#but i was getting it in my head that Bramble is ''too fake of a name'' or some bs like that just because i felt uncomfortable with one persn

[brambletakato]

OK PSA TIME. Idk if anybody else struggles with this but.

You have every right to not allow someone to use your chosen name. That is YOUR NAME and your name alone. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, should define how you should use your name except yourself.

If someone using your chosen name makes you uncomfortable, setting boundaries with them does NOT make that chosen name any less of a name.

Boundaries are HEALTHY.

[teyumbar]

About a Good Boy

We drive up to the simple wooden two storey sitting by a brook halfway up the hill. The servants rush to unpack our luggage; she makes no move to leave the car. I start the engine and drive out into the field slowly, peering at her through the rear view mirror. 3 kilometers in, she unravels the leash expertly wrapped around the strap of her purse. My cue to park on the edge of the clearing we just happened on. I get the door for her then turn, tugging down my shirt collar and bending to her height. Her perfume fills my nose as she fastens the leash to the black leather collar around my neck. I close my eyes and my mind. When they reopen, I am no longer in control. I drown in color, and smells, and curiosity... I leave my cares and safety to her. Till sundown, we play all kinds of games. Running, catching, rolling in the grass... She calls me a good boy. It makes me so glad that she feels that way about me. I believe her the way she says it. I am a good boy...

We drive back to the cabin where it is all quiet; the servants retreated to the city once they had unpacked and readied the rooms. I get the key from the fake rock and we head inside.

For three nights, and four days, she lets me take care of her. I clean the cabin, wash her clothes, cook her meals.

She's sitting naked on the edge of the couch as she types and stairs out through the balcony archway. Her tummy swollen from cleaning out a plate of beans and plantain I set before her an hour ago.

Soon, she will sleep. I set my book down to go freshen the bed. On my way back, I bring a pot of jasmine tea, which I set on a coffee table at her elbow. She sets her computer aside, throws on her pink robe, then stalks off to the bedroom. Ignoring my offering. I wince. Acknowledging... too far, too eager... I must rein it in. I didn't best three other only to lose to myself.

I take my place by the wall and look through the holes cut in the eyes of the painting I found... this mistress had a sense of humor and anticipation. She slept with luxurious hair encased in the silk I presented her, hands shaking, on The Morning of First Impressions. I let the warmth flame of delight course through my body, knowing she fashioned the bonnet herself.

I saw her needlework on a painting in a badly lit comedy pub. Later, I recognized I was drawn to her work with knots on the front sign of the funeral home. I didn't then know they were hers and yet, both filled me with a yearning to know. And the more I knew, the clearer my intentions became to myself. When I told her what they were, reading her face through hooded eyes, cringing at the sound of my own voice. I was relieved to find in her eyes a fascination mixed with a touch of amusement.

I went to the kitchen to make some kenkey. The mix was ready to be wrapped in corn husk. I day-dreamed about tomorrow morning, When she'd wake up to a bubble bath and a nice bowl of sativa. I'd have laid out. Whenever she felt hungry, be it after an hour or half the day, she'd traipse into in the kitchen, and I'd offer a plate of kenkey, shito, fried freshly caught cod and tuna with a salad of spicy ground chili. After that, a she'd drink a double expresso with a cookie.

We'd a walk through the fields later. Up to the clearing where we played only a couple days ago. We'll picnic on wine and cheese, or she'd swing in the hammock, reading a book while I stalked off collecting brambles for a fire to roast corn we we'd eat with butter and dry coconut.

It would be such a beautiful end to these pleasant days. I sighed, knowing that none of my preparation would matter if she woke up in a foul mood. I had to take care today that she might be positively disposed tomorrow.

Ice pressed against my nipple soaks my shirt. She wraps one arm around me from behind then bites my back. I sigh... this kenkey will overferment and be ruined... but how can I say no to such a clear summon? My hesitance is rewarded with a smack across the face. I grow hard in seconds. I look up, and she is walking away.. I pulled her back, and helped her up the counter. She spread her legs and raised her knees... I reached for both breasts...

[evilcatgirlwizard]

now ok i would have to reread power of three and the next arc thats just power of three 2 but. formulating a rewrite. its bonking around in my head but hm what if i get every fact wrong. thinking

the only facts i know for sure is that Scourge n Firestar are from the same litter and Scourge gets to live and becomes a medicine cat. he does go through the horrors though, but thats ok. Scourge and Cinder1 teach Leafpaw, though Cinder1 dies on the journey and Scourge doesn't promote Leaf until half a year after they've gotten to the lake territories because he is Scared Of Losing Her. squirrel and leaf are generally Younger, and Squirrel doesn't get to follow after Bramble on The Journey (but someone else relatively young in Thunderclan does, undecided) because she is Maybe 7 Moons Old She Is Too Young. Squirrel/Bramble also just doesn't happen, Bramble is actually her mentor and still a piece of shit towards her. Scourge+Fireheart and Tigerclaw's first litter w/ Sasha (before he has a litter w/ Goldenflower) is Swift n Hawk and he has them around the same time the litter w/ Fire, Scourge, Princess, And Scourges Asshole Siblings happen. Princess and Fire have some mild birth defects that their breeder is adamant to get them fixed so they get separated from Nutmeg and the Scourges before any even open their eyes thus Scourge and Fire straight up do not even Know they're full brothers. Princess and Fire get their defects nudged into place before they start growing like a weed and end up going from the doc's straight to a new family each. Etc etc. Tiger's second litter (w/ Goldenflower) is Tawny and Bramble. He finds Sasha again when exiled and has one final litter w/ her, of just Mothwing. She ends up finding her older brother Hawkfrost who is like heyyyy look i get this clan stuff more than you heart emoji lets be besties here in Riverclan where I've been raised since dad hates to even look at us <3

wow none of that is comprehensible. eh. damn i didnt even get to The Three. well. they're ScourgeHawk kids because toxic transgender yaoi (which one is trans? wish i knew!), raised by Cloudtail and Brightheart, w/ the only folks who know being Squirrelflight and Leafpool (Scourge told CloudBright that he just Found Them, Leafpool knew something was Up and confronted her mentor who told her in confidence, and Leafpool couldn't keep it from her sister.) The fire scene is Squirrelflight standing in front of The Three, w/ Ashfur fully believing they're somehow Squirrelflight's kids (because hes stupid) meanwhile shes in Overprotective Older Cousin mode and ends up killing him <3. The Three see however and they gotta juggle the fact that their parentage is someone in the clan and the fact that Squirrelflight killed a man to protect them and that secret. waggles fingers. Tawnystar is also endgame, and Bramblestar isn't. Evil isn't genetic, Brambleclaw is just an asshole, Tawnystar is hailed as the best leader Shadowclan has had in generations because she's Good At Her Job (its the Goldenflower influence! After Tawny left for Shadowclan, Goldenflower followed her and also joined Shadowclan to keep her safe. Tiger was pissed and Golden acted as a barrier between Tawny and most shit, making sure her daughter grew into a strong woman. When Tiger takes over Shadowclan and moves into Riverclan, he executes Golden along w/ one BlueOak (maybe BlueCrooked tbh) kit and one GraySilver kit. Tawny leads the insurrection of Shadowclanners against him <3)

okok im gonna stop bc god most of this probably doesnt sense. goodnite

* NOTE: IF ANYTHING IS WONKY DONT @ ME IM STUPID. time is fake and i hate retconned familial connections unless theyre funny

[m-tribs]

task 10. the interview

Mercuria had never been much of a talker. But to have to face the entirety of Panem after her private training? With a two? How was she meant to put a face to that score? Or a voice? It was unfathomable.

She felt the eyes of the nation on her as she stepped onto the stage. Her outfit, while certainly more glamorous than her parade outfit, was still on theme - dirty, sparkly reminders of the nothing she came from. What was she going to say - the shadow of the great Meta Morphic? What did she have to contribute?

"Everyone welcome Mercuria Trout," Calix purred. "Please, come, sit down." Maybe it was just her, but she felt like the applause was muted, hushed, less than the others she had heard from backstage. But it wasn't impossible that she was projecting her own insecurities onto the crowd. Maybe they were... maybe they were what? Actually glad to see her throw herself into death's open arms?

As she strode across the stage, each step felt like her feet dragged deeper and deeper into the floor. Bramble and Nettle flashed through her head. Slate. She couldn't say anything. But then what would she say? What could she say? She had never been good at lying. So then, she would have to find the truth somewhere.

She sank into the overly plush seat beside Calix, and mercifully remembered to force a smile on to her face. It probably looked as pained as it felt. She simply nodded in response to his greeting, unable to form words at the moment. But that would have to come to a head soon. She'd have to figure it out.

"So, Ms. Trout..." Calix's voice was like poisonous honey. "You know we have to start with the obvious. Why did you Volunteer?" Mercuria's blood ran icy; of course he would be starting with easily the worst question. Her fake face fell, and she could feel the cameras zoom in even more on her face.

"Uh." Strong start, Mercuria. Strong start. She looked to Calix, but his eyes gave her no support, no warmth. Nothing at all. She blinked back her nervousness and began again. "Uh, well. Thing is in Twelve, you know someone's gonna get drawn. And thing is, I don't have mucha anything to lose. And some o' those people back home, they have a lotta things to lose. So I figure... I guess this is my little way of givin' back to Twelve. Take someone's place who doesn't need ta worry about it. At least not for another six months."

"So it has nothing to do with Slate Flint?" Calix shot back, hardly letting the last sound of her voice finish before his question was out.

She shook her head. "Nah. Didn't even really know 'im 'til the train ride. I mean, I'd prob'ly seen him once or twice before. But he ain't anything special to me."

"Indeed," Calix mused. "Nothing special at all. So tell us, then. What's been your favorite part of the Capitol so far?" A snaky smile traced his lips. Mercuria shuddered. What an easy transition it was for him. As if she should have a favorite part.

"Uh." God, she needed to find a better way to start any of her thoughts. "I dunno, I guess."

"If you had to pick something."

"I dunno. Not much to like 'round here." Her tone took the slightest bit of edge, and Calix's eyes narrowed the slightest bit.

"Not much indeed, I suppose, coming from where you come from. Isn't she charming, folks? So down to earth." The sea of faceless audiences members barked out polite laughter as if on cue. Mercuria started to feel sick to the stomach. They were only two questions in, but she felt something on the horizon. She felt like he was controlling this in a way she couldn't stop.

"That's fine, Ms. Trout. We don't have to spend too much time on the Capitol. Tell us about the Arena. You have a plan?"

Mercuria recoiled. "No?" she replied, confused. "A plan? For th'Arena?"

"Well certainly you're planning on winning."

Mercuria blinked. She couldn't let on that she had any plan other than that, of course. It was like he knew. It was like he was trying to get her to say it.

"Oh. I mean. Yeah. We all do, I guess. But when my plan was just to keep someone else outta the Arena, I guess I don't put too much stock in my own shot."

"And did it work?"

Mercuria's brow furrowed. "Did what work?"

"Your plan. To keep someone out of the Arena."

"Yes," she lied. "Someone got spared this time."

"I see." Calix smiled, his eyes boring into her skull. The cameras felt claustrophobic around her. "Tell me, Mercuria, is there anyone you're worried about in the Arena? Any rivalries those of us on the outside should keep our eyes on?"

"What do you mean?" She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"I just mean, sometimes the outer Districts rub people the wrong way. They make enemies. And that can be very entertaining for us to watch - all those little storylines playing out."

"I don't think so," she replied, her voice a little shaky.

"Really?" Calix pressed. "Helios, perhaps? Or Ezra, from Two? What about the pair from Four? They are quite formidable. I just finished talking to them not moments ago. And they were talking about you."

"Are... are they?" Her voice quivered. Certainly this was a trap, a trick, a lie. But what if they were talking about her? After all, she had plotted with Bramble and Nettle. Who was to say they weren't plotting against her?

Calix sat back in his chair, an easy smile on his lips. "Well, no matter about that. Tell us about the friends, then. Who will you be relying upon in the Arena?"

Finally, a question she felt she could answer. "Nettle," she said, nodding. "And I guess Bramble by extension."

"Not Slate?"

"And Slate."

"I see."

Mercuria's eyes widened. Had she slipped? Had she said something she wasn't supposed to? She stuttered out, trying to explain.

"Just 'cuz she was - Nettle, I mean - she was nice to me. In training."

Calix held up a hand to stop her. "You don't have to explain your reasoning to me. But there you have it folks, little Ms. Mercuria Trout will be relying on the pair from Eleven to help her and Slate Flint. Let's hear it if you think they will go far!"

It was perhaps the quietest Mercuria had heard the polite applause, but perhaps that was her projecting again.

"Well, that's all the time we have together, Mercuria. Thank you so much for your time."

[saintkeaton]

Cave Music

1985-2085...

the heaven of

mystic

trimmer

scan souls

look past

skeleton dance

&

shallow graves

you need

another to see

yourself

so

there’s no getting

lost in these

woods

every direction leads to a golden shrine

cutting light like a diamond prism

bald man holds stone eastward

smiling through

tears

real tears of war & children

dissolve into rainbow mist

behind dark glasses

eyes dart back

& forth

forever

looking deep into darkness of

buffalo soul

my soul

an extension

something slapped on at

last moment in complete rush

twice locked doors

hover over

damp hallway

hammering nails to keep down moisture bulge

thy silver bird flew into mirror & lost in

great god reflection

of copper

easter egg on

good friday

tamper with sacred text

next Saturday

only day

thy Lord lay

dead

you will no longer turn to

false god with fat belly

& dead eyes & liar's smile

lies that ate up my twenties

even tried making you believe my

incredible stupidity &

all while running like a

little backstabbing fuck away from

my culture & true

God of childhood

with blue dimensions peeling back

showing you time

missed with loved ones & ghost

family that may be

insane or fake insane or wishing they were

interesting enough to

truly go insane

another thing that is to be built from

the center out!

the high thought processes &

lowbrow sustainable

mind waves of stealing other people's thoughts

only action that one needs to take for granted

26 characters dancing around in innumerable

patterns can make you cry for years

nightmare burning blue bulbs waiting in the closet

waiting to jump out & tell me

i haven’t lost anything

i have gained everything

the nothingness i used to feel permanently

peeled back

like my foresight & foreskin

i see typewriter giants

slamming keys

making sound

practicing telekinesis

communicating with millions

selling bad ideas bad ideas bad ideas

pages & pages

hiding behind the wallpaper waiting

for next generation to find

read &

believe their bullshit

hard wind through

budding trees make sounds of howling

cave music

with sticks beating on walls &

blood under fingernails

oh! children of light &

life

you are coming back aren't you?

in the lost room

my head i see golden

& silver &

copper plate hanging from wire holding dreams

& violent hope against hope for cartoon man

there's no drive-in

movies

in my head

i've never been to

one

never taken the kids but strangers have

famous faces of beauty & fakeness fill minds

eye & you eat it up!

believing the shit reality

so

angel of death sits next to us on

loveseat

we

play footsie with him

smiling & flirting

a real

true horror film!

I

i only know of one

man in Vietnam

dead uncle

ballooned up

with agent orange

extra wide in coffin

dreams

of maggot infested

neck

larva pouring out dark

hole onto kitchen floor

wife screaming lungs up

& mopping up mess of nasty

no LSD but the

real real

reality

that's the trip

but hey

spring is here &

the trees are budding…

your soul

great music hall of golden pipes blast specter

voices across endless fields of sleeping idiots

your soul

nightmare bird of flightless joy

hanging rock

pimple faced kids eat wings & dance in

empty field of graduates

your soul

backwards clock eat time

too much left

for blind men holding hands out for one

day of life & nourishment

break hands on hard work for family

meal of love & play

hide in sleeping bed dead

to world for hours as all things keep moving to

never stop again

never

never will the

ocean dry up leaving

fish to lie & rot

raw feet

with thumbnails grown &

brittle

dust & bramble

can anyone be mistaken?

nighttime smoke

bending lungs

twisting

too tar death rattle

of blood sisters pawing at crouch & ass for

release & sick pleasure of non educated

brain lust & night smoke gone too far left

can anyone be forgiven?

can anything be forgotten?

——————————————————————

[emmaishowling]

Decay Countryside Vignettes

I

 As I walk down the steps to our garden,

                        I find a dead hedgehog,

            shiny white skull exposed, picked clean

            by God’s other creatures.

There’s a million maggots feasting on his organs,

                        squirming around in his guts,

            his quills move like he’s still alive and breathing.

I wonder if he’s the hedgehog

                        who stole from our compost,

            who froze like a deer caught in headlights

            when we turned our flashlights towards him,

            who ran for cover under the hydrangeas,

            when the wild boars tore through our fields,

            yellow eyes squinting in the shadows,

            ugly little babies squealing at their sides.

 

II

 I crawl on my hands and knees

like an animal in the underbrush.

Sniffing out mushrooms and roots,

thorns digging into the back of my neck

pulling out my hair in big blonde clumps.

My hand sinks into a rotting rat,

                        caught up in the brambles

            while playing the same game I’m playing;

            little house on the prairie, Robinson Crusoe,

            confederate American fantasy, faking autonomy.

We’re just playing survival games,

                        like the ones we played as kids

            with sticks, berries, our expansive imaginations.

           

III

 The time to harvest comes too fast,

                        my hands aren’t quick enough

            to collect our spoils before the first frost,

            before every fruit falls off the vine,

            before every legume catches cold

                        and dies.

The rotting nightshades in our garden

                        smell exactly like the dead hedgehog.

I worry that I’ve lost the innate human ability

                        to recognize the smell

            of the decomposition of my fellow man,

            its smell blending in with the decay

            of everything else around me.

Maybe I wouldn’t notice if my husband

                        started shooting trespassers

            with the gun we don’t have,

            putting their heads on stakes

            to ward off others.

 

IV

 Our neighbour is known for getting drunk

                        off his own supply,

            for beating his women,

            for shaving the heads of his children.

We’ve never seen him

                        but we hear him,

            errant raspy yells,

            strains of bad techno music

            at all odd hours.

I wonder if he’s on the side of the Catholics

                        or the Protestants

            in the ideological war that’s wrapped itself

            around the mountains for centuries,

            buried deep in the hamlets and villages

            around us/in us.

Our neighbour blasts out the brains

                        of his half wild cat

            with a rifle at midnight, execution style,

            when the cat crawls back home on his belly,

                        seeking mercy

after ingesting some commonplace poison.

Shot rings out, bullet rips a hole

                        through the density of quiet

            that hangs heavy in the night sky.

  Our neighbour giveth life

                        and our neighbour taketh away. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Substack: emmaishowling.substack.com Insta: emmaishowling

[slate-skylar]

The words she said took a moment to actually make sense. Wedding. Preparing for my wedding. What fucking wedding? "You guys are... getting married?" he asked, then shook his head, remembering the plate in his hand, the reason he was here. "Wait, hold on. I need to know what's going on, but first. I brought you this." He thrust the plate forward with little ceremony. "And I wanted to say I'm fucking sorry. This is maybe like, the fifth time in my life I've apologized, so sorry this is a shit apology -- there's the sixth time I guess -- but I fucked up. I went too far. I didn't... I'm not sure what's going on with me, or who I am right now, but you can trust me. I fucking swear, you can." He looked at her, his expression genuine, open. He had built trust with Bramble and Nettle and a lot of other Vox already; then he'd come here and fucked it up with her. He didn't want her to think that it was all fake, that none of that shit was real. That he wasn't who he said he was. That he wouldn't protect her and help her in the Arena. "I will die before I let you or Nettle get hurt in there. I fucking swear."

Bram turned, taking in the scene, trying to remind herself about the part where everyone else could truthfully fuck off. But she was embarrassed, and frustrated, and she never was very good at shutting the fuck up. "I'm preparing for my wedding," she said flatly. "What else would I be doing with my final days alive in the glorious nation of Panem?"

[bonefall]

A lot of the family changes are amazing. I mean to me Red and Spotted have always been Rose’s kits it’s just so perfect. Since in this rewrite Dove and I’m guessing Ivy are Lion kits maybe BirchWhite could instead have Icekit and Foxkit. These are originally FernDust kits but Ice being a little clone of her grandpa is adorable to me, and Fox would get his red as the undercoat from his momma Whitewing.

I don’t know if you’ve gotten as far as TNP but if you have what are some changes your thinking of? It’s such a interesting arc that fell so hard when it could’ve been one of the best. Lastly will DoveTiger still be canon?

Ivy and Dove are Lion/Cinder kittens yep!

Oh shit your brain. That's a really cool idea and completely plausible. It wouldn't change a lot either since Ice and Fox don't even HAVE kits of their own...

Fox would just have a lot of his grandmom's ginger with a white belly, and Ice would look exactly like Whitewing and her dad. I will consider it. I can't make any promises since I do try not to change too much, but that's a really cute thought

The New Prophecy

I have a LOT of thoughts but haven't written anything down yet. For TPB, I have a very clear uniting theme in mind. It is about the authoritarian sickness within Clan culture going terminal and sparking a reckoning, "Fire Alone."

For TNP, I know that it's about the residual effects of that. Many of Tigerclaw's supporters are still around, and a LOT of them are in RiverClan, but I still don't have A Phrase for it (which is my extremely arbitrary method for knowing when I'm CONFIDENT about my message).

Hawkfrost is not only being groomed by Tigerstar in his dreams, Blackclaw plays a role, and so does Leopardstar. On some level, ALL of RiverClan has enabled him, or failed to protect him. Just like they failed to protect Feathertail and the other half-clan cats.

I'm also changing Brambleclaw significantly. The Erins want it both ways; they wanted him to train with his dad in the Dark Forest, but also didn't want to say he might actually not be a "fundamentally" good person.

So, instead, they write him the WORST possible way; borderline oblivious to reality in spite of every woman in his life telling him, DIRECTLY, "Brambleclaw you are doing something stupid," lashing out defensively every time someone suggests he isn't entitled to doing whatever the fuck he wants, and ultimately being REWARDED for this behavior by being able to "prove" his loyalty to Firestar by... uhhh... NOT killing his leader.

So, I am approaching all four Tiger siblings with a very clear idea of each one's role:

Tawnypelt has utterly rejected Tiger and his ideals, but is still finding punishment for her childhood choices (yet, she is the one leading the Sundrown Patrol; StarClan shines on her).

Brambleclaw is falling down the rabbithole and pulls himself out by realizing what he's becoming. Firestar makes him step down as deputy after the fox trap incident.

Hawkfrost is the too-far-gone, the one you can no longer save because he thinks if you're against him, you need to be eradicated

And, lastly, Mothwing is his pawn and victim, and Hawkfrost accidentally impales himself as she pulls out the fox trap.

So, Tigersiblings aside, there are other solid plans as well,

The Lake is getting a reworked map with borders than CAN shift.

The Tribe is obviously going to be different. The Clans may end up spending more time with them before heading to the Lake.

The Clans take time to gather supplies before moving on. Hawkfrost spends time with Brambleclaw at this point, the Tribe's culture is better explored. Filler for worldbuilding and character reasons.

Runningnose, Tangleburr, Blackclaw are getting more screentime (more than zero lmao)

Blackstar and Leopardstar are spicier. The softening retcons are being WRENCHED out.

Hawkfrost is probably going to fake more signs, leveraging Mothwing to deceive Leafpool into having that Bramble Claws prophecy.

There's more but this ask is already beefy and I need to just compile all the TNP stuff somewhere

TigerDove?

TigerDove IS staying canon with major fixes. Tigerheart is her age. He's Tawnypelt and Rowanclaw's newest from a single-kit litter. Flametail and Dawnpelt are his older siblings.

But with that said, there are going to be major changes to PO3. As much as I'm trying to change as little as possible, PO3 and OOTS are the messiest arcs EVER produced by Warriors and imo there's no way to salvage it without major changes.

I'm DEAD set on Lionblaze being the father of Dovewing and Hollytuft (replacing Larksong functionally); so there has to be BIG changes to his relationship with Brambleclaw or else I'm making two unacceptable exceptions for my reworked family tree. (Dove and Tiger being 1st cousins by adoption, not just fostering, and Sparkpelt being Larksong/Hollytuft's aunt by adoption, not just fostering)

(On that note ive been really careful to this point to make sure all previous 'adoptions' have been fosterings and wet nursings for this reason, but it was going to come up eventually. I am trying to count full adoptions as true siblings on the tree. As you can see, this is extremely difficult. Clans are so fucking ssMALL!!)

So... Option 1 is for Bramble to disown the three at that gathering, and Lion/Bramble never see each other as son/father ever again. Lion identifies as Squirrelflight's son with no sire OR as the forbidden son of Leafpool, Dove, Ivy, and Holly/Lark never see themselves as Tigerkin.

Option 2 is that Squirrelflight simply refuses to involve Brambleclaw in her plan with her sister. She tells him, instead, that she cheated on him and the kits are not his. When pressed on who, she invokes the Queen's Rights to not reveal. She raises the kits alone.

Neither option is completely perfect, but I have to make some sort of sacrifice here. Option 2 is less problematic for the family tree. Option 1 is closer to canon and preserves a favorite part of the PO3/OOTS angst.

[d-andilion]

fair façade

@witcher-bows-and-arrows day 3: court

(valskier, fake relationship, not actually unrequited love, getting together, 2.6k)

read on ao3

“If you step on my foot one more time, I swear, I will set your entire shoe collection on fire,” Jaskier mutters, careful not to let his pleased smile slip. People are watching.

Valdo’s grip on his hand tightens, shoving the sharp edge of his ring into the side of Jaskier’s palm. “Well, if you weren’t such an abysmal lead, I wouldn’t trip, would I?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes, spinning them towards the edge of the dance floor. The song is nearly over and he needs a fucking respite. “Only you would blame your terrible balance on someone else.”

The grin on Valdo’s face turns sharper and this time Jaskier cannot hide his wince as the bastard drives his heel into Jaskier’s toes. The song ends a beat later, giving way to polite applause from the rest of the dancers. Jaskier drops Valdo’s hand with as little frustration as he can muster and forces himself not to tense as the other bard links their arms together.

Valdo leans in close and a perfect black ringlet falls in front of hooded brown eyes. For all his height, he has a particular talent for making himself look delicate; he’s taller even than Jaskier if only a few inches. If Jaskier didn’t know better, he would swear the man looked downright lovestruck.

Of course, Jaskier does know better. Valdo may be a weasel, but he is an excellent actor. They both are.

“Let’s take a turn about the room, then two more dances,” Valdo whispers into Jaskier’s ear. “That should be more than enough.”

Jaskier nods in agreement. “Then we shall be free of each other for at least a few more months.”

“Thank the Gods.”

~

Six months later finds them at another tedious function. It’s a garden party this time, which at the very least means they won’t have to dance. Instead, they stroll arm in arm around the carefully trimmed garden admiring the rose bushes and stopping occasionally to graze at the table of intricately decorated cakes.

“Have you seen Ezra?” Valdo asks, a lilt of amusement in his voice. Jaskier quirks a grin at once, knowing exactly which of their peers he is referring to.

“That coat is a disaster,” Jaskier replies dryly. “I wonder if he means to blend in with the brambles.”

Valdo gives a loud, graceless snort beside him and turns his head away a moment to compose himself. Pride bubbles in Jaskier’s chest at the reaction. He remembers that awkward, snorting laugh from their school days, before Valdo trained himself out of it. It was too ‘unattractive’, apparently. Not fitting for his refined, courtly persona.

“You’re one to talk, Julian,” says Valdo after he’s recovered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Green? At a garden party?” Valdo gives Jaskier a pointed once-over to drive his point home.

Jaskier feels heat rise to his cheeks. This doublet is brand new, he’d been excited to wear it. Now he feels silly, but he’ll be damned if he gives Valdo the satisfaction of thinking he’s got a point. “Fuck off, Marx. At least I understand the importance of variety. How many outfits do you have in that exact shade of plum? I’ve truly lost count.”

Valdo has a clever retort ready for him, and Jaskier returns it, and on and on they go until they’ve been at the event long enough to satisfy the sea of onlookers. Before they go their separate ways, Jaskier makes a point to pull Valdo off to the side, where they’re visible but not so much so as to be suspected of wanting attention.

There, Jaskier passes over an envelope with a bright red seal and Valdo makes a show of tucking it away. There’s nothing inside, just a blank bit of parchment. The audience of high-class attendees will assume it contains prose and poetry, the sweet and tender things so often exchanged between courting lovers.

Jaskier wonders if Valdo bothers to open them anymore. Doubtful. Far more likely, he chucks them into the fire without a second glance.

~

“My parents are hosting a tea in a few weeks.” Valdo’s words seem to echo in the quiet of the room.

It’s a fine accommodation, much more comfortable than what Jaskier is used to during the warm seasons. Grimy inns and boarding houses are the best he and Geralt can afford on the road. Even when Jaskier performs at court, they’re usually relegated to the servants’ quarters at best.

But he was more than entertainment tonight. Here, with the aid of his title, he was a guest at yet another fancy ball. As such, he gets a plush room in a lord’s castle. The bed is unbelievably soft with more pillows than he could ever want for. At least they’ve been put to good use.

Jaskier sighs at the canopy and tugs the blanket up over his torso, protecting his sweat-damp skin from the cool air. “I assume that was your way of asking me to come?”

“I wasn’t asking. Your parents will be there, you have to come.” Valdo bumps Jaskier’s shin with his foot beneath the covers and Jaskier kicks back.

“I suppose,” Jaskier concedes. Valdo is right, unfortunately. If both of their parents are going to be in attendance, they can hardly avoid it. Not if they don’t want to raise suspicions.

Jaskier expects some snappy comment, but Valdo doesn’t reply. Worn out from another evening of dancing and dull conversation, Jaskier expects. That, and everything they got up to afterward.

This bit is always a little uncomfortable. They’ve been doing this too long for it to count as awkward, but it’s not overly pleasant either. With any other bedfellows, Jaskier would try for light conversation, maybe sing if they liked. The evening would pass in contentment before he snuggled close and drifted off to sleep.

But that isn’t how this goes for them. That’s not to say Jaskier wouldn’t like it to. It just isn’t their way and never has been. They go a few rounds and snipe half-heartedly at each other before falling asleep on their own sides of the bed. When morning comes, Jaskier wakes to empty pillows and cold sheets.

Valdo could leave now, not bother with the pretense of falling asleep first. It’s not as if Jaskier would try to stop him. Still, this is their routine and Valdo never takes a step outside of it. Jaskier has given up trying to work out why.

Jaskier watches the shadows thrown by the flickering candle dance on the canopy for a while, how long, he can’t be sure. Valdo shuffles beside him, shifting into a comfortable sleeping position. His left side, probably. He always favors that side for sleeping, even though it has him facing Jaskier. He settles and Jaskier waits for Valdo’s breath to turn slow and steady before he closes his eyes.

~

In the beginning, it had been a perfectly reasonable arrangement. Brilliant, even, a stroke of genius. They were both from affluent families who had certain expectations of their children, including courtship and marriage and other such stifling institutions. Seeing as neither of them was interested in entertaining such institutions, it all came together almost naturally.

It was a bit more strenuous back then. After all, courting is an arduous and time-consuming business. Forging love letters, fabricating gifts, taking every available opportunity to be seen in apparent pre-nuptial bliss. It was exhausting, in all honesty.

But it worked. So far as fine society was aware, the two of them were absolutely mad for each other. Their parents were placated, in fact, they were over the moon. Their mothers got along swimmingly and their fathers were old friends from their own Academy days, the four of them practically considered themselves family already.

These days, the pair of bards hardly even had to see each other. Every few months, they would attend an event to feed the ruse, but beyond that, they were free. Jaskier to roam the Continent and Valdo to grace high courts all over the land.

It was perfect. Just perfect. Or at least, it would be, were it not for the fact that Jaskier is a little bit in love with Valdo.

There has always been something there between them. Usually, it manifests itself in barbed insults and amazing sex, but they’ve always burned a bit too hot, boiled a bit too high, to make it anything more than that.

For the most part, that works out fine. They’re both bards, after all, neither of them suited to sitting still or settling down. But sometimes, when adoring crowds don’t feel like enough and cheers don’t fill the void, Jaskier daydreams.

Daydreams about what it would be like if this little ruse of theirs wasn’t a ruse after all. If the smiles Valdo gave him were real and warm. If they exchanged artful missives instead of empty envelopes. If, when they fell into bed together, Jaskier didn’t wake up alone.

Alas, it is not to be. They’ll carry on with their little game of smoke and mirrors until their parents stop buying it, or die blissfully unaware. Then Jaskier will have no excuse to see his false lover and musical rival ever again. Then, maybe, he’ll finally be free.

~

Jaskier all but sprints through the halls of his childhood home, making his way as quickly as possible from the family quarters to the guest rooms. Of course, the housekeeper had to give Valdo the room furthest from Jaskier’s.

Every now and then, he has to stop his charge down the corridors to give the appropriate greeting to one of their guests, but he picks up speed again the moment he passes them. He has to find Valdo before this complete disaster has a chance to get off the ground.

This was bound to happen sooner or later. Jaskier’s parents may have been willing to look the other way for a while, glad that their intransigent child had apparently found someone of appropriate rank. But no one just courts for a decade. Jaskier’s mother and father have had their fill of waiting. They expected him to propose. Tonight.

That’s what this ridiculous ball they planned was all about. It’s their engagement party, his and Valdo’s. Jaskier’s parents had even given him his grandfather’s wedding ring to propose with. The hunk of gold weighs heavily in his pocket as he rounds the last corner and finds himself at Valdo’s door. He doesn’t waste a second, pounding on it with his fist.

Valdo answers in relatively short order, his face falling at once into a mask of smug boredom. “I don’t think we have time for funny business before the ball, Julian,” he drawls, leaning heavily against his door frame. Jaskier pushes past him without waiting for an invitation.

“Excuse me,” Valdo squawks. “This is my private room and I don’t recall–”

“We have to stop.”

Valdo stares at him blankly for a moment before his brow furrows. He shuts the door firmly and slides the lock over. “What are you talking about?”

“The arrangement, we have to stop. Now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my parents will toss me into a marriage with the first toss who offers if we call it off now.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jaskier groans. “It can go no further. We have to call it off tonight, stage an argument, fake my death, anything!”

“How deep in your cups are you, exactly?” Valdo asks without a hint of amusement. He looks nervous, Jaskier realizes. Scared. “If you think I’m letting you chicken out now, you are sorely–”

Jaskier yanks the ring from his pocket and holds it out between them. “They want me to propose!”

Valdo falls silent, mouth snapping shut and eyes widening to saucers. He looks pale. “Well. I suppose it was going to happen eventually.”

“Yes, well, it’s happening.” Jaskier closes his fist around the ring and drops his hand to his side. “Now, we may be able to convince them we’ve had a falling out. A fit of jealousy, perhaps–”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

Jaskier blanches. What part of this whole ring business did he not make clear? “Calling it off.”

Valdo crosses his arms over his chest, but his expression remains passive as if Jaskier is the one being ridiculous. “I told you, we can’t.”

“Oh, come on, Valdo,” Jaskier says with a sigh. “You’re past thirty, they won’t force you to wed at this age.”

“You don’t know my parents.”

“Yes, I do, it’ll be fine.” It will be fine. In all honesty, they could have called the whole thing off years ago, they’re both well past the age to be pushed into marriage. There’s scarcely anyone left of proper age and title to marry anyway.

Still, Valdo shakes his head furiously, tossing his dark curls into a mess on his head. “No. I– I won’t take the chance.”

“Why are you so eager to keep this up?” Jaskier steps closer.

“Why are you so eager to call it off?” Valdo does too.

“Because it’s not real!” Jaskier bellows, probably too loud. His chest aches at the words, but he shoves it down hard. Why does Valdo have to be so… so Valdo about this? Can he not allow Jaskier one kindness and make this easy? It’s for the best, for Jaskier’s sanity at this point, why can he not see that? “It’s a trick and it’s served its purpose, but it’s over. There’s no need to be so difficult about it, I would think you’d be glad to be rid of me.”

“Well, you’re wrong!”

Jaskier is struck silent. Valdo just stares back at him, mouth pressed into a thin line. Jaskier knows that look; Valdo knows he’s made a misstep, given too much away, but he won’t back down now. Jaskier is wrong, wrong about– But it can’t be.

It can’t because he can’t have been so blind. He can’t have missed the signs that surely would have been there. He can’t have sulked in silence for so long, wishing, wanting, and believing it was impossible. He can’t have wasted all this time pretending when everything he wanted was standing right there, waiting for him to take it.

They’re close now, close enough to touch. How many times have they been this close, grinning for their audience and arguing under their breath? There’s none of that now, no fake smiles, no snide remarks, no one watching. Just them, breathing each other’s air while the seconds stretch.

Jaskier reaches up with his empty hand and takes Valdo’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. He wonders for a moment if he’s ever touched Valdo like this; gently. When Jaskier kisses him, he’s gentle. It’s sweet and slow, enough that Jaskier has time to notice how soft Valdo’s lips are, how he trembles when Jaskier touches him.

It isn’t a very long kiss, but it’s more than every single one they’ve shared before put together. When it’s over, they don’t pull back far. Valdo’s big, brown eyes fill Jaskier’s field of vision. Valdo brushes Jaskier’s cheek with his fingers and Jaskier’s flushed skin is soothed by the cool press. His hands are always cold.

“So…,” Jaskier begins at a near whisper, “does this mean you want to get engaged?”

Valdo scoffs. “Fuck no, I’m not ready for that.” There’s a beat of silence before they both burst into laughter. Valdo leans in as they settle, pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s. “What now?” he asks.

“Have you unpacked?”

The other bard shakes his head. Jaskier grins. “I’ve got an idea. Come on.”

They sneak out of Jaskier’s window. Their parents will forgive them. Eventually.

~~

bows and arrows masterlist

[midnightbabylon]

Part Of Me

-Part 3-

summary: Bucky finds out you secretly gave birth to his son and he didn’t know it for three years. But what does his fiancée have to do with it? Is Bucky really the villain in the story?

pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

word count: 1492

warnings: language

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Halloween was the worst holiday of the year, at least for you. Ever since you were a kid, you’ve wanted October 31 to go around as fast as it could. You hated the typical traditions like carving pumpkins or even dressing up. Since you were a mother, your mind has changed 180 degrees. James was your whole world, and you would do anything for him to be happy. Your kid came first and nobody else. As hard as life as a mother could be, he was the light at the end of the tunnel. His favorite holiday is Halloween, so you bought decorations, candy and pumpkins. The day before, you and James were decorating the house and inviting Sam, Steve, Wanda, Nat and the rest of the Avengers to dinner. James wanted everything to be Halloween themed so there was eyeball punch (Gummy bears) ,brain measurements (Minced meat in tomato sauce on spaghetti), severed fingers (sausages with ketchup and almonds as fingernails )and alien grits (green jello). After dinner, you all sat outside in the garden carving your pumpkins. James was happier than ever before. He was brambling with your best friends and putting each and every one of the pumpkins on the porch. As the evening ended so slowly, Nat put James to bed. The others offered to help you clean up, and for that you were very grateful. “I hate this holiday.” “Oh why Y/N?! That’s the funniest time of the year.” You rolled your eyes and looked over at Sam, who was wearing a big pumpkin as his head. Terrified, you screamed and pushed him. He fell backwards into the leaf heap and the pumpkin broke in two halves. Everyone burst into shouting laughter. “That was in fact really funny.” You grinned and threw away the last garbage. You thanked the others for a great evening and sent them home. You’ve spent the last three years raising your son, but not without telling him about his father. You’d tell him story’s every night before bedtime, you’d look at photo books with him, and every time he had a question, you’d answer it to him. The hardest questions were, “Why isn’t Daddy here?” and “Why doesn’t Daddy love me?”. Every time it broke your heart because it broke his little heart to live in uncertainty.

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There was no better time of the year than Halloween to meet Bucky again. As if that wasn’t the worst thing, your son was dressed as winter soldier. He had just had the courage to go to a house alone to ask for candy as you heard the familiar voice behind you. “Y/N What are you doing here? Good to see you. Great costume.” In shock, you look at the house and then slowly turn to Bucky. “Ehm hi what are you doing in this part of town? Not your usual area.” Your smile was as fake as Kim Kardashian’s ass. Panic rose in you. What if James came to you and asked you who that man was? Would he be ready for that? Would you be ready for that? As luck would have it, you were out with your neighbor Carry and her son Lance for Trick or Treating. “Mom, look how many sweets I got it.” Struck by lightning, you turned to James and grabbed your heart. “Honey, your mom’s still at the house next door with Lance.” You swallowed the lump down your throat and your son’s eyes looked at you confused. “Wow you have a really great costume there buddy.“ Bucky said suddenly grinning. His eyes were glowing as he looked at the little boy’s metal arm. “My Mom made it for me.” James smiled and you had to smile too. He was just too precious. “Hey Y/N Sorry. Let’s get going.” Carry pulled at your dress and you followed her thankfully. “Sorry Bucky we have a thing.” You shruffed your shoulders and turned to Carry. “Oh my god thank you so much! You literally saved my life.” You held James' hand tighter and continued down the road.

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Bucky‘s POV

“Bucky, everything okay with you?” Stacie stuck herself in his forearm. “We’ll be late if we don’t hurry.” He was still staring at the little boy. “Go ahead, I’m not so good right now, honey.” he smiled at her and she nodded and went to her brother’s house. There was a Halloween party there today. Bucky took the little note out of his vest and stared at it. The little brown-haired boy was still staring at him as he ran by his ex-girlfriend’s hand. He called her Mom, and she had such a panic in her eyes. How old do you think he is? Probably two or three. Bucky took a closer look at the note. The drawing showed a woman who looked like Y/N and a small boy like the one in the winter soldier costume. The realization hit him like a truck. Bucky ran off, down the road but Y/N was nowhere to be seen. She could have gone to any house, he couldn’t ring the bell or knock on every house to look for her. Why didn’t she tell him he had a son? Less than 10 minutes later, he was standing in the house of his brother-in-law. Bucky didn’t know how to act. “Hey, honey, I’m sorry, but I’m going to lie down upstairs in your old room, I’m not feeling any better.” Stacie looked at him sympathetically. “Should I come?” He shook his head. “No, no. Everything okay. I’ll be all right. Do you have a pill for the headache?” “Yes, in my purse upstairs.” He went up the wooden stairs and ran through his hair. Bucky was running back and forth in Stacy’s old room. He searched her purse for his phone. Apparently, he had forgotten it at home and, out of anger, threw the ugly red bag through the room. It hit an old vase. Confused, Bucky looked at the broken pieces. There was a smartphone in them. Bucky turned on the phone suspiciously. His phone display was copied. His apps and contacts. Everything was the same, but it wasn’t his phone. He opened the last messages he had received.

I had actually given it up but he turned 3 today. . .Happy Birthday to your son.

This will be my last message to you, James. I’ve given up hope. Goodbye.

Bucky pulled his eyebrows together. She had broken up with him by SMS, just like that and shortly after Stacy had contacted him. Angry, Bucky stormed down the stairs. The smartphone almost crushes in his vibranium arm. “STACIE!” His voice sounded dangerous. Almost threatening. He knew what that blonde slut had done. Stacie smiled until she saw his face. Her eyes looked into his and then to the phone. All the color faded from her face. “Where did you get that?” “Where did I get that? You are really asking me that question?! Seriously?! What the fuck is that? Why did you copy my phone?” “Babe let me-.” His face turned red with rage. “Shut the fuck up. What do you want to explain? That you fucked up my last relationship? I read all of those messages. I don’t know why or how you did it, but you’re gonna pay for that. We are over. Get your stuff out of my apartment tonight, or I’m gonna throw your stuff out the window.“ After Bucky managed to convince Sam to tell him Y/N’s address, Bucky knocked until she opened the door. The house was quiet. “I know. Before you ask what this is all about, you know exactly Y/N. The little boy with the blue eyes. They look very familiar to me. How old is he 3?” Tears burned in her eyes. She sighed and opened her door to let him in. „Come one in. Let’s talk inside.” Bucky spent several hours explaining to Y/N everything he had found out. He tried everything to get her to understand. He had already missed so much of his son’s life. He didn’t want to waste the rest of the years. Being a father is a lifelong profession. He might not save his relationship with Y/N, but he might save his relationship with his son. “He’s beautiful. A miracle.” Bucky stood in James door frame and watched the sleeping angel. There was a small night light in the corner of the room. “You told him about me? After you thought I’d dumped you so bad?” he watched the superhero posters and comics. “Of course I did. Even though he didn’t get a chance, I did everything I could to get him to know his father in at least some way.“ You softly closed James door. “I’m very grateful for that. Y/N. It’ll take a while, but I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Even if it is the last thing I will ever do.“

THE END

Taglist :

@yougottalovefandoms @mjaudrey @capmanranger @bluemoon-icecream @intothesoul @lamoursansfin @jessyballet @maryosprinkle @crist1216 @vavilip @lunamyangel @millennial-teenybopper @vicmc624 @itsthemaree @spid3rgwen @thewolfgirluniverse @quinnmaddie

[linksthoughtbrambles]

[Link's missed opportunity for a career in catering and event-planning.]

(Link's Thought Brambles part 6)

The sun’s angle is just right. It’s like she’s glowing. Well, glowing on the outside. She’s so beautiful, and she holds her head high, but you can just see it. Like she’s fighting the weight of a talus to keep it that way. She has to ride side-saddle with that dress. Even Tass seems like he’s dragging irons by his hooves. Clop clop slow clop. There’s another nodder. And another hat-tipper.

“Morning, Princess.”

Oooh, we got a few words there.

“Good morning, sir.”

There’s not a single real smile anywhere. The best she ever gets is one of those awkward fake-smiles you make when you know you should but you just don’t feel like it.

Was there a time when people would rush to their windows to see the Princess pass? Maybe little kids would gasp and run too close to the horse in excitement. And then the Princess would have to stop and talk to them, and they’d smile at her for real. And maybe she’d smile back. Father never mentioned anything like that, but he wouldn’t even if it’d happened.

Even when people speak kindly of her, they do it in hushed tones. Like they’re at a wake. When grandma died, I didn’t understand why mom and Father both kept shushing me. I still don’t really get it, but I sure got better at being quiet.

There’s two kids! What are they up to? Ah. They’re completely stopping their fun and being quiet until we pass, that’s what.

I feel like this calls for some bribery on our part. We should carry some candy around. Then again, if I were one of these kids’ parents, and I was already iffy about the Princess, and she gave them candy, I might get miffed because I’d see it as an underhanded way of getting the kids to like her. Which, to be fair, is exactly what it would be. Too bad, it’d be a good excuse for me to make a truly massive batch of mom’s caramels. No kitchen of my own, though. I could write mom, she would make those for me. But she couldn’t make enough for Castle Town’s kids without costing her a fortune. Yeah, it would definitely cost a lot. Not a lot for the kitchen here but a lot for one family. I guess I’d have to ask them at the castle kitchen, which means I’d have to give them mom’s recipe. Not sure if she’d mind. I doubt it.

Uh oh, would that be insulting? I’d be saying my mom’s sweets are better than theirs. But it’s not like it’s everything, those caramels are just amazing. The salt is critical. We could do batches of all the different combinations she’s found over the years. Those little pink berries that taste like peppercorns were a stroke of pure genius.

Would they even do it if I asked? The steward would have to approve, I guess. And, uh, once again, I’d have to actually talk to them.

Maybe I could just ask the Princess what she thinks.

Who am I kidding? That’s not happening. Oh right, I already decided bribery was a bad idea. So, I guess no caramel. Disappointing.

Maybe she could set aside some time to have a kid playtime event? Or maybe a charity thing where kids do something fun and people sponsor them and the crown gives the money to an orphanage? They already do the cookhouse near the quarry. I guess it could go toward that. Oooh, we could have a bunch of different little competitions like leaping, racing, tumbling, maybe archery and riding for the older kids. Something silly like an egg-toss might be fun. We can have teams with different colored sashes and they have to toss the eggs with the sashes, no hands allowed! Oh, ho, we can dye the eggs the colors of the sashes so we know whose is whose! No cheating! Ha!

I’m getting carried away, though. This needs input from the Princess. I wouldn’t want to add to her burdens. Something like this might help, but all the stuff I’m thinking is, well, me-like. Linkish. What about her? What would be something she’d enjoy? Something special only she could bring to the table?

Again, I guess I would have to ask her.

Imagine what she’d think if I started asking her about organizing a round of games for the Castle Town kids, dyeing eggs and sashes, and making fancy caramels? Is there a worse way to confirm that I am utterly un-legendary-hero-like? Always remember, remember, remember to keep your mouth shut, shut, SHUT. You'll scare the crap out of her if she starts to think you can’t handle your role in all this. She’s worried enough about her own sealing power.

.

Here we are. Don’t forget the satchel. Not that anyone’s likely to take it, but losing the slate would be the last straw for her.

Lovely. It’s glower-priestess.

“Princess. It’s been too long since you graced us with your presence.”

Jibe number one. That was fast.

“May the light illuminate your path, mother. Thank you for greeting me.”

“Of course. The light is ever in the Goddess’ house. Prayer is needed now more than ever, that her light may illuminate your path as well.”

“Y- yes.”

You’re kidding me. Does she really believe she doesn’t pray enough, or does she enjoy this?

“I should like to begin my devotions.”

I’m betting it’s the second option.

“We shall pray with you, highness, that the Goddess may move your spirit.”

As if your prayers are any better than hers.

“Thank you, mother.”

Maybe she just thinks if she seems more pious than the blood of the Goddess people will think she’s the priestiest priestess in Hyrule. Maybe she’s angling for the crown to build a new monastery. No, wait, those are for monks. She’s not a monk, she’s a priestess. What do you call it where a priestess lives? Can’t ask. Weird question.

“Sir Link.”

She’s talking to me?

“Perhaps the Princess would benefit from your blessing.”

“My what?”

“The conclave has communed for some time on the revelation of the hero. The Goddess has gifted you the sword that seals the darkness. Your connection with her is established. Your blessing may aid the awakening of our princess’ power.”

There are so many things wrong with- what?

She does not at all want me to bless her. That even sounds creepy.

What do I say? If I do it, I’ll humiliate her. If I refuse, it’ll cause all sorts of problems. They’ll start saying I don’t have faith in the Goddess or that I don’t think the Princess is worthy of my stupid blessing and realistically I’ve never been very pray-ee myself though I do when she does and I am taking much too long to answer but I can’t hurt her and I can’t give them another excuse to-

“Sir Link.”

Oh no. Not with that voice. “Yes, Princess?”

“Have you ever performed a blessing?”

“No.”

“Are you ordained as a priest or monk?”

“No.”

“Would you feel comfortable blessing me?”

Mouth very dry again. Happening a lot lately. “Princess, you already have my blessing.”

“Boy, you just said you have never performed a blessing. This is a contradiction.”

You know what? I’m not talking to glower-priestess. She’s not the one who matters, here. “Princess, you have my blessing, just as you have my respect, loyalty, protection and faith. You already had those things regardless of ceremony. Do you- should I pray with you?” I do anyway. But you don’t know that. “I will support you however you wish.”

Dead.

Silence.

Goddess. Please, no. What will it do to her reputation if she can't hold those tears back?

“Thank you, Sir Link. I- I welcome your- your continued willingness to assist me. Perhaps your faith in the Goddess will catalyze my own.”

Is that a tiny smile? She must be forcing it.

“Perhaps we should allow you some time to study the religious forms. We can- we can return to the Sacred Ground properly prepared.”

“As you wish, Princess.” That sounds like I’ll have to do it. But at least it became her decision instead of mine, or this woman's next to me. And it won’t be today.

“In the meantime, please do join me in prayer.”

_____

[Note: Link would like to eat some caramel. He would also like to dye eggs and make sure the colors matched the sashes perfectly. It's no accident that his earrings and hair ties match his eyes and are exactly the same shade.]

[Other Note: Tass is the short name for Zelda's royal white stallion. Its full name is much longer and more nerdy. Link has never heard it.]

Read Next: [Link finds formalized services distracting]

Read this fanfic from the beginning (it makes more sense that way).

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[realtacuardach]

Deception and Perception

“Con-artist” entry for Obiyuki Bingo 2021, hosted by @snowwhite-andtheknight

I hope you enjoy!

~~~

Leaning nearly double on the folding chair, Shirayuki clutched her ankle and moaned lowly under her breath as the security guard closed the door behind him. His footsteps echoed as he walked down the hallway to the main office, the steady rhythm slowly fading away to nothing. A half-minute more ticked by on her watch, and Shirayuki straightened up. Quickly getting to her feet, she walked over to the filing cabinets stacked against the wall and pulled fruitlessly on one of the handles. It didn’t come as any surprise that the research had been locked up, but she allowed herself a small curse of frustration before extracting a lockpick from her pocket.

There has to be an easier way to get information, she internally muttered to herself as she got to work.

But there wasn’t, she’d already tried.

When the progress on her laboratory’s latest research had slowed down, Shirayuki initially filed it away as one of the typical delays and frustrations of being a researcher. But months had passed, and they weren’t getting any further in their findings - meanwhile, the neighboring lab from Bergatt Enterprises, who had piggy-backed on their research for a time, was making leaps and bounds.

She had asked to see their results, to understand where she might have been making mistakes. In response, they had erected swift, impenetrable walls, stating that their findings were their intellectual property. A bitter pill to swallow, but their offering a thorn bramble when she’d offered an olive branch in the past was just going to have to be a lesson to keep her guard up better in future.

But when she’d returned to her own lab, intent on looking at her earlier notes and samples to start over from scratch, she’d found that her notes were gone. Someone had taken them.

The filing cabinet clicked open, and she shoved the lockpick in her pocket before reaching into the drawer, fingers flying over the tops of the file folders.

She hadn’t wanted to believe that the other lab would stoop to theft or sabotage, but when the lab assistant who’d started work two weeks before their collaboration with Bergatt stopped showing up with no explanation two days after it had ended, she’d had suspicions. Suspicions that were confirmed, at least in her mind, when she’d seen that same lab assistant in the lobby of Bergatt Enterprises when she’d first approached them and been shut down. Calling after the woman had been an impulse, but also a mistake. The faux lab assistance had scurried deep behind the security of ‘limited access’ doors, and Shirayuki had been escorted out.

The guard had rushed her out so quickly that she’d tripped on the threshold, and landing hard on her ankle had hurt but also given her an idea.

The first drawer didn’t have them. Fighting the urge to slam it shut in frustration, Shirayuki instead closed it slowly and started on the next cabinet down. It has to be here, she assured herself, squinting at the papers and forcing herself to keep a steady pace, this is the only place left.

Bergatt Enterprises had four labs within the state; it would have been too much to hope for that they’d have left the research in the first place she’d looked, the facility where she’d seen the spy. But she’d tried anyway.

After a week, she’d gone back, her hair tied back and covered with a bandana to fill out a job application. On the way to fill out the paperwork, she’d walked by a Wet Floor sign and fallen. She’d held her side and groaned, curling around her injury. Frantic to avoid lawsuits, employees had ushered her into a makeshift nurse’s office and left there for a few minutes. Moving quickly, she’d managed to get into the lab offices, only to find the filing cabinets were only for show and were disappointingly empty.

The paper in the file folder at the back of the cabinet caught on her fingers, the paper crumpled and off-color compared to the pristine contents of the other files. Her breath catching, she pulled the paper out and nearly cried with relief. Found you, she grinned, holding the paper tight to her chest. Now I just have to-

Two sets of footsteps were coming closer down the hallway. Shirayuki just managed to keep from slamming the drawer shut, instead smoothly closing it and darting back to the chair. Wadding her notes into a square and shoving it down into her blouse, she drew her jacket around her before bending down to resume the slow massaging of her ankle.

The security guard returned, closely followed by a man who looked distressingly official. Next to the guard with his ill-fitting button-up and baggy slacks, the new man had an air more polished and somehow dangerous, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. “This is the lady?” He asked, tucking his badge into his suit jacket.

“Yes, sir.” The guard glared at Shirayuki. “Procedure said to call you in if we had anything....suspicious happen. We’ve had a lot of attempted break-ins.”

“Have you?” Behind his sunglasses, the new man’s eyebrows raised, the skin pulling taut around a scar over his left eye. “And not been able to catch them yet? At all?”

The security guard puffed up indignantly. “I caught her.”

“Hmm,” the other man stepped around the desk where Shirayuki’s chair had been situated and sat down on a chair behind it. “And you’re sure this girl is some kind of criminal mastermind?” He snorted. “I can see why you had to call me in.”

Flushing red, the guard drew himself up, but got waved off. “Easy, easy. I’m not saying you’re wrong.” The well-dressed man leaned forward, Shirayuki’s breath catching as he moved closer, smooth and sinuous and unpredictable. She stared steadily back, praying he couldn’t hear her heart pounding or the paper crinkling as she struggled to keep her composure. The man smirked at her, then leaned back in his chair. “You can go,” he told the guard.

“What?” The guard hitched his belt indignantly. “Shouldn’t we both-?”

The suited man’s lips twisted into an irritated smirk. “You think I can’t handle one little girl?”

Shirayuki focused on her fake ankle pain to keep from bristling and giving herself away.

“Well, no,” the guard stuttered.

“If it makes  you feel better,” the man waved towards the door, “you can wait outside. But this is my case now.”

The two men stared at each other for an agonizing few moments before the guard stepped back. “Okay, Mr. Nanaki.”

Nanaki smiled, his smile full of teeth and thinly veiled malice. “Ah, ah, ah. Agent Nanaki.” He pulled out a badge with a smooth flourish. Shirayuki caught a glimpse of “Internal” and “Security” before the badge was returned to the jacket. Nanaki reached out his hand towards the guard, palm up, and beckoned with his fingers. The guard, his expression simultaneously flustered and cowed, stepped forward and pulled out a manila folder that he’d been carrying between his arm and stomach. He handed it to the agent.

‘Thank you,” the agent snarked smoothly. “I’ll call if you’re needed.”

His tone indicated that the guard wouldn’t be, and the guard stomped out..

Agent Nanaki opened the manila folder, flipping through the pages, his head moving ever so slightly from side to side as he read. Silence grew thick between them, and Shirayuki’s heart pounded in her ears. She took a silent deep breath and licked her dry lips. “So…”

The agent lifted his head to look at her. “Yes?”

Shirayuki gritted her teeth. “Can I leave?”

Clicking his tongue, the agent’s smirk that had previously been twisted with irritation smoothed out into amusement. “Come on, Miss. We both know you’re smarter than that.”

“Excuse me.”

He turned a page and whistled. “Never mind, maybe not. They got camera footage of you that time.”

“What?”

“It’s true.” He picked up a grainy picture of a figure with shoulder-length hair lingering near an office door. “Not the most revealing angle, but these aren’t the most sophisticated cameras.”

Shirayuki just managed to keep from folding her arms; this man was incredibly irritating. She squinted at the photo - even though it was grainy, she could just see the loose sandal strap she’d used as an excuse to linger behind from the group. “I can’t believe you think that’s me,” she sighed. “It doesn’t look anything like me.”

The agent sighed and scratched his forehead. “Okay, so we’ll play it that way.” He turned all the papers over until he reached the first page, which he extracted. “Incident one, main campus. Young woman with red hair comes in for an interview. Falls down in the lobby, sustains injuries, risks suing the company. They leave her alone to try and get her medical attention - and a lawyer.” His mouth quirked. “By the time they get back, the young lady has collapsed by the filing cabinets, saying she’d hit her head.” He flipped the page. “But when they turn around, she manages to sneak off. And the name used to secure the interview was fake.”

Well, she could have hardly used her own name. “I hope the poor woman got help.”

“Hmm.” He rifled through the next few pages before pointing at a new sheet. “Incident two, east campus. Another young woman, also with red hair, was walking out by the storage house. Some guy with a cart ran into her and knocked her over. She got rushed inside, reported symptoms of concussion.” He snorted. “They left her alone for a few minutes to get a glass of water, came back to find an empty room with a cabinet wide open with a safety pin jammed in the lock.”

“Really?” Shirayuki raised an eyebrow in interest. She’d brought a bobby pin along, but it had gotten lost when she’d mistimed her footing to collide with the stockroom employee. She’d been lucky she hadn’t gotten a concussion; less lucky that she’d had to resort to using a safety pin she found on the top of the cabinet. “I didn’t know you could open locks with a safety pin.”

“You really can’t,” the agent looked down at his paper. “I think the lady just yanked it open at some point - the cabinet locks are pretty weak.”

Shirayuki begged to differ, she had nearly splintered all her fingernails in her haste to open the drawer.

Agent Nanaki looked at her for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re still - okay, incident three, south campus. A young woman, again with red hair, joins a group of students to tour the labs. She accidentally,” he smirked, “broke the strap of a sandal and stayed behind to fix it. Tour guide goes back to check on the young lady, but she’s vanished. Meanwhile,” he drawled, “ someone managed to jimmy open a door to the main lab, off-limits to the tour, and snuck in.” He tapped the grainy picture. “Sure this isn’t ringing any bells?”

Shirayuki shook her head. “I’m sorry, but no.”

The agent snorted. “And that brings us to today. Young woman, with red hair,” he shut the manila folder and made a sweeping gesture towards her head, “somehow gets lost in the north campus and twists her ankle. She gets helped to a room, but then the rent-a-cop gets suspicious and calls in the cavalry.” He leaned forward. “Because even he can tell this can’t be a coincidence.”

Swallowing back her anxiety, Shirayuki shrugged. “I couldn’t say about the other times, but this time is certainly a coincidence.”

“Really?”

“Hair like this,” she waved a hand around her crown, “stands out like a sore thumb. Would I really be so dumb as to not conceal it - if I was the person you are thinking of?”

Agent Nanaki leaned back in his chair, springs squeaking, and barked a laugh. “Ah, a double bluff, Miss? Not too shabby.”

She couldn’t tell whether it was pleased pride or irritated frustration that was filling her chest at that laugh, but she chose to ignore the sensation. “If that’s really all you think you have that points to me, I’ll be going. I need to ice this ankle.”

“Oh.” Nanaki got up and walked around the desk in front of her chair, before sitting on the edge of the desk. “No, Miss. That’s all they have on you.” He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a small notebook. He flipped open the cover, and Shirayuki could see pages filled with cramped writing. “This,” he licked his thumb and turned another page, “is what I have on you.”

“Oh?” Shirayuki was having a little trouble breathing, although where that was from the revelation of this knowledge or the awareness of how close the agent was standing, she wasn’t sure.

Nanaki took off his sunglasses and tucked them into the collar of his shirt. He looked into her eyes, and she was captivated by warm amber. Leaning forward, his smirk grew as he closed the distance between their faces. Shirayuki swallowed as she felt herself drifting into his eyes. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“Eyes are the windows of the soul,” he drawled smoothly. “Trying to see what I can see.”

Shirayuki’s fingers curled on her lap as she looked into his eyes. “And what do you see?”

“Hmm.” He leaned closer, and she felt her hips tilt her towards him. His tongue brushed his lips  - and then he licked his thumb and turned another page in his notebook. “Name: Shirayuki Leon, has doctorate in biology specializing in medicine and botany. First studied in Tanbarun before moving to Clarines three years ago. Been making a real splash in the science scene. Working under Garrack Gazelt, has published two-” He flipped a page. “-three papers in various academic journals.”

Shirayuki took a deep breath, striving for calm. “Sounds interesting.”

“I thought so.” He smirked harder. “Recently working on the same research that Bergatt has been focusing on for the past few months.”

“Ah.” Her fingers shook a little under his scrutiny.

“Research that really picked up,” he continued, “once Bergatt’s current head researcher came from your labs with some classified notes, and possibly after sabotaging your work.”

“I knew it!” Shirayuki cried, and then shrunk back. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” The agent smiled broadly. “Gotcha, Miss.”

Shirayuki slumped back in her chair, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “Yeah, you got me.” She sighed. “Now what?”

“Well…” Nanaki’s watch chime and he looked at it. “Time for us to leave, I think.” He stood up. “Will you come quietly, or do I need to use handcuffs?”

She sighed. “You don’t need handcuffs.”

The agent craned his neck towards the door, sliding his sunglasses back on. “After you, Miss.” 

Shirayuki’s feet dragged as she made her way to the door. The agent moved around behind her, his arm grazing her side as he reached to turn the doorknob, and she shivered. Nanaki’s hand encircled her wrist as the two stepped out into the hallway, and the guard roused himself from his half-asleep position against the wall.

“I’m taking the suspect into custody,” the agent snapped, pulling lightly on Shirayuki’s arm. “I expect a full report sent to the department by noon tomorrow.”

The two briskly made their way down the hallways. “Good thing you’re not actually injured,” Nanaki mused as they walked through the parking lot, “otherwise we might not make it in time.”

“You’re in that much of a hurry to arrest me?”

“No.” The agent opened the passenger side door - funny, she’d expected to be put in the back - and indicated for her to get inside. “But time is not on our side.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he leaned in, “the actual agent should be here any minute.”

And with that shocking statement, he closed the door.

“The real agent?” Shirayuki exclaimed as the fake agent slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“Yeah.” He swore under his breath. “Duck down, he’s pulling in now.” Shirayuki could hear the sounds of a door opening and closing, although the sound grew smaller as Nanaki stepped on the gas.

“What in the world-”

“You can sit up now, Doc,” the man grinned, tossing his sunglasses to the back as they sped away from the parking lot. He flexed his shoulders underneath his jacket. “Can’t wait to get out of this monkey suit.”

Shirayuki stilled. The humor and wry tone that had been lingering beneath his officious demeanor was in full force now, and his grin was rakish. 

“Who are you?”

“I have many names,” he smirked, eyebrows wiggling, “but mostly I go by Obi. And I think we have a common enemy. I’ve been trying to take down the Bergatts myself for a while now.”

“Okay, Obi,” she tried, and his grin grew. “Now what?”

“Well, first,” Obi answered, “we stash away that research you have hiding in your shirt.” Shirayuki blushed, her hand going to her blouse. “And after that, well, that’s up to you. I figured we could get you someplace safe until things cool down a little. Or-”

"Or?"

“I like the way you work, Doc,” he smirked, “and I think we can bring the Bergatts down a lot faster if we work together. You bring the science smarts, and I bring the infiltration and deception skills. I teach you, you teach me.” Keeping his left hand on the wheel as he continued driving, he raised up his right hand towards her. “What do you say? Partners?”

This was crazy.

Shirayuki smirked back and clasped his hand with one of her own. “Partners.”

[idrawprettyboys]

Here’s the beginning of the written version of my story, Soul Sketcher. The comic version was previously titled Pencil Masters, but I’m making some adjustments to the plot and changed the title to go along with it.

———

Soul Sketcher

Chapter 1

It’s nice out. The sun’s warm, but the breeze is cool. Seventy degree spring day, just how I like it. I take a deep breath. I can breathe clearly today. It’s off and on. Some days are better than others. Today seems like a good day. I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

I make my way up a hill. It’s not too steep. I’m a little out of breath when I get to the top, but I take a second to lean over with my hands on my knees to catch my breath. I’m not wheezing today, so that’s good. I lift my head and look around. The trees are such a vibrant green, the sky the brightest blue. The dirt beneath my cowboy boots is a deep burnt orange. God, I love colors. I can’t get enough of this.

I stand up straight and take another deep, thankful breath. The wind blows my long hair into my face. A strand gets stuck in my mouth, and I can’t help but laugh. Everything makes me laugh these days. I’m glad I haven’t lost my laughter.

I walk further into the forest. The smell of pine is fresh and familiar. My sketchbook is gripped firmly in my hand. This thing is my life. I can’t lose it.

They say nature is the best for finding inspiration. I love forests. I hoped one day to be able to build my own cabin out here and be surrounded by trees and wildlife. But things don’t always go the way we plan.

I squeeze through some bushes, but my hair gets caught in the brambles. I untangle it, careful not to rip any strands. Lola often tells me I should cut it. It’s grown past my ass now, but nope. My hair is my life too. I’m not cutting an inch.

I find a river and follow it to a clearing, where it leads to a sparkling waterfall. The pool beneath it looks calm enough that I can go for a swim. I set down my sketchbook on some rocks and start to unbutton my brown leather vest, when I see the shadow of a hawk swoop by. I look up to the bright sky, and instead, my eyes are drawn to a figure in the distance. Atop the cliff stands what looks to be a young boy. “What’s he doing?” I wonder aloud. I lift a hand to my brow to block the sun from my eyes to see him more clearly. He looks distraught. He takes a small step back, like he’s preparing to jump.

I quickly grab my sketchbook and take out my pencil from my fake gun holster attached to my thigh. I open up to a blank page, and, while looking at the boy in the distance, I start to draw as quickly as possible. I sloppily sketch an image of an eagle grabbing the boy in its talons before he falls to the rocky ground. I manage to finish just before the boy jumps off the craggy ledge.

I grimace and hope. There’s no way I’ll make it there on time if I run, and at a fall from that height, landing on me won’t save him.

Just in time, a bald eagle swoops down from the heavens and snatches the boy’s shirt in its talons, just like I drew in my sketchbook. However, it doesn’t set the boy down. It continues flying with him in its grasp.

Shit. I run after them. The bird soars higher and higher. It perches on a cliff, and I run to it with all my might.

I climb the steep hill, pulling myself up as quickly as I can. Once I reach ground that’s even enough to walk on, I run up the hill. My breath is ragged now. Here it comes. I feel a sharp pain in my lungs. But it’s okay. I can make it. I have to save the kid. Besides, I want to see…

Yes!

I make it to the top of the cliff, and there lays not only the boy, but a beautiful nest of eaglets. I pant and wheeze. My chest hurts like hell. But I don’t care. I’d give anything to see this up close. I step closer and observe the parent tending to its three eaglets. It warms my heart and briefly numbs the pain in my chest. While the mother is distracted with her young, I go closer to the boy, who lays right beside the nest in shock.

His eyes barely move to look at me.

I nod slightly and hold up my hands, hoping that he understands this to mean “stay where you are”. I slowly, quietly tiptoe over to him, hoping that the birds don’t hear me. Everything seems to be going fine, until I feel a tickle in my throat.

I cough. And it’s not a small cough. Once I start coughing, it gets worse and worse before it stops. As I instinctively put my hand up to cover my mouth, the eagle swoops down toward me and pecks me with its sharp beak. It gets me in the arms a couple times and pecks some holes in my Stetson, as I try in vain to swat the large creature away. But I don’t stop moving forward. Coughing and bleeding, I continue toward the boy. I reach him, but the bird still won’t let up. It’s not going to see a difference between me and him. I can’t let it hurt him. I shield the small boy with my body by hovering over him and wrapping my arms around his cowered form. The eagle pecks and claws at me. I can feel a warm sting on my back and arms as the blood seeps through my clothes. I can’t help but smile as the sharp beak and talons tear into my flesh. The pain reminds me that I haven’t kicked the bucket quite yet.

I play dead, and the eagle eventually decides I’m no longer a threat to its children. It turns around and returns to its nest. I can feel the child shaking beneath me. “It’s okay,” I whisper. I peek over at the bird. It’s preoccupied. I pick up the boy and quietly make my way down the way I came.

When we are nearly back at the waterfall, the boy speaks. “Why did you do that, mister?” He asks.

“Do what?” I ask, as I put him down. I try to catch my breath.

“Risk your life for me,” he clarifies. “And that eagle, did you… did you summon it?”

“You saw that, huh?” I ask with a smirk. “Yeah, I called it here. But I did a pretty bad job, letting it take you away like that.”

“How did you make the eagle appear like that?” He asked, curiously.

“I’m asking questions first,” I say, in a reprimanding tone. “What the hell were you doing?” It’s more just to get to him than to actually get an answer. It’s pretty darn obvious what he was doing. “What the hell could you be trying to off yourself for?” My voice raises even louder. I can’t help it. This pisses me off.

My tone of voice makes the kid flinch. Good.

“You’re what?” I scoff, “like six years old? Have some damn respect for your life!”

“I’m eight!” The boy sounds offended. “And my parents were murdered by robbers the other day!” What was once anger turns into sadness, and he starts to cry. “I’ve been stuck in this forest since. I’ve got nothing… And no one.” His lips quiver and his eyes well up with tears.

I feel a pang of sympathy for the poor kid. I sigh and crouch down beside the sitting boy. “Look, kid,” I begin in a softer tone. I look into his eyes as I speak. “I’m sorry for your loss. But you can’t throw it all away like this.”

Those big blue eyes look up at me, as though pleading to hear a reason to live.

“You might think your parents would be happy for you to be with them, but,” I purse my lips and shake my head, while looking into the boy’s eyes. “No, kid, you know what they would want? They’d want you to live. Live for them. Live both of their lives in one. Live strongly, so their lives won’t be in vain. You hear me?” I make sure my voice is strong and clear, so it reaches him. So I come across as strong enough to inspire him.

It looks like my words got to him, because I can see a twinkle of admiration in his eye once again. He nods, understandingly. “Then what?” He asks with genuine curiosity. “What can I do? How can I make the pain go away? How can I not be so lonely?”

“Well,” I put my hands on my knees and lift myself up, before I look back down at the kid. “You can’t make the pain go away. That’s just something you have to live with. But…”

The small boy looks up at me with an expression of hopefulness.

“I can maybe help on the loneliness bit,” I offer. “Look, I’m sure your parents told you not to talk to strangers and all, so I understand if you want nothing to do with me. But I can’t stand the thought of leaving a small kid like you out here in the wilderness to get eaten by bears.”

His eyes open even wider.

“What do you say?” I extend a gloved hand down to him. “Want to come home with me?”

To my relief, the boy’s mouth formed into a wide smile, and his little hand eagerly reached out for mine. I gripped it and pulled him up to his feet.

We walk back to town, through the Arizona desert. It’s a bit hotter now that we don’t have the shade of the trees to protect us. The boy walks close behind me. “So, kid,” I begin, taking a glance back at him, “what’s your name?”

He stops walking and looks down at the dirt road. “I don’t know,” he says, solemnly.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I forgot,” he replies. I see his little freckled face scrunch up, as though trying to remember causes him pain. He’s probably thinking back to his parents. Probably repressed the memories.

“It’s okay, kid.” I walk back a couple steps to meet him and give him a little pat on the back. “Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard.”

“I can’t believe I forgot my own name,” he said, while wiping the tears from his eyes with his little index finger.

“No problem,” I say with a smile. “I’ll give you a new one.”

“Really?”

I smirk to myself before looking back at him. “How does Wyatt sound?”

“Wyatt?” His big eyes widen at the new name.

“Yeah,” I say, while walking backwards. “Like Wyatt Earp to my Doc Holiday, get it?”

The boy’s face responds to my smile, but he says “I don’t get it.”

I let out a breathy laugh. “No, I suppose you’re too young. I’ll tell you about them later.” I turn back around, and I see the town in the distance.

“Welcome home, Wyatt,” I say, as we approach the small, rustic old western style town. We’re greeted with a large wooden sign hanging overhead, reading Old Tombstone: Western Town. “Welcome to Tombstone”, I say with a smile, while leaning a hand on one of the wooden pillars.

The boy smiles widely at the historical theme park. “This is so cool!”

“You bet it is,” I reply. “This way,” I say, as I beckon him into the charming little town. A stagecoach passes by and kicks up a cloud of dirt. Wyatt looks around at the buildings. They’re all connected in a row on both sides of us. The storefronts have unique shapes and colors, in the False Front architectural style. The buildings all have quaint porches with wooden posts. A man in a cowboy costume similar to my own waves to us from a wooden rocking chair. Wyatt waves back. Men in bowler hats and women in bustles walk amongst us, along with some people in casual modern attire, like tee-shirts and jeans.

Wyatt���s smiles at all the men in costume and looks back to me. “You’re all cowboys,” he observes with enthusiasm. He looks at my damaged hat. “You’re a real cowboy?”

I laugh. “I wouldn’t say real, no,” I admit. “I wanted to feel like a cowboy, so I moved to this place. It’s a tourist site meant to replicate life back in the old west. They put on fake shoot-outs and such. It’s fun. A lot safer. But fun.”

He doesn’t seem to be hurt by the fact that I’m not a real cowboy. His face is still lit up with glee. Hard to believe he tried jumping off a cliff a short time ago. Glad to see this is helping him. Kids are good at bouncing back like that.

“Well, here we are,” I say, as we approach the saloon. “This is my home.”

He oohs and ahs at the establishment, as we go through the swinging doors. The place has wood-paneled floors and walls and round tables. To the right is the bar, and behind it is my lovely lady, Lola, looking as beautiful as ever. Her burgundy hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders. She’s wearing her favorite hoop earrings, and my favorite red saloon girl dress that falls off her shoulders and shows a generous amount of her large breasts. She’s pouring drinks.

“Having a drink this early?” I tease, as I walk in.

“Very funny, Doc,” she says without laughing. “I’m mixing cocktails in advance for later.”

“Oh?” I put a little lilt in my voice as I approach the counter. “Maybe we can get a little drunk later.” I lean on the counter and smirk at her while resting my chin on my hand.

Her olive green almond shaped eyes look up at me with a stern glare, feigning immunity to my flirtations. “You know it’s for the customers.” She says, as she gives me a once-over. “Did you get in another brawl? It’s not even noon, and you’re covered in dirt!”

Thank God she can’t see the blood on my back. “Hey, don’t give me that,” I object. “I was off saving this kid from certain death!” I pointed to the small boy at my side with my thumb.

[fu-aki]

So this is going to be my attempt to summarize the newest episodes of the fairy gala event (episode 1 to 10) of twisted wonderland.

Again, spoiler alert since I’m about to write out everything that happened, and I apologize for my grammar in advance.

Both Kalim and Jamil are asking Crowley what is going on, the warm Scarabia dorm suddenly started to snow -> and on their way here, the mirror room was hot like oven -> Crowley explains how temperatures in this school are kept by the fairies and they use a magic stone as a source of energy, so maybe something happened to the stone -> so they all went to check -> the stone was gone -> Crowley called for all dorm leaders for an emergency meeting

Crowley explained what happened -> Azul mentioned about the big fairy in the room -> Malleus “are you saying, that I, the next in line for bramble valley, will do some petty crime like this?” -> Azul apologized -> Kalim “nobody here think you did it, we just want you to tell us if you know anything related to the topic, anything about fairy.” -> Malleus mentions how he saw an unfamiliar fairy when he was taking a walk yesterday, it carries a rainbow color stone with them and was around botanical garden -> everyone headed towards there

The fairies are crowning a bigger fairy -> that tiara has the missing magic stone on it -> Malleus recognized the bigger fairy, that is the queen of fairy town, and if she’s outside in time like this, it’s likely that she has chosen NRC as the location for fairy gala -> Malleus also explains that fairy gala is when fairies dress up in elegant clothes and participates in a fashion show in celebration of spring -> Leona “fashion show? Don’t joke with me, let’s just take the magic stone now” -> Crowley disagree since he don’t want to anger the fairies that’s controlling the temperature of school -> since the celebration of fairy gala last around 3 months, if they don’t get the magic stone back, the school won’t be able to function for 3 months ->

Crowley “why do none of you look motivated!” -> Riddle “it’s not our job after all.” -> Vil “it should be you, the school principal’s job.” -> Crowley then announced that if this problem keeps going on for 3 months, everyone would have to repeat for a year -> no one want that to happen so they went back to brainstorm on how to get the stone back

Kalim “Malleus you are also a fairy right? How about you go and just ask them nicely?” -> Malleus ”there’s many different types of fairies, from thistle fairy to dragon fairy like me. Their size and languages are all different. And it’s not guaranteed that we get along, just like humans. Besides, if I just step in, the smaller fairies will probably run away in fear.” -> Leona “tsk, so useless... if we can’t do that, only way left is to take it by force right?” -> Azul “maybe there’s someway we can take it without being noticed?” -> Vil suggests to switch that tiara with a fake one -> since it’s a big event, it’ll be easy to sneak in too -> Crowley “sounds like a good idea, it would be nice if we can have something to disguise ourselves as fairies..” -> “IN STOCK NOW!” -> Sam says he heard about this from his friends on the other side so he brought some fairy dust, which is the power source for fairies in fairy town, so if we sprinkle it on, fairies would register us as part of them -> Crowley bought it with school budget -> now they are trying to decide who’s going to sneak in fairy gala -> Malleus mentions that fairy gala is the place where only upper level fairies gather -> Sam also said that he heard the theme of fairy gala this year is “exotic”

Kalim “what’s wrong? Is there anything on my face?”

Leona “hey, stop staring at me.”

Malleus “exotic to the fairy town... that will definitely be you two.”

Vil “yes, it would be rare for them to see werehumans or the culture of the desert.”

Azul “and no matter how much Leona has fallen, he’s still royal, and Kalim is the son of a rich family.”

Riddle “won’t that means they are used to parties like this?”

Idia “k the infiltration team would be Leona and Kalim, gg!”

-> Azul then left -> Malleus left too since he wasn’t invited in the first place -> Kalim happily took the position -> Leona refuses ->

Crowley “Kingscholar, if Asim failed and the spring won’t came, wouldn’t it bother you the most? As a feline, you won’t be able to use your full power if the winter just keeps going. Most of Savanaclaw students are werehuman too, and there’s a lot of them that can’t do anything if the temperature changes right? Savanaclaw’s power will go down greatly, are you... really okay with it?” -> Leona then agrees to join -> Kalim was excited and ask if he can bring Jamil -> Crowley agrees and suggest Leona to bring someone too, since he don’t want Leona to ditch halfway through -> Leona decided to bring Ruggie along -> Crowley called for you to work on it

In ramshackle -> both Jamil and Ruggie are complaining about Kalim and Leona drag them into troublesome things again -> but if they didn’t everyone has to repeat a year -> they finally stopped fighting and started to plan it out -> Kalim suggests to just use magic -> but fairies are really sensitive to magic, so it’ll fail right away

Ruggie “we are magicians but can’t use our magic, this feel so hopeless.”

Leona “i-diot, this is the reason why you are here, Ruggie.”

Ruggie “me?”

Leona “you’ll switch the tiara with the fake one... by using your hands, directly.”

Ruggie “...EEH!!!! ME!!???”

Ruggie mentions how it’s actually harder to steal something that’s on top of someone’s head like that -> Leona ask how many seconds do Ruggie need to do it -> Ruggie “15” -> Leona “make it 10” -> Ruggie “where did that 5 seconds go!!!” -> Leona “you could do it easily anyway” -> Ruggie “darn you see me right through” -> Ruggie “but if you can’t distract her, it’ll still be tough for me.” -> Kalim suggests to make a parade for distraction -> but only 4 people can get in the event -> Jamil suggests to do some performance to distract them on runway -> Grim and you has to support Ruggie -> so rest of them has to go on the show -> but all of them are super amateur at fashion shows -> Jamil says he has an idea

He brought Crewel and Vil -> then Crewel gives them some clothes ->

Vil ask them to show some walks, since no matter how pretty the clothes are, if the person’s posture are bad, it’s going to be a waste anyway

Vil “really... it’s surprising.”

Vil “you can actually walk this elegantly...”

Vil “...you did a great job, Jamil.”

Vil “Kalim too, your posture is really proper, is it because of the education at home?”

Kalim “is it? Hehe thanks, but I think it’s because we liked to dance.”

Jamil “Kalim has been learning the traditional dance since he was young, and I have an interest in street dance.”

Vil “compare to that... Leona, what’s with your lame walk. Your feet are dragging, your postures are wrong, and”

Vil then completely roasted Leona -> Crewel “for a bad puppy like Kingscholar, shouldn’t we teach him how to walk on twos first? Or else it would be the same as letting a new born kitten on runway.” -> in the end they decided that Leona is just going to do a walk while Kalim and Jamil doing dances to grab attentions -> and then the training starts

Vil commented on Kalim has beautiful moves but always make mistakes on swings, in comparison, Jamil made no mistake at all but it felt lacking because of it -> Leona on the other side, has vases full of water on his head and shoulders, he has to walk around the room without spill anything -> to make sure everyone can do great on runway and remember everything, Vil announced -> if they sit without Vil’s approval they’ll have to do 500 squats -> if Leona spills the water again, he’ll have to do wall sit for an hour -> if either one of Kalim and Jamil made a mistake they have to do three legged race around the school -> Leona “ordering us around like that... who do you think you are!?” -> Vil “I’m the world’s super model... Vil Schoenheit sama!!!!!”

And that’s all of the episodes so far, I can finally go check out Leona’s personal story now, he look so great and life is so great

[silver-embersss]

Broken Horns and Broken Hearts Chapter 10

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

TW for festival-typical violence, Techno shoots Tubbo, death etc.

Tubbo woke to someone shaking his shoulder frantically. Blearily, he opened his eyes to a half-asleep Tommy, who upon seeing he was awake let go of his shoulder to help him up.

“Tommy, what…?”

“Tubbo, if you don’t leave now Schlatt’s gonna start getting suspicious! Techno woke me up cos the festival’s gonna start in an hour and if you’re not there-”

The teen tripped over a chest in his hurry, slamming his elbow on the hard ground, but at least it helped him wake up a little.

Tubbo limped over to him, concerned, but Tommy just brushed it off, getting up and rummaging through the chest he’d just tripped over for something.

“Aha!”

He pulled out a rusty iron axe, and Tubbo shuddered at the memory of blood dripping down a wooden handle.

“Here-” Tommy shoved it into his hands before grabbing his arm to pull him up the narrow stairs.

When they reached the clearing outside Pogtopia, Tommy also gave him two stacks of logs.

“If anyone asks, you were getting wood and you got cornered by zombies, okay?”

Tubbo nodded, bewildered but waking up slowly. Tommy seized him in a quick hug then pushed him away, nodding one last time before disappearing back into the ravine. Tubbo used the rusty axe to slice through the brambles, not wanting a repeat of last night, and made his way back to Manburg, hoping and praying that he wasn’t too late.

Thankfully, Tubbo saw no-one on his way back to the White House, so he didn’t have to use Tommy’s poorly-constructed excuse, even if it was the best he could come up with on short notice. The teen had mentioned they had an hour until the festival, so Tubbo freshened up as best he could, wiping the mud and blood off of his skin and changing into a different suit. He re-wrapped the bandages around his horns, and ran over his speech a couple times, finishing up just as Quackity came to get him.

-------

“And now, I’m gonna put my protege, Tubbo, up on the mic, spit some bars, ya know?”

Tubbo saw Tommy’s face contort briefly in disgust at the word ‘protege’, even from where he stood on the rooftop overlooking the square.

There was silence for a moment and he and Schlatt swapped places, before the president sent them all a threatening glare and the crowd cheered reluctantly.

“Tell them how much you love the president!”

Quackity’s tone sounded friendly and encouraging, but it seemed fake somehow, with the hint of a threat behind it.

“Yeah, talk about how awesome I am!”

Schlatt agreed, grinning wolfishly at him.

The teen could have sworn he heard Techno call ‘Whoo, state secrets!’ from the crowd, and his suspicion was confirmed when Schlatt breathed in his ear:

“Tubbo do not give away any state secrets during this speech, I swear to god.”

Tubbo glanced apprehensively at them both before turning back to the mic with a nervous cough.

“Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen, I- I actually um, I’m, I’m too short to reach the microphone, so it doesn’t uh, do the thing like Schlatt…”

He continued with his lettuce analogy, inflating Schlatt’s ego when he talked about how the president had improved the country. Occasionally, the tyrant butted in to agree, but other than that there was silence throughout the crowd.

“...So with that in mind, I’d like to thank everyone for coming to this wonderful event-”

Tubbo broke off as Schlatt began to chuckle, the microphone picking up the laughter, making it echo across the square.

“W-What’s wrong, Mr. Schlatt?” The teen stammered, glancing up at Tommy for reassurance. This wasn’t part of the script.

“I was just thinking about something, Tubbo. You got anything left in the speech?”

“U-uh, n-no, no, um… let the festival begin, yeah!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tubbo saw Wilbur push past Tommy and flit like a ghost across the rooftops and out of sight.

Schlatt cleared his throat.

“Here, Quackity, help me do somethin’ real quick.”

The president and his fiance began to pile up yellow concrete around Tubbo, and in seconds he was trapped.

“M-Mr. Schlatt, what are you-”

The crowd began to mutter confusedly as the teen pushed against the fence post that blocked the entrance but kept him visible. He started to panic, and he could see Tommy doing the same. His voice trembled, but he tried to seem calm.

“S-Schlatt, uuuhhhh- what’s g-going on?!”

The president laughed again.

“I’ll cut to the fucking chase, alright Tubbo.

“Ya know it really sucks for me to say this in front of everybody- I mean it’s kind of awkward…”

“S-Schlatt, I- I can’t get out-”

He was focussed on the ram in front of him, baring his teeth in a grim parody of a smile.

“Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo. My son. I know what you’ve been up to.”

“What- what are you talking about-”

Schlatt turned to his audience, his laugh turning into a cackle.

“‘What have I been up to’, he says.”

“Schlatt, I- I’m actually- I’m actually t-trapped in here-”

He flinched when the tyrant turned to him with a yell, still addressing the crowd directly.

“HE HAS CONSPIRED, WITH THE IDIOTS! THE TYRANTS, THAT WE KICKED OUT OF THIS GREAT COUNTRY, MONTHS AGO!

“Tubbo I don’t know if you know this, but Treason isn’t exactly a respectable thing around here you know. It all adds up buddy! The absence for great events- I mean you walked off last night!”

Schlatt cackled again, a wild, crazy laugh.

“You know what happens to traitors, Tubbo?”

The teen shook his head, unable to speak.

“Nothing good.”

“Technoblade, you wanna come up here for a second?”

Quackity built The Blade a small ledge to stand on, and the piglin stood there awkwardly, just as confused as Tubbo was.

“Tubbo, as an enemy of the state”, Schlatt continued, “I think we need to send a little message, don’t we. Techno.”

The piglin glanced between the president and Tubbo, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead.

“What- What are you asking of me Mr. President?”

The dictator grinned.

“I want you to take care of him.”

“What, you want me to take out for dinner or somethin-”

“I don’t want you to take him out for dinner, Techno, I want you TO KILL HIM! RIGHT NOW! ON THIS FUCKING STAGE!

“And make it hurt!”

The crowd erupted in cries. Niki could be heard sobbing from the front row, and even Fundy called for Schlatt to reconsider.

“T-This is a high-stress situation, I deal with these poorly!”

Techno sweated.

Schlatt looked Tubbo dead in the eyes and leaned forward.

“We’re gonna do this again,” He muttered, so only Tubbo could hear.

“And we’re gonna do this right.”

Then he stepped back, looking Techno dead in the eye with a manic glee.

“So what’s it gonna be, Technoblade?”

The piglin glanced nervously between Schlatt and Tubbo. Then he focussed on the teen, loading his crossbow with the festival rockets.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry Tubbo, I’ll try to make it as painless and colourful as possible-”

“Techno what the hell?!” His voice cracked in fear as Schlatt’s laugh echoed around him. The box was too small, too cramped, and Techno was saying something as he levelled the rocket at his eyes but all he could hear was the laughter, that sick, twisted cackle and then the sound of a rocket being lit, too loud too loud-

He felt himself be thrown back against the blackstone seat, red, white and blue sparks dancing across his otherwise black vision. Faintly, as though underwater, he heard Tommy scream his name, over and over- everything hurt, his face, his arms where he’d held them up to ward off the blast, his ears, his horns-

Faintly, he felt himself be pulled into someone’s lap as the person - Tommy? - sobbed over him. He raised his hand as high as he could, and his best friend clutched it tight as he slipped away.

[yarrowleef]

Read Darkness Within all in one sitting last night and then passed out so here are my scattered thoughts i wrote down as i read, (afterthoughts in parenthesis)

Darkness Within Spoilers, obv

UGH GOD THE SECOND HAND EMBARRESMENT FROM SQUIRREL FAKE FLIRTING WITH ASHFUR IT HURTS

Just remembered Sandynose died and got a small boost of happiness (will Hawkwing and Plumwillow ever be allowed to talk again now? I mean probly not b/c they aren’t protags and non-protags don’t rly have friends but I can hope. Sorry, Hawkwhing and Plumwillow’s short-lived friendship in Hawkwings Journey was one of the last times I felt something)

Ghost fleas lol

Mothwing: i’m rude now. (but more importantly, Fuck Tigerheartstar for forcing his son to be around the cat that hurt him so badly, like he HAS to know how upset everyone is regarding Shadowsight and his accidentally helping the imposter, and he’s making him be the sole one to tend to him??? There is NO REASON Puddleshine couldn’t have done it. You think Puddleshine is going to try and murder someone?? )

Oh no don't make this a traveling book, and a ROOTBRISTLE traveling book this is going to be insufferable

BACON AND EGGS

Lightleap Is Good (Hey didn’t Shadowsight have another sister? lets be real we all knew Pouncekit was going to end up as the forgettable 3rd one)

Bristlefrost’s crush continues to feel unnatural to me. It’s like she’s grasping at straws romanticizing the most generic things.....wow....I love how ur just so...bare minimum competent....being polite to the loner we came all this way to ask for help like any somewhat reasonable person would....How admirable...I love the way you just *clenches fist* exhibit some basic traits of loyalty and skill that literally every warrior has (I s2g I’m this close to head canon-ing Bristle as a clueless aromantic who doesn't understand what romance is actually suppose to feel like so she just looks at feelings of low-bar admiration and assumes “oh I guess this is that “romantic attraction” everyone’s always talking about? guess I must be in love???” because both her crushes have felt out of nowhere and like. Idk fake/forced sounding like she’s just telling me that that she’s In Love Now while I continue to not actually feel it at all from her end. I know it’s just that I hate the way Erin’s write female characters in love but this head-canon makes me laugh)

Got scared because I thought they were going to villainize Spotfur for not wanting kits for a minute, but also excited at the concept of maybe exploring a female character that doesn’t want to be a mother, but it turns out she was just pulling a Sparkpelt and actually DID want the kits all along and was only hesitant because she’s sad. Shrug oh well.  (the only female character in warriors that was distinctly upset about pregnancy and motherhood was Lizardstripe and as we all know she was eeeeeevil and abusive and “overly ambitious” because why else would you not come around to being happy about motherhood?? YES I’M STILL SALTY ABOUT YELLOWFANG’S SECRET, BAD BOOK)  Whatever it’s fine so long as Spot doesn’t lose her rebel leader spirit forever and default to “soft mom” personality for the rest of her life, I gotta have hope because I actually like Bristle and Spot’s current relationship. Also I am actually very grateful they never made Bristle resentful at Spot for getting with her crush, as lots of middle grade/YA media has a very bad habit of demonizing female romantic “competition” and its super gross, so I rly do like that Bristlefrost is so protective and caring towards her instead. )

This series is trying to tell me that Rootspring is actually Big but I refuse to accept that. he has dumb scrawny bitch energy and we all know it

Sunrise: “Thunderclan may be better with a new leader” lol go off (i mean........they right tho...It’s unfortunate that the tension in this whole plot is a bit dampened by the fact that i DO in fact want bramble to die v badly. I don’t even have special hatred for him, I’m just bored of him.)

Yes Lionblaze beat the shit out of Ashfur

*HOLY SHIT THAT’S FUCKED!!!! (I wrote this in reference to the ghost summoning scene, this was all I could manage at the time, that scene was WILD and I am VIBING WITH THE HORROR OF IT ALL)

* Brashfur: Oh yeah? Could Ashfur fake THIS? *stands up with slightly better posture* Shadowsight: oh damn you got me there...... (asdfhhfhhgh im sorry that was really funny, how did that prove anything?? ONLY A ~REAL~ WARRIOR COULD STAND UP STRAIGHT WE ALL KNOW ASHFUR IS INCAPABLE OF GOOD POSTURE!)

End of the book: *LAUGHING NERVOUSLY* WHAT THE FUCK??? (I thought he was just gonna kill Squirrelflight right there holy shit can you imagine the RIOTS that would ensue in the wake of all this Squirrel/Bramble discourse I was so scared for a second.  

 But it’s fine, she just....went to super hell instead......Warriors has come so far lmao WHAT IS HAPPENING

Final Notes:

*On Mothwing, I don’t think her behavior struck me as “CHARACTER BUTCHERING” as much as it did for other people? I mean.....Warriors fans will say that literally any time a character does ANYTHING less then perfectly nice I think her actions just seemed that much harsher because we are reading from Shadowsight’s POV, and Shadowsight is taking everything 10x more personally right now (understandably so, but Mothwing isn’t inside his head) she wasn’t trying to hurt him. Also... like... Shadowsight DID get his name too early. It’s not Mothwing’s job to put his feelings above everything else, she’s not even his mentor, Puddleshine on the other hand, as his main mentor, I don’t understand what his deal is ignoring Shadowsight, that’s not how you help an apprentice but I suppose I chalk many of his mistakes up to also not being the most experienced medicine cat (he barely even had his own mentor.) Maybe he’s distant because he feels guilty and actually blames himself for not guiding Shadowsight better?? the two of them haven’t communicated about it yet so idk

 any way I give Mothwing a pass to be a little short tempered right now as a cat who has had her abilities periodically questioned all her life no matter how hard she works or how much experience she has, just because she doesn’t vibe with the spiritual cult side of the clans, I can understand why she’s a bit defensive of being questioned and frustrated watching so much hurt happen Yet Again due to reliance on StarClan visions over common sense, and I for one still stan her for slandering StarClan and refusing to accept Mistystar’s bullshit banishing like everyone else. Sometimes a character is at the end of their rope and can’t manage to be 100% nice 24/7 and that’s maybe not inherently bad writing? idk just my hot take. At a certain point we all gotta reckon with the fact that our perception of most popular supporting characters in heavily colored by fanon and we can’t always get mad at the authors for not adhering to it

*The sisters magic shit is my fav worldbuilding warriors has had in AGES, I love the way it’s described and it actually feels like it adds something to this world. I love this horror imagery with the ghosts, very excited for that. 

*still won’t be thrilled if Ashfur is working alone, because his motive doesn’t make sense right now. I mean the trying to get Squilf thing, sure, whatever, but the “I will make everyone pay for what they did to me”???? cause like?? Who??? they didn’t do anything to him?? Ashfur’s grievance was very specifically JUST Squilf. He has no other cause for revenge, he had no other beef or complaints about the clans to my knowledge? The cat that killed him is dead, and she’s like, the only other one that I could see as having “wronged” him?? I guess he also didn’t like Firestar much according to Graystripe’s Vow (and on account of how willing he was to kill him w/ Hawkfrost) but Firestar is ALSO dead. I don’t understand his angle. Will have to see last 2 books to judge i suppose.

*All in all I am interested to see where this is going!! but also the pacing as I feared is becoming a major issue. It’s better then ending the main conflict on book 3 like Vision of Shadows did, but omg. Hardly anything happened in all these pages. I realized I was over half way through and nothing about the situation had actually CHANGED or advanced at all in all that time. Similar to the past 2 books which I believe could have been combined, this plot felt like it should have been the first half of a book. Discussing whether or not to kill the imposter isn’t much of a standalone plot, it’s just the set up to a plot. Finding the sisters didn’t need to be a whole long thing, the debates about the Imposters fate didn’t need to be repeated 10 times, all those chapters illustrating that “Shadowsight is sad” were also drawn out, repetitive, and interchangeable, we probably only needed 2 or so chapters showing his struggles to get the necessary information across. It felt like a lot of padding, it was really slow and I did a lot of skimming. I am still very interested in the overarching plot and mystery behind the ghosts so that kept me reading but man this “will they won’t they kill him” plot did not justify it’s own whole book. Alas this is a persisting issue that will never be resolved while they continue to force 6 books into 1 series that doesn’t need 6 books. I’m sure the writers are doing the best they can with these unfortunate constraints but still, it’s a wonder this slow padding isn’t more of a detriment to their younger readers that the books are supposed to be marketed to.