#dried minnows

[shithowdy]

RIP AND TEAR RIP AND TEAR

[figofswords]

saw some tags on one of your posts and u have a cat name midna?? 🥺 I love that 🥺 can we see a pic pretty please

oh boy do I EVER have a cat named midna. and she is Deranged

(bonus: rare photo of midna being NOT a maniac + tiny baby muppet midna)

[bonefall]

how would BB Sorreltail react to canon clan cats eating raw meat?

THEY ARE FULL OF WORMS. HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE WORMS.

She swears in Clanmew when she finds out they don't even have fire.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WINDCLAN DOESN'T EAT GRASSHOPPERS WHERE ARE THEY GETTING SHINE FOR THEIR COATS RABBITS DON'T HAVE ENOUGH FAT ILL FLAY THEM"

[funkmetalalchemist]

my cat would go craaaazy for human sweat-flavored cat food

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Hi! I read your posts offering tips on how to describe dark coastal and academia settings. They were super helpful! I was wondering if you had any writing tips for dark forests..? Hope it wasn't too big of an ask. Thanks for your time!

I truly love this so much! I apologize for the delay in my post. I tend to put things off sometimes, I'm a serial procrastinator and it took me a little while to gather my thoughts on what you might encounter in dark forests. But hopefully these are similar to what you wanted!

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜List of Random Things For Your Dark Forests Settings | For Writers

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜

The Overgrown Trail 🌿

Winding dirt path obscured by tangled roots and underbrush

Twisted, gnarled tree trunks reaching up to block the sky

Shafts of pale moonlight cutting through the thick canopy

The distant hoot of an owl and the chittering of unseen creatures

The earthy, damp scent of decaying leaves and moss

The Abandoned Cabin 🏚️

Dilapidated wooden structure, its paint peeling and windows boarded up

Cobwebs draped across the porch railing and doorframe

The creak of warped floorboards and the groan of the sagging roof

Rusted tools and broken furniture scattered among the weeds

The stale, musty odor of neglect and the faint tang of rot

The Moonlit Glade 🌕

A small clearing, the grass blanketed in a carpet of wildflowers

Gnarled, ancient trees ringing the open space like silent sentinels

Faint wisps of fog drifting across the still surface of a dark pond

The soft susurration of leaves in the gentle breeze

The faint glow of bioluminescent mushrooms dotting the forest floor

The Winding Stream 🌊

A burbling brook cutting through the undergrowth, its water crystal-clear

Thick, twisted roots breaking through the soil along the banks

Schools of darting minnows and the occasional flash of a trout

Clusters of delicate ferns and mosses clinging to the damp rocks

The soothing sound of rushing water over the pebbles

The Ritual Circle 🕯️

A ring of large, moss-covered stones in a small, secluded clearing

Remnants of burned candles and wilted flower petals scattered within

Carved wooden totems or animal skulls adorning the perimeter

Thin wisps of incense smoke curling up towards the treetops

The eerie silence, broken only by the distant cry of a raven

The Fog-Shrouded Ravine 🌫️

A deep chasm obscured by tendrils of swirling mist

Gnarled, skeletal trees clinging to the steep, rocky sides

The faint sound of running water echoing up from the unseen depths

Thick vines and twisted roots snaking across the uneven ground

The chill of the damp air, raising goosebumps on bare skin

The Witch's Cottage 🧙‍♀️

A crooked, thatched-roof hut nestled between the twisted trees

Dried herbs and animal bones hanging from the eaves

Smoke curling from the chimney, the scent of charred wood and herbs

A small garden of nightshade, mandrake, and other sinister plants

The eerie cackling of the resident witch, her shadow glimpsed through the windows

The Forgotten Graveyard 🪦

Crumbling, moss-covered headstones half-submerged in the undergrowth

Skeletal tree branches reaching down like grasping hands

Ravens perched atop the weathered grave markers, cawing ominously

Shreds of tattered funeral wreaths and faded flowers scattered about

An unearthly chill in the air, as if the spirits of the dead linger

The Enchanted Pool 🌙

A small, still body of water reflecting the night sky above

Luminescent flora blooming along the murky banks

Schools of glimmering, ethereal fish drifting through the depths

Mist swirling across the surface, obscuring the view of the bottom

The faint sound of otherworldly music drifting from unseen sources

The Cursed Clearing 🕳️

A barren, circular area devoid of vegetation, as if scorched by dark magic

Twisted, blackened tree trunks surrounding the perimeter like sentinels

Jagged shards of obsidian-like rock piercing up from the soil

The crunch of bone-dry leaves and twigs underfoot, shattering the silence

An oppressive aura of dread and unnatural stillness permeating the air

[jimmyhoffathecat]

Jimmy’s Recent Crimes

1. He figured out how to open the drawer full of cat treats and ate a bunch of freeze-dried minnows and chicken hearts with the other cats

2. He climbed to the ceiling above the fridge and got scared so I had to climb up there and get him down

3. He has begun to attack my feet when he is hungry

[lionsongfr]

Riot of Rot Cuisine- Second Course

Since I promised I would do another one when a Plague venue actually came out. Still ended up mostly using items from Gathering. OTL Previous can be found here: link

Eternal Soup Hotpot- the last warrior to die before the peace between Plaguebringer and Gladekeeper had their bones gifted to 10 Plague chefs. From those bones came 10 eternal soups, their cauldrons are never emptied, and their liquid is replenished as needed. Since food can be scarce in the Plaguelands it is customary to bring food items to dip into the pot and devour as hotpot together. The most common items brought are “dung balls” (ground Gigante chicken livers mixed with Wild Onion), Leechroot Mushroom, whole Glass Minnows, and Banded/Land Snails (slurped right out of the shell!)

Bloody Hearts- despite the name this is one of the few non-meat dishes of Plague. A Gryphon's Blood Sempervivum is first steamed and then the center gently scraped away to reveal a clean heart. Wild Onions, Canyon Ruffage, and garlic are sautéed with Flying Butter, and are then simmered with a Sour Strawberry wine.  Grassland Grain breadcrumbs are added before the mixture is stuffed into Sempervivum and baked till golden. A spicy Ashfall Prickler sauce is drizzled on top.

Hellwell Pepper Soup- in the hot and arid air of the Wastelands, Rapheal (a catfish) are dried out in the open. The fish are treated with a mixture of salt and Herbal Plantain to fend off microbes and hungry Bloodfang. To dine on the fish, it must be first be soaked to remove the salt. The soup base is a paste of Blacktongue pepper, Hot Pepper, Wild Onions, garlic, basil, and Cinnamon added to boiling water. The fish is then added to the pot and cooked till tender. Served with boiled Green Plantains or poured over top of mashed Turnips. A searing spice that must be survived to enjoy. 

Mom's Spaghetti and Meat Balls- the meat balls can be made of any meat scraps, but the most common ingredients are ground Maggots and Diseased Fungus, which is fried in Hissing Goose fat to enhance the flavor. The pasta is made of Crisp-Leaf Amaranth, dense and chewy, and topped with a sauce made of Wild Catsup, sour Flying Butter milk, and Desert Sage. A grating of nutritional yeast is often offered to give a cheesy flavor to the dish.

Plague Bat Adobo- colonies of Plague Bats flying is a frequent sight across the Wasteland and are a plentiful food source. The meat is cut up into chunks and first browned in Mushroom Oil. It is then simmered with Wild Onion, garlic, Butcher’s Fig vinegar, Hot Peppers, and soy sauce. The meat is allowed to cook until it is tender and served over a bed of Grassland Grain.  The primary ingredient, vinegar, inhibits the growth of bacteria!

Green Eggs and Ham Omelet- an Undying Featherback is a ferocious beast, and its meat must be cured in separate caverns to keep it from reforming. This valuable ham is used sparingly not just because of its cost, but also its strong and gamey flavor. The omelet starts out by boiling Wasteland Pear nopales, which are then rinsed under cold water and chopped. Wild onions, nopales, and the chopped ham are seared, and then whisked Gigante eggs are added over top. An herbivore friendly version substitutes the ham with the meaty Leechroot Mushroom, while insectivores prefer fried Fungus Cutter pupae.

Wyrm Jelly- when a tendril of the Wandering Contagion breaks off and dies it becomes hollow. Clans carefully collect these tendrils and fill them with a gelatin mixed with blood, Cinnamon, and Herbal Plantain (anti-toxin).  The gelatin is set in the cold desert night before being squeezed out into long tubes of gummies. It is believed that whatever killed the tendril will colonize the gut of the dragon, strengthening them against any new disease.

Beetle Sausage- long strands of Grapevine and Vineyard beetles dipped into concentrated grape juice and then hung to dry like sausages. The colors can vary depending on the type of grape from the Blue Indigo to Orange Autumn. It is a calorie dense treat that warriors often carry into battle to renew their energy. Also, because somehow Plague has grapes?

Snot Shot- Streak’s Dagger herbal liquor is known for its numerous therapeutic properties, caloric values, and bright neon green color. The shot is layered with a red Sugarmelon schnapps (import from Water Flight), followed by the green Streak’s Dagger liquor, and topped with a Wasteland Pear cream liquor…and then a spritz of Sour Strawberry juice. The drink must be downed quickly before the cream and acid of the juice becomes a curdled mess of sick. (though some Plague dragons prefer it that way)

[sharkflan]

gave Sadie a dried minnow and she didn’t know what to do with it so i cut it up for her in her food bowl. later heard her being crazy and went to see. she took the fish head out of the bowl and was playing with it 🤢

[l3irdl3rain]

Duncan is the only cat I’ve ever been able to convince that these freeze dried minnows are edible. Even Petunia who is a huge foodie will only lick and chew on them a little bit before remembering they’re yucky

[grapehyasynth]

a year ago today i said goodbye to my sweet prince lucy

when i adopted him on my 23rd birthday, he had already had at least two owners. he was a cuddlebug immediately - he loved to lay on my butt, between my legs, on my legs, on my stomach or chest or face.

no one else ever got to know quite how magical he was; he was scared of most people, or at very best slow to warm up to them. people have said he had an annoyed face, and it breaks my heart every time, because he was the most gentle, loving cat.

maybe your first pet as an adult is like your first love, or maybe lucy was just that special, because i feel like we were made for each other and i will compare every cat to him, forever. he loved avocados and bread and dried minnows. he lived with me on two continents. in the winter he loved to climb under the blankets and nestle against me.

he wasn't good with change, and he hated car rides, and i feel a lot of grief and guilt for how many times i made him move and travel. i hope he still felt safe and loved.

in the days after his death, i couldn't stand to think of him not existing, but i also couldn't stand to think of him existing elsewhere, both of us missing each other, both of us always looking for the other. i'm so grateful for my time with him but it was nowhere near enough.

[vwv-watching-boy]

Hey guys I work in the animal care field. And like idk who needs to know this but in case you do.

Bird flu will kill your cats and dogs. And potentially you. It is highly infectious. There is no current cure or vaccine to it. There are antivirals to take that may lessen symptoms but that's about it.

Cats have a 67% mortality rate. Humans have like 50%. Dogs I actually don't exactly know. I was talking to a vet about it. And we only have cats so dogs didn't get brought up.

It's been bad for like the past half Decade. But it's real bad this year.

If you feed your animal raw bird of any kind stop. It is linked with infection (including human grade food)

If you have outdoor cats keep them inside. Even little cat patios can be dangerous.

If you have exposure to birds change your clothes before you interact with your pets.

If you're pet gets sick with symptoms take them to a vet. Also if you feel sick go to a doctor.

I understand hospital visits (animal and human) can be expensive. But if you have bird flu it has a good chance of killing you or your pet. So you want to have medical care.

That's just general advice I got told by the vet to care for my pets. I switched treats for my cat as well. She gets freeze dried minnows but the company that does her minnows also do chicken hearts, and chicken gliblits. And I don't want to take that risk on my baby.

Please look into this for your pet. Or for yourself. Just be well informed so you and your furry friend stay safe.

[bonefall]

Do the cats have a good way to preserve meat? Boar meat wouldn't be so worth it if it could only feed the clan for a day before it spoiled

In BB yes, absolutely. Preserving food for later use is a major job of the Head of Kitchen Patrol, which in ThunderClan's latest arc is currently Sorreltail. Though she's definitely already training her successor so she can finally retire, if she hasn't already

Even before the food processing begins, Clans have some different behaviors to account for this;

Big hunts are never done in summer (ThunderClan) Not only is it so hot that you're more likely to get heatstroke (cats can't sweat the same way humans do), not ONLY do you have less time in a day to hunt because of that (In any other season, you can hunt into the day or night, but in summer there's an entire 8-hour stretch of time where the sun is beating down on you), but you're also racing against time before the organs begin to spoil. Getting a boar home is a HUGE task, even a small one. Human hunters "grallock" our prey, digging a hole and leaving the organs behind, so that we can carry the carcass easier. But organs are MOST of the nutrition for a Clan cat. No, better to simply hunt big food when it gets cold. (plus, ThunderClan finds the snow helpful. They don't sink into it the way that a heavy boar does.)

Animals are quickly stored in a larder (All Clans except RiverClan) A larder is a deep tunnel that is dug in the ground at various points along a patrol, like a "root cellar". Unlike canon they don't "bury" it where they find it and come back for it, because this causes wasted backtracking AND wasted prey as the hunter forgets where they buried it. Larders are at strategic points along popular routes. Sometimes a cheeky apprentice in ShadowClan will shove their catch in the bog, where it gets preserved TOO well. Batear hopes HIS is still there though :P

Everything is DROPPED when a cat happens to come across a large carcass and runs back to camp Seriously, when someone runs in saying they've found a fallen or dying deer, a bunch of cats will jump up and follow them. Yes, you could use this to your traitorous advantage, but dying deer are a lot more common than coup-de-tats.

When it comes to food preservation itself, the way they preserve meat is going to depend a lot on the Clan. ShadowClan likes fermentation, chopping stuff up to store in stomachs and intestines and processing them as sausages. ThunderClan smokes everything. RiverClan likes to preserve things in spices and leave stuff out to dry, but has a massive event in autumn where they catch and store salmon for the winter. WindClan used to use their tunnels but is going through a salt kick at the Lake.

A truly canon-compliant Clan is going to have issues. Digging tunnels will help to make food last. In the winter, the snow can be used directly; but only a desert Clan (ironically) will be able to construct a natural refrigerator. You can follow this recipe for Dried Minnows to preserve just about any strip of meat.

But overall... you will have issues as a canon compliant Clan. but also a compliant Clan could never take down a boar, so, it balances out.

[regexkind]

The beach was desolate and frigid. A little trickle of water sluggishly ran from the marshes down to sea. It should have made a burbling sound but the fog that had rolled in seemed to stifle every noise but the rhythmic lull of the surf. Even that was dead; normally the ocean is animated by wild consciousness, but today it came down on the beach like the stroke of a rower who has been in their canoe for days, exhausted beyond all endurance.

As I traced the trickle of water I came upon the tragic form of a heron, broken and bent at an unnatural angle. Its feathers were frayed and muddy, and its eyes had been taken by some scavenger. It was ruined and impossibly delicate.

A sensible part of me, the part that pays bills and heeds stopsigns, urged me not to interfere with this shattered being. It told me that I would catch some hitherto unknown avian plague. But my hands moved under their own power, and reached out to scoop up the lifeless bird.

I remember holding it as the tide came in, unable to move from my position, the water coming in over my shoes. This doesn't seem possible, because I also don't remember becoming cramped or my feet pruning up, both of which should have happened. Instead, as the water flowed over my toes and the arches of my feet, I became aware of a trickle of awareness flowing away from my crouching form, and into the body I wrapped to my chest.

What started as a dribble became an unstoppable torrent. I plunged into the depths of lagoons and felt frogs, still struggling, course down my gullet—I flapped laboriously across taciturn skies and felt rain lash my beak and eyes—I saw in a flash the secret cove I made my nest of salt grass in, where any rare human interloper who walked by would be unable to recognize it as a bird's home.

As the torrent became a stream and then dried up entirely, I came back into my body. I looked down at the heron, only to discover that it was sloughing apart in my arms like a sandcastle tumbling into the sea. What had been the beak, was now a flaking piece of plastic detritus. What were once the quills of feathers became rusting wire. I began to weep, hot tears spilling out and scalding my chill cheeks, and woke in my unheated house.

I tried to put the dream out of my mind, but all day I found myself crying on and off, unable to control myself. Over the next week, I continued to suddenly find myself riveted by memories I had only had in my life as a heron. I would see a power line and remember perching on it, watching flickers dart to and fro, or else eat a wonton in the strip mall and suddenly have to push away a powerful memory of a minnow sliding down into my stomach.

I had begun to convince myself that this was all just a particularly vivid and arresting dream. About a month afterwards, I was walking at the saltwater park in my neighborhood when I saw a black passageway, off the boardwalk and into the thickets and weeds. I found myself drawn magnetically inwards, and realized with an intense shock that this was the place of the heron's nest.

I have no idea what to do with this second life I seem to have lived. I don't think I should ignore it. I don't know if I can.

[dreamseersystem]

Just a little drabble I made of a version of Leviathantale. I hope people like it.

Was this what it was like to die?

That was his thought as he sank into the dark waters below. The family he thought he had, they were all just lies. Used until he was no use anymore because of who he once was. Who he had left behind on the mainland when he joined Gaster and his crew of pirates. But that was what he was used for. A bargaining chip in some ploy to gain money and favors out of the family he abandoned. He never told anyone of his royal heritage, but somehow the captain knew. He acted like a caring father to him, and when the money and favors dried out...

It was amazing how fast a life can pass before one's eyes as they die. The betrayal of the captain as he revealed his birth name and the reason he was kept on the ship. The jeering of the crew he once thought of as brothers and sisters calling for his death. It was a crime to them to be born royal. Even if he rejected that life. Gaster himself pushed him off the plank, giving him a last chance to fight him, but he was too weak to defeat the captain. His magic was spilling out of him still, quickening his death in the sea. He could feel its cold tentacles wrap around him. Wait... No... He was really feeling tentacles around him. His instinct to fight made him flail in their grasp, but he was too weak to fight back.

"I would rather you not fight little minnow. It would quicken your death and make you just another dust cloud to feast upon by the small fish of the deep," a voice said. He froze.

"That's better," the voice said as a black face came into his sight. It's teal eye glowing in the darkness. "I am Nightmare. Tho, I guess greetings would be wasted if you just die on me." He pulls him close. "But you can live if your desire and hope is still there."

He wanted to live. He didn't want to die. His life had barely started and all because of his birth he was killed for. He wanted to live to be free of that past. He wanted to get revenge on the ship he thought was family.

Nightmare could seem to sense his will and emotions and chuckled. "Revenge and a desire to be free. I believe I can offer that," he said as he caressed his cheek. "But in exchange for a new life, I need something in return. Loyalty, obedience, and most of all, your knowledge of the world above. Do you agree or would you rather I end your life now?"

He wanted to say yes, but no words would come out. He didn't care he would have to be this abyssal's being slave. Just as long as he could live again. He just wanted to live. He nodded his head at Nightmare.

And Nightmare grinned. "It is a deal then. This might hurt a bit."

He reached into his chest and pulled his dusting SOUL out, sending magic into it as he kissed him at the same time. Pleasure and pain were what he felt and he couldn't even scream. Bones were shifting, everything was getting brighter, teal and purple magic surrounded his body as he heard bones crack below his waist.

Soon the feeling faded away, and with that the feeling of his legs. Now he felt something else, something new. A tail. He gasped as he took his first breath under water, not sure how exactly he was able to do it. He looked at himself in wonder. And ended up upside down since he didn't know how to use his tail yet.

Nightmare laughed. "Well, a shark on its belly, what a funny sight. You'll fit in with the rest of the shiver at least. But for now, we should complete our greetings shouldn't we. What is your name?"

He was able to right himself and felt his tail. It was powerful and strong. He could feel the power in it. He looked at Nightmare and bowed his head.

"My name, is Cross."

[entomolog-t]

The Shadow We Cast - 4

Two guys and too many beers leads to more shenanigans.

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3

Next Chapter: Chapter 5 (Coming Soon)

Word count: 2998

CW: Adult language, substances (beer/drinking), animal death (fishing/hunting)

It was beyond crazy to me that the most normal I’d ever felt was drinking beers with a weird little man who stood no more than, what, 6 inches tall at most? How many years had it been since the last time I had this much fun? The last time I felt like I could talk and laugh this freely? It just felt so… normal? The thought seemed ridiculous- I mean, the situation was anything but… and yet here I was, thoroughly buzzed and listening intently as if we were old friends.

Sal paraded around the table, reenacting some grand adventure I could only wrap my head around with the help of however many tallboys I’d downed over the past few hours. Tales of hunting monstrous beasts and climbing unfathomable heights. He wove wild stories of a world so foreign yet so familiar… quite literally a world in my backyard.

As I nursed another drink, Sal set the scene, recounting a day-long trek he'd made out to the lake. Mist rose off the water as loons called to one another, their haunting voices echoing off the calm water. He watched intently as they slipped under the water, barely even a ripple disturbing the surface of the lake.

As if he was painting a picture in my mind, I sat enthralled, feeling as if I could feel the crispness of the water washing away the heat of the sun as he spent the day swimming in the shallows. The way he spoke… It didn't feel like I was imagining his retelling from my perspective- but his own. His perspective felt like something … almost fantastical.

"I tried to lure some of the minnows, but I couldn't get close enough to spear them without them darting off.” As if still wielding a spear he eyed the non existent minnows, patiently following some unseen motion as he remained poised to strike. “The bigger minnows seemed slower, but they wouldn't come near shallow enough. I ended up using some of the dried grub rations I'd brought with me as bait, and boy did it work like a charm. I swam I bit farther out with the bait and-"

Spear raised, I could practically see the imaginary impact- watching as the massive fish- or minnow, thrashed against the sharpened twig. I was enthralled- the way his muscles moved with the motion was almost… intimidating, bringing forth thoughts of him human sized, spearing a monster of a fish while swimming in some dangerous Amazonian river. 

“The damn thing was a bitch to swim with,” he groaned, annoyance clear on his face, “For one- it was heavy. But worse,” Sal huffs, “It was still moving.” Despite the exasperation on his face in recounting the ordeal, the man’s face couldn’t help but return to grinning. 

“So then I’m swimming back, right? Honestly more like flailing with the stupid minnow in tow, but I’m keeping above water for the most part… but I keep hearing this clicking… almost squeaking noise? Weirder yet- it's coming from below me.” He pauses, lowering his voice and I’m quite literally reeled in by his story, leaning forward on the edge of my seat. 

“Then- whoosh!” 

Sal grabs at the air. My heart jumps in my chest as the man’s hand lashes out just inches from my face. 

“This monstrous bastard of a creature - absolutely huge,” He pauses, shooting me a cheesy grin, “Second only to you, big man.” I snort and Sal picks right up where he left off, “It was all murky brown with thick these thick… whiskers? And it just sucks me into its mouth with this horrific gulp. Next thing I know I’m being dragged underwater, half in its mouth, pounding on its head just hoping it’ll let me go if I hit it hard enough.”

My breath hitches, a shudder running through me as I make the connection- A catfish. 

“With nothing to lose, I stab it. The spear goes right through its eye and-” Sal pauses, making sure he has my full attention.

“And?”

“Nothing!” Sal laughs as if it was hilarious and not down right horrifying, “That stupid thing didn’t even flinch! I don’t know if it didn’t go deep enough or if I just missed any vital enough part, but it did absolutely nothing!”

He leans forward, no longer laughing as his face takes on a grim expression.

“At this point I start to get worried.”

“Start?!” I scoff. Sal dismisses my interruption with a wave of his hand.

"My lungs are burning, and the thing’s clamped down hard on my stomach. I'm stuck holding that stupid spear for life as it keeps doing this.. this…” He shudders, face twisting in disgust, “-weird gulping thing,” Sal shakes his head as if banishing the memory, “So I ripped that spear out and using everything I had I-” His fist came down, “- drove that spear right back into its head.” 

Sal pantomimed a gruesome show-  stabbing again and again in the world's most horrific display of charades as he brutalised the memory of the catfish. 

“Finally,” He says, voice filled with a mix of relief and exasperation as if he’d just relived the whole ordeal, “it dies.” 

I, stupidly, sigh in relief, as if somehow I couldn't have predicted the outcome with him quite literally standing in front of me.

“My lungs are on fire as I swim to the surface- and man, air never tasted so sweet.” Looking down at Sal, he's beaming, laughing like a kid as he recounts his victory over the massive fish. “And then it hits me- tasted!” 

I furrow my brow, not quite following. Sal continues, frustration returning.

“No spear- and no fucking minnow! As if, after all that, air was gonna be the only thing I’d be tasting!”

After a brief pause I couldn't help but laugh. His smile grew even wider as he raved on, swinging his hands as he continued on about his harrowing ordeal.

“I refused to swim back empty handed after that shitshow- So I spent the whole afternoon dragging that giant bastard back to shore!” 

Fuck. I stare at him, eyes wide. I can’t shake the disbelief as I try to think of what would be the equivalent feat- Dragging an orca back to shore? …Something bigger? I’ve never been an avid fisherman (nor did I have any plans to start) and really had no concept of how big the catfish in the lake got aside from the notion that they were definitely bigger than Sal.

“I get that monster to land- spend about 30 minutes on a fire that just won't start, until I'm finally able to start cooking that beast!” 

He paces along the length of the table, his steps not nearly as sure footed as they had been a few hours prior. Even with his tiny frame I can easily make out the sheer rage simmering behind his eyes.

“And y'know what?” His voice, now starting to slur, is teeming with all the theatrics of a man at his absolute limit. I swallow, desperate to hold back a laugh I know is coming.

“What?”

“That fucking thing tasted awful!” Each word was spat with such ferocity it was as if he was trying to spit out the memory of the creature's taste.

There was no helping it.

With my inhibitions long since drowned, I laugh. I laugh louder than I have in years. I laugh until my sides ache- until tears prick at the edge of my eyes.

And he laughs with me.

“Pond scum! Tha' shtupid thing tasted exactly how pond scum smells!”

My vision blurs, tears threatening to spill over as he continues to rant and rave, but the sound of my laughing completely drowns out whatever critical opinions he was espousing on catfish edibility. 

Wiping at my eyes, my brain takes a few tipsy seconds to focus back on the little man. Still shirtless, Sal had sat back, reclining with his back against one of the many empties as he lifted up what was arguably the equivalent to a very generous pitcher to his mouth with little effort- the relative ease of the action catching me by surprise as I imagined myself fumbling at doing the same. 

He… he was built. 

Quite literally a brick shithouse, if said shithouse belonged to Barbie.  

Broad seemed like a fitting word. Broad chested, broad shoulders, broad smile- Hell, even his legs had a width to them. Sal looked as if he had stepped directly out of an instagram fitness post, with his … excessive biceps flexing under the weight of the shot glass, the act a paradoxical effortless display of effort. Even at his diminutive size, I could tell this man was anything but small. He-

He coughs.

My eyes dart away from his body in an instant, snapping back to his face… accompanied with heat rising in my own. As my eyes meet his, I’m again struck with the absolute absurdity of the situation.

I'm here… getting drunk… with a tiny man… He’s right there- arms reach in front of me… 

And yet he still doesn't seem real.

My hand twitches at my side.

Touch him.

As my hand slides towards him, his gaze quickly flicks from my face to my hand and back to my face again. Confusion flashing across his features for a brief moment before his lopsided grin reappears. My finger tips barely graze him as he sidesteps my hand, shoving my fingers away. 

Huh. There's a surprising amount of weight behind his push. 

“Hands t'yourself, Big Guy.” Sal laughs, “You gotta take me to dinner first.”

It takes a moment for my brain to follow his words, and I snort. 

“Is that not what I did?” 

Sal blinks.

His own brain seeming to lag as realization dawns on him. After a moment's delay, he laughs. 

Sal takes an unsteady step forward, the sway in his weight more noticeable than before. He’s still smiling, but a look of concern crosses his features as he stares at the ground in front of him.

“I feel weird.” 

“You’re drunk.”

He looks back up towards me and I point to the drink. After a moment', Sal nods, seemingly cluing in. Maybe? I really couldn’t tell.  For all I know, that nod might have been him nodding off with how stunted the gesture had looked. 

“It…” He starts his sentence and seems to forget it half way through, taking a long blink in between words “... makes you dizzy?” 

I lean forward to rest my head on the table, starting to feel all too alike. 

“Mmm- yeah, when you’ve had a bit much.” 

With that, I slid the shot glass away from him- An act which was apparently the most egregious party foul ever to have been committed. Shouts of protest erupt beneath me, as he trails after the glass. 

With a laugh, I try to shoo him away, but man, the little guy can move. Despite the sway to his stride, Sal ducks my hand with ease.

“Dude,” I laugh, opting to pick up the glass, “You.. uh, you’ve had 'nough- you're gonna get sick.”

My words feel thick, almost sticky, in my mouth, and the thought crosses my mind that I should probably be taking my own advice.

“'m fine.” 

I snort. The man didn't even know what beer was all of two hours ago, and here he was thinking he knew his limits.

“'s if you’d know,” I chuckle. “You're stumblin' 'round.”

Sal narrows his eyes.

“I am not!”

“Oh really?” My words slur together, thick with condescension and alcohol as a smile down at him. I shove a finger to his chest, I give a little push. Sal shoots glare as he staggers back.

“See?” I chuckle, “You're totally shtumbling!” 

Eyes wide, he stares up at me, brain seeming to short-circuit for a moment before a goofy grin plasters itself across his face. I feel my own face mirror his expression as we break out into drunken laughter. 

The laughter hit me hard. 

I laughed at Sal's near cartoonish drunkenness.

I laughed at how he stumbled with a push from a finger.

I laughed at the strangeness- the reality shattering strangeness- of his very existence.

This... this is really strange...

As our collective laughter died down I took in a deep inhale. I needed to know more. I couldn’t keep up the half assed charade of normalcy. 

“Sal-”

In the brief moment I’d let my guard down, the tiny man quite literally pounces. I yank my hand away a fraction of a second before he lands, Sal stumbling as his weight falls forward. Before his face makes contact with the table, Sal seemingly just… goes with it? Just flowing with the momentum as if stumbling forward had been completely intended. With surprisingly little effort, his would-be fall morphs into a drunkenly graceful forward roll, carrying him to a stand- albeit, an unsteady one. 

For a moment, I’m at a loss for words, and before I’m able to react to whatever odd show of athleticism I’d just witnessed, he’s already at it again, eyes locked onto the shot glass like a cat locked onto a mouse. I move to shoo him away with my free hand, yet I’m met with nothing but empty space as Sal scrambles underneath the gesture. 

Again, he tries for the glass. 

Launching himself at my hand, I feel his hands graze my own before I lift the glass out of reach. Sal lands with a stumble, a lopsided grin sitting smugly on his face as he looks from the glass to me. 

Sal lowers his stance, looking something between a sprinter at the blocks and a mountain lion set to pounce. 

Seeing the gears in his head turning (albeit, slowly), I clue in. Before he gets the chance to scale me for the beverage, I make a grab for him. 

And yet, despite my efforts, somehow Sal winds up on top of my hand. It was like trying to grab at water- with him just flowing out of my grasp. Abandoning the shot glass, I grab at him with my free hand- watching dumbstruck as he drunkenly pivots, turning to jump at my in coming hand.

I freeze- Trying and failing to keep my hand steady as Sal hangs off my fingers. 

With my lack of reaction, Sal takes the opportunity to climb my fingers like some sort of rope ladder. 

To my horror, he climbs all of them, heaving himself to a shaky stand on the side of my index finger- Hands on his hips and grin on his face. 

I meet his gaze and he laughs, his expression smug as he wags his finger at me.

“Too shlow.” 

Arms out in a stumbling balance act, Sal begins walking across the edge of my hand looking oddly similar to a failed roadside sobriety test. Pausing, he frowns, pouting in frustration before bending over. For a moment, I think he’s about to throw up. Instead, he plants his hands firmly on my forearm.  

My stomach drops.  

With no effort whatsoever, Sal switches to walking on his hands- somehow just as drunkenly. Swaying side to side, every “step” seemed to overcompensate for the last, looking as if he was perpetually on the verge of tipping over.

And then he did.

In a split second, I’m sober.

My hand darts out, closing awkwardly around his form with all the grace and fine motor skills of a man marginally less drunk. Unmoving and unblinking, Sal stares up at me, a strange sound escaping him… almost as if a hum got caught in his throat. I could have almost been convinced he was nothing but an action figure with the way Sal went rigid- if not for his heart beating wildly beneath my fingertips. 

My own heart drummed in my ears, and for a moment, just a single moment, it didn’t bother me that he was sticky. 

He swallows. The tiny, but very human action feels uncanny at his size. The rise and fall of his chest, the strangely sizable weight of him in my hands… all of it is just so… strange. He feels solid - tense beneath my grip. Fuck- even at his size he felt strong. My eyes trace over the myriad of scars that marred his skin, gaze lingering over the clear bite mark that covered his shoulder and chest…

I hadn't even noticed my thumb tracing over it until I felt him try and push the digit away.

“Mark-” 

“Oh- sorry.” I adjust my grip into something I assume is more comfortable, opting to hold him in a way that left him semi-seated in my palms rather than awkwardly dangling from a first.

It's a weird sight, seeing a grown man sitting in your hands. Every small movement I make has him sway, his head drunkenly lolling back as he slurs a few indistinguishable words with a chuckle. Up close like this he looks just about as drunk as he sounds- red in the face and eyes struggling to stay open. 

Adjusting my grip, I cringe.

He was more than just a little sticky.

His pants clung to my skin, peeling off as I moved like a Band-Aid being removed. The mental image sends a shudder down my spine.

I consider taking the opportunity to wipe off the concerningly sticky little man while I have the chance, though a more rational voice in the back of my mind argues that a good host doesn’t assault their “neighbor” with wet wipes. 

Below, Sal grumbles something unintelligible, clearly displeased with me as he swats at my fingers. Though despite his attempts, my fingers lingered. 

Ugh- He left a stain on my hand! 

I glare at the dark smear of sauce he’d wiped off onto his pants, silently reconsidering the option of dousing the man in dish soap, let alone wet wipes, etiquette be damned. 

Instead, I opted for another drink.

[jayleap]

My versions of Jayfeather, Hollyleaf, and Lionblaze, designs subject to change. Also I’m using @bonefall ‘s AU so we’ve got Jay carrying a pot of herbal tincture to trade with another clan, likely celandine which is almost exclusive to thunderclan. He’s not the most social cat but he’s really good at trades, usually getting more than a fair offer for whatever he’s brought, today he’s hoping to get some form of lungwort to prepare for leafbare and a possible yellow cough outbreak.

Holly is out on a solo patrol to collect blackberry brambles which can be used to make twine/rope, she brought a small snack of dried minnows with her for the long day. She’s lingering by the windclan border, watching the grain fields blowing in the breeze.

And Lion is our resident fire starter, he enjoys cooking (and eating) so he’s often around the oven or grill hoping to get any scraps. The head of kitchen duties is Sorreltail but she doesn’t give out snacks for free so he’s often starting fires or going out to run errands for her.

I wanted some reoccurring themes with my designs, so Leafpool has white paws except for her front right while Squirrelflight has white on only her front right paw. It’s a cute trait that’s shared by Jay and Lion, though Holly is acutely aware she lacks anything the ties her to her family like this. She’s very much the ‘black sheep’ of her family, which is why she spends so much time on solo patrols.