#deputy sprout

[lily-iguess]

dumb idea i had lol

[citnamora]

Misty and Sprout should be insufferable together. As a treat

[stitched-howls]

The Gathering goes surprisingly well!

Boulderpaw and Mousepaw rush home afterwards, though. Rushkit is only 3 moons, afterall.

Thus concludes moon 2!

[tangerineblasttheintern]

I want it on record! That I was the first person to ship them. I am the shipping master and these are my personal blorbos

The kid turned out really cute so he’s a permanent guy now

[clonesupport]

felt like popping in to make an updated version of pre-cultist matty lol haven’t posted much about her pre-joy self and honestly i haven’t thought that much about her past life as a good samaritan citizen lol

i used this picrew if you’re curious ;))

i’ve been thinking about making more lore for her deputy self lately since replaying the game, and definitely ended up simping for sharky again oops so let’s make some trauma- i mean lore about deputy mateo😌 im bouta break hearts with this one, mine included TwT

[olegianote]

Hitch Trailblazer & Sprout Leaf

Sheriff Hitch Trailblazer and his ex-trustworthy ex-deputy sheriff Sprout Leaf!

Hitch is a hybrid of a earthpony and a yak. He has small horns, big snout and his body is half covered with fluffy yak fur. His warm fur helps him to withstand bad weather. He is much bigger than the ponies around him and he's very gifted physically. Hitch's personality didn't change much, however he's closer to the "gentle giant" archetype, since his body is massive and every living creature looks fragile near him.

Sprout is an earthpony. He got his cutiemark while planting the radish seed and taking care of it. He's been fascinated with plants since childhood, but his parents didn't want their son to be a farmer, which is why they pushed him to take the role of the deputy sheriff.

Hitch and Sprout (with Sunny) were neighbours and friends. Sometimes, however, Sprout have said offensive stuff to Hitch, which could've been interpreted as jealosy with racist undertones. Usually Sunny was the one to stop this nonsense and scold Sprout for his ignorance. Hitch tried to take it easy but it still made him upset. They kept talking because they were the only kids in the neighbourhood of the same age. Hitch believed that Sprout could change his worldview if they tried hard enough.

And a little doodle bonus!

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Throwing out the Epilogue and Cursed Child, how would you imagine the ending of the series? Like, what comes next after Harry goes to bed after beating Voldemort?

Anonymous asked:

What changes you would like to see in the wizarding world after the war?

Anonymous asked:

If you could rewrite the epilogue of Harry Potter, how would you do it and what changes would you make?

Thank you for the asks, it gave me a reason to try and think more about what I actually want from a post-book 7 story since I usually prefer to diverge from canon before book 7. I already talked a bit about the epilogue here, but this is more of a list of things I would like to see instead of reasons I don't like the existing one. There are going to be a lot of headcanons here, so be ready for that. I don't have something super thought out in terms of how it'll happen or who will be involved in everything in the long run. But I have a few bullet points about the epilogue itself and further in the future for the HP characters.

Like, for the epilogue itself, as I wrote in the past, I'd make it only a few months in the future, not years. What I'd put there is:

Showing a bit of the Golden Trio's friendship, and the three being hopeful about the future.

They are back at Hogwarts for 8th year and offhandedly mention Harry tried to go straight to Auror training and regretted leaving Hogwarts behind so quickly.

Ron was with Harry in Auror training and when Harry told him he was dropping out, Ron dropped out too. Kingsly assures them they could both return and continue the training from the point they dropped out after 8th year (Ron would return, Harry wouldn't).

They all get to worry about a future they weren't sure they'd have.

It's mentioned Neville is helping out Sprout and Harry is helping out the changing roaster of DADA teachers (since McGonagall decided to not really sign one on permanently to avoid the curse until it could be broken).

Some sections of Hogwarts are still a little worse for wear or were rebuilt completely after the battle and it shows.

Society is a little different. I want to see a Hogwarts where houses don't matter as much. Actually, start building the unity the sorting hat sang about. Show Harry has a few Slytherins he's friendly with. Show a pure-blood Slytherin be at least polite to Hermione — show the seeds of change.

Harry and Hermione are both mentioned going to the ministry for various meetings, and we get a hope that the ministry could be changed from within. That the system that let Voldemort and the Death Eaters take over so easily could be helped.

The epilogue won't show the actual changes or politics, just imply they are happening/or will happen. Many of the ex-DA members are primed for key positions in the ministry which would help this change to happen. Still, it would be slow, but now that there is no war, they have time. Like, the epilogue would mention people like Susan Bones getting a good position in the DMLE or something.

They reference rebuilding Diagon Alley and many places that were destroyed along with setting up a war monument and a separate monument for muggleborns.

Basically, I just want to end on a note of hope, of seeing a reason to work towards a future Harry finally had, you know?

But, that note of hope needs to have a bitter taste to it. I'd mention how this year, almost all the students could see the Thestrals leading the carriages to Hogwarts, an entire generation who gazed upon death.

Like, I don't care that much who Harry marries and what he names his kids, so I don't really mind not seeing that and leaving that to each reader to imagine their own future for him. If I were to rewrite the epilogue, that's what I'd do, I'd keep it vague.

As for other things I have in mind for Harry's future after the books, well, I think I mentioned some of them in the post I linked but I'll note down a few:

Harry becomes DADA professor and eventual deputy headmaster for McGonagall and Professor Potter doesn't let an abused kid go unnoticed. He's going to do something about it, for all houses.

Ron does still become an Auror, and I see him getting really good and valued there. I want Ron to become head of the DMLE instead of Harry.

I like to imagine Hermione becoming an Unspeakable actually, I think she'd enjoy it more than politics. Like, as much as she cares, she isn't very politically savvy. She is going to use Harry's Potter Wizengamot seat and war hero status (+ her own war hero status) to help him and other ex-DA members push for more creature rights and changes in the Wizarding World though.

Neville becomes a Herbology Professor and head of Gryffindor, and he and Harry become closer friends when they work together at Hogwarts.

Harry also breaks the DADA curse, either by figuring it out (he's very intuitive about magic and he knows how Tom thinks, so he could figure it out) or the curse recognizes him and just ceases. Even if Harry isn't a Horcrux anymore, I think carrying Tom's soul for so long had a lasting effect, so he just might get a pass. And even if the curse doesn't break, honestly, if anyone knows how to survive a year at Hogwarts when something's out to kill you it's the Boy-Who-Lived. So the curse might break after it fails once because it's Harry James Potter, Master of Death extraordinaire, and exception to magic.

I think Luna continues editing the Quibbler with her father, as well, and after the war, it becomes a real competition for the Prophet. She still becomes a Magizoologist in my headcanon.

Harry would eventually become Hogwarts headmaster, I think, in my version of events. Obviously, this would be way later, but I really see it happening. I'm hoping in his time as headmaster he'll finally fire Binns and get an actual history teacher into this school.

As for shipping, in my ultimate vision, Harry and Theo get together either during 8th year or by meeting in the ministry, maybe in Wizengamot warlock conventions (since Theo's father was a Death Eater and is either dead or in Azkaban, it'll be Theo there). I believe Theo wasn't actually in Britain during book 7 and the war and that's how he got out of being a Death Eater. He wasn't mentioned among the Slytherins that were in Hogwarts, so it's possible. I disagree with everything Cursed Child did to my boy Theo Nott except him being an Unspeakable since I can see that happening. His and Hermione's work dynamic in the DOM could be really fun, I think and it might be how he and Harry start talking.

For everyone else, I'm honestly less picky. I'm fine with Ron and Hermione together at the end, but I'd also be fine if they won't be, so 🤷‍♀️

[soniana252]

Anyone remember 'A Sprout to a Better Path'? My old 'What if Sprout followed Hitch on the adventure of the movie and got redeemed on the way' AU...? No? Well I finally updated it after a more than a year lol It's a summary of how the rest of the story was gonna go but hey at least it's finished. It's on ao3 and fimfiction for however is interested. Here's some really old Sketches from 2022 I did based on my ideas for the ending. Nothing surprising, Phyllis takes the role as villain and in the epilogue Sprout, now friends with the mane 5, peacefully leaves his role as deputy to try and see what he really wants to do with his life(and recconects with an old hobby on the way). I based both on some old concept art of the movie, the green bandana is a gift from Pipp in this AU 🌱

[the-guilty-writer]

We Need You That Way

Request from anon: Hey Gill, love your work bestie anyway I have a request for Spence being with BAU reader but she's dyslexic and idk there on a case and she's insecure because some of the cops/agents don't think reader could be an fbi agent yk and Spencer just consoles her super fluff stuff anyway feel free to ignore me 

Spencer Reid x gn!BAU!reader

Summary: Spencer reminds dyslexic reader that they’re a valuable part of the team.

A/N: While doing research on dyslexia I learned a lot about how it can affect more than reading and writing, but that it also presents differently in everyone. I remember reading a Spencer fic a long time ago with a dyslexic reader, but I couldn’t find it. (I will keep searching for it, though anon!)

I DID NOT HAVE A CONSULT on this fic, so if anyone with dyslexia has an issue with it, please let me know how I can improve. I do my research, but there is only so much a search engine can tell me. My messages are always open and I’m always happy to learn about how I can make a fic better when it features a reader with specific traits I’m unfamiliar with.

CW: reader is dyslexic (this shouldn’t be a warning?), the deputy makes a rude comment to reader, small southern town slander (I live in a small southern town and can confirm that the stereotypes are true. Someone save me from this hell please.)

---

“Why does every small town we go to have a bunch of roads named after a bunch of people from the same family?” you huffed slightly.

You had just gotten back from visiting a crime scene; something that should have taken about an hour and ended up being far longer. The GPS had died and there was no cell phone service, leaving you to navigate via old-fashioned map, which wasn’t exactly your strongest suit. Mixing up left and right, finding out that you were holding the map upside down, and old road names made the journey less than ideal and exceedingly frustrating.

Most people thought dyslexia only went as far as mixing up words and struggling to read, but it got in the way of other things as well; today’s backroad adventure was just one example. It wasn’t often that you let those things get you down, but today you couldn’t help it.

After seeing you come back to the station so defeated, Spencer took you to grab a much-needed cup of coffee from the small kitchenette. It wasn’t a real break, but it was enough for you to cool off from your frustrations.

“Looking back at the town records, the Baskin family owned about one fourth of the town land for three generations and the Silvan family owned a third of the town for two generations before holding prominent government positions. Given the regional tradition it makes sense that so many roads are named after them,” Spencer sprouted a fact. It made you grin.

“My great grandpappy held onto the land as long as he could,” one of the old deputies said, though you could barely understand through his thick southern-drawl. “Broke his heart when he had to let it go. It’s devastating the first murder occured on the road named in his honor.”

It’s more devastating that someone is… you know… dead, You thought, but kept yourself from speaking. “And which road was that?” you asked politely, opening up your case file, but knowing it would be faster just to ask.

“Harper,” the deputy said. “There’s only one Harper road in this whole town.”

“Are you right?” you looked down at your file again, taking your time as much as you could, but still in a rush.

“What is it?” Spencer asked.

“I thought I just came back from the scene at Harper,” you told him.

“I’m right,” the deputy replied defiantly.

“I wasn’t-” you wanted to explain that sometimes you would reach for a word like “sure” but a word with similar meaning, like “right” would come out instead. Dyslexia didn’t just make you mix up letters and sounds, but words sometimes too, especially since you were distracted by your files.

But the deputy didn’t give you a chance to speak any further. “I know I’m right! What kind of FBI agent can’t keep track of where crime scenes are?”

Spencer interrupted before it could go any further. “Let’s go note the difference on the profile board, okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied to him quietly and the two of you quickly made your way to the other room.

Spencer shut the door behind you and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. People questioned your ability to do things at times, but never so loud and direct; most of it was whispered behind your back. You’d spend time pretending that you didn’t hear the insults, pretending that they didn’t get to you until you were alone and could cry silently to yourself. This time you had no time, no room, to ignore the interaction that occurred. Your vulnerability was on complete display.

You threw your files down on the table and sunk into a chair, feeling crushed. “He’s got a point,” you muttered.

“He doesn’t,” Spencer said, sitting next to you.

“It took me two hours to figure out how to get to the crime scene today, Spencer.” You should have felt bad about using such a bitter tone with him, but you couldn’t help it. “It wouldn’t have taken Morgan that long. Or you, or anyone else on the team.”

“Well when Morgan drives it makes all of us carsick,” Spencer said. “And no one lets me drive.”

“Spencer, you hate driving,” you pointed out. “You get all squirrelly.”

“I did technically fail the offensive driving course at the academy.” Spencer smiled sheepishly. “But that doesn't make me any less important to the team.”

“Of course it doesn't. You're a literal genius. I'm… just me.” Your voice quieted at the end, what was frustration showing as what it really was— insecurity.

“I think just you is great,” Spencer replied. “And you help me slow down when thinking through cases.”

“Wow, I slow you down… thanks, Spence. That makes me feel so much better.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

“It’s a good thing,” Spencer said sincerely. “I jump to conclusions sometimes. You make me slow down and catch the things I missed. My consultation profiles have been far more accurate since you joined the team, and when we’re out on cases we have to revise the profile less often.”

“Really?” You tried not to show how baffled you truly were. You knew that occasionally you helped slow down Spencer’s million-mile an hour brain, but you didn’t think it was helpful for anyone but yourself.

“Do you know why Hotch brings you to court the most?” Spencer asked.

You bypassed telling Spencer that his sentence could be taken in two very different connotations. “Because it would be a waste of time to have me review files when I can’t read them?”

“Because you can tell the story of the case as an experience instead of just a list of evidence. It makes it easier for the jury to understand what’s going on and more dangerous people get put away because of it,” Spencer explained.

“And Garcia always asks you to help review initial video footage for a reason. It’s like you can see the crime scene without being there, so when we get there in-person we have a better idea of where to start. Your spacial awareness is better than the rest of ours. We can build the profile faster.”

“Do I really help that much?”

“Yeah, you do.” Spencer looked at you softly.

He reached for you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You let yourself fall into his arms. The comfort and reassurance of his words cradled you, building your confidence back up. “Keep being ‘just you.’ We need you that way.”

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Struggles: Bigby Wolf x Deputy!Reader

Despite that it had happened centuries ago, the problem always seemed to manifest itself and show the ugly side to the situation. Even centuries of forcing it away, snuffing out his senses with cheap cigarettes that burn his nose dry to the point of bleeding and alcohol that does nothing but numb his mind to the whispers and taunts of what laid inside if him, Bigby never really showed his struggle with what was inside of him.

You had only heard of him losing his mind and going complete ape shit during the whole Crooked Man ordeal, when bloody Mary and the Tweedles ganged up on him in an alley by the Puddin’ & Pie. That had resulted in the death of one of the twins, you couldn’t remember which one nor did you really care.

But he had always been kept on a very tight, very short leash ever since you had all been forced from your homes. It was tough for him, agonizing as he had to learn what it was like to be… well, what he is now.

It was a mistake, you had heard Cole say to Snow as you came to drop off some paperwork. You honestly had no idea how Bigby had came to be what he is today, you had assumed it was just another glamour that most Fables had to get. But to your shock, you listened in by the closed door.

‘I’m starting to doubt that the werewolf blood in Bigby’s system is not a good idea anymore,’ King Cole had said.

You narrowed your eyes and held the folder closer to you. You had decided enough was enough and you would ask Bigby what they meant by it. They said nothing when you knocked and walked in like you never heard anything.

But even as you stood in Bigby’s apartment, he lit up a cigarette and laid against the cushions of his chair.

“In order for me to become Sheriff here, King Cole and Snow made a plan to stab me with a blade covered in werewolf’s blood so I wouldn’t need a glamour.”

“And that’s why you have those other forms?”

He nodded, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

That conversation sat in the back of your mind since then. But now, it seemed to haunt you. Both of you, really.

You both were starting to learn that Bigby, in fact, needed a glamour and not fucking blood in his system and whatever shit witches gave to Cole and Snow hundreds of years ago.

Bigby had told you that when it first happened, it only really started out with anger and fits of rage, times he would black out and wake up in the woods naked. And then as time progressed, he slowly was able to control himself and resist his urges, however, he was made a slave to the full moon every month until he was able to resist that too.

But now, neither of you know why it’s starting to happen, but Bigby was starting to react to the full moons once more. It was just minor changes at first, neither of you noticed until Snow had walked in with a call. Bigby’s teeth had a point to them, sharper than usual.

The next full moon, his facial hair had seemed to grow in thicker. Bigby usually shaves twice a day - once when he wakes up and once before he passes out - but despite just shaving nearly three hours ago, you had arrived back to work to see him scratching at thick and dark stubble.

The next full moon, his arms and chest had followed suit with his facial hair, set thicker and longer.

Then his temper had flared up the next full moon. It nearly turned violent when Bluebeard decided it would be a good idea to tempt fate and poke a sleeping bear… well, in this case, it would be a wolf. Bigby had him by the collar of his shirt, snarling, wolfish features quickly and easily sprouting without a second thought.

And now, you stood outside his door, wondering if you should really be here right now. You knew he was in there, Snow had told you so when you came back to the office to see it was locked up with Bigby nowhere to be seen.

Should you really be here? He probably wants to be left alone…

You could spot the lights were on under the door and you could hear him lumber around his apartment building, cursing to himself and groaning.

But he was your partner, and you knew he knew you were out here. If he didn’t want you here, he would have made that apparent by now.

You raised a hand to knock on the door, shocking yourself when you found it unlocked and slowly opening upon each knock. You slowly pushed it open further, poking your head into his apartment.

Your body chilled. For once, it didn’t overwhelmingly smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol like it did the last few full moons, but it smelled cleaner… at least as clean as it could be. Bigby was not in his living room nor the bathroom when you peered over to the door, and rarely did Bigby ever go to his bedroom.

All that was left was the kitchen.

You slowly opened the door just enough to slip through, eyeing the kitchen through the archway to still as you saw him standing there.

Broad back to you, hulking weight barely contained by the tight clothing from earlier, you could spy a mixture of ash and russet hair poking above the collar of his shirt as well as what was exposed of his forearms and hands. His shoes had been ditched by the kitchen archway, you spied his feet had now become very hair with long black claws at the end of each toe.

“Bigby?”

He barely turned his head to look at you over his shoulder in acknowledgment, softly gasping when his acidic yellow eyes practically froze you in place from where you stood in his living room. Even in their majestic beauty, you could still feel the tension radiating off of him. He was a dangerous man when pushed far enough, but you knew - despite the werewolf blood coursing through his veins - that he was struggling to stay Bigby.

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 39, Part 1

Oilstripe has been waiting eagerly to decide names for her offspring. At Carnationspeckle’s invitation, she crawls into the nursery, purring and joining Carnationspeckle in naming their single kitten.

[Image ID: Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle sit together, watching a newborn cream and white kit. Underneath the kit, it says NEW PLAYER: TROUTKIT, 0, FEMALE, INSECURE. Under Carnationspeckle, it says - CONDITION: PREGNANT, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH.]

(Oilstripe: 43, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Carnationspeckle: 41, female, caretaker compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Troutkit: 0, female, kit, insecure)

(Author’s note: the following scenes involve allusions to traumatic childbirth. Please read with caution. All will be revealed in time.)

Palekit and Ripplekit have recovered from heat exhaustion.

[Image ID: Palekit and Ripplekit face each other. Under Palekit, it says - CONDITION: HEAT EXHAUSTION, + NEW SKILL: NEVER SITS STILL. Under Ripplekit, it says - CONDITION: HEAT EXHAUSTION.]

(Palekit: 5, female, kit, impulsive, picky nest builder, never sits still)

(Ripplekit: 5, female, kit, know-it-all, avid play fighter, splashes in puddles)

Wildclaw’s sprain has healed.

[Image ID: Wildclaw follows Shadowdrop, calling “Shadow, where are we going?” Underneath her, it says - CONDITION: DISLOCATED PAW. Waspkit watches from the back. Underneath him, it says + NEW SKILL: EYE FOR DETAILS.]

---

The past Harvest Moons were exciting times for RippleClan. As they got more and more members, their contribution to the holiday grew bigger and better. This year they got to talk about darkhounds, and Wildclaw had every intention on teaching little apprentices how to protect their friends and family from the dangerous beasts. After all, her paw was all better, and Rattlepelt had a great show planned (even though talking to her still hurt a bit, no matter how much Wildclaw ignored it). The problem was, she didn’t account for one thing; guard duty.

“Mom, you know I like guarding camp,” Wildclaw stammered as Downstar checked the baskets and pots the Clan would bring to Harvest Moon, “but on Harvest Moon?”

“We can’t have everyone at the celebration,” Downstar sighed, not looking at her daughter. “Weedfoot needs to be there as deputy, which means we need more paws in camp watching over our kits and injured. Carnationspeckle is still exhausted from birthing Troutkit, she needs all the support she can have while we’re out.”

“Troutkit?” Wildclaw said. “They finally named the little sprout?”

“They picked a name this morning,” Downstar explained. “Carnationspeckle needs good food to build her strength, and you’re a good cook when you’re not itching to patrol.”

“It’ll be lonely with just us here,” Wildclaw huffed.

“Shadowdrop volunteered to stay behind,” Downstar said, finally facing Wildclaw, “and Parsley will be watching Weedfoot’s litter. It won’t be too bad.” Downstar touched her nose to Wildclaw’s forehead. 

Only the tip of the sun glimmered over the ocean’s horizon. All around the mother and daughter duo, the rest of RippleClan prepared to head out for Harvest Moon. Oilstripe helped Fennelspot put on an elaborate tail wrap Rattlepelt made for when Fennelspot needed to flaunt his authority as a cleric. Weedfoot’s kits pestered their parents about what Harvest Moon was like, even though they were old enough to know better. Scrubmask and Clammask shared tongues with Halibutdusk while Rabbitjoy placed a necklace around Rattlepelt’s neck. 

“Everyone carry a load!” Downstar called, slipping a basket around her neck. “We have a lot to bring today.” Downstar patted Wildclaw with her tail and joined Rustshade and Mousesong. Soon the whole Clan was on the move, save for Wildclaw, the silent guardian in the heart of camp.

“I’d be better off keeping them safe at the holiday,” she muttered, rubbing a paw into the sand. Parsley strolled past her and slid between Weedfoot’s kits, all of whom stared out at camp at their slowly vanishing Clanmates.

“You five are old enough to entertain yourselves today,” Parsley said with a twitch of her stub. “I’m sure we can have our own Harvest Moon here if you want.”

“I could tell some stories,” Ripplekit suggested.

“Or we could tell our own!” Lavenderkit suggested, wiggling his flank high. “Let’s be artisans and put on our own show!”

“That sounds fun!” Palekit chirped.

“You four go ahead,” Waspkit huffed, lifting his leg. “I’m going to groom myself. I don’t think putting on a show like this is what a real codekeeper would do.”

“We won’t get to play around like this when we’re apprentices,” Puddlekit whined, nudging his golden brother. “Mom said even Grandfather enjoyed being a kit when he was one! And Dad says you’re just like him.”

“You’re the one they named after him, shouldn’t you be like him?” Waspkit huffed. “Carnationspeckle says Puddlespeckle was a mean old tom. I don’t want to be like him.”

“Then don’t act like a codekeeper and act like a kit!” Palekit huffed. She nibbled Waspkit’s ear, and the bossy kit’s stoic expression broke. He laughed and shoved his sister. He joined the rest of his littermates by the Shiprock, chatting about their show.

“That takes care of that,” Parsley yawned, stretching. “I’m going to share tongues with Carnationspeckle for a while. You and your brother enjoy a quiet camp.” Parsley headed for the nursery. 

As she left, however, Wildclaw realized she didn’t see Shadowdrop anywhere. Curious, Wildclaw peeked into the dirtplace. No Shadowdrop. She checked the warrior’s den. No Shadowdrop. She even checked the medicine den, but unsurprisingly, Shadowdrop wasn’t inside. Where did her brother go? Did he slip off to Harvest Moon? Lately, it felt like Wildclaw could never find the black codekeeper. Did he expect her to guard camp alone?

In a moment of shockingly coincidental timing, Shadowdrop entered camp. He lingered by the entrance, eyeing the empty camp. When he saw Wildclaw, he flicked his tail for her to join him. He was stiff and inched toward the exit with every moment Wildclaw lingered. Wildclaw glanced around her, like she was still a wild apprentice trying to sneak out of camp. The kits were absorbed in their plans, save for Waspkit, who eyed Shadowdrop as the others chattered on. Wildclaw jogged toward Shadowdrop. She barely got close before he started to lead her out of camp. 

“Shadow, where are we going?” Wildclaw whispered, unsure why she chose to whisper. Shadowdrop’s tensed shoulders and stiff movements shut Wildclaw up. Something was happening, something Shadowdrop wanted to wait to discuss. But what?

(Wildclaw: 31, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)

(Downstar: 98, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Parsley: 133, female, elder, righteous, great speaker)

(Ripplekit: 5, female, kit, know-it-all, avid play fighter, splashes in puddles)

(Lavenderkit: 5, male, kit, noisy, likes to sing)

(Palekit: 5, female, kit, impulsive, picky nest builder, never sit still)

(Waspkit: 5, male, kit, bossy, interested in clan history, eye for detail)

(Puddlekit: 5, male, kit, polite, morbid curiosity, oddly observant)

(Shadowdrop: 31, male, codekeeper, sneaky, good teacher, eloquent speaker)

When the Clan returns from Harvest Moon, there are three new kits in camp. Shadowdrop and Wildclaw claim a wild queen gave them up. Shadowdrop has adopted them.

[Image ID: Three black newborn kits sit in moss nests. The kit in the upper left has text under them saying NEW PLAYER: TEMPESTKIT, 0, FEMALE, TROUBLESOME. The kit in the middle says NEW PLAYER: MOSSKIT, 0, MALE, BULLYING. The kit on the right reads NEW PLAYER: TRUMPETKIT, 0, FEMALE, NERVOUS].

---

The deep dark could do nothing to stop the rush of warmth and laughter flowing off the returning RippleClan cats. Clammask was in the thick of it, squished between Rustshade and Downstar as she carried an empty basket home. Everyone’s stories had been excellent. It was a wonderful start to the new season, and there was no Shadowdrop around to glare at Oilstripe.

And now Shadowdrop was back in Clammask’s mind, how wonderful. Why the tom couldn’t let go of a simple crush, Clammask would never understand. If she were leader, she would smack some sense into him. Ever since Carnationspeckle got pregnant, he was barely around, only returning after a long hunt or patrol. Maybe with Troutkit’s birth, Shadowdrop would mellow out. Or maybe he would get worse. Whatever the case, Clammask had her eye on him.

“We’re back!” Downstar called as she led RippleClan into camp. Clammask’s Clanmates pushed past her, yawning and chattering about everything their friends in the other Clans had to say. Parsley sat outside the nursery with Ripplekit, Lavenderkit, and Palekit. Parsley shot up at the Clan’s arrival. 

“Mom, Dad!” Lavenderkit called. Lavenderkit raced toward Weedfoot and James, who pushed into camp with Oilstripe and Halibutdusk. “Mom, Dad, Shadowdrop brought kits home!” Clammask’s feet dug into the sand as she turned to face the excited kit. 

“What was that?” James scoffed, turning his head as though he didn’t hear his son well. Palekit and Ripplekit joined their brother.

“Shadowdrop and Wildclaw came into camp and they had kits!” Lavenderkit said again.

“They’re cute,” Ripplekit noted as though that was the important part of the story. The whole Clan stared at Lavenderkit, the excited conversation dying down as the strange and sudden statement rippled through them.

“Parsley…” Downstar said as the tortoiseshell elder approached.

“We didn’t want to make a scene at Harvest Moon,” Parsley sighed. “It’ll be better if you hear your son’s story.” Downstar hurried past Parsley and to the nursery. Halibutdusk and Clammask ran after her.

The nursery was dark and cool when Clammask stepped inside. Waspkit and Puddlekit watched the shocking scene silently from their nest. Shadowdrop sat next to Carnationspeckle, head tall as his mother and leader entered. Carnationspeckle slowly pulled herself from sleep, shifting to face the crowd. Carnationspeckle had more kits at her belly than she started the day with. Troutkit was sound asleep, tucked into her mother’s fluff, but three black kits squirmed in Carnationspeckle’s embrace. Clammask knew in an instant they belonged to Shadowdrop.

“What did you do?” Clammask hissed.

“Clammask, he doesn’t have to explain himself,” Halibutdusk reminded her, blocking her path to Shadowdrop. “The code protects him.”

“I don’t have anything to hide, Halibut,” Shadowdrop huffed. Downstar crouched beside the three new kits. All three were blind to the world, but Troutkit seemed to sense the presence of her leader and mewed softly.

“Two mollies and a tom,” Downstar muttered. Shadowdrop stood behind Carnationspeckle and studied the three kits.

“Wildclaw and I went hunting,” Shadowdrop said. “We found a molly nursing these three. She was a kittypet whose humans planned to kill her kits. She had been hiding in the forests outside our territory for a few days nursing them, but had to return to her humans. She asked us to take them in.” Clammask’s gray eyes burned like boiling water. These kits were Shadowdrop’s by blood, they looked just like him and his littermates. There was no way under Silverpelt that these kits did not have RippleClan blood. Clammask was certain of it.

“Did she name them?” Downstar asked softly. Clammask’s glare turned on Downstar. Did she really believe Shadowdrop?”

“She asked us to pick names with her,” Shadowdrop explained. He walked back around Carnationspeckle and touched his nose to each kit as he said “Tempestkit… Mosskit… Trumpetkit.” He turned back to Downstar and said, “I want to raise them, Mom. I’ll be their father.” He already was their father, did no one else see it?

“I have the milk for them, luckily,” Carnationspeckle purred. “They’ve latched on well.”

“Thank you, Carnationspeckle,” Shadowdrop sighed. “I couldn’t do this without your help.” He touched his nose to Carnationspeckle’s forehead. Bile crawled up Clammask’s throat.

“Welcome to RippleClan, little ones,” Downstar purred, voice cracking as she licked each small kit. She then groomed her son’s cheek and Shadowdrop leaned into his mother.

“Where’s Wildclaw?” Clammask finally snapped. “I want to hear her side of this story.”

“You know how deeply she sleeps,” Shadowdrop sighed, rolling his eyes. “She probably isn’t aware you’re back at all.” A good excuse to keep the story straight, Clammask thought.

“Clammask, can you leave us?” Downstar asked, finally noticing someone other than her kin. “Let Fennelspot know we have new members of the Clan to care for.” Clammask nodded slowly and backed out of the den. She knew when her words would go unheeded. 

StarClan, what was Shadowdrop doing? Clammask was certain he still liked Carnationspeckle, she could see it in his eyes. So why have kits with someone else? Shouldn’t he be fighting for her attention, like in Rabbitjoy’s stories of the tormented lover in the flames? Why go about it like this?

“Clammask?” Clammask had stopped a few tail-lengths away from the nursery, unable to obey her leader’s request. She turned to find Waspkit standing behind her. He looked more like an apprentice than ever before, searching for answers in Clammask’s eyes.

“What is it?” Clammask asked. Waspkit glanced toward the rest of his family, all focused on Lavenderkit’s retelling of the day’s events.

“When I was younger, and I caught Ripplekit in Downstar’s den,” Waspkit muttered, “I told on her, because Mom said we weren’t allowed in there. My littermates got mad at me and said I was trying to show off to the adults. If I tell you what I saw tonight, will Shadowdrop say I’m messing with something that doesn’t involve me?” 

“Waspkit, there is a difference between trying to get someone in trouble and knowing something bad has happened.” Gray eyes tore into gray eyes as Clammask thought through each word. “If you think Shadowdrop has done something that could hurt someone, it’s important to tell someone you trust so we can help fix it.” Waspkit nodded.

“I saw Shadowdrop and Wildclaw leave camp this morning,” Waspkit whispered into Clammask’s ear. “It didn’t look like a hunting patrol. Shadowdrop looked nervous. And, and the kits look really little, like when Troutkit was just born. They smell weird, too. I don’t think Shadowdrop is telling the truth.”

“I don’t either, Waspkit,” Clammask said. “We’ll keep this to ourselves for now, alright? Try and get some sleep. Thank you for trusting me.” She touched noses with Waspkit. The young tom nodded stiffly and scurried back to the nursery.

Clammask had to do something, and she had to do it soon.

(Clammask: 33, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Downstar: 98, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Lavenderkit: 5, male, kit, noisy, likes to sing)

(James: 115, male, caretaker, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Ripplekit: 5, female, kit, know-it-all, avid play fighter, splashes in puddles)

(Parsley: 133, female, elder, righteous, great speaker)

(Shadowdrop: 31, male, codekeeper, sneaky, good teacher, eloquent speaker)

(Carnationspeckle: 41, female, caretaker compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Troutkit: 0, female, kit, insecure)

(Tempestkit: 0, female, kit, troublesome)

(Mosskit: 0, male, kit, bullying)

(Trumpetkit: 0, female, kit, nervous)

(Waspkit: 5, male, kit, bossy, interested in clan history, eye for detail)

Scrubmask, Clammask, and Fennelspot go in search of the mother.

[Image ID: Scrubmask, Clammask, and Fennelspot face Froggy, who says “You’re all too late.”]

---

“Scrubmask, you know he’s lying,” Clammask hissed, crouched beside her friend in a quiet corner of camp. Most of RippleClan had retired for the night or continued ooing and awwing at the three new kits in the nursery. Clammask and Scrubmask were largely ignored, which worked in the younger molly’s favor.

“Do I?” Scrubmask sighed, resting her chin between her paws. “All I see is a tom who decided to do the right thing and raise some kits he found.”

“Kits that look just like him,” Clammask groaned.

“If he lied, we can’t ask him,” Scrubmask reminded Clammask, watching her from the corner of her eye. “You know the code.”

“Yes, yes, but there’s something that might trump the code in this situation,” Clammask huffed. “Someone gave birth to those kits, and whether Shadowdrop is telling the truth or not, that someone is in trouble.”

“How so?” Scrubmask sat up.

“If he’s telling the truth, which I know he isn’t,” Clammask huffed, “there’s a kittypet stuck in an awful situation that she has the opportunity to leave, if we find her. If he’s lying, there is a loner or Clan cat or someone out there who has recently given birth and needs help. Carnationspeckle was exhausted giving birth to a single kit. Do you want to imagine what a lone mother could be going through?”

“We could be bringing trouble on these kits’ heads,” Scrubmask sighed. “Your arrival wasn’t that different from theirs.”

“Don’t remind me,” Clammask grumbled. When she learned who her mother was, she couldn’t help but think, what if she had grown up with Sunstrike? What if she had gotten the chance to have two parents rather than one? Would Twinekit and Locustseeker still be alive?

“We’ll be making a big fuss if we try to find the mother,” Scrubmask said. “Are you sure you want to go through with it?”

“If anyone can find her,” Clammask insisted, “it’s you and your nose. You always bring back prey, finding a strange cat shouldn’t be much different. Besides, I think I can get someone else to help.”

And get someone she did. Fennelspot was rightly distracted by the new kits, but he saw all the details Clammask and Waspkit noticed earlier. It didn’t take much to get him to pack a basket with a few medical essentials and follow Clammask and Scrubmask out of camp.

Perhaps it was the leftover gloom of Harvest Moon’s scary stories. Perhaps it was Clammask’s own nagging worry about the story behind those three black kits. Whatever the case, RippleClan territory loomed around her as she and Scrubmask tried to pick up the hours-old trail of the unknown queen.

“Clammask,” Fennelspot gulped as the night pressed on, “there may not be a good trail left to find. It could be lost in old scents. StarClan knows where Shadowdrop and Wildclaw encountered the kits.”

“We can’t go back yet,” Clammask groaned. “Those kits need their mother.”

“All I’m saying is that we may not find her tonight,” Fennelspot pointed out. “It’s been well over half a day since the kits arrived at camp. It’s late, we’re tired, and Scrubmask still hasn’t found a scent.” Fennelspot motioned toward Scrubmask, who had gone ahead of the pair to better find a scent, but the cream and white molly was gone. “Scrubmask?”

“I found something,” Scrubmask called. Clammask and Fennelspot jogged through the thick tree lines and through the scrub. Scrubmask crouched beside a small nook at the base of a fir. Clammask could smell it now; the thick and heavy scent of birth. Carnationspeckle reeked of it for days after her kitting. 

“You scared me for a moment, Scrubmask,” Fennelspot gulped. “I thought a Shadow claimed you! It is still technically Harvest Moon, don’t forget that.”

“I got distracted by the scent,” Scrubmask huffed, sniffing the ground around the tree. “There’s no mistaking this smell.”

“I was right!” Clammask cheered. “The kits are newborn! I knew they weren’t a few days old.”

“Neither of us disagreed,” Scrubmask pointed out. “You may be better off restraining your excitement. This has made things much harder for those kits.” Clammask settled down, clearing the cheer from her throat. 

“The scent heads south,” Fennelspot pointed out.

“The queen could be making camp near our territory!” Clammask jogged along the scent’s trail. “Hurry!” Trying to outpace the fastest cats in RippleClan was a fruitless venture, but Scrubmask and Fennelspot matched Clammask’s speed, hurrying alongside her, tasting the air.

Before long, the southern horse path came into view. A distant monster thundered toward WheatClan territory. The soul-shaking shriek of the poor horse trapped by the monster may have been dulled by distance, but it still made Clammask shiver. A figure shifted in the quiet dark on the other side of the horse path. Their fur was so dark, Clammask couldn’t make out their features in the night.

“Hello?” Clammask called. “We’re from RippleClan. Did you just give birth?” 

“Clammask, careful,” Scrubmask groaned as the younger molly hurried toward the horse path.

“We have your kits,” Clammask yowled, “We can reunite you! We brought our cleric, he can help you recover!” The figure stepped into better view. However, it was not the face of a tired queen, but rather an oh-so-familiar black kittypet.

“Froggy?” Scrubmask huffed, appearing at Clammask’s side. Froggy crept to the edge of the horse path. His paws were coated in dirt.

“You’re all too late,” Froggy growled. “She’s… she’s gone.” A mound of dirt rose up behind Froggy. The old kittypet stumbled back to the mound and laid on top of it. He turned his back to the group, his cheek pressed into the ground.

“I don’t understand,” Clammask muttered, mindlessly approaching the grave. “The trail… we followed it all the way from our territory. How could she get here if she…”

“Clammask,” Fennelspot whispered. He brushed against her and approached Froggy. He sat beside the kittypet and put his tail over Froggy’s back. “What was her name, Froggy?”

“Cinderella,” Froggy grumbled, turning away from the Clan cats. “Her name was Cinderella.”

“How did you know her?”

“She and her sister were born not far from my home. I’ve known her since she was a kit. I wasn’t going to let her waste away by the roadside.”

“That’s very noble of you.” Fennelspot looped around Froggy so he could meet his eyes. “Did you know Cinderella was expecting? Do you know what happened to her?”

“We think we have her kits,” Clammask huffed. “We think Shadowdrop is the father.”

“Shadowdrop?” Froggy’s head shot up. “He… that… that fox-hearted, manipulative…” Froggy shoved himself to his paws and glared at Clammask, sneering as he said, “He was the sire?”

“What do you know?” Scrubmask asked. She stood close to Clammask as Froggy’s fury smoked and sparked before them.

“She wanted to learn Clan skills,” Froggy growled, tail thrashing. “She knows you Clan cats can start fires and cure disease, she wanted to do those things too. She told me a Clan tom said if she had his kits, he would teach her anything she wanted to know. I only found out a few days ago. She wasn’t herself when her labor started. She ran off. Her sister asked me to find her, and when I did… I don’t know what went wrong, but Cinderella was in pain. She was trying to get home, and she only got so far…” Clammask’s fur burned with the same anger flowing through Froggy. 

“Tell us everything you know,” Clammask growled. “If Shadowdrop and Wildclaw left your friend to die, I’ll make sure they’re punished.”

(Clammask: 33, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Scrubmask: 56, female, warrior, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)

(Fennelspot: 96, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Froggy: 108, male, kittypet, rebellious, maintains the territory, great speaker)

[lily-iguess]

BETTER GET NERVOUS BETTER GET TENSE BETTER NOT LET THEM CATCH YOU BLINKING

[evilcatgirlwizard]

ohhh. au where high ranks in clans get extra body parts

like, leaders get wings. they can glide with them but not fly. starclan gives the wings w/ their nine lives, on the place symbolizing their relationship with their clan. someone like Bluestar, who gave up so much for her clan, has her wings sprouting from the back of her neck. Someone who used and hurt every cat in his clan like Tigerstar or Brokenstar would have them on the sides of their legs (like bats, so their entire leg is the wing but also a claw). heroic leaders like Firestar get them right behind their ears. Sturdy and reliable leaders like Mistystar get them on their hips. etc etc

Medicine cats, when they're done w their apprenticeship, get a bug part. Like, if they're bright or joyous they get a glowing tail like a firefly. If they bring levity and relief, butterfly wings. If theyre strict, a beetle's horn. If they're particularly connected with Starclan, moth antennae.

Deputies get tiny little nubby wings only on their shoulders when they first get made deputy under the full moon's light, but they lose those when they become leader, but keep 'em if they die or retire.

Any cat with powers also gets an extra feature. Lionblaze got chitin along his spine and over his belly, Jayfeather has two sets of moth antennae (a longer pair from his power that spring from his ear tips, and a shorter pair on his eyebrows for him being a medicine cat). Dovewing got deputy's wings, but they just kept growing unlike most deputies who can't even use them to glide, but she can actually fly. Not far or a whole lot, but wings. are there other powered cats? I'm old.

But you get the gyst. If I were an artist I would art but I am unable. but you see the vision catblr

[tomjamesavery]

I miss Her Written for Ginnyversary with the prompt: #B14 — He waited until her husband was out of the room, then... Read on: AO3

James Potter felt slightly better than before, as he stepped into the Floo at Godric's Hollow. 

His son and daughter-in-law had invited him to dinner at Grimmauld Place, and since Lily, his wife, was currently on an international NGO educational trip, teaching magical orphans in South America, making him quite lonely at home, he was happy for any distraction he could get.

As he was employed at Hogwarts, as the new deputy Headmaster to Minerva McGonagall and  Head of Gryffindor House, he found himself with a lot of time on his hands since the summer break had started two weeks ago.

But that wasn’t on his mind right now, as he dusted himself off, stepping from the Floo into his son’s family’s living room.

“Dad! And on time at that!” Harry happily greeted him, glancing at the old grandfather Clock, engraved with the Crest of the House Black.

James smiled at his son as the two lovingly embraced in a big bear hug.

“24 Years old, and you’re still smaller than me.” James teased, earning him an eye-roll from Harry.

“We’re basically the same height Dad, I guess I’ve just learned to better control my hair,” Harry smirked. “Look at your mop of unruly Potter mess up there!”

James only snorted as he lightly elbowed his son in the side. Neither of them noticed the third person that had entered the room.

“You both have hairstyles worthy of the Potter name.” Ginny had appeared in the doorway, she was wearing a Harpies sweater and grey Jeans, smiling brightly at them. “Now come on you two, dinner is ready, Harry, our Cook, spent the entire afternoon whipping something up for us.” She exclaimed over her shoulder, leaving towards the kitchen again.

James smirked as he saw his son stare after his wife, a lovesick look shaping his face.

“A lucky bastard, that’s what you are.” He teased. Earning him a rude hand gesture from Harry, as the two Potter men made their way into the kitchen as well.

Dinner was a calm affair, Harry had prepared them Beef Wellington with sides of mash, green peas, and Brussels sprouts. James had to admit, his son could cook.

They chatted about what had been going on in their lives recently, Ginny outlining the details of their last Quidditch training, as the two men attentively listened.  Harry told about the new field of work assigned to him since he had been appointed Deputy Head of the Auror Department just last month, it was a commotion and there even had been a party thrown in his name, which he hated.

While James outlined his plans for reworking the garden at Godric’s Hollow, and how he had been keeping himself busy over the last few weeks, pointedly ignoring how much was missing Lily.

While Harry luckily didn’t seem to catch on, James had noticed the looks his daughter-in-law was giving him, she wasn't as oblivious as her husband, and James was once again reminded how she very much had become a real daughter for him and Lily, in all but blood, they loved her unconditionally.

After they had finished the main course James was very certain Ginny had fully caught on to how miserable he had been feeling recently. They were sitting in comfortable silence for a short while, before Harry spoke up again, a big grin crossing his features.

“I’ve tried myself on something special, for dessert tonight, give me a few minutes, I will be in the kitchen!” With those words he stooped up quickly making his way toward the kitchen, whistling as he went.

But James's eyes were already on Ginny, and he waited until her husband was out of the room, before he spoke.

“Yes, I am lonely, I know it's unreasonable, but she’s been gone for four weeks, and she’ll only be back by the end of this month, so in two weeks…” He continued a hint of desperation in his voice. “Ginny I don’t know what to do without her… I can't…”

“James!” He was interrupted by his daughter-in-law, who looked at him in concern, as she continued with a calm voice.

“Breathe! Deep Breaths, In and Out!” She instructed, and James closed his eyes, doing what she said.

“Good that’s better, now listen to me for a second.” Her tone was sweet and she gave him an understating smile.

“We both know how much Lily wanted this, and I know how much you supported her, going there on her own, to do what she loves, helping others.”

“Lily misses you too, and I bet she can’t wait to come back and snog you senseless-“ James smiled at the thought, as Ginny continued.

“-But she wouldn't want you to be miserable here, she wants you to be fulfilled and happy, and of course that doesn't mean that you’re not allowed to miss her, but crying after her like a little lovesick puppy, wouldn't make her happy either if she knew-” Ginny explained.

“-and I can tell you, if there’s anyone that always knows stuff like that, it's her!” She smiled, her face full of understanding.

“So jump into your garden, and get working, or start preparing next year's school plan, whatever, just stay busy, she will be back in two weeks' time anyway, those few days will fly past, I promise!” 

The last words she said made James feel a lot more at ease, Ginny was right, those two weeks would fly by, just like the last four had, he would just keep busy and before he could blink, the love of his life would be back and they would be united again.

“Who wants self-made treacle tart!” James threw open his eyes, just as his son stepped back into the room, holding two plates of dessert.

He suddenly stopped, looking at his wife and father sitting at the table. “Everything alright, you two look so serious somehow?” Harry raised a confused eyebrow. There was a deafening silence for a second until James couldn't but laugh as he and Ginny burst into loud laughter, leaving Harry staring at them in even bigger confusion.

“No Babe, it's fine, we were just talking about how full we were from your wonderful meal.” Ginny lied as she jumped to her feet, chastely kissing her husband on the lips, before turning and shooting James a swift grin as he nodded in thankful reply, reciprocating her smile.

Harry only shook his head, his eyes still wide open in confusion as they switched between James and Ginny. “Sometimes you two are an enigma to me...”

[firestarishomophobic]

sorry for clan inconsistency but here’s a few more clangen cats from my newest playthrough. these are oakclan cats! basically i’ve created four clans for my own lil project, and i’m developing clan origins and lore through that. these are a few of the founding (except for heatherplume) members of the clan.

oakclan lives in a dense oak forest and, on an island that doesn’t see much sun, comes to value it immensely. i haven’t entirely figured out that lore yet. they have a sister clan, hollyclan, who loves the snow and dark. there are two other clans: firthclan and mireclan.

oakstar was the original leader, but hollowmoon is probably the most influential of the group. as the original healer, he was also the first to talk to the Stars, who advised him upon their new naming system. at this time, he was only known as hollow. naming in this clan is a very spiritual practice. a cat ready to receive their warrior name will travel out with the healer to meditate, and the leader calls the new name once it has been decided. so hollowmoon introduced the naming system to this clan. it might be similar with the other healers in the other clans. hes a nervous old guy now, and he misses his mate. i’ll prolly draw him later!

sproutsight is my current favorite. she is the deputy, and oakstar’s old apprentice. she got her name because she was so good at helping hollowmoon find plants— sproutsight for her ability to see sprouts!

[cricketnationrise]

Hello! Would you be willing to write George Cooper from the Tortall universe? If you'd prefer a different character that's fine I just would love to read something of yours in this fandom. ♥️

Dancing Dove, 11:23am

of COURSE i will write you some George Cooper! here's a little moment of the first time he invites Alan to the Dancing Dove - hope you like it!

read the rest of the ficlets here!

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

before the noon bell, dancing dove

George was just getting back from a stroll around the Lower City when his Gift tapped him on the shoulder, saying pay attention, daft boy. He looked around for the source of his Gift’s focus and couldn’t help a delighted grin spreading across his face when he recognized a shock of red hair and purple eyes picking their way through the marketplace crowd. The youth was accompanied by Gareth of Naxen—the younger one—unless George missed his guess. So the lad was in page training, then, he mused as the pair stopped at a stall with armor and weapons for sale. Grin widening with impishness, George slid through the throng of people and tapped the small red-head on the shoulder.

The lad startled badly and turned to look up at him. George was momentarily caught in the sharp gaze of those strange purple eyes, but recovered quickly enough that the page didn’t notice.

“So—it’s the young sprout with purple eyes. I was wonderin’ if you’d fallen into a well.”

To his pleased surprise, the lad grinned back at him. “I’ve been at the palace.”

Master Gareth interrupted then, breaking off their conversation with his suspiciousness. George introduced himself with a bow and, on a whim he’d never be able to explain to himself, invited them for a drink at the Dove. By all rights, he should have stayed in public, shouldn’t have brought two pages—one of which would likely be Prime Minister—into the heart of his kingdom. But he had a good feeling about the little red-haired lad, and besides, the invitation made his Gift curl up like a contented cat in a sunbeam.

He signaled to Solom for ale and lemonades and settled in with Gary and Alan at his customary table, subtly waving off his curious inner circle of deputies. Gary’s questioning was expected, his sharp mind on display, guessing George’s real position within minutes of sitting down. Alan stayed quiet, sipping his drink and seeming to just take it all in. His face betrayed nothing, no sign of approval or distaste as George named himself as Corus’ King of Thieves, the Lower CIty’s Rogue. It was frustrating to be unable to get a read on the young sprout—the lad’s own Gift canceled his own out. Oddly, he wanted to know everything about Alan, was itching to know what Alan thought of George’s life; it was clear he was waiting for all the facts before giving any sort of reaction.

“I like you—” Gary said then, interrupting George’s train of thought. “For all you’re a thief.”

George laughed. “And I like you, Gary—for all you’re a noble. Friends, then?” They sealed it with a handshake. “And you, Alan?” he asked, using every bit of his hard-earned diligence to keep the trepidation out of his voice.

“I…want some more lemonade,” he said, pouring himself a fresh tankard, the hint of smirk hovering around his mouth. George couldn’t help but smile at that; the lad would be keeping George on his toes, for certain. He heard the noon bell ring out over the city and slumped internally; it wouldn’t do for them to spend their whole afternoon in the Court of the Rogue, no matter how much George was enjoying himself.

“You’d best be gettin’ back.” He couldn’t help but make his position clear before they left, though. “If you need anything, send word through Stefan—he works in the palace stables. You’ll find me here most of the time, and if not, ask old Solom. He’ll fetch me quick enough.”

Both pages shook his hand after standing; George suppressed a jolt when the feel of Alan’s hand seemed to send a shock up his arm.

“You’ll be seeing us, then,” Alan promised with all the gravitas of a vow of fealty. “Good day to you.”

George watched them leave with a smile on his face. He had a distinct feeling that the next few years were going to be quite interestin’ indeed.