#but if he were a red tabby he’d be a natural ginger

[pizzacrustdisposal]

Thinkin about one of my catboy OCs

[missing-sock-misto]

I love that the humans named Misto Dante, it’s such a good concept. Do you have any human family names for the other cats?

(This ask is referencing the tags of this post)

So, for some context-

@thunderwhenhepurrs got super into mafia stuff a while back and developed some OCs and a story. So we played around with a crossover where their characters; Ella (a modern girl with time travel powers) and Damiano (a 1920’s mafia don learning to get out of the business), adopted Misto and Tugger.

Long way of saying all the names have an Italian flavor.

We made some stories and drabbles that were a lot of fun but just never got put on Ao3 cause the legwork of getting people to know who the OCs were was too high.

But:

Dante- a dainty all black cat who showed up one day and got adopted by the pair. Damiano is certain he is actually a demon in cat skin, Ella is blissfully oblivious to anything supernatural (she has a history of adopting not fully normal cats, so she just thinks it’s all normal behavior, and that Damiano is being superstitious. It doesn’t help that Dante makes a game of only doing supernatural things (climbing on walls & ceilings, turning into a black ooze) when Damiano is looking, and then being perfectly cute and innocent as soon as Ella turns around. The two have formed a mutual alliance- I give you tuna, you don’t eat my soul. Win win.)

Romeo- A huge brown tabby maine coon who shows up one day and insists that this house is his too. At first, the pair are scared that he’d be a danger to their cats, and prevent him from entering, but eventually the tom makes it inside the house. The humans are surprised to find the tom draped over the sofa like a small lion, enthusiastically grooming the normally aloof Dante. They decide that the cat distribution system is at work and won’t take no for an answer.

Caesar- A massive ginger maine coon with amber eyes owned by Damiano’s don rival, Juliano. (Because, he is exactly the type of guy who would call their cat Caesar when his own name is “little Julius”). Despite how expensive Caesar must have been, Juliano shows a general disregard for the cat, allowing it to roam the streets and get matted and dirty. It’s got a strange aura to it, fire crackling behind a closed door. It is a nasty surprise when the pair are disturbed in modern times by a strangely similar looking cat stalking their house.

Leonardo- the brother or cousin of Romeo, as far as the humans can determine. He’s an intelligent silver tabby maine coon, and as such is named after Leonard da Vinci. Romeo will tease him whenever he stops by, bapping him in the face before running away.

Papà Paffuto- Plump Papa. He’s more fluff than cat, and Romeo turns into a kitten whenever he’s around. A sweet elderly cat, he loves basking in the sun and sleeping.

.

Damiano’s friend, a Jewish mobster, also has a couple of cats.

Adina- meaning ‘gentle’ in hebrew, she is a skittish cat, terrified of strangers, but with a kind nature.

Aviva- the kitten of Adina, her name means Springtime. She has longer fur than her mother, with the tips of maine coon ears starting to form. She is sweet and inquisitive.

Malka- meaning Queen in hebrew, a gorgeous red somali cat who is fiercely protective of Adina and Aviva.

Thank you for asking! Writing this universe, where the humans actually mattered in the instead of being a faceless backdrop, was really fun! It’s nice to be able to talk about it!

[gregrulzok]

Hypnosis Mic X Beastars

Weird concept? Yes. Result of two of my hyperfixations clashing? Also yes.

Buster Bros!!!

Ichiro Yamada - Belgian Malinois.

Dogs just felt right for Buster Bros!!! as a whole. Malinois are tough, protective, loyal and intelligent, which seemed to suit them all. Ichiro would have black and tan fur.

Jiro Yamada - Belgian Malinois.

Same as his brothers - a boisterous and protective Malinois. Jiro would have entirely black fur, and often stick his tongue out.

Saburo Yamada - Belgian Malinois.

Same as his brothers - an intelligent Malinois that stirs up trouble when not properly entertained. Saburo's fur would be entirely tan.

MAD TRIGGER CREW

Samatoki Aohitsugi - Arctic Fox.

A vicious, effective hunter and predator. The entirely white fur seemed natural for Samatoki, though I do think he'd have black markings around his face.

Jyuto Iruma - Black Jackrabbit.

Obviously enough, derived from his MC name. Black fur was necessary to suit his aesthetic, but I chose a Jackrabbit specifically so that he'd be a little bit bigger and reasonably capable of combat.

Rio Mason Busujima - Cougar.

I asked myself "what's the most American animal I could reasonably see living in a forest", and though Bald Eagle was tempting, it felt a bit too on the nose. Instead I chose cougars which I think suit his color pallet, aswell.

Fling Posse

Ramuda Amemura - Fennec Fox.

Underneath their tiny, unassuming appearances, Fennecs are actually some of the most vicious animals and effective hunters. I honestly couldn't think of anything better for Ramuda!

Gentaro Yumeno - Red Fox.

Obviously enough, an animal associated with deception in not only Western, but Eastern cultures as well. This honestly seemed a bit too perfect to pass up on. Ideally his fur would be a bit darker to match his hair.

Dice Arisugawa - Domestic Shorthair.

Just a cat, nothing more nothing less. A street cat living a street cat life style. I imagine him as a classic light gray tabby, because street cats don't come in that nice blue colour that I think would suit him.

Matenro

Jakurai Jinguji - Northwestern Wolf.

Derived from the fact that wolves are Matenro's mascot animal. Northwestern wolves are the largest species of wolves which seemed fitting with his size. His fur would be a nice gray-black and probably very long.

Hifumi Izanami - Golden Retriever.

I couldn't pass up the opportunity to make him the bounciest, most extroverted dog breed I could think of. When hosting though, he turns into the perfect poised and proper show dog, how fitting!!

Doppo Kannonzaka - Maine Coon.

I debated making Doppo a dog but I couldn't find any that I thought captured his character. Besides, being a cat in a dog-heavy team would probably contribute to his feeling out of place. Maine Coons can look soft and docile one moment and be rambunctious the next, which I think suited him. He's probably a dark ginger color with very mattes fur.

Dotsuitare Hompo

Sasara Nurude - Kea.

If you didn't know, a Kea is a type of parrot. Parrot Sasara made too much sense in my head not to use it, so I chose one with nice green feathers. Kea also have golden feathers on the undersides of their wings, which I thought he could use as a makeshift fan.

Rosho Tsutsujimori - Sandfish Skink.

It didn't feel right making Sasara a non-mammal and making Rosho a mammal, so I chose a reptile for him instead, thinking it would play into his nervousness around others due to the discrimination. Sandfish Skinks hide themselves in the sand, which I thought would be funny given his stage fright.

Rei Amayado - Tibetan Mastiff.

Obviously the temptation was there to make Rei a snake, but for one I didn't figure he could very well use a mic without any arms. On the other hand, I wanted to make him the same species as the Yamada brothers for wink-wink-nudge-nudge reasons, without making him the same species. He has far too much fur and is jet-black.

Bad Ass Temple

Kuko Harai - Sable.

I definitely wanted Kuko to be something weasel like - similarly to Ramuda, small and possibly unassuming, but actually very aggressive and territorial animals. Sables just happened to be the cutest and have a large population in Japan, so here we are.

Jyushi Aimono - White-necked Raven.

This is honestly the one I have the least explanation for. It just feels right in my gut, what with the symbolism surrounding Ravens.

Hitoya Amaguni - Racoon Dog.

Right up until the last second I had him as a bear, but as I was writing the explanation, the idea to make him a tanuki flew into my mind. In folklore, Tanuki would often impersonate authority figures to manipulate humans, and the thought of a Tanuki lawyer seems too good to pass up.

Additional

All members of Dirty Dawg were made canine on purpose, even if something else seemed more tempting or made more sense (like Horse Samatoki or Black-Footed Cat Ramuda).

I can't decide if herbivores would take the place of women in this AU or if it stays the same. For the time being just assume that Nemu is a fox while the rest of Chuugoku are herbivores, and that Hifumi has a fear of both, I suppose.

I'd imagine Ramuda and Kuko maybe dying parts of their fur to keep those aspects of their designs. Also all the piercings and such stay where they are.

Obviously some heights drastically change with this. Personally, the idea of a massive mastiff walking around behind a tiny parrot and a skink is really funny to me.

Please god please feel free to add on or correct or discuss I'm starving for someone to talk to about this.

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Three: Chapter Four

(AO3 counterpart here.)

He had always seen it.

The Runagate was correct about sleep; little Greykit was afraid to shut his eyes because it would come. Every night – or at least almost every night – he’d wake up in a panic, unable to comprehend, unable to explain to his mother or brother. He never wanted to talk about it, anyway. He didn’t even want to talk about it now.

It haunted him, sometimes, when he was awake. He couldn’t do anything correctly the first time. He was always scared. His ribs strained against his skin underneath the fluff of his pelt because even looking at the prey with a white star on its head made him want to vomit. He shivered when tales were told of ghosts and ancestors. Nettlecloud and Mistpaw were supportive and gentle, but they didn’t understand. No one did. No one could.

To occupy his mind and block the fear in a corner where it couldn’t reach his eyes, he dove into his training when he became an apprentice. He wasn’t good at hunting or fighting, but he stayed focused and practiced all he could, to the point of avoiding sleep for more than just the nightmares. It wasn’t until Nettlecloud got sick and a healer named Finchberry dropped by that he found something that genuinely excited him.

In no time, he became a healer’s apprentice, and he knew that it wasn’t a glamorous position. That was fine. The less attention, the better. Besides, he could keep cats alive longer with his skills.  

He didn’t know precisely what he was seeing, all this time, but something terrified him about death, far more than any other cat.

Except one.

There was a night, halfway through Greypaw’s apprenticeship, where he finally could not keep his eyes open any longer and fell into an uneasy slumber. He saw it again, and prepared to run, like he always did. But some instinct stopped him, froze him in his tracks. Without knowing why, he looked to his left.

Something thin and dark hid in one of the few places with shadows. It looked like a cat, even if it was a bit too long and nearly see-through.

Greypaw opened his mouth, grateful to have someone to talk to at last, but the dark thing lifted a paw and held it, unseen pads out. Hush. Say nothing.

Greypaw looked around nervously. It wasn’t paying attention to him.

He slowly turned and moved for the shadows, his paws landing on semi-firm ground. His fur prickled with fear, as it always did. But this was much better than it.

You’re a hard one to reach, they whispered, when he had gotten close enough. You who sees through the veil. Seems barely anything can get to you.

“Who are you?” Greypaw whispered back. “Can- can you rescue me? Can you stop this? I see this so often, I just…”

I hold hardly any power here, Greypaw. The silhouette’s vaguely-there eyes shut. It’s a miracle I’m talking to you to begin with. Now hark. I have something to show you.

They turned and started off at a trot, tail beckoning. Greypaw spared another glance backwards – he was still safe – and followed. The shadows swallowed them, a temporary sanctuary. Greypaw sagged with relief at the sensation of cool air and soft ground under his paws.

“Where are we?” Greypaw kept his voice low, in case it could hear still. “Do you know what I’m seeing?”

You see StarClan as it truly is, they said. You see a hungry thing pretending to be your afterlife.

Greypaw stopped. “Then…then it’s eating what I thought it was eating?”

A single nod.

Greypaw knew that he shouldn’t believe a figment of his imagination proclaiming something as bold, as sacrilegious as this, but he knew it was the truth. Thousands of things he had seen throughout his life became clear as the blue sky – the wailing starry cats, the prey dangling lifelessly in front of him, the lighted forms cracking in pieces and being shoved into those bodies, everything. He understood with perfect clarity.

“Aspects help us,” he said, shaking.

They cannot help us as things are. Their words were flippant, but their voice was sympathetic. It falls on us to do something. To spread the word. To save the Clan.

Greypaw still trembled, but he looked up. “You and I?”

You and I, they said, and stepped aside. And her.

Greypaw paused his walking. Ahead of them was the faintest outline of a stone forest…or perhaps just many piles of rocks. The stars were gone, but the moon fought its way through the fog and lit the stone structures just enough for Greypaw to make out another form.

A tall, red-brown molly stood in the center of the structures.

Their eyes met and widened. The molly started walking forward, stiff and alarmed.

This is all I can do, the silhouette said, as if in pain. For now, the rest is up to you. I’ve given you the link. Find-

A roar, a crash of boulders, a groan of trees, and Greypaw awoke.

His mentor, Finchberry, stood above him. She had a paw on his shoulder, like she had shaken him.

“You alright, lad?” she asked, gaunt face unusually concerned.

Greypaw wanted to curse her for waking him up, just as he wasn’t scared for his life for once. He instead blinked blearily at her. “I’m- I’m fine. Was I-?”

“You were twitching all over and mumbling,” Finchberry said. “I know you get the bad dreams, but I’ve never seen you like that. Looked like a seizure, almost.”

Greypaw’s eyes drifted to look at nothing. “Huh.”

He did not sleep again that night, as much as he wanted to. It surprised him, and amused him a little, that for once he looked forward to it.

He only saw that molly two times again – once more as an apprentice, and once after receiving his name and heading to work for the leaders. Both times started and ended the same: the stones, the meeting of eyes, the attempt to move forward, to speak, then being jerked back awake. Greyleaf hated it. He wanted to talk with this cat, whoever she was. He wanted to know someone else - someone physical and real - saw what he saw. He wanted whatever clarity he could get.

It took a while before he got it. That day, he was examining Cedarstar, who complained of a fever, cough, and shivers. Two other leaders sat nearby: Phoebestar of the Fleet and Fernstar of the Clast. They had wanted to stay nearby and observe their comrade in case it was something severe. Greyleaf half-listened to their conversation as they waited for him to be done.

“You don’t intend to replace Viceroyclaw, do you?” Phoebestar was saying. “With one as young as that?”

“Of course not.” Fernstar blinked slowly and dryly. “I just have enough confidence in her that if something happens, she’ll be ready to come here.”

“She’s only been deputy for a year, though-“ started Cedarstar, interrupted by a cough.

“Try not to speak,” Greyleaf said. “Let me see your throat, please.”

Cedarstar lifted her chin up. Greyleaf put his ear to her throat and listened for a wet sound.

“She’s an incredible molly, don’t get me wrong,” Phoebestar said. “But she’s barely out of the nursery. You already promoted her so early, and you haven’t heard from her about anyone that can replace her.”

“She still remains an option,” Fernstar said, in a clipped tone like she didn’t enjoy being questioned by her juniors. “You’ve met her, Cedarstar, haven’t you?”

“When we went down to that pile of stones you call a camp.” Cedarstar grinned.

Greyleaf paused. He quickly remembered himself and lifted his head, now sniffing along her body, ears perked.

“It serves its purpose as well as any other family settlement, and we protect all of you from stray bullies and rogues.” Fernstar made an exaggerated ‘so-there’ nod. “You could appreciate the houses, at least.”

“Just not quite a mountain forest,” Cedarstar replied, and coughed again. “Sorry, Greyleaf.”

It took Greyleaf a moment to realize he was being talked to. He cleared his throat. “You’re fine, ma’am.” He tried to sound natural as he added, “Who is this deputy you’re talking about?”

“She’s called Redheart,” Phoebestar said. “She serves the Clast. About your age, actually.”

Thank goodness that he was facing away from everyone, because his eyes were as round as the moon.

Red. Stones. His age.

But…no. Red- was for a regular ginger cat, not that roan color.

Still…

“Sounds familiar, actually,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “Has she been here before? Some ginger tabby?”

“No,” Fernstar said. “You wouldn’t have met her. She’s red-brown and she never leaves the family for long, if she can help it.”

Hope flared in Greyleaf’s chest.

“She’s going to that Coterie, though, isn’t she?” Phoebestar asked, oblivious to Greyleaf’s fur fluffing out a little.

“It’s close by the camp.” Fernstar did not appear to notice either. “She’d be gone for half a day, maximum. That’s as much as she’ll tolerate.”

“Good for her to get out more. Help expand her horizons.”

Fernstar sighed. “StarClan knows she’ll need it in time.”

“Coterie?” Greyleaf winced at how loud his voice sounded in the hollow den. “Where?”

“Near where you lived, actually,” Phoebestar said. She had a knowing look in her eye and Greyleaf prayed under his breath was just something surface-level.

“Huh,” he said. “That’s- that sounds nice.”

Phoebestar seemed a little amused. “I can tell you want to go, Greyleaf.”

Greyleaf held his breath.

“You’d like to see your family, I assume,” Fernstar said.

He quietly let go of the breath. “I would, yes. It’s been a while.” He remembered Cedarstar and hastened, “But if you’re sick, I shouldn’t-“

“We’ve got herbs here,” Cedarstar said. “You can take a couple days off, if you’d like. What plants do I eat for this?”

Greyleaf straightened up, calmer in familiar territory. “Well, feverfew and lavender are my recommendations. Both are good to stop the chills and fever. The cough should subside with that for a bit.” He dreaded the answer, but he still went with the polite question. “If you’re sure you’ll be alright…”

“I will,” Cedarstar promised. “And I know what to take. I’ll be fine until you come back.”

Greyleaf managed to not sigh in relief. “Is Beetlefoot here, then? I’d like to let my family know I’ll be there.”

“He’ll be happy for something to do.” Fernstar smiled a bit. “I’ve heard him muttering under his breath about restlessness and ‘lazing about’.”

“I’ll find him for you,” said Phoebestar, and she got up and trotted off into the tunnels.

Greyleaf continued his work, asking questions and giving advice, his mind totally separate from his body.

Redheart, he thought. It has to be her. Please, aspects, let it be her.

[ailuronymy]

Guest Warriors-ify: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Hello there! I’ve got a Warriors-ify for you for one of my favorite games. Specifically, I’m going with the war-phase since I find that’s easiest to translate. Let’s go!

(Warning: There are some spoilers! I’ll try to avoid major ones, but still.)

WindClan (the Church of Seiros)

Leader: Lilystar (Rhea) - White she-cat with light grey spots on her head and tail. At the beginning of the war within the clans, she went missing. Her deputy has been acting in her place. She’s calm and devout in her belief in StarClan, and has led WindClan for many moons.

Deputy: Lizardstep (Seteth) - A grey-brown tabby tom with sharp green eyes. He’s been acting as WindClan’s leader since Lilystar’s disappearance, but refuses to take his nine lives because he still believes she’s alive. He’s known for being stern and strict, but much softer than he seems on the inside. He’s constantly fretting over his daughter, Minnowcloud.

Medicine Cats:

Minnowcloud (Flayn) - A light grey tabby she-cat with the same sharp green eyes as her father, Lizardstep. In the turmoil that lead up to the war, there was a conflict between WindClan and ShadowClan which started because one of their warriors attacked her while she was gathering herbs. Even in the times of war, she is bright and cheery, and does her best for her clan.

Fawnface (Manuela) - A light brown she-cat with long, silky fur. She’s a notorious flirt and a bit vain about her beauty, but a good soul deep down. She was Minnowcloud’s mentor and got severely wounded trying to protect her from ShadowClan’s attack.

Warriors:

Beetleclaw (Shamir) - A sleek black she-cat with lots of thin scars. Was a rogue before joining WindClan after owing Lilystar a debt, and stayed after bonding with the other cats - particularly Cedarpelt and Leopardclaw. She’s known as a fierce and stern warrior who runs across the moors with enviable stealth. Was Antfur’s mentor.

Leopardclaw (Catherine) - A large long-furred golden she cat with nicked ears. Lilystar herself once saved Leopardclaw’s life during her apprenticeship, and as a result holds a deep adoration for her, and has led many searches to find her. She’s good friends with Beetleclaw, and the two often patrol and fight together.

Cedarpelt (Alois) - A stocky brown tabby tom with a jovial demeanor. Was mentored by Larchfang, a well-respected senior warrior who ended up supposedly dying in a forest fire moons ago - but really, he’d run off to become a rogue. Despite what many would consider a betrayal, he still holds a lot of respect for Larchfang. He also tells a lot of awful, awful jokes.

Fogwhisker (Hanneman) - A lanky grey tabby tom and a senior warrior of WindClan. He’s inquisitive and intelligent, always trying to learn more about the world. Whenever he’s not satisfying his curiosity, he’s likely bickering with Fawnface, whom he’s never quite gotten along with - though the two do care about each other deep down… probably.

Antfur (Cyril) - A small dark brown tabby tom. He’s one of the youngest WindClan warriors, and was adopted into the clan by Lilystar after he was found abandoned as a kit. He was so grateful for the rescue that he’s devoted himself to being the best warrior he can for Lilystar’s sake. He’s determined and focused, and often takes on extra tasks around camp to lessen the workload of others.

Rowanpelt (Gilbert) - A bulky ginger tom with old battle scars. Alongside Fogwhisker, he’s one of the oldest warriors in the clan. He was actually originally a ThunderClan cat, but after feeling as though he failed Lionstar, the current leader (who was an apprentice at the time) he enforced a self-exile on himself, leaving his daughter behind. Eventually, Lilystar took him in.

ThunderClan (the Blue Lions)

Leader: Lionstar (Dimitri) - A large, ragged-furred golden tom littered with scars and missing an eye. He was once a mild-mannered and kind young tom, but trauma from his youth weighed down on his mind, until the outbreak of the war caused him to snap. He is violent and irritable, and has a cynical view of himself and the world. To make matters worse, he often suffers from vivid nightmares and even some hallucinations.

Deputy: Boulderpelt (Dedue) - A large and muscular dark tabby tom with a white underbelly and scarred pelt. He was born into a band of rogues that lead an assault on ThunderClan, and was originally going to be killed alongside them. However, seeing that he was too young to be a part of the attack, Lionstar (then Lionpaw) shielded him from harm. He is quiet and stern, and cares deeply for Lionstar, even though he’s become a shadow of his former self.

Medicine Cat: Dawnleaf (Mercedes) - A long furred cream tabby she-cat with a calm demeanor. She was originally born in ShadowClan, but after ThunderClan was left without a medicine cat, she volunteered to take over. She was nearly finished with her apprenticeship at the time, and thus was qualified to work on her own. She left behind a brother, whom she still misses dearly…

Warriors:

Greywhisker (Ashe) - A small grey spotted tabby tom. He’s kind and empathetic, and believes strongly in the values of a warrior, such as honor and loyalty. He enjoys telling stories to apprentices, as he memorized them all as a kit. He bonded closely with an elder during his apprenticeship, who became like a surrogate family member after his parents died of greencough, but that elder was killed during a battle with WindClan when he insisted on joining the battle.

Reedstorm (Ingrid) - A lithe, muscular golden tabby she-cat. She’s serious and even strict at times, but overall good-natured - and a big eater. She spent her apprenticeship with Nightclaw and Wasptail, and cares about them both deeply; even if they get on her nerves constantly. Like Greywhisker, she believes strongly in the values of a warrior, and is very disciplined in her duties. She fell in love with Nightclaw’s brother during her apprenticeship, but he was killed during the rogue attack. She still blames Boulderpelt for it, even though she knows it’s not his fault

Nightclaw (Felix) - A skinny black cat with copper eyes. Despite his thin frame, he’s deceptively strong and quick on his feet, and is a terror on the battlefield. Though he’s a capable warrior, he’s foul-natured, rude, and doesn’t get along with many other cats. Wasptail and Reedstorm are the only cats he opens up around, and even then he’s still quite cagey. He was once very close to Lionstar, and often expresses his utter revulsion at what a beast his old friend has become. He has repressed a lot of feelings about the death of his brother during his apprenticeship.

Wasptail (Sylvain) - A fiery ginger tom with long fur. He’s a bit on the lazy side, and annoyingly flirtatious with every she-cat (and even the occasional tom) that crosses his path. Despite acting like he’s incompetent, he’s actually incredibly gifted in both hunting and fighting. His brother was a traitor who went off to join a pack of rogues, who were then all killed in a later battle. He has… a lot of repressed feelings about all of that.

Daisycloud (Annette) - A little ginger she-cat with a stumpy tail. She’s bubbly and energetic, often boosting the spirits of others regardless of the dismal situation. Dawnleaf is her best friend, and she looks up to her a lot. Because of this, she’s actually picked up some basic knowledge of medicine. Her father, Rowanpelt, left ThunderClan moons ago, and she dreams of one day reuniting with him.

ShadowClan (the Black Eagles)

Leader: Eaglestar (Edelgard) - A black she-cat with fur that has been slowly patching over with white (vitiligo). She is headstrong and calculative, and was the first leader to declare war on the other clans. Her motivations for doing so are not entirely clear, but are certainly more complex than a simple grab for territory. She is often blamed for the disappearance of Lilystar, but has confessed to nothing. Despite receiving nine lives from them, she has little devotion to StarClan, and considers them to be cruel and uncaring entities.

Deputy: Raventail (Hubert) - A long-furred smoke tabby tom. He’s a sly, stealthy warrior with an eerie aura about him, and often takes care of Eaglestar’s dirty work in the shadows. He’s incredibly devoted to her, and is a feared warrior on the battlefield. Like Eaglestar, his true intentions are unknown.

Medicine Cat: Snailcloud (Linhardt) - A long-legged dark grey tabby tom. He’s devoted to his work, sure, but he’s also infamously lazy and prefers to sleep. The only thing that gets him to wake up consistently is the opportunity to learn more about the affects of medicine herbs on other cats. His kithood friend, Pebblestorm, is often his test subject.

Warriors:

Rushheart (Ferdinand) - A long-furred golden tom. He’s a bit vain and arrogant - actually, very vain and arrogant - but it doesn’t come from a place of malice. Really, he’s just overly confident as well as a bit socially awkward, and truly means well. He considers himself Eaglestar’s rival, which she doesn’t quite reciprocate.

Pebblestorm (Caspar) - A stocky blue-gray tom. Despite his small size, he’s incredibly strong, and has a fiery determination in battle. This often leads to him being hotheaded and impulsive, though. He’s close friends with Snailcloud, despite their opposing personalities, and often tags along when gathering herbs (even though he thinks it’s boring).

Rain Falling on Stones / “Rain” (Petra) - A dark red she-cat from a distant mountain tribe. She’s polite and respectful, but often lost when it comes to the customs of clan cats. Still, she’s determined to understand this new and bizarre world of cats she’d been thrust into, and she’s going to make the most of it. She’s known throughout the clans for being able to hunt large predator birds, such as hawks and eagles.

Robinface (Dorothea) - A brown tortoiseshell she-cat known for her good looks and (a skill rare among cats) having a beautiful singing voice. She’s a smooth-talker, a bit of a flirt, and can be surprisingly cynical at times. She briefly trained to be a medicine cat, in which she met and began to look up to Fawnface, the WindClan medicine cat. However, when tensions between the clans started to rise, she decided to return to the role of a warrior.

Mousestep (Bernadetta) - A small tortoiseshell tabby she-cat with white paws. She’s a bit of a recluse, and painfully shy, but this has lead to her being one of the stealthiest cats in ShadowClan (a feat in itself, considering that ShadowClan is known for stealth) and being unintentionally a very well-respected warrior. Still, those who know her personally know that she’s really a nervous wreck.

Palefang (Jeritza) - A broad-shouldered cream-colored tom with mask-like white markings on his face. He was separated from his sister, Dawnleaf, after she was called to be ThunderClan’s medicine cat. He became a cold warrior and a menace on the battlefield. Many cats think of him as cruel or dishonorable, as he lead the attack on Minnowcloud and Fawnface.

RiverClan (the Golden Deer)

Leader: Deerstar (Claude) - A light brown tabby tom with a white chest and paws. On the surface, he seems like an amicable airhead. However, those who know him more personally know he’s a cunning warrior and a brilliant strategist. He uses RiverClan’s watery territory to his advantage to stay out of the war as much as possible, not wanting to risk his own cats for the sake of another clan’s conflict. 

Deputy: Rosecloud (Hilda) - A light ginger - almost pink - she-cat. She’s an incredibly strong warrior, despite her dainty appearance, though she’s often lazy and unmotivated. Many cats questioned why Deerstar would appoint her as a deputy, but he has his own reasons. Meanwhile, she takes a lot of joy in having the authority to boss other cats around.

Medicine Cat: Rainfur (Marianne) - A blue-gray she-cat with dark-rimmed eyes. She’s known for her gloomy disposition and almost repentant devotion to StarClan - despite not really doing anything wrong. Cruelty she faced as a kit and young apprentice ingrained in her a belief that she was going to grow up to be a cruel and horrible cat. Still, she’s dedicated to her duties as a medicine cat.

Warriors:

Violetwhisker (Lorenz) - A grey-brown tabby tom. He’s incredibly vain and often questions Deerstar’s authority. He believes the clan should be more involved in the war, as they could stand to have much to gain. He’s uptight and self-absorbed, and seems to believe that simply being around him is a blessing.

Lightfur (Lysithea) - A tiny, long-furred white she-cat with odd pink eyes. She’s always been sickly, and can’t go out often in bright sunlight due to problems with her skin and eyes. Though she can’t properly fight due to her health, she has a brilliant mind and is a capable fisher. Marianne has offered to give her medicine cat training several times, however she has always adamantly refused, not wanting to be seen as ‘weak’.

Foxpelt (Leonie) - A wiry ginger she-cat. She’s incredibly passionate and determined and once idolized a former WindClan senior warrior, Larchfang. She can be a bit blunt at times, maybe even rude, but she’s truly a passionate and driven warrior.

Goldenfur (Raphael) - A giant, muscular golden tabby tom with long fur. He’s a gentle giant, incredibly good-natured, and loves nothing more than food and training. Well, nothing more other than his little sister, who he dotes on constantly. He lost his parents in an accident when he and his sister were young, but he doesn’t let the tragedy get him down.

Hazelwhisker (Ignatz) - A skinny, light brown tabby tom. He’s one of the few cats in all of the clans to take an interest in art, and often sneaks away from camp to arrange pebbles and other objects in pleasing patterns. He’s a bit ashamed of this hobby, however, as he feels it’s not befitting of a warrior.

Cats outside of clans:

Ash (Byleth) - A blue-gray rogue, child of the former WindClan warrior, Larchfang. They joined one of the clans as an adult, but mysteriously vanished after the war started…

Blade / Larchfang (Jeralt) - A large brown tabby tom who left WindClan after he started growing suspicious of Lilystar’s intentions. He fled with his only kit, shortly after the death of his mate, and raised them outside of the clans. Unfortunately, he was eventually found and brought back in. He and his kit are both gone now, however…

Cherry (Anna) - A reddish-brown she cat who wanders the land, always somehow finding strange trinkets that she tries to trade with other cats…

[BONUS] SkyClan (the Ashen Wolves)

Leader: Sootstar (Aelfric) - A dark grey-brown tom well-liked for his gentle, polite demeanor and many acts of charity to cats outside of SkyClan. His clan is the most welcoming to outsiders, likely because many of its current members were once outsiders themselves.

Deputy: Smoketail (Yuri) - A lithe, graceful gray tom with silky fur. Born to a rogue long before joining SkyClan, Smoketail has traveled far and lived in many different places, despite still being rather young. He’s a bit slippery and a bit too cunning for his own good, and has lived through many things he’s reluctant to talk about.

Medicine Cat: Dapplefur (Constance) - A pale tortoiseshell she-cat. She’s a bit cocky and arrogant at times, and talks much bigger than she has to, but she’s really alright in the end. Rambles a lot about 'restoring her family’s legacy’, whatever that means. However, there are times in which she acts like a completely different cat, becoming shy and downtrodden.

Warriors:

Bearfang (Balthus) - A bulky black and white tabby tom. He’s a loudmouth and often overconfident and hotheaded. He often rushes into battle without much regard for the situation, much to the chagrin of Smoketail. He joined SkyClan after getting in trouble with a band of Twolegplace rogues. Once upon a time, he knew a couple of RiverClan cats - Including Rosecloud and her family.

Redwhisker (Hapi) - A long furred red tabby she-cat. Hapi is the type of cat that marches to the beat of her own drum, and is often inside of her own head. However, misfortune seems to follow her everywhere, and she has the worst luck when it comes to encountering threats such as foxes and badgers on patrols. 

And that’s all folks!

[mollymauk-teafleak]

“I don’t care if they’re watching. I’m not done with you yet.” is giving me some serious Courtesan AU vibes

@soft-bram requested this too, so a fic for two lovely people

I call this fic, Caleb Realises He Has An Exhibitionist Kink

***

The inside of Marion’s brothel was a whole other world.

It was as if the whole place were made of light alone, barely tangible, always shifting and changing and dancing teasingly before Caleb’s eyes, crooking it’s finger to beckon him forward. He knew it was because Marion kept a flotilla of hanging glass lamps suspended at different lengths from the rafters. In fact, he’d sourced the resin glass for her in every colour he could produce in his lab and calculated the exact lengths at which to hang them to get the best effect. But even knowing this, the otherworldly beauty of it still stunned him, made him feel half cut before even a sip of the thick, molasses coloured ale he liked so much here had passed his lips. It made him forget everything beyond the heavy oak doors that muffled the sounds of song and laughter and love so well, bland and plain on the side that faced the street but carved into a vast scene of many lovers entwined around each other on the other face.

It made him feel like he could do something truly insane. Something wild and crazy and beautiful as falling in love for an hour.

Frumpkin had followed him in tonight. He did that sometimes, disappearing and reappearing as he willed, sometimes over in Jester’s lap, sometimes sat atop the bar, glaring at Marion’s cat Sune, sometimes with Marion herself, lying at her elbow as she scratched his ears, sometimes wherever he went in the fae realm when Caleb didn’t need him close by.

But now he was around Caleb’s shoulders, tail swaying lazily back and forth and paws drooping sleepily. Caleb petted his flank idly as he sipped from his tankard and turned the pages of his book.

His appointment with Mollymauk didn’t start for a while yet but he liked to sit in the brothel beforehand, enjoy the drinks and the atmosphere, so he always came early. It was probably good for him to spend some time around people, he reasoned, rather than staying sequestered in his lab with nothing but conical flasks of sulphurous powers and flickering flames for company. He’d gotten some odd glances at first, treating a brothel like a library, sat there with his drink and a different book every night, like he was some deranged lunatic who’d wandered in off the street and mistaken this pleasure house for a lovely, homely tea shop.

But now, of course, they were used to him and he got smiles and hellos and winks as the workers walked past. None attempted to proposition him, they all knew who he was here to see. Just the usual good-natured flirting; it was always a good idea to stay on the good side of an archmage. Even one as unconventional as Caleb.

He came upon him as he always did, almost like it was accidental. Like there was no rhyme or reason why someone as bright and bold and alive as Mollymauk Tealeaf could possibly have stumbled into Caleb’s grey little life. And yet here he was, in defiance of the way things should be. As if daring everything that held Caleb down to try and kick him out, flitting in and out too fast for it to right itself. One moment absent, the next suddenly appearing in the booth next to Caleb, his smile as bright as the sun.

“My little stray cat comes wandering back once again,” Molly hummed, practically whispering in his ear. That was how he always teased Caleb, comparing him to a ragged ginger tabby, always returning hopefully at the same time each evening, begging with wide, wheedling blue eyes for some milk.

Caleb grinned, blushing a little as he always seemed to do in Molly’s presence, setting his book down on the table. He kissed his companion’s cheek in greeting, noting how it was always soft and perfect without the need for any kind of make-up, “Good evening, Mr Tealeaf.”

The tiefling wrinkled his nose at the formality, “I’ve told you, sweetling, just let me know when you get here and I’ll come fetch you, you don’t have to wait around.”

“But I like it here,” Caleb reassured him, taking his hand, “And I don’t want to make you work when you don’t have to.”

His expression softened, less playful, “It doesn’t feel like work when I’m with you.”

It never failed to strike him, how easy it was being around Mollymauk. Everything that was always tight and tense everywhere else relaxed in an instant, he no longer scrutinised every single word before it left his mouth. Everything else was so exhausting, being with Mollymauk was freedom.

He looked nothing short of stunning tonight. The tiefling moved between dresses and trousers as if it was the most natural thing in the world, expectations and established roles less than a vague amusement to him, always managing to look gorgeous in whatever he chose. Tonight it was tight, clinging leggings made of a dark, silk like material that looked like it would be so nice to touch, a dark diamond pattern on one half and pinstripes on the other. His shirt was billowy and white with a black leather waistcoat over the top, high boots of the same material all the way up to his thighs, the whole outfit making Caleb think of a roguish pirate with a dangerous grin, come to claim him as treasure and steal him away. And, as always, he was wearing enough jewellery and precious metal to make a dragon envious.

“You look wonderful,” Caleb murmured, his words feeling muddy and clumsy as he tried to fit them together in such a way that they’d even come close to describing something as otherworldly as Mollymauk.

“You’re always so sweet, darling,” Molly smiled, resting a hand on the side of Caleb’s face, as generous with touch as he was with everything else, “You do know how to make a boy feel wanted…” His eyes, wide and red and demonic looking to people who didn’t know him, studied his companion’s face, an adorable little crease forming between his eyes, “Long day?”

Caleb bit his lip, there was no hiding anything from Mollymauk. He read faces, open or closed, as easily as he himself read books.

To call it a long day would be putting it mildly. He had come into the lab that morning to find a letter- not even a face to face conversation, a bloody letter pinned to the door- informing him that funding for his work was to be reduced yet again and all of his requests for new equipment from the last month had been denied. Bitterly, he knew it was retribution for the way he’d spoken out at the last meeting of the council. He always tried to keep his head down and say as little as possible, knowing anything he did say would be ignored or ridiculed, but when the Grand Mage had proposed his new cripplingly high tax on all non-human beings wanting to enter the city to live and work and escape the fighting in the empire, Caleb’s fury had overtaken his good sense. And of course, it had been for naught. The tax would be implemented anyway, the poor would continue to suffer, and now he was to be punished as well.

But he didn’t want to bore Molly with all of his woes, so he just sighed and nodded, “Yeah. A long day.”

The tielfing stroked his thumb across Caleb’s cheekbone, tilting his head as if to admire the view better, like Caleb was actually something worth looking at, “Well…you’re here with me now, sweetling. Nothing’s going to hurt or upset you here, not if I have anything to say about it.”

He had to swallow hard to clear the tightness in his throat. To most the words would sound foolish, the kind of thing you said to soothe a child who’d had a nightmare, not a grown man who’d paid for your time. But somehow Molly knew that it was exactly what Caleb needed to hear. And he said it without hesitation, with no judgement, making it clear that Caleb was allowed to want to hear it.

“Now…” Molly’s attitude shifted, lightened, turned back to his usual boyish, playful brevity, “It’s been far too long since I had you to myself.”

“It’s only been two nights,” Caleb chuckled, feeling better already.

“As I said, far too long. Practically criminal.”

He moved over, settling on his knees so he could seat himself comfortably in Caleb’s lap. Now he was so wonderfully close, his breath warm against his skin, smelling of coffee and sugar, his hands now both on his face, stroking back into his hair. His lips ghosted across his jaw, every so lightly, deliberately to make Caleb moan and want more which, of course, he did. Molly sniggered, delighted with himself, continuing to brush his fingers through his lover’s coppery hair and give him the most delicate, teasing kisses along his neck.

Messing around in the bar was far from uncommon, it was where the workers interacted with clients who hadn’t made appointments with a specific individual, so there would nearly always be at least one pair, or more than a pair, getting things started in one of the booths with gossamer curtains, or hell, even on one of the tables or up against the bar. At this point, the poor bartender just worked around them.

But Caleb had always been swept safely up to Molly’s suite, all the times he’d visited before. All the many times, at this point. The more Molly toyed with him, delicately, giving him just enough to wake up all those places inside him, those deep wells of want, but not enough for him to get anything but hot and bothered, Caleb began to notice. There were eyes watching them, mouths curving up into appreciative little smiles, eyebrows rising in interest.

And he liked it.

By now his blush had become a full-blown conflagration, probably looking ridiculous against his hair. Molly’s deft fingers had found the leather band that kept it tied away from his face when he was working, undoing it within a second so his hair fell loose like a curtain of wild, tangled fire. Caleb had realised very quickly why he’d been warned against ever playing cards with Mollymauk. His hands could be everywhere at once, fingers moving like they had minds of their own.

Caleb’s cock was like an iron bar, straining against the lacing of his trousers, well aware of the closeness between it and the heat rolling off the sweet valley between Molly’s thighs. It was just how he liked it, somewhere between pleasure and pain, the desire so strong it was too bright to look at, too burning hot to touch, like a scream bit between teeth.

“Molly…” he began, his voice strained and shivery. The request for them to move upstairs hovered at the back of his throat. Molly would do it within an instant if he asked, he knew that for a certainty, but…

“Hmm?” Molly tilted his head. Again, he’d read the thoughts behind Caleb’s eyes, pulling them free without any struggle. He saw the desire there, the way those eyes were making him feel, only increasing the fire in his chest. But also, the uncertainness, “My love?”

The offer was there, the willingness to let him choose.

Caleb swallowed hard, “Nothing…it’s just…people are watching.”

Mollymauk saw the decision made and grinned, his eyes sparking like two fires, devilish but still Caleb felt the sudden urge to put his hand in it.

“I don’t care if they’re watching,” he purred, voice low and carrying, no doubt audible to some of their closer audience, “You’re mine, Caleb Widogast. And I’m not done with you yet.”

Caleb could have melted then and there.

Molly’s hips began to roll, a long, slow movement like he was dancing, though to something certainly more risqué than the enchanted piano that played sprightly bar tunes of its own accord. The friction built slowly but surely, an agonising climb that had Caleb squirming and panting within seconds.

“They’re looking at you, y’know,” Molly whispered in his ear in a voice like thick red wine, “Seeing how glassy your eyes are getting…seeing the moans you’re trying to hold back…seeing how your fingers are digging into my shoulders…they all know.

“Oh gods…” the sound was strangled and fractured as it burst from Caleb’s chest. He could feel the slow, regular throbbing in his trousers, his own pulsing heartbeat.

“They’re only jealous,” the tiefling continued, not even breathless as he rutted against Caleb, all while keeping him pinned, “And who could blame them, sweetling? You’re nothing short of delicious but you’re mine, aren’t you? No one else’s. I can keep you dangling like this all night long if I choose.”

Caleb gave a loud keening noise, one that echoed a little further than he’d intended. The embarrassment wasn’t its own entity, it was one with the intense pleasure, the smoky edge of the heady cloud in his mind, inseparable, inextricable.

“I won’t, sweetling, I won’t,” Molly soothed, grinding down hard to make Caleb give a muffled shriek then pulling back, “I want to see your face when you finish. I want to see you make a mess of your nice palace clothes.”

“Trying…” Caleb groaned through gritted teeth, “Can’t…can’t get there…oh fuck, Molly…”

He wanted it so badly but it was just out of reach, it was maddening.

Molly bent closer, nipping his earlobe tightly, “Yes you can, sweetling. You can do it for me, I know it.”

And suddenly, just because Mollymauk said, it was so. Caleb pressed his face to the front of his shirt, toes and fingers and teeth clenching as he trembled his way through a sharp, hard won orgasm, just about managing not to scream.

There was a ringing in his ears as he came back down, a dizziness behind his eyes. But Molly was beaming at him, holding his face again with his thumbs stroking his cheekbones in that lovely way, and that was all that mattered.

Vaguely, Caleb reflected that he probably wouldn’t be able to sit here and read his book on evenings any more.

“Look at you,” Mollymauk simpered, grinning in sheer delight, “Naughty little thing, couldn’t even wait until we got upstairs. Come on, we’re going to have to get you out of those clothes and you’re going to have to make this up to me somehow…” He winked.

Caleb had never shot up the stairs faster in all his life.

[whoareurl]

Milk and Two Sugars (The Choir Part 4)

more choir boys for y’all who have been VERY sweet about them and i have thus been extremely motivated to write more!! if you haven’t read the previous parts, you can get them in order here! (please love me i thrive on positive reinforcement lmao and i legit stalk everything u say in the tags). i’m also running out of title ideas lmao i should have just stuck with the choir and numbered them ffffff. also!!!!! these boys are now and forever officially dedicated to @caramelfuzz who sends me the sweetest fuckin messages about them ily thank you <3

-

Thomas helped Mr Malone pack up his things, unsurprised that he had the equivalent of a small pharmacy stuffed into his satchel, and handed over his phone so Mr Malone could pull up his address on the GPS. Thomas was glad he had parked closeby because he didn’t think Mr Malone would be able to walk particularly far. He was unstable on his feet which convinced Thomas that he’d definitely been right to insist on taking the sickly choirmaster home; he certainly wasn’t in any fit state to teach classes.

“Sorry about the mess,” Thomas muttered as he hastily shoved his folders onto the back seat.

Mr Malone shook his head. “It’s fine. Thank you again for this.”

Thomas waved away his thanks and set his phone on the dashboard in front of the “check engine” light which had been consistently turned on since he’d bought the car. At this point, Thomas was honestly dreading what would be found on the MOT. He just hoped he wasn’t driving around in a stick of dynamite but he hadn’t died yet so it was probably fine.

The drive was largely quiet save for Mr Malone’s coughs and sniffles and Thomas felt a fresh wave of sympathy hit him when he saw the shivers wracking through his body. Mr Malone buttoned up his shirt again and pulled his cardigan tighter around his body. With his glasses slipping down his nose and his hair in chaos, he looked much, much younger that Thomas had ever seen him. The choir often teased him for dressing like a man in his fifties but seeing that put-together image dissolve in front of him made his youth all the more apparent.

When they stopped at a light, Thomas reached into the backseat for his coat.

“Here,” he said quietly, setting it down on his passenger’s lap. “You look cold.”

Mr Malone spread the jacket over himself gratefully with a small “thanks.”

Thomas nodded and fiddled with the air conditioning until it was blowing hot air.

It was difficult to think of the choirmaster in such formal terms now, Thomas thought. Considering how difficult he found it to call Mr Malone by his first name under normal circumstances, he found himself wanting to say it quietly, softly. It was much easier to think of him as Evan when he looked to ill to command authority over his own sense of balance.

By the time Thomas pulled up outside Mr Malone’s block of flats, the choirmaster was practically dozing off in the sweltering heat of the car. Thomas was almost tempted to let him sleep.

“Here we are,” he said instead and Mr Malone unbuckled himself slowly. He glanced at Thomas.

“Thank you for the lift,” he said with a sweet smile. “I really do appreciate it.”

Thomas smiled back. “No problem.”

And that probably would have been that had Mr Malone not taken one step out of the car and practically collapsed.

Okay. Practically collapsed was perhaps a tad overdramatic but it was quite a significant stumble.

Thomas was out of the car in an instant though Mr Malone had righted himself by the time Thomas reached him. He still leant heavily against the car door, breathing deeply and deliberately with his eyes closed. Thomas rested a hand on his back.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he said gently. “Why don’t you sit down again?”

Mr Malone opened his eyes and attempted a reassuring smile but it looked more of a grimace to Thomas. “No, no, I’m fine. Really, you’ve done enough. I shouldn’t keep you.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Don’t be daft,” he said. “You’re clearly not well. I’ll walk you inside, alright?”

Apparently too exhausted to argue, Mr Malone simply nodded his thanks and let Thomas guide him inside with a hand on the small of his back. By the time they’d climbed one flight of stairs to Mr Malone’s front door, the poor man was visibly shaking with exertion and Thomas had to take his keys from him when he couldn’t steady himself long enough to fit them into the lock.

“Since you're here, you should come in and meet Ellie,” Mr Malone said as he opened the door and Thomas’s heart stuttered in his chest.

Ellie?

As far as Thomas was aware, Mr Malone had never mentioned having someone to come home to and Thomas felt incredibly guilty for immediately wishing that he didn’t. He suddenly felt very self-conscious about every move he’d made so far - would taking Mr Malone home be considered flirting? Would Ellie hate him? Or would she be glad that he’d gotten home safe?

“Ellie!” Mr Malone called hoarsely as the door opened. “I’m home!”

When no voice immediately replied, Thomas relaxed a little. Perhaps Ellie wasn’t home and he wouldn’t have to face meeting her today after all.

Though Thomas had never considered what the inside of Mr Malone’s flat might look like, it was somehow both unsurprising and almost familiar. There was an electric keyboard and several guitars along with a menagerie of other instruments, including an electric keyboard attached to various cables and several others Thomas couldn’t name. And, naturally, almost every surface was covered in stacks of paper, most of which Thomas assumed to be sheet music. There was a pinboard by the front door which seemed to house important documents like bills and dentist reminders and there was a photograph of Tower Bridge skyline at sunset on the wall leading to the kitchen, fading artistically from blue to purple.

Mr Malone shed his coat and scarf and hung them up on pegs by the doorway. He looked at Thomas gratefully and beckoned him to follow.

“I’ll make you a cuppa before you g-” Mr Malone began but was quite suddenly interrupted by an absolutely ferocious sneeze.

hh’URRISHHEW!

“Oh, goodness. Excuse me,” he sniffled apologetically, heading into the living room where he plucked a tissue from a box on what Thomas assumed was once a coffee table but seemed to be functioning as a makeshift mixing desk.

hh...hiiIH...oh h’hih’ihNGXTch! hng’iSTChoo! hng’iSCHOO!

“Bless you,” Thomas said quietly as Mr Malone excused himself again, sounding much stuffier than he had a moment before.

He blew his nose gingerly into his tissue before fetching another and doing the same. When he looked back at Thomas again, his eyes were watery and his nose was beginning to shift from pink to a brilliant shade of red. Taking pity on his flustered choirmaster, Thomas spoke up.

“I’ll make tea. You sit down,” he said firmly.

Mr Malone looked for a moment like he might argue had he not been sufficiently distracted by the ginger tabby winding demandingly around his ankles. With a smile softer than any Thomas had ever seen, he bent down and scooped up the cat so it settled in his arms like a baby, back legs poking comically upwards as its head nuzzled into its owner’s neck.

“Hello, precious,” Mr Malone murmured, kissing the top of the cat’s head fondly. Then he looked to Thomas, blushing slightly. “This is Ellie,” he said, bouncing the cat in his arms and taking a small step towards Thomas. “She loves people.”

Understanding the statement for the invitation it was, Thomas gently stroked the top of Ellie’s head with the back of his index finger, unbelievably grateful that Ellie was a cat and not some gorgeous blonde with endless legs and a natural talent for every instrument in the world. He felt some of his earlier anxiety melt away with this knowledge and came to feel a bit stupid, really.

“She’s a sweetheart,” he said softly as Ellie’s purring increased tenfold. When she turned her head, Thomas could see that she was blind in her right eye.

Mr Malone smiled. “She’s an idiot. I love her. She’d stay like this all day if I let her.”

“Well, now that you’ve got a day off, you’ve got an opportunity to let her,” Thomas chuckled, gesturing pointedly to the worn couch.

With a fond roll of his eyes, Mr Malone sat down with Ellie curled up in his lap. Thomas nodded approvingly.

“How do you take your tea?”

[arse-blathanna]

“bro… that’s so… not cool…” with Tucker and Wash?

I hope you like it, anon! Thanks for the prompt.

“Uh, Wash?” Tucker stared across the large room that all of the Blues (with the occasional addition of Simmons when he was in the mood to defect for a few hours) shared as their sleeping quarters. Wash had his back turned to him, removing something from one of his bags that had never bothered to get unpacked since leaving Chorus.

Really, there was a lot of shit that never got dealt with after leaving Chorus. A lot of things that they had just never ended up needing looking into.

“Yes?” Wash asked, turning around to face Tucker with something fluffy and made of cloth in his hands. It reminded Tucker of a body suit of some sort, but he didn’t know what he hell he could actually be looking at. And honestly, even if he did know what it was, Tucker wasn’t really that sure that he would care.

Enough time with the Reds and Blues and he was pretty sure that anyone would be mostly desensitized to even the weirdest things.

“What the hell is that?” Tucker asked, stretching his legs out and flopping back in his bunk so that his back rested against the cool wall behind him. He wanted to let his eyes slip closed and enjoy the feeling, but for now there were more pressing matters at hand.

Mostly, whatever the hell it was that Wash had.

Washington’s face went pink with embarrassment as he looked down at the garment that he was holding on to (yellow, with… tabby stripes, Tucker realized.) He looked from it, then to Tucker, then back to the garment.

“Uh…” Washington flushed a little bit deeper. “Pajamas.”

Tucker cocked his head to the side. “Pajamas?” He stared Wash down. “They don’t look like.”

Washington didn’t say anything else at that, just unfurled the set of pajamas to show that what he was holding was a hooded onesie, made to look like a striped ginger cat. Complete with ears and a tail.

There was absolutely no way in hell that Tucker was letting Wash live this down.

“Dude,” he laughed, tilting his head back a little bit more. “That’s so….” Tucker had to suck in a breath and try not to lose his ability to breathe in the near future. He was sure that his lungs were going to hurt from this later. “Not cool.”

Washington was still standing there, holding his dumb kitty onesie and having turned bright red ages ago. A part of Tucker was sure that this was going to be Washington’s new default state. Lobster red and embarrassed. It was only going to be a matter of time before Sarge started claiming that Wash was ‘recognizing his true nature as a Red’ or some shit.

This was fucking classic.

“Tucker…” Washington tried to speak up, but wasn’t able to get a word in edgewise over Tucker’s laughing. “Why are you-”

“Where did you get a kitty onesie?” Tucker teased. “I can’t even-”

“It was a gift.” Washington deadpanned, his expression going flat and unamused. “From the Lieutenants.”

He turned and set the onesie back down on his bad. “Now, Tucker, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t make fun of my sleepwear.”

And oh, Tucker knew that voice. He knew that tone loud and clear, really. That was the voice that Wash liked to use when he was getting all cranky and threatening. Weird, angry, still vaguely villainous Wash. Not something to be fucked with, Tucker knew.

He threw his hands up in surrender. “Yeah, got it.” He replied, pushing himself up out of his bunk. “Have fun with your onesie, Wash.”

“Goodnight, Tucker.” Wash growled as Tucker left the door.

As for Tucker, he already had plans. Starting with telling Caboose that Wash was dressed like a cat and would love to get a hug.

After that, he didn’t know quite where he was going to go with this. He’d just be sure to stop before he ended up making Wash lose his temper.

Want to send me a prompt? Send me a character, ship, or surprise me along with your prompt and I’ll be happy to fill it!

[littlemulattokitten]

Regumione - Folding Fabric Drabble Prompt

Okay so Tumblr is dumb, so the original ask no longer exists (tf even????) But my lovely Pufflebae @jasperandgemma submitted a prompt for Dad!Regulus comforting his toddler after an accidental magic scare, so this post is the one shot for that :) I’m basing it off of the Regumione one-shot Folding Fabric (for Jas, as a gift, lol) because it fits so well. Thank you for the prompt, love 💚 And I hope you like it :3

People who may or may not be interested in this: @colubrina, @disillusionist9, @turbulenthandholding, @unknown-authoress, @ash-castle, @meowmerson, @shayalonnie, @stefartemis, @ff-sunset-oasis, @dramione84, @accio-echo, @moonnott, @kreeblimsabs, @brightki, @mochihead, @laisvega @ibuzoo (I feel like I’ve forgotten people I’m sorry if I did)

~~~

The dense thump of something hitting the floor made Regulus instinctively glance up from his book with the first tendrils of adrenaline lacing his system as a preemptive response to an unconfirmed emergency. His sudden blood pressure spike proved unnecessary when he saw that the noise had been caused by nothing more than his youngest dropping one of her alphabet blocks on accident.

“Uh oh,” she said to herself, causing him to smile as he watched her pick it up and place it back atop three of its fellows.

“Uh oh,” he echoed, his smile warming as she turned around, eyes bright and lips pulled into a partially toothy grin. “Having fun, sweetheart?”

She nodded firmly and, with the childhood lisp he secretly hoped she wouldn’t grow out as quickly as her siblings had, said, “Yes.”

“Good,” he said, and watched her for a moment longer while she returned her attention to her block tower. Then, after a moment of thought, he added, “Gemma, remember to tell Daddy if you need to go potty, okay?”

Her responding “Otay” was expected, and he knew she was a much better potty trainer than he brothers had been at her age, but the occasional gentle reminder warded off more accidents than he cared to count. 

Regulus went back to his book, a muggle favorite of Hermione’s that he’d been meaning to get around to for a while, and kept an ear out for Gemma as he picked up where he’d left off.

Twice he was briefly distracted by her pretending to talk to her mother on her toy phone, which was both sweet enough and hilarious enough that he’d absolutely be sharing that memory with Hermione when she got back from taking their boys out to run errands. Gemma, naturally, was as clever as each of her parents, but Regulus liked to think she took after her mother more, and her advanced vocabulary showed that fact. That cleverness, however, could sometimes work against her.

He knew she was hurt before the slow-building, pitiful keen left her, and before all the blocks from her fallen tower had hit the floor. Regulus dropped his book at once and was barely standing when the rest of Gemma’s blocks suddenly burst outward, away from her in multiple directions — thankfully, none of them in his  — and the pitch of her cry changed from purely hurt to hurt and afraid.

“Hey, Gemma, baby, it’s okay,” he said, trying to sound more calm than he felt as he frowned at the quickly reddening spots on her forehead and hairline. He was already picking her up under her arms when she blindly started to surge in his direction. “It’s okay, Daddy’s here, you’re okay.”

He checked for broken skin, and upon finding none, deduced that none of the blocks had hit her corner-first, thankfully , but that she had two wince-worthy knots forming as a bruise started to bloom on one cheek.

“Oh, honey,” he sighed while she wailed into his shoulder. “I’m sorry that happened, but it’s over now. Can you point to where it hurts for Daddy?”

A hand came up to hesitantly touch the two knots near her hairline and he kissed each of them gently. “Let’s get some ice on them and once the swelling is down, Daddy will heal them okay?” 

Still crying and making sounds that tore at his heartstrings, she nodded, and he tightened his grip as he stood and headed into the kitchen. He hated to make her wait, but Hermione’s argument for healing injuries with magic immediately was solid. If they healed every minor bump and scrape, then their children wouldn’t have pain tolerance or a proper sense of understanding the consequences to the actions that got them hurt in the first place. There were lessons to be learned from injuries and even if he hated to leave her in pain for any length of time, an ice pack and cuddle would be more meaningful in the long run than a flick of a wand.

That was how Hermione found them when she came home: A still upset Gemma tucked into Regulus’ lap while holding one of the kiddie ice packs — Gemma’s personal one with its orange cat cover sleeve — while he was reading one of her favorite books to give her something else to focus on.

“Gemmie!” Antares and Caelum chorused as they shot in behind their mother, both instantly and heartwarmingly concerned upon seeing their sister’s red eyes and ice pack. 

At Hermione’s worried look, Regulus said, “Block towers aren’t very stable when they’re tall.” Then, gesturing to the block still strewn about the room with the hand holding Gemma’s book, he added, “Not the situation I would’ve liked her magic to show itself in, but alas.”

“Are you okay, Gemma?” Antares asked.

Gemma nodded, though it was a pitiful action.

“Blocks fell on her head?” Caelum asked his father, and upon receiving a nod of confirmation, he frowned and turned back to his sister. “I think I did that when I was little too, Gemmie. It didn’t feel very good…”

Gemma sniffed and muttered, “No good.”

Regulus stifled the pang of sadness he felt as he realized that Caelum had been Gemma’s age not very long ago, that both the boys had. Now he looked at the nine and six year old boys before him and felt that time had cheated him. When Gemma was Caelum’s age, Antares would be on the train to Hogwarts. And when she reached Antares’ age, both boys would be away at school. Where, he wondered, had the time gone?

“I’m sorry that happened, baby,” said Hermione, crouching beside Regulus’ spot on the couch and leaning in to kiss Gemma’s cheek. “Can Mummy see it? I promise I won’t touch it if it still hurts.”

With a small whine, Gemma slowly moved her ice pack and mumbled, “Owie.” Regulus marked his page in the book he’d been reading to Gemma and was glad to note that the swelling had gone down considerably since she’d first sustained her injury, and he relayed that information to Hermione.

“Well that’s good,” she said. “How about Mummy heals that now, then? Tares, can you get my wand from my bag please?”

With a quick “Yes, Mum,” Antares sprinted back to the entryway where Hermione had left her purse to complete his task.

“Mum,” said Caelum, “Can I tell her about the thing?”

Hermione nodded as she continued comforting Gemma, and Caelum gave his sister a wide grin. "We have a surprise for you, Gemmie.”

“‘Pise?” She echoed, perking up just enough to make her parents share a secret smile. Only children could manage to bounce back from genuine distress that quickly.

“Tares found it, but I helped him pester Mum into letting us buy it,” he said matter-of-factly, clearly proud of his contribution.

Regulus muttered “Gryffindor” at the same time Hermione mumbled “transparent Slytherin” and they avoided each other’s eyes so they wouldn’t lose their composure. Their children would probably be rather confused or think they’d gone mad if they suddenly succumbed to laughter.

“I’m just glad I saw them,” said Antares as he returned with his mother’s wand and a small paper bag. “Can’t believe I found'em, honestly.”

“You’re good at finding things,” Caelum said him with a shrug, as if that simple fact explained all instances of coincidence and good fortune concerning his brother.

Regulus slowly, soundlessly, turned his gaze to his wife and stared at her, willing her to meet his gaze even as her lips twitched and she denied him so much as a glance.

“'Pise?” Gemma repeated, pointing to the paper bag.

“Presents,” Antares corrected with a grin. “One from me and one from Cae. Hopefully it makes you feel better since you got hurt.”

Gemma sniffed again, but was much more like herself as Antares set the bag in her lap and she started ripping out tissue paper. Regulus felt himself smiling again when he realized what they’d found for her mere seconds before she gasped.

“Kitty!” she cried, pulling out a ginger cat plush about twice the size of their kitten Crookshanks. With only a moment’s hesitation as she took in what the toy looked like, she proceeded to hug it with all her might.

“That one’s from me!” Caelum announced proudly. “There’s more!”

“'Nother kitty?” Gemma asked hopefully, and reached into the bag again while her brothers grinned at her.

The other cat plush was about the same size as the first, but the color of coffee with too much cream instead of orange. It had brown 'fur mittens’ that matched the tip of its tail and a streak of white on its belly.

“Kitty!” Gemma cried again, giving both toys the same treatment she’d given the first, only this time she kissed them both as well. “Fank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Antares. “You were really sad when Crooks tore up your tabby cat, so we got you new ones. Mum charmed them already, so Crooks can’t ruin these.”

“Are you happy again now?” asked Caelum hopefully.

Even though her eyes still held unshed tears, they were bright as she smiled. “Yes. Pay game?”

“Sure,” said Antares. “Want to do a puzzle?”

“Yes!” She said, and wriggled off Regulus’ lap to follow her brother’s up the steps to the playroom.

Before she’d climbed two steps Gemma stopped, frowned briefly, and turned to Caelum holding out her toys. “Cawwy pease?”

Caelum obligingly took her cats, but gave her a curious look as she quickly made her way back to Regulus. “Daddy?”

“Yes, princess?” he said.

Giving him a wide grin, Gemma said, “Nee' go potty. Help pease?”

Regulus returned her smile with a proud one of his own. “That’s my girl,” he said warmly as he stood and offered her a hand. “Very good job remembering, Gemma. And excellent manners.”

“Good girl,” Hermione chimed as they walked towards the loo. “You’re doing very well with your potty training, Gemma. Mummy’s very proud of you.” 

Antares and Caelum’s concurring praises rained down from the stairs and Hermione gave them an approving wink.

Little Gemma, mostly-successful potty trainer and proud owner of two new cat toys, did not get any more ouchies that day. She did, however, get icecream for dessert when she bravely tried a new food and ate all her supper that night, kindly offering a bite — with a few sprinkles, of course — to each of her family members...

Including Crookshanks.