#chatper

[kailings]

Been watching a lot of game playthroughs for Poppy's Playtime videos for chapter 3 and I love it. The lore, the smoke effects, (DogDay :') ) But here y'all a-go!

Like always have a good day or night!

Also if ya want to like and support my art, go check out my other media's like Instagram and X or don't, it's your choice, bye!

[marimeeko]

So you're telling me that we are getting another chapter today when I haven't recovered from Kacchan Bakugou, or "I'm the one who steps in", or the Combat Handhold, or the "Their feelings become one" or the direct eye contact, the disappearance of Izuku's OFA charged tears upon seeing Katsuki again....or katsuki rescuing AllMight, Kacchanmari Damacy, AFO screaming about his brother's boyfriend...

Like I haven't recovered yet, and I am expected to deal with ANOTHER CHAPTER?

[simplykorra]

Ava’s fine, really. She’s perfectly fine and normal.

She’s not absolutely losing her shit as she and Beatrice step into the fucking cottagecore playground known as this fucking groundskeeper cabin out in the middle of the nowhere.

Everything is perfectly fine as she follows Bea inside, looks around at the beautiful layout of the cabin, with sun coming in through the windows and wood furnished everything on the inside.

The cabin is gorgeous, like something pulled out of a dream. There is vintage furniture, a fully furnished kitchen, a massive fireplace complete with a goddamn bear skin rug in front of it.

It’s not the first cabin Ava’s been to, but most of those were rentals in Windham for ski trips with rich tourists and journeys out to the woods for frat parties with a little extra money to pass around.

This? This is the kind of place you could spend the rest of your life in.

“The bedroom is at the end of this hall,” Beatrice says with a smile, looking back at her with her bag in her hands. “We called ahead of time and the kitchen is fully stocked.”

“It is?” Ava finds herself immediately racing to the kitchen and cracking open the fridge. “What the fuck? Who did this?”

“There are staff in and out of here year round, and of course the people who tend to the country house.”

Ava frowns as she looks at all the food tucked away on the shelves and in the drawers - it’s so much. “So people just…take care of this place on the off chance your family might use it once or twice a year?”

Beatrice nods as she sets her bag down, her face softening like she understands Ava’s train of thought - because she’s gotten really good at understanding Ava’s train of thought. “It seems wasteful, I know, but I do promise there are people here a lot and…it is work, well paying work at that.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Ava realizes it probably is, with the kind of money the Dalton-Lee’s have she imagines they don’t even think twice about forking it over to maintain their image. Just as she’s about to close the fridge door, she sees it. “Wait what the fuck?” She yanks open the drawer. “Hot dogs?!” She looks at Bea who is grinning sweetly.

“I put in a special request.” Totally and completely fine, not swooning at all. No way, not her. Ava is working, she’s working her ass off and not feeling anything other than excited. “That…is what is required of pigs in a basket, right?” She says, seeming anxious at Ava’s silence.

Of course, Ava has to fight off a laugh at her misstep. “Pigs in a blanket, Bea. Pigs in a basket would be like…if I cooked a bunch of hot dogs and stuffed them in a bread bowl.”

[fishareglorious]

hm, they seem to be making callbacks to previous chapters.

yesterday was matilda's iconic trashbag cosplay because if there's one thing bluepoch loves it's picking on her, and now this one is calling back to the time someone (i'd like to think it was constantine herself) had to painstakingly put up a card tower just so constantine can pull her stupid powerplay on druvis

[certifiedcoffeeaddict]

[lorillee]

[bedforddanes75]

how the fuck do mommy kinks work w a british accent we do NOT say mommy ?? do they say mummy?? do people put an accent on ?? do they for real say mOmmy with an o like am i dumb wtf it sounds so odd in any british accent HOW

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Welcome to Oblivion--Ch. 41

Chapter 41

            “I still hate this,” I said as I walked down the stairs toward the cage in the center of the gym. “Why do I keep doing this?”

            Roman tugged me a little closer to his side and kissed the top of my head. “Because you love him,” he replied. He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “And you secretly like the blood.”

            “Don’t you dare,” I hissed, punching him in the ribs lightly. “You know I freak out every time he gets out of that cage.”

            “When was the last time he lost?” Seth asked from just behind us. It had been a week or so since we’d kissed and were still figuring out how we would manage our relationship. In public and in private. It seemed that we were going to take our time to find our groove and our place in this.

            Roman chuckled and looked over his shoulder. “He hasn’t lost since baby girl here started coming.”

            Heat rushed into my face. I reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear as my heart skipped a beat. “There was that one against… what’s his face…”

            “He didn’t lose that one, Addy,” he teased. “Almost, but he beat the count. Knocked Jones’ teeth down his throat afterward. Literally.”

            Seth led the way down the line of chairs toward our usual seats. We’d been to so many fights that they were practically reserved. “You’re his good luck charm.”

            “I wish I wasn’t,” I murmured. “I hate seeing him bloodied and bruised.”

            Before any of us could say another word, music blared through the room. My chest constricted as my heart pounded against my ribs. I knew that Dean’s fight would be later in the evening, but I still couldn’t get my anxiety under control. I bounced my leg and rubbed my palms back and forth on my jeans. My palms were sweaty. For a moment, I thought I was going to be sick.

            “Why didn’t you let me bring my bag?” I grumbled at Seth after the third fight. I’d wanted to bring my backpack to get some reading done before Dean was up. Anything to distract myself from the worry that something would happen.

            Seth reached out and curled his fingers around mine. He squeezed my hand and brought it up to his lips. His lips were soft against my knuckles. “Because you’re going to be fine.”

            Looking up into his chocolate eyes, I thought for a moment that he was right. For that brief second, my heart settled into a normal rhythm and my agitated movements slowed.

            Then they called Dean’s fight.

            I gulped hard against the bile threatening to climb up my throat. This was the moment that I dreaded the most. Watching him come into that cage with his fists taped up, his face clear of scrapes, scratches, bruises, and blood. Knowing exactly what was going to happen in the next few minutes was enough to send adrenaline rushing through my veins. I wanted to run, to get as far away as possible. I wanted to slap him with the hope of knocking some sense into him because talking just didn’t seem to work.

            Dean appeared from the locker room in his jeans and boots. I couldn’t understand how he could fight in them, or why they allowed him to, but he insisted. At the door to the cage, he toed off his boots and pushed them aside. Barefoot, he walked forward as he rocked his shoulders back and forth. The muscles in his arms and shoulders flexed beneath his skin. He looked toward us, cornflower eyes landing on me. A faint smile curled the corners of his mouth.

            Then his gaze drifted, and his smile faded. His lips twisted into a snarl as he slammed the cage door behind him.

            “Something’s pissed him off,” Seth said, leaning toward me. “Was he like that earlier?”

            I looked toward Dean and then back at Seth. “No. He was… grumpy. Not this.”

            “Fuck.” Roman’s voice drew my attention. I turned to him, a question on my lips as I followed the line of his gaze.

            Dean stood on the far side of the cage, brows drawn together and jaw set. My stomach turned upside down at the rage in his eyes.

            The bell rang and he launched himself at his opponent, right arm already cocked back. The moment he was within reach, Dean threw his body into the punch. It landed square on the other guy’s jaw, knocking his head sideways. He stumbled backward, and Dean followed, pressing him back toward the wall of the cage. Dean beat into his opponent, throwing a series of elbows against the side of his head and jabs into his kidneys.

            He backed up, putting space between them. He pivoted on his back foot and let go a kick against the other guy’s ribs. His opponent blocked the kick and swept his other leg out from under him. Dean landed hard on his back, his head bouncing against the mat. I screamed and nearly jumped out of my seat. The sound must have gotten Dean’s attention as he turned his head toward me. His blue eyes were unfocused for a moment before the rage returned to his face and he rolled back onto his shoulders. In the blink of an eye, he had pushed off with his shoulders and hands to kip up to his feet again.

            Dean took a deep breath, cracked his neck on each side, and then curled his fingers in a bring it on gesture. I felt sick watching his opponent run at him, throwing elbows against Dean’s jaw. He followed up with a series of body shots that looked like they knocked the wind out of him. A deep red mark started to bloom over Dean’s left kidney and another along his ribs.

            My stomach clenched. I gagged. I wanted to run.

            Blood oozed from a split in Dean’s lip from one of the elbow shots. He wiped his mouth with his hand, crimson streaking against the white tape. I saw him glance down at it, almost as if he were fascinated at the sight. The distraction was enough for his opponent to throw a cross that rocked Dean’s head up and to the side.

            “Dean!” I screamed and lunged toward the cage. My fingers laced through the steel wiring. I couldn’t stop myself, even though I knew that he didn’t need any other distractions. A pair of arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me backward, practically ripping my fingers from their hold on the cage. I kicked and fought. “Let me go!”

            The arms tightened and tried to turn me around. “Addy. Addy, calm down.” Seth’s voice whispered firmly in my ear. “Relax.”

            “He’s hurt. Dean’s hurt,” I whimpered, clawing at Seth’s hoodie covered forearms. “Let me go. He’s hurt!”

            “If you don’t calm down, we’re taking you out of here,” he threatened softly. “You’re going to get him knocked out running at the cage like that. Relax, sweets.”

            Adrenaline rushed through every cell in my body. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to run. I wanted to break into the cage to get him out. Even though the rational part of my brain knew that Seth was right, I couldn’t get past the sight of Dean so bloodied and beat up. It hadn’t ever been like this before.

            The sound of the bell reverberated through my bones. It sucked the air out of my lungs and the fight from my limbs. I sank back against Seth, grey edging the sides of my vision. I gasped for breath as tears rushed down my cheeks. There was no looking away from Dean as he stood on the other side of the cage. Red marks were already darkening into deep purple bruises. There was a gash on his jaw and another on his cheekbone, both oozing blood as his chest rose and fell as he panted.

            Our eyes met. For a moment, I thought I saw Dean’s blue eyes soften behind the obvious pain that clearly ran through his body. He looked back at me. Yearning lanced along my nerves. I just wanted to be where he was. He blinked and glanced away. My heart fell into my stomach as he squared up for the next round. Rage colored his features as the bell rang once again, launching him toward his opponent.

            I turned in Seth’s arms and hid my face against his shoulder. “I can’t watch anymore.”

            “Come on,” he said soothingly. “We’ll go out to the truck for a minute. Get some fresh air. It might help, sweets.”

            It was so hard to turn my back on the cage with Dean still inside. Since that very first time, I hadn’t missed one of Dean’s fights. I’d done everything it took to get there, to see him before he walked up those steps and after he ripped off the tape in the locker room. But now I couldn’t bear to watch. I couldn’t bear to listen, even though the sound of fists on flesh echoed against the rafters. My mind’s eye conjured up the worst possible images as Seth led me toward the exits.

            The moment we got outside, I doubled over retching and gagging. Seth rubbed the middle of my back even as he held my hair back with the other. The world spun around me. I couldn’t explain why I felt this way. Why, after all the fights I’d been to and how I’d actually started to enjoy them, I couldn’t bear to watch this time.

            “Deep breaths, Addy,” Seth murmured. “You’re good. Deep breaths.”

            I reached up and wrapped my fingers around his wrist. “I can’t—”

            He shushed me gently. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Deep breaths, sweets.”

            Muffled noise erupted from the gym. I could just make out the sound of cheering and the loud dinging of the bell that indicated a fight was over. I practically collapsed onto the sidewalk when I realized what it meant.

            “Stay here, just a second. I’m gonna go see what happened.” Seth squeezed my fingers before he went back inside. A few minutes later, he reemerged with Roman in tow. “He won.”

            Momentary relief flooded my veins. But Seth’s next words opened the floodgates of worry once again. “He looks like he got run over by a Mack truck. But he won.”

            Roman sank into a crouch next to me. “He’s okay, Addy. Dean’s good.”

            “Comparatively,” Seth interjected. “Phil’s gonna need six weeks in the hospital and some massive rehab. Dean just broke at least twelve bones in that guy’s body.”

            “Seth?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Shut up. You’re not helping.” Roman gripped me by the elbows and pulled me gently to my feet. Everything went grey and hazy as the blood rushed from my head to my feet. If it weren’t for Roman, I would have fallen right back down onto the concrete. “Dean’s fine. He’s a big boy and can take care of himself.”

            “I… I-I need to see him,” I whimpered. Before either of them could say a word, I ran toward the doors. My feet carried me away from the gym and down the hallway to the locker rooms. I pounded on the door with the flat of my hand, screaming his name at the top of my lungs.

            After a few moments, the door yanked inward. “What?!”

            My eyes lifted, taking in each inch of Dean and cataloguing his injuries. There was a rip in the front of his jeans that revealed a raised red welt along his thigh. His torso was crisscrossed with bruises that were already turning purple. The one over his right kidney ran from the base of his ribs all the way down to his hipbone. Another spread down his breastbone, and I swore that it was the size and shape of someone’s foot. His knuckles were busted and bloody. He had a split chin, busted lip, a gash on his jaw and cheekbone, what looked like a black eye, and another cut through his left eyebrow.

            Tears filled my eyes, spilling down over my cheeks and dripping onto my shirt. His face blurred, but not before I saw the angry disconnection in his gaze. I reached my fingertips toward his chest. He took a step back.

            “Are you okay?” I brushed at the tears and tried to take a deep breath. My clearing vision brought his injuries back into sharp focus.

            Dean crossed his arms over his chest, showing off a few other welts on his forearms and biceps. “I’m fine. You can go now. I’m sure they’re waiting.”

            I felt myself recoil just as if he’d shoved me. “What…?”

            He leaned his shoulder against the door, wincing as it put pressure on the bruise along his side. “Go back to the apartment or the dorm. I’m good. It’s about time you and Seth had a little alone time, isn’t it? That’s your timeline, right? Don’t let me get in the way.”

            Before I could say a word, Dean backed away and slammed the door in my face.

__________________

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[thenotebookwizard]

She-Ra | Defiance CH 5: Begin Anew

Happy Catradora Day!

This has been an awesome ride with the @spopbang. So much amazing writing. So much amazing art.

Shadow Weaver laughed softly. “Come now, Adora. This is a somber moment, yes, but not a sad one. Don’t you think it is time to begin anew?”

Writing Shadow Weaver is hard, y'all.

(If there was a way to tag individual chapters, this one would be tagged 'gaslighting' and 'manipulation,' because Shadow Weaver has plans for Adora…)

Tomorrow's chapter comes with another awesome piece of art by @rhnalli!

Tomorrow is also the last day of the Big Bang, but this fic will continue with weekly updates starting next week. Probably Fridays? There is a lot of it written, and while chapters may get a bit longer, I don't expect huge chapters in the near future.

That's a lie. Chapter creep will start soon, I'm sure. Hopefully, nothing longer than about 7500 words, though? I dunno. Y'all might have to tell me if I should do longer chapters or not.

...my first longfic in a long time. I know I keep saying that, but I really am out of practice!

That said, I have subscribers to the fic. And to me as an author. Poor, brave souls don't know that @cagebladeweek is soon™ and I have an Mortal Kombat multi-chapter fic in the final stages. Star Trek, Star Wars, Babylon 5, and Zoids are all waiting, too.

Lots more She-Ra, though, Most of what I'm working on is She-Ra fic these days.

Also, this comment sums up chapters three and four...

[signs-of-the-moon]

Moon High: Chapter 22

The shrill squawking of seagulls in the sky disturbed the slumber of the newly settled Oceanclan. Hazepaw roused from his nest, groggy and a little annoyed by the noise. But when he stretched and felt sand brush the sides of his paws, a bubble of excitement grew in his chest. That's right, we're back on the beach! He remembered and celebrated internally as he sat up to tidy his pelt. Grains of sand met his tongue, salty and earthy all at once. It felt like forever since he had so much sediment in his fur. It was comforting in a way. A sensation Hazepaw never knew he'd miss. But he'd never admit that to anyone. Instead it would remain his private joy as he got up and ready for whatever the day would bring. The sunlight outside the apprentice's den was shaded over by the protection of the Twoleg Settlement Bridge. Only the smallest of sunbeams managed to sneak their way through the cracks of the wooden ceiling. Hazepaw settled into one of those spots for a heartbeat, allowing the warmth to soak on his face and wake him. Once he was sufficiently alert, the fluffy white tom made his way to the fresh-kill pile. A few small fish and rodents lay within it. It was rather pitiful looking, and meant cats would need to go out and hunt soon. For now, Hazepaw chose three mice and carried them to the elder's den. Though he hated dealing with the old fools, he knew he'd have to feed them before taking anything for himself. Dolphintail was the first to be alerted of his presence underneath the old boat, the scent of prey luring her over. Though she didn't seem at all pleased that it was Hazepaw delivering today's breakfast. Still, the eldest of Oceanclan's ranks accepted the food she was offered, and carried it to another part of the den to be consumed. Closeby, Whisperpaw was working on taking ticks off of Chloe. The elders had gathered many during their time in the Forest Patch. Now that they were home, the old cats could be properly cleansed of the nasty little parasites. It seemed Whisperpaw was just finishing up as Hazepaw dropped a mouse at the elderly kittypet's paws.

"You couldn'ta brought a gull instead?" Chloe griped with an indignant tail lash. Hazepaw growled at the old she-cat in frustration, glaring at her sharply. Whisperpaw shook her head, silently begging him not to start a fight. After a heartbeat and a huff, Hazepaw backed away, delivering his last mouse to Oystersplash.

"Thank you," the elder mewed gratefully as he tucked into his meal. Hazepaw dipped his head to the old warrior, pleased to know at least one cat was satisfied. Then he padded back to where Whisperpaw was working. He still needed to speak with her and apologize, like Otterpaw wanted. Now was as good a time as any to make up.

"...I'm surprised you can stand to be in the same den as me right now," he remarked after watching Whisperpaw clean up for a few quiet moments. "You've been so skittish whenever I'm around."

Whisperpaw jolted at the sound of his voice, the fur on her spine standing a little. She continued to tidy up as they carried on a conversation, as if she were trying to distract herself. "Well, I can't avoid you forever..." she responded, her voice as quiet as ever. She glanced over her shoulder then back to a mousebile and tick soiled mossball she'd rolled up. "Besides. Otterpaw told me about the talk you two had."

"She did?" Hazepaw ears perked. Perhaps Otterpaw had done some of the hard part and talked Whisperpaw into hearing him out. "I...don't suppose she told you how sorry I am on my behalf, though, did she?" Hazepaw lifted his chin hopefully. Whisperpaw turned, tilting her head at him, unamused. She knew well what Hazepaw was talking about. But she clearly wanted to hear the words come out of his own muzzle. Hazepaw gave a disgruntled sigh. "Right. Ok. Well listen, Whisperpaw. I'm sorry for the way I treated you. It was uncalled for, and I really didn't mean any harm. I just wanted to help you since you've been struggling with your warrior training. But I see now the way I went about it was harsh. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me."

For a few heartbeats, Whisperpaw sat silently, expression unreadable. "I've always liked you, Hazepaw," she started, tail-tip wiggling anxiously, "but it scared me that you'd turned your bullying onto me. It hurt worse than the lashes you gave, I think. It's hard to forgive you."

Hazepaw lowered his head, shame and a bit of frustration burning beneath his pelt. "I know. I really didn't mean any harm though, honest. You're my friend. Probably my first ever," he confessed. He glanced between the elders, daring them to chime in. Luckily none of them spoke, instead ignoring the apprentices so they could have their moment in peace. "I just want you to be a great warrior. Especially with the huge pawprints you have to fill." He shifted to face the gray tabby she-cat. Then he lowered his voice so only she could hear him. "You're better than your littermates, and I know you can be a great leader for Oceanclan someday. I thought I could help you get there, by giving you some tough training. But it wasn't my place, and I hurt you. I regret it. I just want my friend back..." All of Hazepaw's words were spoken from the heart. But there was a small seed of gain planted in his speech. Though he did want Whisperpaw back as his friend, he also needed to stay in her good graces. If he upset Whisperpaw too greatly, he'd blow his chance at ever being Oceanclan's deputy. Then all the hard work he was putting in with Sea Breeze would be for nothing.

Whisperpaw twitched her whiskers. "I understand. But it doesn't erase the mistrust I feel for you. However, I don't want to lose your friendship either... I care for you, Hazepaw. But I need some time."

"I get it..." Hazepaw deflated, the hope inside him for reconciliation nearly snuffed out. He sat in silence for a few heartbeats, letting Whisperpaw's words soak in. She still liked him, at least. Not all was lost. Hazepaw would just have to work to prove he meant the words he'd spoken. Determination blazed in his belly, making the fluffy white tom swish his tail. I'll gain her trust back soon enough, Hazepaw thought confidently. He gave Whisperpaw a small smile, receiving a quiet yet apprehensive purr in return from her as she went back to caring for the elders. Not wanting to overstay his welcome, Hazepaw finally excused himself from the boat and emerged into the clearing of camp. Sandybreeze was padding nearby, her head moving in search of something. When her gaze fell upon Hazepaw, she trotted over to him. A heartbeat later, Otterpaw joined them.

"Just the cat I was looking for! You're coming with me to lead a fishing patrol." Fishing patrol? Excitement sprung up inside of Hazepaw at the prospect of fishing for the first time in what felt like forever.

"I'm coming too!" Otterpaw boasted, her joy nearly bursting out of her. Perhaps she was hyped up for the same reason. Or maybe she was looking forward to spending time with her aunt. Whisperpaw suddenly emerged from the elder's den; ears pricked, probably because of the tone in Otterpaw's voice.

"Can I...come too? Luckysong taught me a little about fishing," she mewed, glancing at Hazepaw apprehensively. She looked as though she were giving the request a second thought, regret on her features. Otterpaw brushed her tail along her friend's flank to reassure her.

Sandybreeze gave her whiskers a twitch. "I don't see why not. More paws catch more fish, after all. Come along, you three. Let's meet with the rest of the patrol."

The Oceanclan deputy led them to a pole at the edge of the Twoleg Settlement Bridge, towards the awaiting warriors. Urchinpaw was the first cat Hazepaw spotted. More importantly Troutwhisker, Seaweedfang, and Ripplesnout were there, too. They were the best fishers in Oceanclan. Surely the patrol would be bringing home lots of prey today! Hazepaw smirked with excitement, kneading his paws into the sand beneath them in anticipation.

"Looks like all of 'em," Ripplesnout, noted. Sandybreeze nodded in agreement then flicked her ear, prompting the patrol to head across the beach. A strong breeze ruffled their pelts as they walked, the chill making Hazepaw shiver. Though every day Greenleaf drew closer, Newleaf kept its grip on the world with stone strengthened claws. Hazepaw wished to feel warmth soak his fur at last, in the way cats described the hottest season doing. Then it would make swimming and fishing in the ocean more fun. Though the sand felt nice and hot, with the sun beating down upon the shore. If they'd had a moment, Hazepaw would have rolled around on it to heat him up. He knew once he got in the water the world would feel cold again. Maybe he could do it later, to prepare himself for swimming. For now, though, Hazepaw kept pace with his clanmates, straining his ears to catch the sound of the nearing ocean. As they padded along, Urchinpaw, Otterpaw, and Whisperpaw chatted idly beside him.

"Do you think we'll see any Twolegs while we're out here..?" Whisperpaw wondered, voice quivering a little.

"Doubt it." Urchinpaw shook out his pelt. "It's still too cold for them. Without any fur, the ocean is too much for them to handle in Newleaf."

"But look." Otterpaw gestured to some prints in the sand, leading up to then away from the shoreline. They were close in shape to Twoleg's lower paws. Yet there were none of the creatures in sight. "Appears two were here."

"Well they're long gone now," Minnowjaw assured in with his muzzle in the air. "They musta realized they weren't cut out for the beach beyond the Twoleg Madness season."

"And thank the Moon for that! We don't want those bumbling beasts around when we hunt. They'll scare off all the fish with their splashing," added Troutwhisker. The other cats nodded in agreement, pressing forward on their journey. Hazepaw smelled it before he saw it. The crisp, salty, tangy scent of the ocean was a glorious and unmistakable aroma. It made his mouth water. Energy surged through the fluffy white tom's limbs as he restrained himself from rushing to the seafoam. But Otterpaw beat him to the lunge, bursting away from the patrol to chase the strangely docile waves nearby.

"Race you to the water!" She called over her shoulder to her denmates. A darkness loomed within this part of ocean--something eerie that Hazepaw had never experienced before. In a flash, Sandybreeze rushed after her niece, rounding her to block the way just before Otterpaw managed to touch the water. She ushered the brown she-cat back to the approaching patrol, receiving an earful upon return.

"Are you fish-brained?" Snapped Minnowjaw.

"What made you think you could just run over and dive into the ocean like that? Have you no sense!?" Ripplesnout spat. Otterpaw lowered her ears in shame.

"Pipe down! These 'Paws still have a lot to learn about ocean safety," Sandybreeze growled at the warriors. Then her attention returned to Otterpaw. "From now on, be wary of calm, dark water. And never try to swim in it," she warned her niece more placidly. She didn't seem as angered by Otterpaw's actions as the other warriors.

"But why?" Asked Otterpaw, voice a bit wobbly. Whisperpaw moved to flank her.

"The ocean will pull you in and drown you, if you do. It's because of its jealousy, you see. The ocean is in love with the Moon. But they separated long ago. And so, sometimes the ocean takes out its resentment on us." Hazepaw recalled fables about Silverpelt, sometimes referred to simply as Moon. She was a mother-like figure to cats in most. While in some, she was a stubborn, vain character who only focused on herself. But she was an important figure in the Land's Star's history. Especially for Oceanclan. She was the reason cats existed in the first place.

"But why would it do that?" Urchinpaw lashed his tail with curiosity. "And why do we swim in the ocean if it just wants to kill us?"

"Because the ocean is part of our history. Just as it is part of Silverpelt's. And though it can be a great threat; the ocean is also our greatest ally. Swimming in it builds muscle, making us stronger than the other clans. It also provides us an endless supply of food, so that we never go hungry," Sandybreeze explained. "The ocean loves us as much as the Moon does. It just allows its resentment to cloud its judgment at times. That's why the water is dark, when the ocean aims to suck a cat under."

Hazepaw let out a thoughtful hum. This sounded like something Moonpaw would be interested in. Perhaps he could find out more about the ocean and Moon, so he could have a story to bring back to her? "Why is the ocean jealous of us?" Hazepaw questioned.

Sandybreeze let out a small purr. "Its more jealous of the partnership between the Sun and Moon than us. But because cats are a byproduct of that alliance, the ocean tends to hold resentment towards us as well."

"Can you tell me more? About the ocean and Moon?" Hazepaw's voice was hopeful. Tonight he planned to bring the story back Moonpaw, if he could.

"That's an elder's job. If you want to hear tales of ancient spirits, ask some of them later." Hazepaw was disappointed by Sandybreeze's response. He thought by the way she was explaining things, that she would be more interested in sharing her knowledge of ancient drama. But Sandybreeze was nothing if not a serious cat. Though she believed the stories told to her in youth, she wasn't the sort to waste time discussing useless information. She'd rather teach Hazepaw the truly important lessons of life. And though Hazepaw was grateful for his mentor's teachings, he did wish she could be a little more relaxed on some occasions. Still, there was no use getting his pelt ruffled now, over her not indulging him with some tale of whimsy. The patrol moved on from the shadowy area of the ocean, to a part of the beach where the waves acted more typically. Here the water was bright and blue. If they drew close enough, they may even be able to see to the bottom through the froth.

"You 'Paws go and fish over that way. The three of us will be fishing in the less rocky parts of the shore," Troutwhisker instructed expertly, gesturing with her smokey tail.

"How come we can't go swimming with you?" Hazepaw complained.

"Because you aren't strong enough yet to withstand the waves. You'll practice when Greenleaf comes. For now, work of perfecting your form," Sandybreeze responded, nodding her head to her companions to lead them away. Hazepaw growled, lashing his tail in frustration. He was sure he was strong enough to fish with the warriors! As he moved to follow after them, pain suddenly rippled through his muscles. Hazepaw cursed under his breath. Between cleaning up the temporary camp, the journey back home, and training with Sea Breeze in dreams last night, Hazepaw's body had grown a bit achey and sore. The walk to the beach hadn't helped his muscles much either. If he hadn't been pushing himself so hard, he'd be strong enough now to prove his mentor wrong. Instead, he conceded to his own limits and followed Otterpaw, Whisperpaw, and Urchinpaw over to the rocks. The waves crashed rhythmically against them, spraying the boulders with the momentum. The water was at the perfect level, deep enough to be inviting to fish, but low enough that it would not consume the rocks with each rolling wave. Hazepaw was the first to climb onto one of the slippery stones, beckoning his companions with a swish of his tail. Otterpaw jumped to join Hazepaw on his rock. While Urchinpaw settled on one of his own closeby. Whisperpaw perched on a stone between them. In the ocean surrounding the rocks, little fish swam with the current; weaving in and out of crevices, in-between seaweed and other little plants. They had no idea that they were being hunted. The conditions were perfect for a successful catch. Otterpaw was the first to give it a try, her paw raised and poised for an attack. Hazepaw observed her with delayed breath as the brown molly's lightning fast reflexes led to her successful strike. A pretty silver fish flopped on the stone between them, it's mouth gaped and shut as it tried to take breath from the air. Hazepaw grabbed it by its gills and bit hard, tasting it's delicious juices gush over his tongue. He had to resist the urge to bite down harder, realizing now he hadn't eaten before they went out today. As he sat up with a lick of his lips, the fluffy white tom wished he could take this fish as his own. But on a hunting patrol, warriors were not permitted to eat. So he slid the now deceased creature aside, taking his turn to make a catch. Hazepaw watched the water carefully, narrowing his eyes to focus on the scaly critters below. As another paddled closer to the rock, Hazepaw struck out, hooking the fish and pulling it to the surface. This time Otterpaw made the killing blow, thanking Starclan quietly for the prey before casting a paw out again. The two apprentices took turns like this for a while, successfully snagging quite a few fish between them by the time Hazepaw turned to check on Urchinpaw. The wiry black tom appeared to be struggling. Though his pelt was moist and his fishing paw soggy, not a single fish was set beside him on his rock. His face was twisted in frustration as he glared down at the water, before he once again tried to scoop something. This time he managed to pull up a fish, but he fumbled as the creature flopped for it's life. It managed to flip out of Urchinpaw's paws in the air, hurtling back down to the water. Urchinpaw scrambled to grab it, before it inevitably escaped back into the deep blue depts. With a splash, Hazepaw watched as the fish disappeared beneath the current. Urchinpaw cursed to himself and thrashed his tail, muttering something about giving up already. Whisperpaw giggled at his attempt. Hazepaw and Otterpaw exchanged a look. Then he stood, leaping onto the stone beside Urchinpaw.

"Let me show you how it's done," Hazepaw offered, shaping his paw like a hook with claws extended. He flicked an ear, urging Urchinpaw to copy. Urchinpaw did as instructed, mimicking his friend's moves. "I saw you leaning while you hunted. The fish will get spooked by your shadow if you do that. Even if they just see your fur, it'll startle them," Hazepaw explained.

"I saw you do it, though," Urchinpaw growled.

"That's 'cause fish are too stupid to differentiate objects from their colors. They see white and think clouds. Black, however? Means predator." Urchinpaw let out a chirp of understanding and nodded.

"Kinkfoot taught me darker colored cats have to be more strategic. Instead of striking the closest fish to your rock, you have to judge which fish will swim into your range," Otterpaw chimed in. She motioned for Hazepaw to switch places with her, then jumped to Urchinpaw's side. "Watch me." Otterpaw demonstrated what she had spoken of, stalking a rather large blue-ish colored fish as it swam into her reach. Carefully Otterpaw eyed the creature until she determined it was close enough to scoop. With an expert paw, Otterpaw pulled the fish out of the sea, leaving it beside Urchinpaw to kill. The wiry black tom gladly nipped it, then sat upright to try the technique for himself. It took two more tries before he was successful. But after finally getting a fish of his own, Urchinpaw seemed to find his groove. The four apprentices together managed to catch a sizable pile of ocean prey. Otterpaw had caught the biggest; the blue-ish one from her demonstration. Though Whisperpaw had surprised them all with the bonefish she'd snagged. Their fishing patrol would surely be pleased to see how successful they'd all been. Though their next challenge was figuring out how to carry all their fish to the warriors.

"I saw some Twoleg netting float past not long ago," Urchinpaw mentioned, running off to track it down. Hazepaw, Whisperpaw, and Otterpaw followed.

"Oh sweet," Hazepaw mewed.

"Well done!" Otterpaw commended once the oddly weaved vines had been found. The net was partially washed on the sand, making it easier for them to grab. Hazepaw stepped into the water to untangle the rest from the rocks, dipping his muzzle under the ocean's surface. As he did so, he felt a searing pain on his nose and shot up with a screech. A crab had clamped down on him with it's claw. Otterpaw and Urchinpaw laughed as he struggled for freedom, while Whisperpaw watched on with concern. Though the cackles of the others were infectious enough to have her stifling some giggles of her own. Hazepaw pawed at the brownish-red crustacean, trying to force it to release it's grip. Instead the crab pinched harder. Hazepaw laid down and shook his head, trying to pull it off himself with both paws. As he yanked, a rock fell suddenly on the creature; once, then twice, cracking open it's shell and killing it. Hazepaw looked up. Whisperpaw was holding the rock between her paws, glaring down at the crab to ensure it was dead. Hazepaw sat up.

"Uh, thanks," he mumbled.

"Don't mention it," was all that the gray tabby said in response, turning away to drag the net and crab back to their prey with Urchinpaw. Otterpaw came over to Hazepaw to lick the pain away from his nose. She purred, too, as if trying to soothe him. Heat instantly rose in Hazepaw's pelt from the gesture. It was sweet; almost too sweet for someone like Otterpaw. Moonpaw was more likely to show him such a kindness, especially after they'd spend some time apart. Maybe that was how Otterpaw felt too. Since she hadn't been speaking with Hazepaw for nearly a half moon, perhaps she felt a need to make up for it; by showing she still cared. Or maybe she was making up for the curtness of Whisperpaw. Still, Hazepaw wasn't going to question her actions, even if they did confuse him a little. This is... nice, Hazepaw thought. Then after a few moments he jerked away, too flustered to handle anymore.

"Feel better?" Otterpaw tilted her head. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and Hazepaw thought he felt his heart skip a beat.

"Ye..yeah," he murmured. Then he turned with a rush, motioning for Otterpaw to follow back to the rocks. The warriors were waiting for them upon their return. They were already singing the praises of Whisperpaw as she showed off the crab she'd killed, and the net Urchinpaw found. Sandybreeze approached Hazepaw, commending him on his efforts.

"I can smell which of the fish you caught. You've learned well, it seems," she praised. "And that also goes for you three," she added then whisked her tail. "Though, Urchinpaw, I will have to speak with Silverdrop about giving you another lesson or two." Urchinpaw lowered his head respectfully, grumbling in frustration under his breath. Hazepaw nudged him with a shoulder to warn him to be quiet. Otterpaw moved to touch noses with her aunt then sat beside Whisperpaw who was putting fish into the net.

"We best be heading home, before the sun starts to make the fish rot," Troutwhisker grunted. Seaweedfang nodded in agreement, helping load prey into the net.

On the trek back to camp, Hazepaw reflected on the day. Pride puffed his his chest from a job well done. His stomach growled as he anticipated the tasty meal he'd get to enjoy at home soon. And his mind began to wander to the fun he had with his friends. A longing soon grew in his chest; a familiar feeling he gained only when he missed Moonpaw. Hazepaw wished she could have been there with him, fishing and laughing along with his denmates. Would she have soothed him after the crab attacked him, like Otterpaw had? Or killed the stupid thing, like Whisperpaw? Hazepaw bet today would have been even more enjoyable if he'd gotten to spend it with her. He'd begun to feel this way a lot, whenever he'd spend a couple of days away from her. And now, with the entirety of Oceanclan's territory between them, Hazepaw wished even more that they were in the same clan. It was in that moment he suddenly decided; I need to see Moonpaw again.

[lobstermagazine]

I HJUST BEAT MINDHACK CHAPTER 4

THE TITLE SCREEN CHANGED

HOLYRS SHIT IM GOIGN RABID HOOYLL

ME RIGHT NOWEWAEJQWAHEIARAHW

[away-ward]

Make No Apologies, pt 4

Finally got the chance to finish this little bit. It's not a true epilogue or anything. More like a moment that would be set a few months later.

<<<Part 3

Master list

Will

After

“It’s perfect,” Em whispers. 

I lean against the doorframe of our en suite, moving slowly so I don’t draw attention, while she ogles whatever is displayed on her laptop, answering whoever’s on the phone. From our bed. As we near midnight. In her cute little flannel pajamas. She’s dressed for the winter chill in a matching set, refusing to give up the comfort of warmth for something sexier. Doesn’t matter; she’s could still get any red-blooded male she wanted while wearing burlap sack. 

But instead of paying attention to the man watching her, she remains captivated by the screen. And the person on the other line.  

I’m torn. I love that my wife gets excited about things I wouldn’t understand. Seeing her eyes light up and dance at things like Georgian Terraces or exposed ironwork or whatever gives me a high that I can’t get from anything else. That I could see ideas form in her head as she looked at something otherwise unremarkable, and that she had the skill to take whatever was in her head and create it in the real world - I live and breathe that shit. 

There are a few things Em does that I hate. Like when she climbs on a ladder without asking someone to hold it or spends too long focusing on a project, and her eyes get bloodshot from lack of sleep.  

I was trying to pay Damon’s people to keep an eye on her before Damon found out and put a stop to it. Which I think is ridiculous because if Winter was out there climbing twenty-four-foot ladders, you can bet he’d have her in a harness and a minimum of five people holding that thing. But God forbid I try to tip someone a little extra to make sure my girl doesn’t lean too far off the side of a building and I’m “babying her.” 

Whatever. I know there’ll always be a part of Em that’ll try to do things on her own, and push beyond her limits. As much as I urge her to ask for help, she always seems to double-down, as if challenging me. At one point in my life, her letting me help in any way was too much to hope for. 

I just want to do so much for her, to show her I’m more than the boy she knew in high school or the addict that broke into her apartment. Just the idea of being the person who can make her smile, much less support her, is enough to get me out of bed every morning. 

Em gives me everything I could ever need, but she always makes me work for it. 

But now she’s smiling into the phone, at the someone talking in her ear. I knew she had a life in San Francisco that she left behind to come back here. Returning to Thunder Bay, working with Damon – those things were never in her plans, but she did that for me.  

It wasn’t like I demanded that she drop everything to come back here. I would have given her the time to transition. But she did it without hesitation, no questions or doubt about what she wanted. Just uprooted her life because where she wanted to be was with me.

For months, we’ve lived in a dream, almost seamlessly laying down the foundations of our lives together as if we never skipped a beat – or ten years. She doesn’t keep anything from me. It’s been fascinating to watch her change from a girl wrapped up in secrets and anger to a woman who lays her entire life bare, so open and beautiful.  

I didn’t think it would bother me this much, her keeping some things to herself. I respect her privacy, but a week of catching her whispering on the phone and ending conversations when I get too close and closing her laptop as soon as I come into the room. If I linger in the shadows long enough, I think I can hear a man’s voice on the other end - all of it has left me in a mood.   

Her eyes shine at the screen, but I know if I ask to see, she’d pull it away. I bet the person on the phone knows what she’s looking at. They know what’s making her smile like that. 

I recognize this feeling. Secrets. Jealousy. Things I thought we’d left behind. 

I clear my throat, and her eyes shoot up, startled behind her glasses. “I’ve got to go,” she says to the person on the phone, abruptly cutting them off as she hangs up. She closes the laptop and puts it on her bedside table before removing her glasses and putting them down next.   

“Who was that?” I ask, pulling back the covers as she turns off the lamp and shimmies down on her side. 

My stiff movements as I slip into bed next to her must give me away. She turns to watch me, her brown eyes infinitely bigger without the barrier. “Nobody,” she says slowly, “just someone from the firm that needed consulting.” 

Consulting? “Same nobody you’ve been talking to all week?” I try to keep my tone neutral, simply curious, but even I can hear the annoyance seeping in.   

She reaches out, putting her soft hand on my cheek, rubbing some of the stubble that’s grown in. It’s not usual that she’s the one soothing me out of a rotten mood. Sometimes, I think it’s the only thing I can do for her. Em’s so capable, she doesn’t even really need me. She survived on her own long before me, and she could do it again. I’d been the one to fall apart if she ever found a reason to leave. 

But Em wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t cross any lines. Not after everything we’ve been through. Her thumb rubs the line of my cheek bone, eyes dancing around my face. I see the love she has for me shifting through her expressions.  

She sighs, tightening her lips. “It’s just business,” she says. Taking her hand away, she lifts sheets and pulls them up to her chin, curling on her to side facing me and closing her eyes. 

We usually fall asleep talking. This time she’s not waiting for me to get comfortable.  

I can’t. I can’t force myself to turn off the light or lay down. I just look at her resting peacefully, hair wrapped in a bun on top of her head, eyelashes resting against warm cheeks. Her shoulders lightly rise and fall with each breath, and I know sometime in the middle of the night, she’ll crawl over here and warp herself around me. 

My heart bursts in my chest.  

“You’re not...regretting your decision to leave right?”  

“Leave where?” she mutters, as if already half asleep. 

“San Francisco.” 

“Hmm?” 

I lean over her. 

“Who’s the guy?” I whisper, feeling stupid as each word leaves my mouth. 

She doesn’t react immediately, and I think maybe she’s asleep. Just as I’m about to give up and let it go, her brow furrows, creasing sharply in the middle. Her eyelids flutter open as she sits up, piercing me with a dark look. 

“What?” she snaps.  

“The nobody that needs consulting,” I answer. “Is it someone I know?” I only know three of her former male associates and one of them nearly got a restraining order against me. Thankfully Em was able to talk him out of it, though I’m sure my friends leveraged that decision as well. 

“Are you serious right now?”  

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” I retort. 

Em scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Except you are, or you wouldn’t bring it up right now.” She motions to the bed where we sleep; where we have some of our most intimate moments and conversations.  

“Can you blame me?” The dam of emotion I’d been holding back finally breaks. With too much energy buzzing through my body, I throw back the sheets and stand. “You’re having secret chats all day every day”- she rolls her eyes again, and yeah that’s hyperbolic as hell, but fuck me - “even in our bed, and you won’t tell me anything. What am I supposed to think, Em?” 

She turns on the light so we can see each other clearly. “You want to know what I’m doing? Fine,” she says. She grabs her computer, pulling it on her lap and jabbing at the keys. I stand above her, arms crossed, aware I’ve made a huge mistake before she even says anything. 

And here’s another stupid thought that burns a way through my brain: she looks so hot angry. In all our post-marital bliss, I’d nearly forgotten what her rage looked like. How it felt when she breathed fire. 

“Here, look.” She turns the screen toward me. 

God, I feel dumb. Mentally, I berate myself. “I don’t know what I’m looking at.” 

At the center of the screen is an image of a square with three colors – mainly white, with a bright red side and lines of black across the bottom. 

“It’s a painting,” she answers as I study the screen. “There was an artist my old firm bought from a lot, and he did this series of abstract pieces. This one always said ‘Will’ to me.” Em chuckles, “I’d go to his gallery just to see it, even though I told myself that wasn’t the reason. I just really liked all his pieces,” she says sarcastically and shakes her head.  

I look at her, waiting for more. 

“Then one day it was gone. Someone had bought it. I went home thinking it was no big deal, but I knew that painting was meant to be yours” She glances up, eyes sparking with convection, before looking back down. “The person I’ve been talking to is the artist. He heard me out and put me in contact with the owner. It took some convincing and help from the artist, but he agreed to sell. He's sending it back to the gallery where they’re going to build a custom frame for it and then ship it to us. I was making arrangements to have it delivered next week.” She lifts her judgmental stare to me again, “It was supposed to be a surprise for you, but you can't stop yourself, can you?” 

I look at the image with a new understanding. Seeing it as a painting, the different lines and texture started to make sense. It’s easy to see why she thought of me. The colors that make up the composition, white being the taking up most of the canvas, with a bold streak of red down the left side, and a few swipes of black around the bottom. It is jarring similar to my mask, and I loved the idea of hanging this somewhere people could see it. 

Like an ode to my other half. A way to bring the two parts of myself together, right under people’s noses. 

She knows me so well. 

“This is amazing, Em.” 

“Well, it would have been an even better surprise,” she says. And then she smiles, forgiving me as she always does.  

I close the laptop and put it down on my side, before turning off the light and crawling back into bed. I lay down facing her as she slips under the covers again. Our eyes adjust to the darkness in silence, but once I’m able to see her features, and see that she’s looking at me too, I groan. “I’m sorry, Em-”  

Her hand comes the rest over mine, gripping it. “I get it. I wouldn’t like you talking to some mystery woman either. Besides,” she chuckles, “I kind of like that you still get jealous over me.” 

I lean over, kissing her deeply. Without disconnecting our mouths, she moves back, lying flat on her pillow, inviting me to I crawl over her body. She opens for me, hands moving up my sides and over my shoulders as I find my way under her thick pajamas. 

In the middle, as I settle into her familiar frame, she laughs as though I’ve tickled her. “What?” I ask, continuing to lay kisses across her cheeks and going lower.  

“Seymour,” she says softly. 

My body jolts and freezes. I look up at her from my position near her belly. "What did you just say?” 

“The artist,” Em continues, rolling her lips to keep the laughter inside, “that’s his name. That’s the name of the person you thought I’d leave you for.” 

I rise, hovering over her and glaring. The additional knowledge doesn’t help what’s happening in my head. Why is she laughing? 

“Mm,” she moans, teasing out the syllables, “Seymour.” 

I cover her mouth, cutting off her giggles. “Don’t you ever say another man’s name in my bed again.” 

Not the least bit threatened, her body shakes uncontrollably beneath me.  

The way I see it, I have two options. I can roll back over a pout, or I can make sure she knows whose bed she warms at night. 

Thank you for taking the time to read, like, or comment. I really appreciate it. And a special thank you to those who waited patiently while I took the extra time to work this out. I also apologize for any mistakes or typos.

[urwendii]

are you really a tolkien fanfiction writer if you haven't poured over obscure articles and quenya lexicon for an entire night, all of it for one (1) word mentioned in a random phrase that no one sane and normal is going to pay attention to?

[farmhandler]

I'm begging you...please...not another

[auroral-melody]

well... hello there 👋 i honestly found you on tumblr by accident but i dont know why it didnt occur to me to check um. shortsighted move 🫣 - glad to be able to see you more actively now (also btw this is mayonaisie from a03 lol)

ehehehe ya i recognized ur name. i see youve found my art blog too ( @meloartist ) :3

i deeply appreciate every comment you leave, it means so much to me to get feedback in this tiny little corner of sandom :D

[fair-lead]

textbook mentioned gravitational waves/radiation and i almost imploded in my seat