juice and vodka out of your bag. “There’s places you can buy them, but they’re always super expensive and watered down.”

Georgia nodded seriously, listening intently. “I’m not really meant to be drinking, but I think I can make an exception today,” she admitted, smiling. “At least, I know a lot of the other girls are. I didn’t bring anything with me, though.”

“That’s okay!” you said brightly. “You can share mine. Rule number 2 is don’t get lost. There’s so many people that it fucks with the phone signal, making it impossible to contact people if you get separated.”

She bit her lip, frowning, and you took her hand in yours. “Just keep holding my hand and we’ll be fine!” you said with a grin. Normally you wouldn’t just take her hand like that, but the drinks you’d had were starting to take some effect, giving you a confidence boost. 

“Okay,” she laughed, blush rising to her cheeks. “Any other rules?”

“Hmm, not that I can think of,” you said, “Just let me know if it’s too much, okay? I know it’s a lot of people.”

You squeezed her hand and she nodded, taking the bottle from you and taking a swig. You cheered her on, and when she gave you the bottle back you took a drink as well, trying not to think about the fact that your lips were where hers had just been. 

“Ready?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

“Ready.” 

-----------

2 hours later, you were well and truly drunk, and Georgia wasn’t far behind you. You had watched the parade for a while before getting bored and wandering around together, giggling about people’s costume choices. After an hour of trying to squeeze through the masses of people, you decided to cut through some back alleys, and had ended up staying in one of them, drinking and talking.

“Usually I don’t really like Fasching,” you admitted, hopping up to sit on a brick wall and swaying slightly, holding out your hands to steady yourself. “Woah.”

“Careful,” Georgia giggled, putting her hands on your waist to help ground you. “Why not?”

“Too many people,” you said, voice slurred, waving a hand towards the noise of the parade, which you could hear streets away. “Too loud.”

“That’s fair,” she nodded. “I don’t really like crowds either.”

“What!” you exclaimed. “Why did you come with me then? I wouldn’t have taken you if I’d known. Fasching is awful if you don’t like crowds.”

“Because you asked me to,” she said simply, smiling at you. “It’s not so bad with you.”

“No?” you asked, blushing. You realised Georgia was stood between your legs, her hands still on your waist from steadying you, making your heart flutter. 

“Nah,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s, I dunno, easier with you.”

You smiled widely at that, taking another drink from the nearly empty bottle to try and hide how hard you were blushing. 

“Hey, what was your friend saying, before?” she asked, wondering whether you were drunk enough to tell her.

“Oh, that,” you said, rolling your eyes, any kind of filter you had gone. “She was asking if you’re the footballer I’ve had a crush on for months.”

You clapped your hands over your mouth when you realised what you’d said. Georgia’s eyebrows were raised, a look of surprise on her face that was quickly replaced by a teasing smile.

“And, am I?” she asked, hands tightening a little on your waist. 

You swallowed, trying to think of something clever to say, but the alcohol was making it hard, especially when all you could really think about was the feeling of her hands on your waist and the fact that she was stood between your legs, close enough to kiss you. 

“Maybe,” you said, biting your lip. 

“Oh, just maybe?” she asked, all the alcohol giving her a boost of confidence. She watched your eyes flit from her eyes to her mouth and back, and leant forward slightly. 

You nodded shakily, heart racing as she leant towards you. She paused just short of your face, giving you space to back away if you wanted to, but you leant in enthusiastically, your lips meeting hers. 

You were a little too enthusiastic, your mouths bumping into each other, making you both giggle and pull away. Georgia was undeterred, and cupped your face with one hand, steadying you, before leaning in to kiss you. 

She tasted sweet, like fruit juice and alcohol, her soft lips perfectly melding against yours. You gasped when her tongue swiped against your bottom lip, and she took the opportunity to kiss you deeper, the hand that was still on your waist moving to your back to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, jumping when you felt the soft onesie. 

She leant back. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, I just forgot about the onesie,” you admitted with a laugh. “Wasn’t expecting it.”

“You mean, the cat costume isn’t doing it for you?” she asked with a wink, and you wrinkled your nose. 

“I mean, the costume is cute and all, but if I’m honest, I think you’re the one doing it for me. After all, you are the footballer I have a crush on.” you said, making the brunette blush. The painted on nose and whiskers were smudged slightly from your kiss, and you giggled at the sight of her. 

“What?” she asked. “Is there something on my face?”

“Nah,” you shook your head, and pulled her in for another kiss.

[otomegamesforlife]

Sympathetic Pregnancy 2/4: [Rafayel x Reader]

The boys are in for a surprise when they start experiencing sympathetic pregnancy symptoms—before they even realize you’re expecting! One shots of how the chaos unfolds: Completed:

Zayne: Completely baffled and convinced something’s off with his medical expertise. A03 link here

Rafayel: Turns into the biggest baby (as if he isn't already) A03 link here

Xavier: Positive he’s at death’s door (spoiler: he’s not). A03 link here

In-Progress:

Sylus: Frantically consulting underground doctors, fearing it’s a core malfunction.

Each reaction is uniquely ridiculous, but they all prove just how in sync they are with you—whether they like it or not!

"Couvade syndrome, also called sympathetic pregnancy, is a proposed condition in which an expectant father experiences some of the same symptoms and behavior as his pregnant partner. These most often include major weight gain, altered hormone levels, morning nausea, and disturbed sleep patterns- Wikipedia"

Rafayel’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest, much like the exaggerated antics in that Tom and Jerry show you’d introduced him to. He gasped, pressing a dramatic hand to his forehead. “If you want me to die, just say so!”

You blinked, pretending innocence before a mischievous grin spread across your face. Rafayel could already tell you knew you were forgiven. “Scaredy cat.”

“I am not!” Rafayel pouted, though the slight tremor in his voice gave away his lingering surprise. You leaned into him, your familiar scent pulling him back to reality, making it impossible for him to stay mad. “You’re just too light on your feet. It’s not fair.”

You raised an eyebrow, your eyes sparkling playfully. “It’s not my fault everything here is carpeted. Nothing makes a sound! Maybe you’re just too jumpy. I barely poked you.”

Rafayel huffed, trying to regain some of his dignity as he turned off the stove. “As if you remember to wear slippers inside. I made everything carpeted for you, and now it’s backfiring on me.”

“You’re the one who loves being barefoot,” you pointed out, a teasing smile on your lips as you lightly tapped his nose. “Don’t blame me for picking up your habits.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Instead, he gently pulled you away from the stove, wrapping his arms around you and pressing you against the counter. “Did you sleep?” he murmured, nuzzling against your neck, his tone softening.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, nestling closer. “I woke up when you were still asleep and got hungry. Craved shrimp.”

“What if I cooked something else?” Rafayel pulled back slightly, giving you a mock look of disbelief. “You’d cook your own food? Scandalous!”

“I would’ve let you know if you weren’t sleeping,” you said, your reproach more affectionate than accusatory.

Rafayel rolled his eyes dramatically. “I would have woken up for you!” His hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin as he studied your face with exaggerated worry.

“But… Aren’t you still sleepy most of the time?” You cupped his cheek in return, your playful demeanor shifting to concern.

Rafayel met your gaze, his bravado fading. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a whine. “I’m so sleepy. If I get any more sleepy, I’ll be Sleeping Beauty!”

You rolled your eyes, but the concern didn’t leave your expression. “Like I don’t kiss you awake enough,” you teased, bopping his nose playfully.

“Not enough,” Rafayel grumbled, pouting. “You’re stingy with your kisses. Always just a peck, I barely felt it! How is that fair?”

You shook your head in mock disbelief before returning to the issue at hand. “Let’s go to the hospital.”

He groaned dramatically. “Hospitals?! I don’t wanna go. They’re cold, smell like antiseptic, and the lights are too bright! It’s like being in a horror movie!”

You crossed your arms, unfazed by his antics. “You can just stay home and take care of me! You’re much better than any doctor.”

“I’m not a doctor, Rafayel.”

“You’re more than enough! You even had that license thingy,” Rafayel insisted, leaning into your touch.

You tapped his nose playfully. “That’s a first aid certification. Not even close.”

“No,” he whined, holding onto you like a lifeline. “I don’t wanna go.”

“That never worked, you know. You think it will now?” you said, your tone gentle but firm. “But this feels like one of your ebb days. Let’s see the doctor, yeah? I’ll take a day off and stay with you.”

Rafayel’s pout deepened as he tried one last attempt at bargaining. “2 days off, all day and night?”

You nodded, your resolve softening. “okay.”

It should have been suggestive, but this time it wasn’t. He simply wanted to sleep it off and have you there beside him.

Rafayel groaned inwardly as the nurse—a stern woman who once dubbed him “such a Romeo” with an exasperated shake of her head—fixed him with a disapproving glare. He was pouring his heart out about his symptoms, and she looked at him as if he were reciting bad poetry. Her gaze flicked to you, silently questioning the sanity of anyone who would willingly accompany Rafayel to the doctor. You, however, seemed resigned to your fate, especially since you were here for your bi-monthly check-up for the association.

In the waiting room, Rafayel fidgeted, his fingers intertwined with yours. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the stark white walls and the faint scent of antiseptic hanging in the air. “This place feels like a mausoleum,” he muttered, his voice low and dramatic, as though the walls themselves were closing in on him.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s not that bad. And we’re here to make sure you’re okay.”

“But what if they find something terrible?” Rafayel’s voice wavered, the dramatic edge sharpening as his imagination ran wild. “What if I’m slowly wasting away? I’d be like a tragic hero in one of those old novels—forever tormented, misunderstood, and doomed to a slow demise.”

Before you could soothe his nerves, an elderly woman sitting nearby leaned in with a warm smile. “Sounds like your husband loves you very much, young lady,” she said kindly.

Rafayel blinked, momentarily stunned. “I’m sorry?”

The woman chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with a secret understanding. “I’m a firm believer that your husband,” she nodded toward your joined hands, “is just getting your symptoms because he loves you so much.”

Rafayel squinted, suspicion coloring his tone. “How is that even scientific?” He wasn’t convinced; the woman’s dignified demeanor did little to reassure him that this wasn’t some whimsical tale.

Her chuckle deepened. “You sound exactly like him.”

“Him?” Rafayel started, but before he could ask, an elderly man in a lab coat approached, a friendly smile on his face.

“I know that tone,” he said, offering his hand to the woman. “What did I do again this time, dear?”

“Well, it’s not you this time. Kind of. Remember Couvade syndrome?” She took his hand, a smirk playing on her lips as if they shared an inside joke.

The man turned to you and Rafayel, his smile broadening. “Trust me, it’s real. Congratulations, by the way. We’ll leave you both now.” He then gently guided the woman away.

Rafayel watched them go, his indignation mounting. “She’s not even a patient!” he whispered loudly, as if the very idea was an affront to his sense of justice. “And she’s here?”

His frown deepened, a mix of confusion and irritation bubbling up. What were they congratulating them for? But before Rafayel could ask more, a nurse called them in to see Dr. Greyson.

Dr. Greyson greeted them with a knowing smile, the kind that suggested he had already heard all about Rafayel’s theatrics. “I heard my parents already diagnosed you outside?”

“Your parents? I knew they looked familiar— Wait, what do you mean diagnosed me? Couvade something? That’s all they said, and it meant nothing! I’m exhausted, like I was born to sleep. Am I dying?”

Dr. Greyson, clearly amused, fought to keep a straight face. He patiently explained the situation, and as Rafayel listened, the pieces slowly fell into place. The matching wide-eyed expressions you and Rafayel shared only made the doctor’s amusement grow.

“Wait, I’m pregnant?” you blurted out, your surprise evident.

“You are,” Dr. Greyson confirmed with a smile, pulling out the results and handing them to you. The room seemed to spin for a moment as the news sank in, the reality of the situation dawning on both of you.

Rafayel stared at the doctor, then at you, then back at the doctor, his dramatic flair momentarily eclipsed by sheer bewilderment. “A baby…” he finally managed, the words feeling strange on his tongue.

Dr. Greyson’s chuckle broke the tension. “Congratulations, you two,” he said warmly, leaving Rafayel to process the news in his own unique way.

“So you’re expecting, and he loves you so much—which we already knew—and now he’s getting all the symptoms?” Thomas summarized, amusement lacing his tone. Of course, Thomas would find this funny. Rafayel wasn’t laughing.

Rafayel's mind was spinning, trying to grasp the absurdity of it all. You were pregnant—that was the joyous part. But this? His bond with you, the one he had vowed to strengthen every day for the past three years, had decided to manifest in the most bizarre way possible.

“Why are you treating this like it’s nothing?” Rafayel accused, feeling a rush of betrayal as he looked between you and Thomas. Weren’t you supposed to be on his side?

You squeezed his hand, halting his restless pacing. “We’re not treating it like it’s nothing, darling; we’re just trying to wrap our heads around it.”

Rafayel gaped at you, his mind scrambling for a logical explanation. “You seriously don’t believe I love you so much that I’m in pain because of it?”

Thomas, sensing the rising panic in Rafayel’s voice, stepped in with a sigh. “Better get used to it. This is only the beginning.”

Rafayel’s eyes narrowed as Thomas patted your shoulder. “Stop touching my wife, I’m right here!” His voice cracked slightly, the weight of the situation finally beginning to settle in. He slapped Thomas' hand away, protectiveness flaring.

You and Thomas exchanged a look—one of those infuriatingly knowing ones—before Thomas backed off with a grin, leaving you to pull Rafayel back to the couch. As soon as he sank into your embrace, the tension in his shoulders began to melt away, and he sighed, burying his face into the comfort of your presence.

“I know you love me so much, but this?” Your voice was soft, affectionate, as you snuggled closer. “Best husband ever. You deserve more cuddles!”

Rafayel huffed, still processing the whirlwind of emotions. “Of course I am. I’m perfect.” He smirked, though the confusion in his eyes betrayed the bravado. “Cuddles,” he muttered, almost pouting, “like that would suffice.”

You played along, tracing lazy circles on his back. “Oh, pray tell, husband… what else do you want?”

“Kisses too,” Rafayel mumbled, his ears warming as he looked away, embarrassed by his own request. “You need to love me more now that you know.”

Your laughter was soft, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’d try, but you might combust!”

“Puh-lease, you’ve tried it before and it wasn’t even enough” Rafayel drawled, closing his eyes with a content smile as his hand continued to rub comforting circles on your back. “My threshold for your love is unlimited and adaptable.”

As you both relaxed, the absurdity of the situation faded into the background, replaced by a sense of warmth. “But a little fishie… I can’t wait,” you teased, looking at him with a playful accusation. “You’d both be diving down to the sea in no time, wouldn’t you?”

Rafayel’s smile widened, his pride swelling. “Their tail will be so beautiful! You should have seen mine. It was shiny and luminescent.”

“You have pictures?!” you asked, excitement lighting up your face.

“Of course!” Rafayel puffed up with pride. “I’ve got a whole album.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” you scolded lightly, though your tone held a playful edge. “I mean, having a reflective tail as a baby in the deep sea?”

Rafayel laughed, the sound bright and carefree. “No, my little conch shell, neon is ugly. It’s more like diamond hit by moonlight glow, and it repels deep-sea predators. Blinds them, actually.”

“Ah,” you nodded, taking it in. “So, it’s practical, not just flashy.”

“It’s also the easiest way to spot them,” Rafayel added with a grin.

You both ended up scrolling through his baby pictures, melting over how adorable he was back then. Each photo told a story, and as you shared laughs, Rafayel felt the remaining tension ease away, leaving only warmth.

Leaning into you, Rafayel traced patterns on your arm, his voice soft with contentment. “You know, despite everything, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Even if you’re always sleeping the day and night away now?”

“Anything for you”

I felt like him being sleepy will be a big change for him. So yeah. Big baby at your service * giggles* Also Dr. Greyson not Zayne because-- I love that man I can't hurt him like that, not when I'm the one in control! (I'm looking at you Infold)

[aloysiavirgata]

Prompt: candlelight concert, jealousy, ust to msr. Thanks so much, big fan here😊.

It was the kind of hotel where you could have set The Shining if it had any charm or ambiance. It had only desolation to recommend it to Kubrick and storm-downed trees across the lonely highway to recommend it to the X-Files division.

***

It was the kind of hotel you wouldn’t even have an affair at because it was too depressing to be salacious.

It was the kind of hotel where the homeless lived by the week, where alcoholics were subsumed, where mid-level corporate managers in short-sleeved button downs killed themselves. There was cheap wood paneling, shag carpet, and a desk clerk named Rabbit.

Rabbit smelled of Marlboros and Olde English 800. Mulder bet there was an El Camino, lovingly cared for, under a tarp next to a double-wide.

Mulder was a snob at times.

“We got a room each for you and your pretty niece,” Rabbit said, winking at Scully like he was Tom Jones in Vegas. “Unless….?”

Scully slapped down her badge like a royal flush, also in Vegas.

“Room each,” she said, tight-lipped and terse.

Rabbit folded.

***

Mulder found the piano when they were hunting for a laundry room. It was in a forlorn, moth-eaten event hall with swags of sun-faded velour curtains; cobwebs frosted with neglected dust.

He sat down at the decrepit thing, white keys like a smoker’s teeth, and he limbered his fingers. There was a candelabra on the top, a sad object filled with half-melted candles the color of old bones.

Scully lit the candles with the Zippo she’d carried since the Apalachicola National Forest. “You don’t play, Mulder.” She paused, cocked her head. “Or do you? Fox Mulder, do you play the piano too?”

He had the stab of jealousy that he always had about Ed Jerse. Ed got her to ink her body after a few hours, and she didn’t know he’d taken fucking piano lessons from 4 to 17.

He played her Clara Schumann’s Piano Concerto even though he knew she wouldn’t recognize it. He played it because Scully and Clara might have been friends.

Scully’s mouth was a blooming peony as she watched him, eyes the Star of Bethlehem. Scully watched him like oysters watch the tide.

“Agent Scully is already in love,” he heard again, and played as though he were auditioning for Julliard.

***

Scully went to the hallway in the thundering dark. The storm gods had been aroused and the night was such a lonely place, especially by flashlight. A cold Coke would be something to do, at least. Something to roll between her palms.

He thought the same - a Lipton iced tea in hand.

“Hi,” she said, looking abashed. “The thunder was -“

“The storm,” he said, at the same time.

They smiled. They looked away.

There was nothing else, there was nothing, just the shapeless silken lines of her pajamas and the foxy silk of her hair and the smiling Cheshire Cat slice of a waxing moon.

***

The moon was so bright and the universe was so big and forever is a long, long time to be alive and alone.

***

She followed him so she could leave later, he knew that. He’d learned her the way he learned everything - intensely and entirely and in a way that consumed him, piece by piece.

He made love to her like an acolyte at a shrine. He made love to her the way flowers make love to the sun.

Fish do not know they are in water.

***

He felt her stir at 3 AM. “Scully,” he breathed, a prayer hastily invoked.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, I-“

He heard her blushing, somehow, in the dark. He heard the blood rush to her good cheekbones, to her beautiful, lopsided mouth. Her capillaries plumped, lush with hot blood. Everywhere, everywhere.

“Please,” he said. “Scully don’t.”

Scully froze, her shoulder blades tensed, ready to unfurl. Ready to let her fly. “It wasn’t-“

He touched her spine like the Western Wall. He touched her spine like a rosary.

***

She never unmade her hotel bed and she didn’t care who knew it and she knew he was jealous of Ed or maybe Padgett and she was jealous of Diana and possibly Phoebe but Fox Mulder had a mouth like the last ripe plum in October. Fox Mulder kissed her throat like a man in the desert kisses an oasis.

They stayed three nights, for the storm and then the pancakes and then the burnt-orange solitude.

Mulder’s fingers were restless and searching and eternally wanting someplace firm to settle. He kissed her by Bolero and he made love to her by Giazotro and he fucked her to Bizet.

Scully had learned Hot Cross Buns on a keyboard, Scully had learned the recorder in 4th grade. She had learned from Mulder that money can’t buy you happiness, but it can buy opportunities and access and mitigate risk.

She started dressing like she’d been raised with it - silk lingerie and a good stylist and Chanel Brown Sugar lipstick. She saw the way society responded and doubled down. Her heels were high and thin and clicked like distant gunshots.

***

She cupped her hand over his at the steering wheel. He had beautiful hands, the color of graham crackers, with bones from an anatomy text. If she could draw she would draw them, and then his strange mossy eyes and the way his lips kissed themselves.

She would draw his back and she would laugh and say “Fox Mulder, you vain thing.”

And then, because she could, she would drag him on top of her. His body was hot and heavy and dangerous and safe.

***

Her hand cupped his and it was an eggshell, so tiny and pale and fragile. He wanted to kiss her little white knuckles and say I love you, I love you.

He wanted to crush her house-sparrow bones into a powder and drink them.

***

They drove into the east, into the east, and they were tenderly, tremulously, alive

[cryptidclaw]

Berrynose! he's a short furred version of his mama!

I decided to give him lass stripes than Daisy, but other than that they have very similar markings! I did give him a darker colored nose for a more "berry" color!

I love Berrynose he's so dumb and annoying, he's such a silly guy

Idk what to do with him in RoC... I pretty much want to keep him the same, but I dont like him with Poppyfrost, I do like Berry x Jay tho just bec they would be so silly together hehe. I could go with them as a ship but Idk....

I also might have him and some of his siblings get with some cats in other Orders, most likely Blood Order since they and Thunder have a close allyship!

[Image ID: a digital drawing of Berrynose from warrior cats. He is sitting with his right side showing and his left paw raised. He has a silly, cocky expression on his face with his mouth wide open like he is talking loudly. He is a short furred, chubby, creamy white tom with cream/light orange color point markings and bright blue eyes. His nose is a dark pink color, and his inner ears and mouth are pink./End ID]

[bonefall]

Can we ask about Bonefall Dustpelt? I always liked his arc going from kinda shitty bully to a responsible and supportive clan mate

[ID: Dustpelt from warrior cats. He has diamond-shaped markings on his chest, feet, and the end of his tail, with a large, flat marking on the top of his face. The background is the genderqueer flag colors.]

Since I made genders, BB!Dustpelt's story is coming together in my mind.

He's AMAB, or, ATAB. Assigned Tom at Birth.

Dust and Raven's entire family died a horrible death of plague about 6 months before TPB started. Dustpaw was one of the few who managed to not catch it; Ravenpaw survived with stunted growth.

That traumatic experience definitely prompted Bluestar to want to give them the strongest and most loyal warriors in ThunderClan as mentors.

Redtail is transgender and very disciplined, so he was given Dust who was pretty obviously gender-nonconforming and lashing out in the hopes they'd figure it out together.

This is how he got so close with Sandstorm! Her and Longtail are the kits of Redtail and Runningwind, from two different litters.

They're besties. It's completely platonic.

The mentorship wasn't perfect but it WAS working. Dustpaw was close with his mentor, but had a long way to go.

...And then the plot happened, of course.

He was really lost when he didn't have Redtail anymore, and associated poor Firepaw with that loss. It was made worse by his new mentor being Darkstripe. Him and Longtail became very close with Tigerclaw, supporting him and even joining the rumor mill about Ravenpaw.

Dustpelt regrets that pretty deeply now, that he did that to his own brother. It's something he did when he was young and susceptible, and he can't really make it right.

He was still trying to figure himself out through TPB, generally being antagonistic towards Fireheart out of anger and jealousy and dissatisfaction with himself

Sandstorm even started losing her patience with him

And yet, when the time came for Tigerclaw's plot to be revealed, Dustpelt didn't waver and proved his loyalty.

Even Fireheart's mentorships of Cinderpaw and Cloudpaw were both unfair because of his age and inexperience, AND ended disastrously. Fireheart knew when he was picking mentors for Fernpaw and Elderpaw that Dustpelt would need to be rewarded in some way.

But he wouldn't repeat Bluestar's mistake. So he had a solution;

Frostfur would mentor Elderpaw. Darkstripe would mentor Fernpaw. And for Dustpelt-- what he really needed was some way to put his paws to work.

One-eye came out of retirement for a while to grant him a third mentorship, as she had once been a nearly legendary builder and no one was ever truly able to pick up her skills.

He didn't need to connect with tom-gendered traits like patrolling and passivity. This felt right, and it felt good. THIS was what he needed.

And so, Dustpelt came into his own. He is genderqueer! After TPB, he becomes an important background character as the head of the Construction Patrol.

His surviving children are Spiderleg, Birchfall, and Lilyheart, and his grandchildren are Spotfur, Duststripe, Rosepetal, and Toadstep.

Foxleap and Icecloud are no longer his kittens; those are Bright x Cloud kids; in return, Lilyheart and Seedpaw are now his. Shrewpaw is Shrewface in StarClan and a guardian angel of Squirrelflight. Hollykit and Larchkit die similarly to how they do in-canon.

[shadowphoenixrider]

Sins of the Present

(A visit from an old friend puts things into perspective for Gambit and his relationship with Shadow. But time might be running out... Brace yourselves, we will be entering angst country; this is but the short taster. And also an excuse for me to steal that scene in X-Men 97 near wholesale and paste it here. Enjoy!)

"An' what brings de Nightcrawler 'round to our next of de woods?" Gambit grinned, raising an eyebrow as he settled an arm over the short furry mutant's shoulders.

Said mutant offered the Cajun a toothy smile, a playful spark to his golden eyes. His arrow-headed tail slowly wagged back and forth like a lazy metronome.

"Can a person not drop in to see their friends when they're in the area, Gambit?" Nightcrawler asked, arching his own brow. "Especially to see the sister he didn't know he had."

"Sure," Rogue smiled, "but I think the question Remy's askin' is why ya happen to be 'round here. It's a long way from the Alps."

"Ah! Well, after the monastery was damaged, I have been taking the opportunity to explore new horizons, and use my gifts to help where I can." He explained. "It just so happens my travels brought me here."

"How's that been goin'?" Rogue asked, trepidation echoing through her words.

"It has been a...mixed experience." Nightcrawler admitted. "It can be difficult for others to see past my appearance. I have had to resort to helping many from the shadows."

Movement at the corner of Gambit's eye drew his attention up to the landing above, and to the young woman lingering at the top of the stairs, peering down at the activity below. Speaking of shadows... A grin stretched across his lips, and he took the opportunity to stride away from the conversation.

"Shadow, it's good to see ya!" He called up to her. "C'mon down, we got a friend visitin'."

She hesitated a moment, before venturing down the stairs to join them, smiling shyly.

"Hi..."

Nightcrawler's eyes brightened with curiosity.

"Ah, a new face! And who might you be, Fraulein?" he asked, holding his hand out to her.

"My name's Shadow." She replied, taking his hand easily to shake it. "I'm kinda the newest member here. Sort of."

"Picked her up afta a scuffle with the Friends of Humanity." Rogue added, smiling. "An' like stray cat afta a meal, she's stuck around."

"I'm kinda the resident healer." Shadow said. "I can talk to and control cells to help regenerate wounds and suchlike."

"A very noble and selfless use of your powers. My name is Kurt Wagner, although others know me as Nightcrawler," he said, his German accent soft around his words. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Shadow." He raised her hand to kiss it, Shadow flushing bright red.

White hot jealousy suddenly flashed through Gambit, startling him. Where had that come from? Why should he be jealous of Kurt; this was just his way with women, nothing meant about it. And Shadow was always shy whenever people were forward to her like that - it didn't mean anything.

Not that Shadow was even his. Not really. They were just friends. Friends who fooled around with each other. A friend he was in love with.

He cursed internally - this had happened with Rogue too. Not that her old boyfriend Cody's reappearance hadn't been suspicious on its own (and he'd been right to suspect him), but Gambit wasn't stupid - he'd felt the same jealous flames lick under his skin at that time. The very same for Archangel too.

The jealous streak he possessed wasn't a new phenomenon, and it was one he could keep under control most times. Indeed, he'd felt nothing but warm pride in how close Shadow was with her other friends (and perhaps a little yearning too). Her hugging Ebak, Ber, Myst and Lemming barely sparked anything in him.

Yet the memories of the club kept flickering back into his mind's eye. Of Tom, furious at him for just showing concern for Shadow. Getting so angry he tried to glass them. Shadow's tears against his back as he drove them home.

For all Rogue's words that he was nothing like Tom, he sure was following the same beats.

"Sugah?" Her voice broke him from his thoughts. She cocked her head, raising an eyebrow. "Ya alright? You look a thousand miles away."

Shadow was also watching him with concern, beautiful blue eyes wide and alert, ready to help as always.

I don't deserve her.

"I uh, Gambit jus' remembered he need to check somethin' in de kitchen," he said, taking a step back. "Might be a while. Don' wait up."

"Alright, mein freund." Kurt replied, smiling. "I hope I will see you shortly?"

"Sure will!" Gambit said, already taking his leave in quick strides. "See ya 'round!"

Merde.

---

Gambit didn't know what kind of climbing plant had been allowed to scale the south side of the X-Mansion in such thick abundance, but he thanked the fact it existed and kept its leaves during the autumn months. It made perfect cover for him to watch the comedy of errors unfolding down below.

For reasons only known to them, a family of ducks had decided to make the swimming pool their new home, which was less than ideal for all involved. So Shadow had taken it upon herself to herd the family out least away from the pool, and hopefully towards the lake, which would be a much better fit.

It turned out that in a contest between a five foot three mutant and collection of ducks, the ducks were winning. No matter how wide Shadow spread her arms, how much she tried to anticipate their dodges, the ducks refused to leave the water, often managing to just lead her in circles.

Yes, he really should have been a gentleman and helped her, but it was a lot more amusing to watch, and listen to Shadow try in vain to verbally convince them to follow her lead, as well as scold them when they avoided her.

It was a very charming trait of hers; she would talk to anything, including herself, and numerous times Gambit had walked in on Shadow scolding an appliance that wasn't working, or gently reassuring that one washer dryer that always violently shuddered to the point verging on death that it could do it, just keep going. She was like that with animals too, talking gently to the wasps she would shoo out the windows, the pigeons that bumbled near her feet; even the spiders she was frightened of would get her talking semi-kindly, warning them to stay away as she didn't want to hurt them in her terror.

That was who Shadow was, really. Kind. There was a softness to her that Gambit once believed could only exist in the naive, those who hadn't seen the ugly underbelly of people. Yet Shadow was no innocent; she might not have physical scars, but she carried mental, emotional ones - she knew the depths of cruelty. Instead of closing herself down and away from it, though, she had dared to stay open. Dared herself to keep caring.

She was a healer in power and soul.

Gambit sighed softly, the breath wisping out of his nose.

She was far too good and kind than he deserved. She deserved better.

A whiff of sulphur on the wind was the only warning Gambit got before a voice in his ear whispered:

"For a man named 'Gambit', your poker face is very poor."

"Merde!" He swore, only just managing to keep his purchase on the roof. He shot a murderous glare at the blue elf that had appeared over his shoulder, grinning unrepentantly. "How about ya mind ya beeswax, furball!" He turned his gaze back to Shadow below. It seemed like Rogue had taken pity on her, and had come to assist. "Didn't go ringin' for no priest."

"Perhaps not." Kurt replied softly. "But I have eyes, Gambit. I can see that Shadow means a lot to you." He tilted his head, tail waving back and forth. "Which begs the question: why are you up here, watching her from afar, rather than helping?"

"Looks like she and Rogue have it under control." He replied. Indeed, things were going much better with two instead of one, especially when that person could fly. "'Sides. Can appreciate de view from here."

Kurt said nothing for a moment, and Gambit hoped he'd dropped the subject. No such luck.

"She spoke highly of you, know."

Gambit's gaze immediately whipped back to him.

"She did?" He blinked, realizing his mistake when Kurt grinned. "I-I mean, of course she did. I did save her from that fils de puntain, after all."

"Ja, but it was more than that, Remy." Kurt said, moving closer. "She speaks of your prowess and your kindness in taking care of her as she got used to living here. But I can see and hear between the lines. Shadow lights up talking about you. Admiration paints her words. She blushes when you ask about you and her. She cares for you, mein freund."

His golden eyes bored into Gambit's black and red. "Indeed, it would not surprise me if she loves you."

Gambit's shoulders jerked as if he'd been shot, and he immediately crushed the emotion that threatened to leak out. He looked away, letting out a rueful laugh.

"Hah! I doubt dat." He puffed his chest out. "Scoundrels like me? We too busy for love. Too busy sinnin'." Even to his ears, his bravado couldn't hide the bitter taste on his tongue.

"There is no love without sin." Kurt spoke, calmly. "Love is best measured in what we forgive."

Gambit's gaze fell back down to pool below. The ducks had now been successfully herded away, Shadow thanking Rogue before giving her a careful hug, making sure their thick hair shielded their skin from touching.

Hope, small and feeble, bloomed in his heart.

"You really think she might love me?" He asked quietly.

"Only she could answer that." Kurt replied, equally quiet. "But, if it reassures you...Yes. I think she might."

Gambit swallowed hard, his heart starting to beat a fast tattoo under his breast. Could she, maybe...?

The two women parted from each other, saying something to one another, before Rogue began to walk away, back towards the mansion. Shadow lingered for a moment, her gaze out towards the grounds beyond.

"Go to her, Remy." Kurt urged. Gambit nodded, glancing back to his friend.

"Thank you," he said. The Nightcrawler gave him a smile, before 'bamf'ing away in a puff of dark purple smoke.

Gambit took a steeling breath, before he carefully scaled down the wall, jumping down as soon as he could. The sound of his landing drew Shadow's attention, and she turned towards him, eyes wide with surprise.

"Where did you come from?" She asked, a humourous lilt to her voice.

"Always from where ya least expect, mon amie." He replied, grinning. Nerves hummed through him like his powers, except they were also causing butterflies to swarm madly in his stomach. "Whatcha doin' out here?"

"Some ducks mistook the pool for the lake." Shadow explained. "I tried to get them to see reason, but apparently it was falling on deaf ears, least 'til Rogue arrived and helped me convince them otherwise."

"Good to hear." Gambit nodded, his heart pounding hard, only half-listening as he tried to piece his words together. He was going to say it this time, he really was. "Hey, Shadow, I been meaning to talk to ya 'bout somethin'. Somethin' important."

"Oh?" She blinked up at him, eyes wide with her full attention. "What about?"

Gambit took a breath, wetting his lips.

"Well, ya see, I-"

"Guys!" Scott's voice interrupted them, the urgency in his tone making them look towards where he was standing in the doorway. "I think you need to come and see this, ASAP."

Gambit almost wanted to scream bloody murder, but something about the look on Scott's face managed to contain his anger. He and Shadow glanced at each other, before following him into the main room, where the TV was on, centring on a news report from the government. All the other X-Men were there, including Professor Xavier, whose expression was grave.

"What's goin' on?" Gambit asked.

"Henry Gyrich is attempting to use his governmental contacts to push through anti-mutant legislation." Xavier explained, his eyes fixed on the screen. "It is known as the Mutant Containment Bill."

"Dat don't sound good." Gambit murmured.

"That's another word for internment camps, isn't it?" Shadow said quietly. "Like they did with Japanese citizens during the Second World War."

"The very same." Beast nodded. "I have noticed that the rhetoric used to justify those is similar if not exactly the same as what Gyrich is using now."

A chill crept over Gambit's skin, especially when he glanced to Shadow, who now hugging herself tightly. He'd had a taste of internment and the slavery linked to it, and didn't want to experience that again. And certainly not have any of his other friends experience it too - it had torn him up to see Jubilee, all but a child, in a suppression collar and forced to labour, and Storm to be imprisoned in her worst nightmare.

To watch it happen to Shadow?

Bile churned in his stomach.

"I will need to fight this legislation with everything I have." Xavier was saying. "I will require a team to go with me to these debates. They will be long and arduous, especially against an opponent as consumed by his hatred as Gyrich is." The Professor turned to the group. "But I must. The freedom of all mutants is resting on me. This bill must be defeated."

A chorus of nods from the assembled group. "Cyclops, I trust you can assemble a team?"

"Of course, Professor." He nodded. "I'll let you know shortly."

"Thank you. If you'll please excuse me, I need to prepare myself." And with that, Xavier left the room. The others split off as well, muttering anxiously among themselves.

"Shit." Shadow breathed, running a hand through her hair. "I...I think I need to call my parents. A-And my friends."

"Go do it, petite." Gambit rested a hand on her back. "Jus' in case this don't work out."

Shadow made to step away, before she hesitated.

"Wait. Wasn't there something you wanted to tell me, Remy?" She asked, looking up at him.

Gambit winced, smiling weakly. It not longer felt like the right time.

"No, chère," he said, gently pushing her back. "Go speak to ya folks. It nothing dat can't wait a little longer. 'Til all dis be over."

She looked up at him uncertainly, before nodding, walking off to find the mansion's phone.

Gambit would soon come to regret those words.

[wuxianxkexing]

Back on my Mu Qing shit with a Mu Qing x Goddess Reader fic! I haven't written anything in like a decade so hopefully this doesn't suck. Lol Part 1 of Stop Fucking With My Cat.

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Mu Qing sat in his office doing paperwork from his latest mission. It wasn't anything special, just some ghost fires that kept leading villagers astray in a small remote village, never to return. Normally he would've sent one of his deputies to handle the issue, but honestly he was so tired of the politics and endless stupidity of the other Heavenly Official's that he just needed to desperately get away from it all for a while. So he took the incredibly low ranking mission so he would have an excuse to go far away from this place and see some majestic sights that isolated places like that village always had. Of course Ling Wen was now up his ass wondering why such a low ranking mission took him a month and he was scrambling in his head for an even somewhat valid excuse. God's don't get vacations and he can't say that he got hurt and needed to rest. He would become the new laughing stock of the Heaven's if he got that injured by little ghost fires.

He let his hair down and massaged his scalp. Why does it even matter that he was gone a month? Nothing important had happened while he was gone, he was still reachable via the communication array if something had happened and no one had even noticed he was gone until he went to pick up his merits for completing the mission. He noted to himself to start having one of his deputies pick up his merits from now on, that was the only misstep he had taken on his unauthorized "vacation". He sighed and rolled his eyes before softly banging his head on his desk.

He laid there for while just staring into nothingness when the sound of the cat door rousted him. He looked over and saw his beloved black tom cat Echo enter the room. He instantly frowned. What the absolute fuck was he wearing!? Echo happily sauntered over to his owner and head butted his leg. Mu Qing picked him up and stared at him incredulously. Echo's nails were painted a bright pink and he wore, an albeit cute, collar made out of lotus flowers.

"Who did this to you?" Mu Qing questioned, as if Echo could tell him. Echo just slowly blinked at him and began to purr. Mu Qing rolled his eyes and removed the flower collar before hugging Echo to his chest to give him all of the pets. It was probably just one of his junior officers, however he would have to have a word with them over painting Echo's nails.

The next morning Mu Qing called all of his officials together for a meeting. "OK, I don't care who did it and I don't mind you ladies and gentlemen playing with Echo, but do not paint his nails or put anything else on him that may hurt him. Echo came to me last night with his nails painted pink. Nail polish is not acceptable to put on a cat and this is your only warning. If it happens again you will be subject to disciplinary actions. Am I understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Came a chorus response.

"Good, you are all dismissed." Mu Qing strutted away, figuring that would be the end of the issue. It was dumb that he had to address it at all, but it seemed even in his own palace he couldn't escape the stupidity of others. At least that was the worst thing his palace got up to while he was gone. He sighed. Now it was time to head to a meeting of the upper court.

Mu Qing walked back to his palace with a pensive look on his face. He still hadn't come up with an excuse for being gone for a month and he had to avoid Ling Wen like the plague during the meeting. What could he possibly say? The villagers loved him so much that they wouldn't let him leave? That he got lost? That he ran into more trouble but didn't report it because he didn't think it was important? All terrible excuses. He was beginning to wish he had never went at all when loud mewing broke him out of his thought. Right there in front of the entrance to his palace was Echo throwing a fit, urging Mu Qing to hurry his ass up and come pet him already. Mu Qing's left eye twitched. This time his beloved cat was dressed up in a very feminine pink robe? Who the fuck puts clothes on a cat? Was his first thought, and why would they put girl clothes on a male cat? was his second. He walked over and picked up the mewling Echo, once again giving him an incredulouse look and asking "What are you wearing? Who did this to you?"

Mu Qing examined the outfit more closely. It HAD to have been one of his female officials, probably one that took care of his clothes. No man would dress a cat like this, and they had to have skill to sew such well fitting robes for a cat. He huffed and made his way to the laundry department with Echo in tow.

"Ladies, which one of you did this?" Mu Qing asked while holding out Echo for all to examine. Squeals sounded all around him.

"Aw, he looks so cute!"

"Little Echo thinks he's person, doesn't he!" The women fawned over Echo, but they all denied having any knowledge of who dressed him.

"He comes home with cute little outfits like this all of the time here lately!" One of the ladies told him. The lady smiled and squeezed Echo's paw. "You like these little outfits don't you Echo?"

"Mreow."

Mu Qing frowned. "You act like you're dying every time I try to brush you but you let some weirdo dress you up like a woman?" Echo and Mu Qing stared at each other until Mu Qing relinquished with a sigh. "Whatever, just spread the word that no one is allowed to dress my cat up like this. He is a cat, not a person, and certainly not a girl." He whipped around and accidentally almost hit one of the ladies with hair. He was going to take this stupid shit off, it was practically animal abuse.

The next evening Echo showed up wearing something strange again. Mu Qing was bathing when Echo walked his happy ass into the bathing room and sat down to stare at him. Mu Qing stared back. Upon Echo's neck was a beautiful pink pearl collar. Mu Qing furrowed his brows and frowned. This collar would take forever for any of his palace officials to afford and he strongly disapproved of them using their own money to buy HIS pet shit. Mu Qing reached his hands out of the tub towards Echo but he moved just out of reach and flicked his tail, as if to say don't touch me with your wet hands you are gross. Mu Qing rolled his eyes and leaned back into the tub. Whatever, I'll take it off later and try to find the owner tomorrow.

The next morning Mu Qing once again made an announcement to his palace. "Would the person who bought Echo a collar yesterday please come see me at your earliest convenience? You aren't in trouble." He tried to say as nice as possible. Really they weren't in trouble, but coming from poverty himself he just could not let others buy him or his pet expensive stuff like that when he has more than enough money to buy things like that himself. It was a flattering gesture, but doing good work for him was all he wanted. He looked out at the crowd with what he hoped was a friendly face but he didn't see any obvious suspects. Most either looked bored or looked around in confusion. That was alright. He had a long day of studying medical scrolls ahead of him, so he would be at the palace whenever whoever decided to step forward. He retreated to his private study, forcing Echo to keep him company so he wouldn't get anymore weird things put on him. Thus he sat there late into the night, with the only interruptions being Echo occasionally demanding attention and servants bringing him his meals. It wasn't until the dark night sky started to lighten that Mu Qing decided to call it a night. Apparently whoever was responsible wasn't in his palace after all. He trusted that they would've revealed themselves by now if they were. He neatly stacked away his scrolls and left for his room. He didn't want to wake Echo who was peacefully napping on his cat tree so he left the study door and his bedroom door cracked so Echo could join him whenever he felt like. He changed into his most comfortable pajamas and threw himself onto his bed, glaring up at his ceiling. It was one thing if it was someone from his own palace who kept on playing dress up with Echo but now he was sure that it was someone outside of his palace and that kind of pissed him off. Everyone knew that Echo was HIS cat, who would dare fuck with him like this? Probably that dumb Shi Qingxuan, he was always trying to get everyone to dress like a girl and knowing him he probably gave up trying to convince the other Heavenly Official's and decided to force his will upon whatever lesser creature he came across. Plus he was very generous with his merits, he probably would spend it on girly outfits for a cat. Mu Qing put both of his hands to his face and pulled them downwards to his chest. He couldn't be rude to Lord Wind Master, but he wanted it to stop. This had apparently been going on for over a month and now all of the other Heavenly Official's probably thought that he was a weird cat guy, which might be true but he still didn't want them to think that.

The next morning Mu Qing rose and got dressed early. He wasn't really sure when the Wind Master started his day but he was sure that his brother would be up this early at least. He grabbed the pink pearl collar and made his way to the Palace of Wind and Water, mulling over what he was going to say. An average looking lady in simple blue robes greeted him upon his arrival. "General Xuan Zhen, what a welcome surprise!" She greeted as she welcomed him in. "What does the Palace of Wind and Water owe this honor to?"

"I'm just here to speak with Lord Wind Master, if you could fetch him for me when he is available."

"Of course!" The servant set him up with snacks and a drink before disappearing off to find her master. Mu Qing took this time to look at his surroundings. Plainly put it was tacky. Pink and flowers covered everything, including the tea he was drinking. It was a nice looking porcelain tea cup, painted white with pink petals floating through the wind. Inside the tea was pink with red flower petals of some kind floating on top. It was a light, sweet drink. He kind of wished it was a simple strong black tea, but he did arrive without notice and he did say just bring him whatever, so here he was feeling like he was getting ready to have a tea party with a princess. Soon enough the Wind Master arrived with the Earth Master in tow, both in their female forms.

"Hi General Xuan Zhen!" The Wind Master waved at him cutely and gave him a big smile before sitting down across from him at the table. The Earth Master tried to sneak out of the room but the Wind Master wasn't having it. She jumped up and grabbed the Earth Earth Master by the waist and made her sit beside her at the table. "Ming Yi don't be unfriendly, say hi to General Xuan Zhen!"

Ming Yi turned her head away. "Why? He's your guest, not mine." After a bit more prodding from Shi Qingxuan Ming Yi finally gave Mu Qing something of a greeting. Mu Qing gritted his teeth but otherwise let it go.

"Sorry to bother you two so early in the morning. Was I interrupting something between you and Lord Earth Master? I can come back later if that is more convenient."

"You are no bother at all!" Shi Qingxuan beamed and started talking to Mu Qing as if they were friends even though they had probably never said more than a few sentences to each other the entire time he had been in heaven. "But anyways what brings you here today? I hardly ever get to see you!" She grinned widely.

"Well I came to return this." Mu Qing began awkwardly as he pulled the pink pearl collar out of his robes and handed it to Shi Qingxuan. "I'm afraid Echo is too much of a shithead to be worthy of such beautiful and generous gifts. I really appreciate the thought though!" Shi Qingxuan grabbed the collar but tilted her head to the side in confusion.

"This is the most beautiful collar I have ever seen! But I'm afraid it's not mine. I mean I didn't get it for Echo. Did you Ming Yi?" Shi Qingxuan turned to ask her with wide, innocent eyes. Mu Qing also turned to the Earth Master giving her kind of a weird look. He didn't think that the Earth Master was behind this, but who knew since he was the only Heavenly Official that would play dress up with the Wind Master.

Ming Yi gave them both an icy stare before speaking. "Why would I buy a cat something like that? If I was to gift General Xuan Zhen's cat anything it would be leftover fish bones or something that it would actually like, not prized jewels."

Mu Qing cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ah, my bad. I had assumed that only Lord Wind Master would have such good taste to purchase this. I really can't accept this gift though, do you have any idea who it may have belonged to?" The women both shrugged.

"Why don't you just keep it? Whoever got it obviously wanted Echo to have it and I think it would look really good with Echo's sunset outfit!" Shi Qingxuan offered. Mu Qing gave Shi Qingxuan a hard look. Sunset outfit? "You know, the one you put on him a couple of weeks ago? Everyone loved it. He looked so cute!" Shi Qingxuan squealed.

Mu Qing gaped. "I did not dress him up in anything! It's animal abuse to dress up a MALE cat in cutsey outfits!" Shi Qingxuan shrinked back a bit. Mu Qing mentally kicked himself. He was supposed to be nice right now. He hoped that he hadn't offended Lord Wind Master.

Ming Yi interjected. "He's a cat. If he didn't want to wear cutesy outfits no one would be able to force him to. It's not like anyone is hurting him."

Mu Qing gave Ming Yi an incredulous look. "So it was you?"

"No, but I don't see what the big deal is. Why do you care about this so much that you would come all the way over here just to accuse us of dressing up your stupid cat? If you don't like it then just stop letting him outside."

"My cat should be able to play outside without anyone fucking with him!" Shi Qingxuan shrunk farther back as their argument escalated. Before it came to punches being thrown she suddenly shoved the pink pearl collar back into Mu Qing's hands.

"Here's this collar back. I'm sorry that we couldn't be of more help but I promise that it wasn't either of us. It was probably one of the other female officials, maybe ask around in the communication array?" Before he knew it Mu Qing had been gently escorted to the door by Shi Qingxuan. "It was so nice getting to chat with you again General Xuan Zhen but I forgot that we are really busy today! We need to do our laundry and it's going to take forever. I'll talk to you later, ok!?" Shi Qingxuan smiled apologetically at Mu Qing before closing the door in his face. He stood there for a few seconds with an unamused look on his face. If she wanted him to leave she could've just said so.

[cealesti]

"The Benko Gambit"?

That's a chess move, isn't it? I feel like this is either Tom centric, or Ron centric. I have my bias, obviously, because I did so enjoy how you portrayed Tom and his relationship to chess in "with eyes like these", but I would be curious anyhow cause I love chess in general.

As a gambit, it's rooted in the sacrifice of pawns, right?

Wonder what that might say about the focus character. If it's not Ron or Tom, I'm betting on Dumbledore.

oooh, what to say about "The Benko Gambit"?

edit: Right off the bat, this is a fic that's sort of a love letter to a bunch of fics I adore. The idea of Harry as Senior Undersecretary, for example, is straight out of "All For Show". The Snape & Hermione dynamic is something I only thought of after reading Hauntingly. You get it.

This is one of the WIPs I'm most excited about, definitely the one I've written more for, and probably my next big project after the "anybody else" series is eventually done with. This isn't really centered around a specific character, there's an ensemble cast to focus on, but Ron is a very important piece of the puzzle and yes, that's part of the reason I chose to go for a chess-themed title. The objective would be for every chapter to be named after chess manouvers; think "x opening, castling, y defense, check" so on and so forth.

The general strategy [of the Benko Gambit] is to sacrifice your Queen-side pawns in order to gain advantage (...) If the gambit is accepted, some of the lines that can develop are complicated and difficult to play.

This fic follows a back-and-forth structure; we go back between the trio's fifth year and the present moment of the fic, a good five years later. They're drastically different timelines: after all, in the present, Hermione, Snape, and Kinglsey are leading the Order of the Phoenix; Vee is playing at Government with Harry as his Senior Undersecretary and Ron and Draco as his Junior Undersecretaries. Susan Bones is an Auror, Luna is an Unspeakable, and this is very convenient, because Sirius Black has just popped out of the Veil, for reasons still unknown.

You may be asking: how on earth does any of that happen?

Here's a "for want of a nail" scenario: what if, in OotP, Ron doesn't throw Percy's letter away? What if - stick with me here - what if he answers it?

Wouldn't that be a hell of a gambit?

Snippet under the cut!

(September, 1995)

Tell me if you’ve heard this one before.

Three friends sit by a fireplace, late at night in their Common Room. The room is empty but for the three of them and a large ginger cat, who’s content to lay on his owner’s lap and purr up a storm. The rain pelts against the glass windows of the tower, wind whistling sharply, and though the room is warm and cozy and familiar, there’s a whisper of unease in the air.

Something that creeps under the skin, like disease. Like rot.

They’re living through a war, though many would not call it that. Many would rather call a fifteen-year-old orphan a liar, ridicule him in the papers, as quick to turn on him as they are to seek his favour, in a maddening media circus that speaks to the fickleness of public opinion.

You’re sixteen years old. You’re bright, and you’re driven, and you’re scared. You’re a target yourself, too muggleborn and too clever by half, but that’s not even the half of it, because one of your best friends has a target on his back as well, and the rest of the world is more than happy to pretend that it doesn’t exist.

Your other best friend has a letter clutched in his hand. His knuckles are white, ears red with fury and a little grief, for that letter was penned by a brother that he hasn’t seen in months. A brother who walked out on their family, blind to their reason in the face of his pride, and who now urges your friend to do the same.

Tell me if you’ve heard this one before.

The three friends ridicule the letter and the one who sent it. They sit in their fury against an establishment that was meant to protect them. They go through the school year and form a rebellion, a resistance, jump through hoops and outsmart older and more experienced wixen with little more than their guile and their will. At the end of the year, they fall headfirst into a trap. They lose the first of many friends.

This is not that story - though it might not be obvious at first.

In this story, they still fall headfirst into a trap after a misguided attempt at rescue. They still lose a friend. They still form a resistance, outsmart their watchers and all of those who would see them condemned for speaking the truth, and they do it with little more than their wits and their heart and their conviction.

But in this story - they don’t dismiss that letter.

In this story, your best friend, who is proud and brave and selfless, the epitome of what a fairytale hero should be -

In this story, he raises his head, green eyes flashing with something shrewd. Something new.

In this story, he pauses, and says:

“We can use this.”

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 10: Red Right Hand

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Tommy makes his thoughts on singing at the Garrison more than clear, and a situation develops with Danny Whizz-Bang.

Word Count: 3,477

Notes: Warnings for depictions of blood, smut, drug use, PTSD, and violence.

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Chapter 3: Singing in the Garrison

“Are they singing?” Lucy gawked, eyes widening at the sounds emitting from the Garrison. Tommy’s eyes narrowed, shoving open the doors with a slight creak. The moment they stepped inside, with their obvious caps and her hair, bright as a beacon, everyone in the bar quieted, turning away to their drinks.

Well, everyone except for one.

Grace remained standing straight, eyes focused straight ahead on Lucy and Tommy. There was a quiet defiance in her eyes, and something else, too. Like she was assessing them as she finished singing her song.

She really did have a very beautiful voice. The kind that could make you cry, if she wanted you to. Tommy was leaning against one of the pub’s golden beams, eyes wide and focused firmly on Grace. Lucy smirked and elbowed him lightly.  

Once the song was over, Grace’s eyes darted somewhat nervously about, as if realizing that she had just done something taboo. Harry approached Tommy very, very cautiously. 

“We haven’t had singing in here since the war,” he commented with a shaky smile. Tommy looked at him with a face like stone, cold and unmoving.

“Why do you think that is, Harry?” his eyes snapped back to Grace, who looked down at her shoes. Great. Now he’d gone and hurt her feelings.

“Buzzkill,” Lucy whispered in his ear as they made their way towards the snug. 

“I don’t like singing,” he grumbled.

“Yes, love, I think you made that abundantly clear.”

He shot her a look that was about as close to apologetic as she knew she was going to get. Sliding into a seat across from him, she pulled a stack of cards from her pocket.

“You can make it up to me by letting me kick your ass at poker.”

Settling into a seat across from her, he snorted. But his smile was fond as she started to deal out the cards. 

They were just starting to play their first hand when the door to the snug opened, Grace stepping in with a bottle of whiskey and some glasses clutched in her hands. She set them down silently on the table, not meeting either of their eyes. 

“Hullo, again,” Lucy smiled at her, unable to help herself. Grace finally looked up at her, eyes a shade darker blue than Tommy’s, but no less beautiful. 

“Hello, Miss. Winters.”

“Just ‘Lucy’ is fine, Grace,” shooting a look at Tommy, who was very pointedly staring at his cards, she rolled her eyes at his rudeness. “How are you settling in?”

“Oh, um, good. Good. Harry’s been very welcoming.”

“Good,” nodding, she glanced back at her cards. “We’ll let you get back to work, then. Thanks for the whiskey.”

Grace looked for a moment like she wanted to say more, looking nervously over at Tommy. But she evidently thought better of it; closing her mouth and just offering Lucy and little nod and a tiny smile before disappearing out the door. As soon as it was closed, Lucy gave Tommy a light kick under the table. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You could at least try to be nice.”

“Ugh,” he grunted, making a face like the idea was entirely foreign to him.

“You were nice to me when I first showed up here.”

“That was different.”

“Why?”

Finally looking up from his cards, he sighed, setting them face down onto the table. “Well, for one, I had copious background checks done on you before we even spoke,” the smoke from his cigarette rose and twisted within the air. Lucy waited for him to say more, eyebrows raising when he didn’t.

“And two?”

“Hm?”

“You said ‘for one.’ What was the other reason?”

When he blinked, it was slow, like a cat. “You know why.”

She felt heat rise to her cheeks, trying to hide it with a smirk. “Aw, Tom. Were you smitten with me?”  

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” he grumbled, with absolutely zero bite or conviction behind his words. If anything he looked like he was fighting back a smile as he scooped his cards back up again. Lucy cackled gleefully.

“Me!? You’re the one who’s grumpy and scowling all the time,” she nudged his shin with the toe of her shoe lovingly.

“Okay, you know what? I was gonna be nice and let you win–” he ignored her indignant squawk at that, “but now I think I’ll take all your money and make you walk home.”

She giggled. “Your threats are empty, Shelby,” they both knew he’d never leave her to walk home alone in the dark. 

“Just play your fucking hand, Lucy,” but he was making that face that meant he was biting the side of his mouth to keep from laughing.

Still giggling, she tossed her cards onto the table, opening the bottle of whiskey and pouring two glasses.

Neither of them was really able to help the glances that they kept shooting towards the door Grace had disappeared through.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Oh,” Lucy moaned, gripping tight to his shoulders, face pressing into the side of his head. Tommy growled, the hand on her bare thigh squeezing as he felt her walls fluttering around his cock. He held her tight, thrusting into her deeply and making the bed beneath them squeal in protest. Her nails scraped pleasantly along his skin, and in retaliation he nipped lightly at her shoulder. “Don’t stop.”

As if he’d ever want to. She felt so good it made his head spin; so wet and tight around him, the little sounds she was desperately trying to keep quiet only spurring him on. 

Her walls squeezed around him even tighter when he slightly adjusted the angle of his thrusts, so that with every stroke he was rubbing right up against the spot that made her eyes roll into the back of her head. 

Tommy watched in wonderment as her beautiful face contorted, head falling back with her eyes closed, mouth opening in a moan. And then her walls were squeezing around him in a vice grip, orgasm gushing out around him, and he couldn’t keep back his own groan of pleasure. Pressure was building in his balls, tingles shooting up and down his shaft while the head of his cock swelled. Wrapping both arms around Lucy, he buried his face in her shoulder, pressing his mouth to her neck to muffle his groan as he finally snapped his hips forward one last time into her, holding himself there as he came explosively inside her. 

Lucy made a happy little sound in the back of her throat, clinging to him tightly while he finished. Every one of his instincts was aching and begging for him to get somehow closer and deeper into her. 

As if he wanted to merge them into a single being. 

Final shockwaves of pleasure leaving his body, Tommy sighed pleasantly, lifting his head from where it was still nestled in the crook of Lucy’s neck. Her green eyes were heavy-lidded, satisfied and sleepy.

“Mm,” with a little hum, she rested her hand on his cheek, thumb rubbing his cheekbone. Tommy leaned into it, the coolness of her hand soothing against his warm skin. When he ran his fingertips across her lips, she turned her head to kiss them, then angled her head to caress his lips with hers, feather-soft. 

He pulled out of her gingerly, wincing at the sensation on his now oversensitive cock, adjusting himself to lay beside her. The bed was so tiny that they were still squished together, Tommy’s arms remaining looped around her while she laid her head on his chest. 

“Should get cleaned up, soon,” she mumbled, still sounding a little pleasure-drunk.

“Yes,” Tommy agreed, though neither of them made any such movements. They were both a little bit of a mess, hair rumpled, clothes tossed all over the room, and the bedsheets half thrown to the floor. 

They laid there for a long time, the silence comfortable around them, until finally Lucy made a face and sat up.

“Right, seriously. Before I fall asleep.”

Tommy fought not to pout as she rolled over to give him a quick, not-quite innocent kiss before slipping out of his arms. Sitting up, he watched her move about the room, grabbing clothes and folding them carefully.

“I can do that,” he offered, pushing himself up. Lucy shot him a grateful look, pulling her knickers back on and stealing his shirt from where it was deposited on the floor near the window. 

“I’ll be right back,” she promised, stretching up on her toes to kiss him, pulling his shirt on and opening the door a crack, peeking out and then tip-toeing into the hall towards the washroom. 

Sighing, Tommy set to work collecting the remainder of Lucy’s clothes, folding them meticulously and setting them in a stack on the dresser. He pulled back on his underwear and trousers, taking a clean undershirt from a drawer. He knew better than to try to get back the one Lucy had just nabbed. It wouldn’t be until laundry day that he would have the chance to steal it back from her.

Finished dressing and tidying, he pulled out the little kit hidden under his pillow, opening it slowly. 

The door made an almost inaudible creek as Lucy snuck back in, closing it behind her with a click. She rolled her eyes fondly at the sight of him once again almost completely dressed, but kissed his cheek with a smile, sitting down next to him and cuddling into his side.    

The match snapped as he struck it, carefully holding the flame to the wick until it caught. With careful, controlled movements, he unrolled the pipe from the fabric he kept it wrapped in. He rolled the little brown dollop of the drug between his fingers, hooking it carefully onto the pin before holding it over the flame until it smoked. Then it was settled into its spot in the pipe, a steady line of smoke still rising from it, the scent filling the small room. Settling on his side, he took a long, slow drag from the pipe, letting the smoke fill his lungs and his mind.

“Can I have a hit?” already, Lucy’s voice sounded very abstract and far away. He just nodded, passing the pipe to her. She took a lazy drag from it and handed it back, settling in beside him in the tiny bed. Tommy sighed as she curled up against his back, an arm falling to wrap loosely around his waist. As she began to drift off, she mumbled something about how him sleeping with his shoes on was an affront to God.

“You don’t believe in God,” he grumbled back.

“Still.”

Sleep pulled him under before he could come up with a response.

The dream was the same as it always was. The tunnel. The shovels against the walls. Danny and Freddie beside him. Screaming. Blood bursting underneath his hands. 

He woke with a gasp, sitting up straight and panting. His face was sweaty when he rubbed his hands over his eyes. A pained sound left his lips. Something between a whimper and a groan. He wasn’t even sure how long he had actually managed to sleep for.

The sound of voices, outside, alerted him. He stretched across the bed to pull back the curtain. It was just two coppers, chattering to each other as they walked down the street. Taking a deep breath, his heart still pounding in his chest, he laid down slowly back on the bed.

“Tommy?” Lucy stirred, likely roused from all the moving.

“Sorry, love. I’m all right,” he whispered. She shifted, tugging on his shoulder until he turned to face her. They should have gone to her flat, instead of his. Her bed was much more comfortable.

His lashes fluttered as she cupped his clammy cheek with her small hand. She never pressured him to talk about it; and she already knew what haunted him in his dreams, just as he knew what it was that had her sometimes waking up beside him, screaming and clawing at phantom enemies.

“Come here,” she coaxed, pulling him closer until his head was settled against her chest, arms looped over his shoulders. A sigh left his lips, the smell of her perfume enough to lull him. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get back to sleep, but at the very least he was comfortable and content there. Her fingers ran carefully up and down his back. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” he wrapped his arms around her waist, snuggling closer to her.

“‘Kay. Just try to relax, love,” her eyes slipped closed as she settled back against the bed. “And take off your damn shoes,” she complained a moment later. That drew a breathless laugh from his lips, shoes falling off the end of the bed with two loud thumps as he kicked them off.

“There. Happy?”

“Mhm,” she purred in approval. And with her fingers running lazily through his hair, he let sleep claim him once more.     

∗ ∗ ∗

Stepping away from his conversation with Charlie, he headed for the stables. Lucy was cooing quietly to the chestnut horse in one of the stalls, stroking her nose and feeding sugar cubes to her from her palm.

“How’d it go?” she asked as he moved to stand beside her, hand reaching out to stroke Sin’s red fur.

“Fine.”

The look she gave him was deeply knowing. “You’ve decided to keep the guns.”

“How do you know that? I didn’t know until just now.”

She shrugged. “Could see it in your eyes,” clearing her throat, she sighed. “We have a problem,” her voice was solemn. He raised an eyebrow. Giving Sin one last pat on the flank, she turned to him, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I just heard from our people in Little Italy. This afternoon, Danny Whizz-Bang killed a waiter outside a restaurant. He was having one of his attacks, the waiter came at him with a knife, things got out of hand…it wasn't intentional,” she jerked her head, to toss some hair out of her face. “But the man he killed had brothers who are in with the Italians. So…”

“So they’re threatening war?”

“Unless we deliver Danny Whizz-Bang to them.”

“Fuck,” he rubbed a hand down his face. Sin whinnied, as if sensing his distress. He stroked a hand absentmindedly through her thick mane. Danny was his friend. His comrade. Yes, the man was an undeniable mess, but that didn’t change what they’d gone through together, trapped down there in the tunnels, deep under the ground…

Maybe that was why he could never bring himself to truly discipline Danny, despite his constant public outbursts. Lucy stroked his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I should have done more to get him help.”

“How?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, unable to come up with an answer for her, running his hand once along the stripe of white fur that covered Sin’s nose.

“Do you think the Italians would accept it being me that does it?”

Lucy blinked. “I–maybe. I could get the word out to them, see if they’d be open to it.”

“Good. Do that.”

“Tommy…”

“Wait,” he said, turning to grasp her shoulders. Lucy looked up at him with worried jewel green eyes. “Just…listen to my plan, first, eh? I have an idea.”

Her brows furrowed, but he could see it, in her eyes. Always so trusting. So loyal. He couldn’t even begin to consider how thankful he was for her. How when everyone else was pushing against him, or questioning him, she was there, in his corner. 

“Okay.”

∗ ∗ ∗

The fog had settled thickly over the bank along the river. Across the water, the two Italians stared at her intensely. One held a cigar in his hand. The other had his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Lucy forced herself not to break eye contact, back leaned against a barrel. For all appearances the figure of casual nonchalance despite the tensing in her muscles. She only looked away at the sound of Tommy and Danny’s footsteps. Tommy was speaking softly, while Danny kept his head hung low, clutching his hat to his chest. 

“If I let the Italians do this, Danny, they’ll cut off your manhood and let you drain. That’s how those bastards do things.”

Pot, meet kettle, Mr. Shelby. She had to hide her snort. Though, she supposed, it wasn’t completely hypocritical. He just always had her do the castrating for him.

Lucy looked away to the ground, only half listening as Danny and Tommy continued to speak with each other.

And then Danny was looking to the sky.

“I suppose I ought to pray now.”

Oh, honey. Didn’t he know that it was not God that had looked after him all this time?

Danny gave Tommy his final requests, and they shook hands. Danny smiled, pulled his hat on, and turned his back to Tommy, so he was facing the river. The boat Charlie was seated in was just beginning to drift past them. The gun glinted in the sun as Tommy pulled it from his coat, clicking as it cocked.

“In the bleak midwinter.”

There was a long stretch of silence, and then the gun cracked, echoing as it was fired. Danny fell forward, to crumple in the center of the boat. Blood and brains splattered across Tommy’s face. The two Italians looked at each other and nodded, walking away to disappear into the fog. Tommy holstered his gun and turned, stepping away from the bank. Lucy straightened and moved to follow him.

“Here,” she handed him a handkerchief, and he grimaced as he wiped away the sheep’s brains sticking to his face. 

“Ugh.”

“How’s it smell?”

“Not great.”

She took the handkerchief from him, grasping his chin as she wiped at a spot on his forehead that he missed. “There.”

“Thank you.”

“You think they bought it?”

“We better hope so,” he began walking towards the exit of the yard. “Your brother is still willing to host him while he’s in London?”

“Yeah. He’s got a spare room. Said it’s no trouble, really.”

“Tell him I said thank you.”

“Already did,” she looped her arm with his. They shared a cigarette as they walked back to the betting shop, the door creaking as Tommy shoved it open and led her inside. He went to a table, throwing open a book, flattening his hands on the desk, hunching over it with an exhausted sigh. Lucy patted his shoulder, shrugging off her coat and hanging it on a hook, heading into their office and collapsing into the chair at her little desk. She could faintly hear Arthur bursting in, shouting something about Monaghan Boy winning the race. Just like Tommy had planned. She didn’t pay it much mind, unlocking one of the drawers in her desk and pulling out the documents inside, eyes scanning over them quickly as she set to work. Tommy vanished for a while, probably to go talk to Polly. Her pen scratched against the paper as she wrote down notes.

“What do you think of all of this?”

She looked up to find Arthur watching her with narrowed eyes, leaning against the doorframe.

“About what?”

“Him fixing races.”

Lucy shrugged, looking back down at her paperwork. “Tommy knows what he’s doing.”

“He’s going to bring Billy Kimber’s wrath down on all our heads.”

“We can handle Kimber.”

“How the hell do you know?”

“Tommy has a strategy.”

There was a long pause. “He tells you things that he doesn’t tell the rest of us,” there was a bitterness in Arthur’s voice. Lucy shrugged, putting the remaining papers back in the drawer and locking it before standing.

“Maybe, instead of being angry with me, you lot should take a moment to consider why that is,” she squeezed past him and out the door, heading for the kitchen. Arthur didn’t follow her. 

Tommy and Polly were talking in the kitchen. Whisking past them as she pulled on her coat, she ventured into the sitting room. A moment later Tommy followed her, and they stepped out the door and into the night. Soot hung heavily in the air, like snowflakes. Lights illuminated from the Garrison as they passed it, laughter and the clinking of glasses echoing from within. Lucy glanced to the side and promptly elbowed Tommy lightly in the ribs until he followed her gaze to where Grace was standing outside the pub. A red sweater was pulled over her shoulders, her golden hair like a halo illuminated in the otherwise dreary, gray scenery. Glancing away from the man she was conversing with, the barmaid’s eyes caught theirs. And for a moment the three of them gazed silently at each other.

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[talonslockau]

It's once again the last Wednesday of the month (how the time flies!) and that means it's time for another name poll! June's poll will be for another Goldenflower x Frostfur apprentice that never received a warrior name in the books - Cedarpaw (formerly Chestnutkit)!

We've seen a little of Cedarpaw so far - he was injured briefly when he was stolen by Shadowclan, and of course he was just mentored to Longtail. Like his namesake, he is strong yet dependable - taking on any task given to him with a steadfast determination. With Longtail as his mentor, he's certain to be instilled with a great respect and admiration for the Warrior code, as well as a deep loyalty to Thunderclan itself.

Of all his siblings, he's probably the one that takes after his parents the most in terms of size, with most predicting he will easily rival cats like Lionheart and Whitestorm when he's fully grown. He is a dark ginger (cinnamon) tom with deep forest-green eyes.

No legacy names this time! Cedarpaw isn't really a -flower type of cat for Goldenflower, nor is he cold and resolute for -frost for Frostfur. I was tempted to add Cedartail after Longtail, but I'm really trying to keep the number of -tail cats down in Thunderclan until at least The New Prophecy. Instead, we're going for names that honor his tough determination and strength!

[bethanymcsm]

Recently reread The Prophecies Begin and all I can think of is a Warriors x MCSM AU

Casting so far:

Bluestar: Gabriel/Foreststar

Rusty/Firepaw/heart: Toffee/M!Jesse/Sparrowpaw/pelt

Yellowfang: Ivor/Ivyfang

Ravenpaw: Radar/Smallpaw

Greypaw/stripe: Lukas/Dawnpaw/fur

Sandpaw/storm: Petra/Firepaw/claw

Dustpaw/pelt: Aiden/Blackpaw/wind

Princess: F!Jesse/Holly

Tigerclaw/star: Soren/Flameheart/star

Each character will have tweaked back stories due to either kits (Yellowfang having kits and Bluestar giving up hers not being possible with Gabriel and Ivor) or various other reasons and yes, there will be OCs to play small roles so here have some descriptions while I try do art

Foreststar: A broad shouldered, dark brown tabby tom with yellow eyes

Ivyfang: A skinny black tom with blue eyes

Sparrowpaw: A spotted brown tom with green eyes

Smallpaw: A small, dark grey tom with orange eyes

Dawnpaw: A light ginger tom with shocking blue eyes

Blackpaw: A lithe, black tabby tom with green eyes

Firepaw: A bright orange she-cat with yellow eyes

Holly: A black she-cat with bright green eyes

Flameheart: An orange tom with red eyes

[cat-alyzing]

Tigerclaw to match Brindleface

Really debated if I wanted to give him some more Goose traits but decided not to. But here’s the evil man himself! The first one is Tiger at the start of TPB and then the second is him towards the end, before he gets sliced and diced.

(ID- Tigerclaw is standing to the left his back legs slightly out and his front ones straight, on each of his paws his claws stick out and he is side eyeing to the camera with a slight growl on his face. His tail is thick and goes up, and his ears point outwards with his sharp ear tufts sticking out. He’s a reddish brown with deep red stripes mainly on his legs, mane, face, and tail. Orangish cream is on his paws, bottom of his tail, muzzle, and mane with spots on the back of his ears. His eyes are very vibrant with yellow scelera, bright reddish orange eyes, and dark pupils. Scars on the left photo are down his chest in a lighting bolt like shape, front leg, and a nick in his right ear. On the right photo he has scars on his muzzle in a diamond like shape and a large x scar on his back leg. Striped down his back semi resemble claws and two striped connect to his center scar. He has very thick bushy eyebrows and a menacing face. End ID)

Personality wise he is brash. Tough on the outside and still sharp to even those closer to him. While some cats see a spark in the ambitious tom many also see the blood that would be spilled under his watch. None more so than Icestar. She tries to help him and get his anger under control but she’s seen what happens when he can’t stop himself, and when she learns he’s more far gone then she thought she refuses to let him in power. Waiting to claw his way into power he met a semi similar minded molly, Goldenflower. While neither really loves each other in any real romantic way they both want kits, even if she wants them for herself and he wants them to get a better image. For his plan to become deputy his already pretty dark relationship with Brindleface has waned even more. He wants to protect her though and he can’t help but pick apart all the wrongs she does. Meeting their runaway dad? Having kits with a kittypet? I mean surely she should’ve expected half of her litter failing with soft paw blood in them. If he didn’t have Darkstripe and Sparrowtail by his side he doesn’t even know what would’ve happened when she told him they were having kits with that pet. At least with them he’s sane and able to keep his cool.

Personality wise he is brash. Tough on the outside and still sharp to even those closer to him. While some cats see a spark in the ambitious tom many also see the blood that would be spilled under his watch. None more so than Icestar. She tries to help him and get his anger under control but she’s seen what happens when he can’t stop himself, and when she learns he’s more far gone then she thought she refuses to let him in power. Waiting to claw his way into power he met a semi similar minded molly, Goldenflower. While neither really loves each other in any real romantic way they both want kits, even if she wants them for herself and he wants them to get a better image. For his plan to become deputy his already pretty dark relationship with Brindleface has waned even more. He wants to protect her though and he can’t help but pick apart all the wrongs she does. Meeting their runaway dad? Having kits with a kittypet? I mean surely she should’ve expected half of her litter failing with soft paw blood in them. If he didn’t have Darkstripe and Sparrowtail by his side he doesn’t even know what would’ve happened when she told him they were having kits with that pet. At least with them he’s sane and able to keep his cool.

[greekstar]

shadowsight x rootspring hypokits?

I like this ship cause I’ve seen good things on it, but personally I have only read 2 of the books where these two are the main characters and don’t really know they’re personalities nor their characters a whole lot. So bare with me.

Also, lucky you Anon. I felt like doing a whole litter this big and they all survive lol.

Anyways. For the storyline ima say they became mates after a while? Sense I know their at least friends along with Bristlefrost. Anyways.

—

Bearstream- Bearstream is a big she-cat and the biggest of the litter. She is very mature and wise. And often is one to put down any dumb ideas. She lives with her father Shadowsight Shadowclan along with her brother Blackeagle. Being very close with him. Though she knows that she has two other littermates in Skyclan. She is a mostly black tabby and goldish tabby Tortoiseshell with green eyes.

Blackeagle- Blackeagle is a quiet tom. Mostly talking to his kin. He is a cat most call mysterious, though really isn’t. He just is shy and hates communicating, that’s why he gets along with the elders mostly. Listening quietly to their stories. He doesn’t know about his kin in Skyclan but is very close to Bearstream. He is a dark gray, almost black tabby tom with a lighter belly. He has dark green eyes.

Pebblesplash- Pebblesplash is the smallest of the cats. Being named after her great-grandmother.(Pebbleshine?) she is a very sweat she-cat and love hanging out with her brother. She often loves patrolling around the pines as she feels more connected to them and often runs into patrols with makes a lot of Shadowclan cats suspicious of her. Many cats think she also looks a lot like Bearstream except without the hight. She also is a fantastic hunter and often is praised for it. Being a very good tree-climber. She is a more of a goldish tabby and black tabby Tortoiseshell with dark reddish-amber eyes.

Sunshine- Sunshine is very chill. Though doesn’t mind getting into a fight or two with Thunderclan or Shadowclan just to get his blood running. He also loves hunting in the tree with his sister, Pebblesplash and also likes the pines. He does know about his father and siblings in Shadowclan but doesn’t know who they are. All Rootspring told him was that his father, or mother per-say was in Shadowclan with two of his siblings, but wouldn’t say more cause he didn’t want to put any of them in danger. In case of someone was listening. He is a bright golden tabby tom with amber eyes. Inherited by Shadowsight’s red eyes.

—

That’s it’s! If your wondering why I didn’t give the cats that looked the most to the other. I.E. Blackeagle(looks like Shadow but stays with Shadow) and Sunshine(looks like Root but stays with Root) and that’s because if cats were smart and noticed Blackeagle looked like Shadowsight but was Rootspring’s son that could make cats sus. So ya. That’s my reasoning and I feel Shadowsight would come up with that cause I feel like he’s smart. Also, he said he got pregnant by a dead Shadowclan warrior but no one could piece together who and with Tigerstar his father, and the only medicine cats, kinda of, he wasn’t exiled but he was kinda disowned for a while.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Rosefrost x Cricketclaw kits:

Copperkit: light brown tabby tom with a white chest and paws and dark green eyes (named after Rosefrost's mother Copperwing)

Whitekit: long-furred white tolly/jack (agender, uses xe/xem pronouns) with pinkish-red eyes (named after Cricketclaw's father Whitestar)

Finchkit: black and white she-cat with bright green eyes (named after Fallenfire's sister Applefinch - didn't want to leave them out!)

I LOVE the addition of the background names! Definitely didn’t forget about Applefinch

Speaking of Finch, her design may be my favourite design and may be a future mate for Fallen or Wasp

I’d find it funny if Wasp had a crush on her only for her to say “hey man, your sister’s hot”

EDIT: DIDN'T SEE 'TABBY' so now Copperkit is plain as a kit and the tabby markings grows more solid as he ages

—

ref by cryptidclaws