#get upset that cats you thought were your kits aren’t?

[shadestar413]

Bitches don’t want more BramblexSquirrelxAsh drama

Bitches want the Erin’s to stop putting she-cats second to the toms and blame them for the shit they put them through when the books are literally marketed to young adults/children.

We want ghosts to stop gaslighting the living for plot convenience (except for Flametails situation).

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 38

Oilstripe purrs for a long time at one of Carnationspeckle’s lame jokes.

[Image ID: Oilstripe sits with Carnationspeckle while Shadowdrop watches in the background.]

Even though Carnationspeckle was confident that she would have a small litter, she was as exhausted as a queen with eight kits squirming inside her. As such, Oilstripe went to her in the nursery rather than have her tired mate trudge across camp for a chat. Taking a sunhigh nap in the nursery with five rambunctious kits was rather hard, but Oilstripe made do.

Oilstripe couldn’t stop purring as she left the nursery come afternoon. Carnationspeckle had a funny habit of muttering in her sleep, and by the stars, the things she muttered… how could Oilstripe not purr? Maybe Oilstripe could join the next hunting patrol to the coast and catch some fish, a special treat in exchange for the warmth Carnationspeckle unknowingly gave her.

To Oilstripe’s surprise, Puddlespeckle was in camp. He sat on the Shiprock, staring at Shadowdrop while he groomed himself. The flowers tucked into his fur did little to upset the chill in his eyes. Oilstripe stopped purring. She’d never seen a StarClan spirit look so… angry.

A border patrol passed in front of Oilstripe, blocking her line of sight. When her Clanmates got out of the way, Puddlespeckle was gone. Shadowdrop, however, was looking right at her. Oilstripe’s fur prickled.

“Is something wrong?” she called. She slowly approached Shadowdrop. The black tom’s eyes never deviated from her.

“Is Carnationspeckle feeling well?” Shadowdrop asked.

“She’s rather tired, but she’s happy,” Oilstripe assured him, taking a seat. “Downstar, Parsley, and Weedfoot keep her company when I’m out. I can’t wait to say hello to my kits.”

“They aren’t really your kits, though,” Shadowdrop muttered. Oilstripe stiffened. Shadowdrop’s green eyes burrowed under her pelt. “They have a sire lounging about in a human den somewhere in the north. They’ll grow up without a father.”

“They don’t need a father, they have me,” Oilstripe huffed. “Why would you say something like that? You grew up without a father, or did you forget?”

“It’s better to have no father at all than a second parent who's more focused on the dead than the living,” Shadowdrop growled, getting to his paws. Oilstripe’s shock shifted into fury. She sneered and stood, meeting Shadowdrop eye to eye.

“What do you have against me?” Oilstripe snapped, lips curling. “I thought we were friends. Our parents are mates now, we shouldn’t fight like this.”

“Carnationspeckle needs someone who can focus on her,” Shadowdrop growled. “I don’t think you can be that cat.” Shadowdrop stepped closer.

“Are you threatening me?” Oilstripe gasped, steadying herself, refusing to move back. “What are you doing? Where is this coming from?” 

“Oilstripe, are you alright?” Carnationspeckle peered out of the nursery. Her big blue eyes bounced between Oilstripe and Shadowdrop. The cats of RippleClan watched the pair, trying to decide if they should intervene. Shadowdrop squirmed under Carnationspeckle’s eyes.

“Treat her well,” Shadowdrop spat. He stormed into the warrior’s den. RippleClan moved around him like water moved around a swimming fish. Oilstripe slowly backed toward the nursery. The ginger molly got the distinct feeling that she was a hunter who just stole salmon from a bear.

(Carnationspeckle: 40, female, caretaker compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Oilstripe: 42, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Puddlespeckle: 156, male, elder, strict, good hunter, good kitsitter)

(Shadowdrop: 30, male, codekeeper, sneaky, good teacher, eloquent speaker)

[critical-thinking-is-mandatory]

Chats and Bags

Marinette and Adrien have been happily married since they left school and she finally feels ready to tell him the truth. She’s Ladybug and Guardian of the Paris Miraculouses. Unfortunately, maybe the cat should have stayed in the bag.

Marinette slumped back against the closed door with a tired, but satisfied groan. She toed off her heels and wriggled sore, sweaty, stockinged toes.

“Honey!” Marinette called into the apartment. The lights were on, casting her home with warm, soft light, and the tv hummed quietly from the loungeroom. She hung her coat on the hook by the door and stretched, padding into the kitchen. “Adrien, I’m home.”

“Princess!” Adrien hopped down from his perch on one of the kitchen’s bar stools and came bounding towards her, smiling brightly. He scooped her up into a hug and span them both around, giggling like a little girl. “How was work?” Adrien set her down with a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Good, we finally got all the kinks worked out for the Winter bridal line but that’s not important right now. I’ve got something really important to talk to you about.” Marinette smiled and took Adrien’s hands in hers. “How about we talk over dinner?”

Adrien winced. “Oh. I already ate.” Ah. Marinette spied the emptied takeout containers sitting abandoned on the kitchen bench. One person’s serve. Adrien caught her and flashed a blinding smile. With the sparkle in his eye and Adrien’s perfect smile, Marinette couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed despite the hunger gnawing at her belly. He bounced on his toes. “I can listen while you eat.” Marinette shook her head and smiled, ignoring the tightness of hunger in her belly.

“That’s okay, it can wait.” Marinette took a deep, steadying breath. “Just- just sit down, I need to go get something.” Adrien perched on a barstool, still smiling brightly. Marinette padded away down the hall to her workroom. Tikki floated out of her blazer pocket and smiled encouragingly when she was at eye-level.

“You can do this Marinette!” Tikki chirped. She flitted about, practically dancing in the air. “It’s Adrien! You two have been in love for years, telling him you’re Ladybug will just make your relationship stronger.”

Marinette steeled herself, confidence boosted. “You’re right Tikki. I can do this. I’m Marinette!” Marinette powered into her workroom and burrowed down to the bottom of her scrap fabric chest. She pulled out the wooden box at the bottom and Tikki phased into the lock and the box popped open on well-oiled springs. Inside, cushioned by stained scrap cloth, was the Miracle Box. It had changed as Marinette grew older and wiser in her role as Guardian, turning from the giant spotted egg, into a baby pink briefcase style sewing kit.

Marinette took one more deep breath to steady the shaking of her hands before reaching in, drawing out the case and standing in one movement.

“Okay.” She smiled nervously at Tikki. “Let’s do this.” Tikki gave Marinette one more bright smile before hiding away in Marinette’s blazer again. Tikki’s weight in a hidden inner pocket, nestled close against Marinette’s side, was soothing and familiar enough to spur Marinette on once more.

Marinette left the workroom behind her and with each step down the hall, towards Adrien, her dear, sweet, perfect Adrien, the box in her hands grew lighter. With every step Marinette took she got closer to finally, finally being able to share her burden. Closer to never having to keep another secret between them ever again. Marinette had everything else she’d ever wanted, and the only thing standing between Marinette and Adrien’s future (with three kids and a hamster) was one teensy, tiny, itty bitty little conversation.

“Phew!” Marinette said to break the quiet, too loud, and she winced when Adrien startled.

Adrien looked between Marinette and the case curiously, perfect golden brows furrowed in a mix of obvious confusion and curiosity. “Your sewing kit?” Marinette perched on a stool opposite Adrien, taking her time to straighten the kit on the island between them. She forced herself to meet Adrien’s eyes, suddenly trembling with nerves.

“Not just a sewing kit,” Marinette murmured. Just do it. Like ripping a band-aid off. She opened her blazer and Tikki floated out, giving Adrien a cheery little wave. “It’s the Miracle Box. I’m Ladybug, Adrien.” Tikki giggled and settled on Marinette’s shoulder.

For his part, Adrien seemed unphased. He smiled brightly with that little twinkle in his eye Marinette had always adored.

“Adrien?” Marinette gently pressed. She didn’t want to press him for a response but his silence was making her heart tremble. Adrien’s smile grew to a thousand-Watt beam and he seemed almost to vibrate in his seat.

“I’m so glad you finally told me,” Adrien chirped. He reached out and brought Marinette’s hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and then another to her sparkling wedding ring. “Now we don’t need to keep secrets between us!” He pressed another kiss to her knuckles before grinning dashingly. “Plagg.”

“Plagg?” Marinette whispered. She felt cold and hot all at once. “So you’re-“

“Chat Noir, yes.” Adrien grinned in that smug, ‘cat that got the canary’ way Marinette had come to expect only from her partner. Seeing it on Adrien’s face made her stomach flip and decidedly not in the butterflies and curling toes and shivers down her spine way. “I’m so glad you finally told me M’Lady, it’s been agony not being able to call you My Lady every day.” Marinette’s blood froze.

“What did you say?” She whispered. Ice crept through her veins and closed her throat.

“I’ve wanted to call you My Lady for years, and now I finally can!” Adrien pressed yet another kiss to Marinette’s knuckles before ploughing on. “Well I’ve known for years M’Lady!” Adrien – Chat – Adrichat? practically purred. “Ever since I saw you leaving my room after gifting me my favourite beret.” He sighed dreamily, apparently totally ignorant of the ice in Marinette’s blood slowly creeping from her blood into her expression. “It was Fate, M’Lady, and look at us! Together forever because you finally saw that we were made for each other.”

That phrase was painfully, heartbreakingly familiar. “Adrien, I don’t understand. Are- what are you saying? Did you only marry me…because you knew I was Ladybug?” Marinette’s eyes burned with potential tears. “I thought you loved me.”

Adrien finally seemed to realise things weren’t completely fine and dandy because his expression fell into that kicked puppy look he was so good at. “Of course I love you Bugaboo! You’re the Ladybug to my Chat Noir, the yin to my yang, the creation to my destruction.” Marinette snatched her hand out of Adrien’s grasp and his expression crumpled like tissue paper.

Marinette stood, her stool scraping and Tikki dislodged from her shoulder. “My name is Marinette.” Her breath hitched and she snatched up the Miracle Box, clutching it to her chest. “You know I hate it when you call me Bugaboo. You know that.” She stumbled back when Adrien stood, still smiling that cat grin.

“There’s no need to play coy anymore, Princess,” Adrien purred. “We’ve been married since we were eighteen.” His stare grew hot, eyes darkening and he circled round the island. Marinette shifted towards the doorway. “You and I know each other intimately.” Adrien pressed closer still. “What are you so upset for? We’re happy together, aren’t we?”

“You lied to me!” Marinette shouted. Her outburst seemed to shock Adrien almost as much as it shocked Marinette herself. “Did you really only love me because you knew I was Ladybug? Would you have even considered dating me, marrying me, if you thought I was just plain old Marinette?”

“Well what was I supposed to do? You wouldn’t let me in as Chat, so when I knew for sure who you were behind the mask how was I supposed to resist?” Adrien demanded and if Marinette had any doubts he was Chat Noir they were thoroughly, utterly trashed on the floor. No one else could be so entitled, so, so pig-headed! That was the last straw. Marinette steeled herself.

“I’m going.” Adrien startled. “I…I need some – some time to myself. Don’t call me. I’ll-“ Marinette’s breath hitched and she forced herself to continue past the lump in her throat- “I’ll call you.” Marinette fled, barely remembering her coat and shoes as she bolted out the door.

“M’Lady!” Adrien called. “Princess!” His voiced cracked, clearly nearly in tears. Adrien’s heartbroken shouting cut off with the closing of the elevator doors. Marinette let out a sob, finally breaking in the relative comfort and safety of the elevator.

Tikki fluttered up to pat Marinette’s cheek sympathetically. “Oh Marinette. It’ll all be okay.” Marinette swiped roughly at her eyes, drawing away the tears that were starting to fall. Tikki gave her a soft, sad-eyed look. “You should call your parents, Marinette.”

“But it’s so late and they need to be awake early tomorrow to open the bakery and if I keep them up too late-“

“Marinette,” Tikki interrupted firmly. “Your parents love you, call them.” Marinette gave in, pulling out her phone just as the elevator doors opened. Tikki hid away in Marinette’s blazer. Marinette dialled her parents’ number, slipping her coat on one arm and her shoes back on as she listened to the dial tone.

“What if they don’t pick up?” Marinette worried. She didn’t have to.

“Marinette, honey?” Her maman answered. “Is everything okay, sweetie? You’re calling quite late.” Marinette sniffled.

“Maman can I- can I come stay tonight?” The doorman gave Marinette a nervous look as she passed and she realised she probably looked awful, with her tear-streaked makeup and her coat only half on. The thought only served to make Marinette feel worse and she gave a small wail that echoed in the empty street. A stray cat hissed and skittered out of her path.

“Oh sweetie, sh sh. Of course you’re welcome, Marinette. Do you want me to come pick you up?” Marinette wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

“No, that’s- that’s okay Maman.” Marinette sniffled again, listening to the click of her heels on the sidewalk as she collected herself. “I’ll be there soon,” Marinette assured her maman. She forced a wobbly smile even though Maman wouldn’t be able to see it. “I promise.” Marinette hung up and turned her face to the sky. The moon was washed out by the streetlights, and any light that may have made it past was smothered by city smog. Altogether a fittingly depressing picture.

In all of Marinette’s fussing, her planning, making contingency plans for her contingency plans, never had Marinette considered that Adrien already knew. Knew and never told her and and and- Marinette paused in the middle of the path and shrieked, stomping her feet and barely resisting the temptation to sit down in the grime of the sidewalk and cry like a little kid. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

[malkumtend]

Warmth - set in the ILYL universe (set between ch. 12 and ch. 13).

Art by @lonely-ghost-606

Windclan cats had been able to adapt to many things. Their legs, long and tight with muscle, gave them the strength and speed needed to chase rabbits and hares. They could fix their senses to the breeze that split through the grass, breathing in the wafts of prey that waited tree-lengths away. And their sleek, thin coats allowed them to rush through the moorlands, and not feel heat swell through layers of useless fur, even when the sun was hot and angry above Silverpelt.

Crowpaw was proud to say he had reaped the rewards of each of these benefits.

However, as his small, unprotected by fur, paws crunched through the blanket of snow, he really wished Windclan had discovered ways to fight the cold.

But they hadn’t. Often enough, they were warmed by their sheer raid movement on the moors, so rain hardly gave them a problem. And snow was a rarity among the clans themselves.

Here, in the mountain air, where the sky grew dark and the air descended into a bitter mist, where snow lined the rock like white, frozen moss, Crowpaw wasn’t so lucky.

His paw dug into the unbroken white once more, and the damp freeze clawed him once again. He winced as cold ran it’s tongue up his leg, then glared into the winter horizon, seeing the acres of snow they still had to navigate.

“Crowpaw?” Crowpaw hissed back a growl as he looked up at Brambleclaw. The Thunderclan tom had stopped, strong paws not even shivering as he waited in the snow. “Are you sure you don’t want us to stop to find some shelter?”

Every cat, all thick furred and stationary, looked back at the apprentice. They all shared the embarrassed look of pity.

Crowpaw’s ears burned, but even that offered no help to his shaking back. “I’m fine!” Crowpaw said, he had to grin his teeth so he didn’t stutter. “It’s not that cold!” The worst part was that was true. There was no snow falling, just a plethora of short, but cutting gusts of wind. It would undeniably get colder when the dusty afternoon sky began to darken. Crowpaw groaned. He didn’t even want to think about that.

“Sure.” Stormfur muttered.

Crowpaw tried not to hiss. I’d like to see how you do without all that fur, fish-breath!

Feathertail glared at her brother then faced Crowpaw worriedly. “Crowpaw, it really doesn’t matter. None of us would mind.”

“Feathertail’s right.” Tawnypelt agreed. “It’ll do you no good to push yourself, Crowpaw. It’s only going to get worse from here.” She mewed with a whip of her tail. “It’ll be better if you keep your strength.”

“I said I’m fine!” Crowpaw meowed, stamping his forepaw furiously. He cringed when he hit a fresh patch of snow. “I-I don’t need to rest! If you all do, that’s your problem. I’ll just carry on by myself!” With that, he began to storm past the cats, trying to use his anger to heat the chill biting his paws. It grew with every disbelieving or piteous look he was able to catch.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself!” Stormfur snapped, shaking his head as Crowpaw passed him with a quiet snarl.

Crowpaw was about to say something bitter, but most of his energy was saved for trying to keep himself warm. He sighed drearily, watching with a frown as his breath blew away in a vapor of steam.

He kept his head high, for some reason thinking that would help him conserve heat if he kept his head away from the snow. It wasn’t working. Crowpaw bit his lip in frustration, but he didn’t stop. He may have hated being half-frozen, but he hated being pitied more than anything. He’d rather sleep furless in icy water than be the reason the group stopped for a moment.

The Two-legs pillaging Winclan wouldn’t wait for him. He couldn’t either.

However, the constant, slithering powder of frost that made his back hurt was just as merciless.

Little by little, Crowpaw slowed down in his walk again. The cats he had proudly stormed ahead of began to pass him again, one by one, this time keeping their mouths shut. It was clear anything they said would just make it worse for their prickly accomplice.

Still, each one’s warm, fleecy coat of fur looked swollen with regret that that they couldn’t give him any help.

He heard Feathertail mew something soft to him, but by then Crowpaw’s ears were pounding with humiliation.

He could just imagine Mudclaw’s face. The abject disgust at how pathetic his apprentice had turned out to be. Look at you! Your father picks you to represent our great clan and you whither like a wet kit!

Crowpaw’s steps only slowed as the even colder voice persisted in his brain. No surprise, his decreasing pace only made the strength to continue even weaker. Every step now felt as heavy as pulling his body out of a pool of mud.

He growled quietly. Stupid snow. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t suited to this mouse-brained weather. A defeated sigh left him like a spirit. No. If he could truly call himself a Warrior, he should have just been able to grit his teeth and bare it. And even though he could bare it, he knew he was slowing them all down.

He was making Windclan look like a liability.

Crowpaw tried to not look like that hurt him as much as he did. He closed his eyes, gnashing his jaws. He just needed to carry on at this point. Sulking wouldn’t make him look any less of a complete rabbit-heart. He kept his eyes to the snow, determined to not remind himself of the contrast of his and his journeymates wills.

His ear perked however, when he heard snow crunch beside him. He just caught the ginger and white paws that bounded effortlessly in the snow until they were right beside him.

Crowpaw sighed, feeling his ears go hot. “What is it, Squirrelpaw?” He said curtly.

“What?” A snappy voice replied. “Can I not walk with you now?”

Crowpaw kept himself from getting angry. It wasn’t Squirrelpaw’s fault he was useless. “Don’t be mouse-brained.” He said. “What do you need?”

“I don’t need anything. I just wanted to talk to you.” Her voice shifted cheekily. “You should count yourself lucky.”

“Shouldn’t I just.” Crowpaw rolled his eyes. He caught her then. She looked remarkably unperturbed by her environment. She strode through the snow as if it was new-leaf grass. But maybe that was the benefits of having such a fluffy coat like she did. Crowpaw looked ahead. “Shouldn’t you try to catch up with the others?” They were at least half a tree-length ahead.

“Only if you feel like it.” Crowpaw frowned and Squirrelpaw had the sense to let her ears fold back guiltily. “Sorry. I know that Windclan aren’t really… suited for snow.” He could practically feel the burn of her eyes as they slid across his spiked, wimpy excuse of a coat.

Crowpaw felt the sudden need to jerk himself up. Looking so bad in front of his best friend was hardly a welcome thought. “I said it before; I’ll be okay.” He spoke. His tail swung forwards. “Don’t wait on me. Just carry on ahead.” The last thing he wanted to be was a burden.

“I’m not waiting on anyone. There’s no need to rush, after all.”

The very idea that she could rush in this made Crowpaw groan a little.

Squirrelpaw shrugged, pouncing ahead. “Cheer up. We’ll have to find some shelter soon. This mountain’s so big, there has to be thousands of places to sleep.”

Crowpaw scoffed. “Yeah, but since it’s so big how long will we have to walk until we find one of them.”

“It can’t be long now.”

So painfully optimistic. As the cold made his bones brittle, Crowpaw looked away. “Yeah. You keep thinking that.”

Squirrelpaw looked at him pointedly. Her eyes hadn’t lost their fire, if anything they looked even sharper. “Maybe it would help if you weren’t so moody. Would it really hurt you to think of something other than the worst of everything?”

Crowpaw’s tail flared. He couldn’t help but glare at his friend. “It’s easy for you to say, fuzz-ball!”

Squirrelpaw laughed mockingly, “Oh, that’s a new one. What? Jealous?” Her overwhelming coat seemed to shake with every spark of her words. She seemed to be more fur than cat!

Crowpaw flashed his teeth, “Not really. You should count yourself lucky. Without all that fur, you’d be smaller than a kit!”

“I’d still beat you in a fight, though!”

Crowpaw only scoffed again, turning away with a growl.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that!” Squirrelpaw said frustratedly. “You can’t get angry at me for this.”

“You’re the one acting like a mouse-brain.” Crowpaw said monotonously.

There was gawking sound. “How? All I said was that it wouldn’t kill you to stop looking so angry. It’s hardly going to help you is it?”

“Oh, and if I smile like an idiot, I’m – what – just going to get all warm, fuzzy feelings.” Crowpaw bit his tongue as his head tittered in a mocking grimace. “Get over yourself.”

“You first.” Squirrelpaw muttered with the edge of a hiss. “No need to get nasty.”

Crowpaw didn’t reply. Talking to her was too much effort.

Besides, maybe now she’d join up with the others instead of seeing him like this.

She didn’t. They continued to walk. And for some reason, even though she had to be in better shape than him, she matched his pace the whole time. Crowpaw scanned the path ahead and exhaled slowly. There was still no sign of shelter. At least he hadn’t lost sight of the others.

It didn’t take long for his side to quiver. His nose creasing, he looked and his frown softened when he saw the ginger pelt still whiskers from his own. He could swear he could feel a small heat radiating from the bright strands of fur.

As that heat lingered, the silence became more suffocating.

“Look.” A soft voice made Crowpaw crane his head. “If I said something to upset you, I’m sorry.” Crowpaw blinked in shock. “I didn’t mean to.” He heard Squirrelpaw spit bitterly. “But that doesn’t give you the right to be like this. It’s not my fault your coat’s so thin.” She muttered. “I can’t make it grow, you know. It’s not like I want you to be cold.”

He lost valuable energy doing so, but Crowpaw’s head shifted to his side.

Her lips were in a thin pout, and her eyes were downcast in a bad mood. But she didn’t slow or quicken her pace. She kept right by him. Occasionally she would tilt her gaze, but stopped when she felt she was being watched.

Neither spoke. The quiet made Crowpaw cold inside.

Crowpaw bit his lower lip, ignoring the sudden twist in his stomach. As the bitter silence persisted however, he sighed to himself. She was right. It wasn’t like she’d tried to provoke him. All she’d done was try to keep him company and be the over-zealous molly she always was. She hadn’t started anything. Or at least she hadn’t tried to.

Even if she didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut, she still was looking out for him. And even when snapped at she didn’t just leave him like he deserved. She accepted his moodiness. Maybe he needed to learn to accept her… quirks.

Besides, talking to her had made his mouth feel warm.

Crowpaw breathed, feeling the cold made him cough momentarily. When he’d stopped, he found Squirrelpaw looking at him with obvious concern. The tom’s face mellowed. “I know.” He said, looking forward, downcast. “I’m sorry too. I’m just sick of this cold.”

At his apology, Squirrelpaw’s ears twitched. Hesitantly, she faced him, the stiffness of her muzzle quivering just the slightest. She looked over his shivering frame again. She let out a soft breath. “If it’s bothering you that much, I can ask the others to stop.”

“We can’t do that.”

“But Crowpaw-”

“No.” Crowpaw affirmed. “I don’t want to slow anyone down.” He’d said it before he could take it back. He grunted at himself. He was so freezing, he didn’t even think about what he was saying.

“It isn’t slowing us down. They’d do the same no matter who it was.” Squirrelpaw said, her gaze warm.

Crowpaw let out a bitter laugh, “Maybe, but it wouldn’t happen to any of you.” He said tensely, using his shaking tail to point at his pelt.

Squirrelpaw’s jaw hung in sad recognition. She looked up at Crowpaw wordlessly, unable to offer a retort.

Crowpaw gave her a gentle nod. He knew she couldn’t counter that, no matter how much she wanted to. He resigned himself to carry on walking. If Squirrelpaw kept by him at this point, he counted himself lucky. He licked his chest a little to warm himself up, but bit on it softly as the organ began to freeze. He shook himself again; all he could do was keep moving.

He was just beginning to feel some kind of control over his stiffening tail again when he felt something knock into his side.

It wasn’t a hard push. Really it was just a pressing on his ribs. Crowpaw usually would have jumped away, but he stopped shot as he noticed the feeling the sudden presence gave. It felt softer than the moss that he used to line his nest, but it condensed the same kind of comforting, embracing warmth that he felt from his den. Without fully realising it, the frost that had made his ribs ache subsided to a blissful glow.

He turned to his side, and blinked stupidly when he saw what, or who, was the source of the heat.

Squirrelpaw wasn’t facing him, but her fur was pressed right into Crowpaw’s body. She walked, a little clumsily, next to him and, this close, Crowpaw felt just how woolly her coat truly was. It really did feel like she was made of fur. It slipped all over his side like a ray of sunlight. He really did feel his body begin to swell with her share of heat.

But the heat in his face was all his own. “S-Squirrelpaw?” He mewed incredulously.

“Hush.” Squirrelpaw said, her voice muffled for some reason. “If you’re going to be stubborn like this I might as well make sure you don’t hurt yourself doing it.”

“W-What?” Crowpaw felt something pound in the depths of Squirrelpaw’s side.

“Let’s just keep moving.” The Thunderclan apprentice mewed, “I can’t just let you freeze. Don’t worry, I’m sure I won’t need to do this for long. We can’t be far from shelter now.” There was a silent plead in the cavern of her tone. Crowpaw could feel her muscles tense. She was looking quickly at him, as if checking that he didn’t rip himself from her.

There were many reasons that he should: clan loyalty, personal embarrassment, how fast his heart was-

Crowpaw gulped, his eyes still on the smaller cat. He saw her swallow hard and noticed her stiff, vacant expression as she kept on walking. Crowpaw’s stomach churned.

She was embarrassed herself, but she worked through it for him.

Her head tipped back a little, and Crowpaw noticed the cute way that her nose twitched when she was nervous. Her fur still mingled with his, he could barely see his own coat wrapped inside the ginger fluff. Crowpaw’s tail swung from side to side. Did he really feel as calmly about this as he did? This… this wasn’t normal, was it? Even if they were friends, could they really…

Crowpaw took in a hot breath. He felt shaking at his side and looked down stunned. She wasn’t cold, was she? Why was she shivering like that? Was he that cold to touch? No. That was ridiculous. She hadn’t looked like that before. His body tingled with worry. His tail began to sway quickly, maybe it would be better if he started to rush ahea-

He blinked.

His fur quivered all over his body. This time with realisation.

He wasn’t freezing anymore.

How…How could that be? Was her fur actually that warm? He slowly looked down again, shocked by how seamless his neck felt now. There she was. Nestled against him, eyes burning with embarrassment, tail quivering behind her, her gait clumsy and stuttering.

She wasn’t cold though.

Crowpaw felt that much.

And if somehow she was, she hadn’t left him yet.

Crowpaw felt warmer.

Gently, he slipped his tail until it had intertwined itself with his friend’s. Squirrelpaw jerked, twisting her head up. Her lips trembled. “C-Crowpaw?”

Crowpaw was concerned that she’d pull away, so he offered her a small smile. “Sorry. I just thought I’d return the favour.” He pressed himself even closer to the soft pelt. Squirrelpaw let out a light squeak as Crowpaw’s tail embraced her own. His tail tingled as it cloaked itself in the brush of long fur. He winked at her. “Wouldn’t want you falling in the snow after all. I’d have to laugh at you.”

Squirrelpaw didn’t speak for a moment. Dumbfounded.

Then her tail began to squeeze his like a soft paw.

And her lips curved into a grin.

“Careful,” She warned, her eyes half-closing. “I’ve seen you trip before. I can make it happen again.”

Crowpaw snickered. “You do that, you’re coming down with me.”

“Great! That way I can hold you down. I’ve always wondered how you would look with white fur!”

“Touche!” Crowpaw chuckled.

Squirrelpaw beamed, ready to start again with another silver quip.

“Squirrelpaw?”

The ginger cat opened her eyes, her grin slackening as she saw the smile on Crowpaw’s face. “Hmm?” She questioned, raising a brow.

“Thanks.” Crowpaw said. Genuine.

He just about felt a beat inside Squirrelpaw’s chest again. But she cut it off with a laugh that could make icicles fall. “Who are you and what have you done with Crowpaw?” He joined in, laughing until he was out of breath. Squirrelpaw smiled, her head almost underneath his chin. Her tail curled blissfully over his. “Don’t mention it, Crowfood.” She said, the gentleness betraying the nickname.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Crowpaw quipped, chuckling as Squirrelpaw nudged him away with her side.

But their tail still stayed linked, so they easily found each other again.

…

Not many people seemed interested, but fuck it. If people hate it they can tell me in the comments. For those that are interested, I hope you liked it.

[warriors-last-words]

This has definitely already been done, but my mind’s nagging at me to make this, so

Cats who I think should have super editions / novellas:

Brightflower (she openly accused her eldest daughter of murdering her new litter and helped run her out of the Clan, only to find out later that said daughter never even did it-- further, it was the leader of the Clan that she might’ve been supporting [she was probably on his side for at least a bit, since that’s naturally how you feel about your leader]. Did she try to talk to her daughter again? Maybe meet her at the border and try to get her to come back?).

Crag / Stoneteller (or another Tribe cat, ‘cause I think it would be interesting to get a story from their point of view when the Clans aren’t with them).

Another Dark Forest cat (because the ‘ambition’ thing is kinda overused and I want more evil characters that got sent to hell for other reasons. It’s similar to Mapleshade, but she was pretty popular, wasn’t she? And I think part of that goes to the different tone that that book had-- at least that’s what worked for me).

Goldenflower (she deserves it).

Maybe a short story from someone in Starclan either dealing with issues from Starclan or worrying about Clan issues (cause I think it would just be neat).

Either Lizardfang or Brokenstar (again with the wanting to see more evil characters, but also because Lizardfang sucks and I want a book where we can see what happens to her)

Dustpelt (to give the authors a chance to fix how he felt about Fernpaw, but also going from Redtail to Darkstripe and having his best friend switch to his target’s side, and all that).

A cat that has some sort of mental or physical impairment (also to give the authors a chance to give us at least ONE character with an impairment that doesn’t get screwed over)

Graypool (her bio kits died and she was said to wail out to them in the forest because she thought they might be able to hear her calling for them if she were closer to their graves, then getting new kits that just show up, finding out those kits belong to the Thunderclan deputy/leader, probably having her kits confront her about it when they’re older [they were pretty upset when they found out the truth, it makes sense that they at least ask her], Rippleclaw was a dick to her mother when she gave up her kits, and then the two became mates when she became an adult, getting dementia).

The Windclan cat that killed Badgerfang (I get that it was a battle and Shadowclan was fighting viciously, but if you found out you killed someone who should’ve still been suckling at their mother’s belly, you’re bound to feel something, and I’m curious to how they deal with it).

Blossomfall / Millie (their relationship seems to have gotten better in the end, but I really want to see Blossomfall fully confront Millie and call her out)

Darktail growing up with his mother and searching for the Clans for revenge (admittedly it’s mostly because there’s a ‘fact’ [I don’t know if it’s true or not] that he met Sol. Pretty much everyone comes up with how they teamed up or got along, but I really like the idea that Sol, believing himself to be so great, tried to manipulate Darktail. Darktail either manipulated him back, making Sol think it was working when really he was setting a trap, or Darktail just straight up kills Sol. Sol, in my opinion, is basically just a con artist. Yes, he’s very successful and causes a lot of problems, but he’s not really evil-evil, at least not to Darktail’s extent. I want Mr ‘I’m-so-great’ to get owned by a deadlier villain).

[mochegato]

The Road to Asphodel is Paved in Pink

Meet Cute Monday for @boldlyanxious  Hope this makes you smile!

Pink boxes, pink bags, pink dolls, pink instruments, pink goo, pink Legos, pink cars, pink, pink, pink. Everything in the aisle was pink. A hundred different shades of it filled the shelves of the aisle.  Everywhere he looked was pink.  They even put down a pink covering on the floor just to complete the look.  Honestly, it was starting to hurt his eyes.  “Who knew there were so many shades of pink,” Jason grumbled rubbing his eyes.  

He heard a chuckle from down the aisle.  “Trust me it’s worse when it’s an aisle of the same shade of pink.  Like some kind of never-ending fuchsia tunnel to Asphodel.” She shuddered slightly.  “And I like pink.”

“I take it you have experience with this?”  He vaguely motioned around the aisle.

She bobbed her head to the side and hummed noncommittally.  “My friend’s twins will be six this year.  I get them things from time to time just because, so I end up here sometimes.  I’m looking for their birthday this time.  I was thinking of instruments they could play with their moms or their grandpa, but just realized they probably have so many instruments already, so now I’m looking for inspiration.  But the only inspiration I’m getting is pink. Annoying really.  Because apparently that’s the only color girls respond to.”

“I think it’s damaging my retinas,” he chuckled looking back at the shelves of pink.

She chuckled and nodded in agreement before returning her attention to the shelves around her. Jason looked back over at her as she searched the shelves.  He really should be focusing on Lian’s gift.  Her party started soon so he didn’t have time to waste flirting with random women in the toy aisle, but his eyes kept wandering back to her.  It could be because they wanted a break from the sea of pink attempting to sear his eyes, but more likely it was because she was stunning and looking at her made him feel lighter.  

After a few minutes she quirked her head to the side and grabbed a box.  She puckered her lips as she looked toward it, her eyes unfocused and her brow furrowed as though planning.  Jason watched her face run through a few expressions as she thought through whatever she was planning, each expression cuter than the last one. Finally she gave a quick nod and dropped the box into her shopping basket.

“Finally figured it out huh?” he smiled at her.

“Yeah.  They like playing with hair so I’m going to get this hair glitter and chalk set and some of the Hello Kitty brushes I saw by the entrance and make a bunch of barrettes and headbands.”  She grinned proudly at him.  “And not one of the damn things will be pink in retaliation against all of this.”  She motioned around them.

He barked out a laugh and nodded appreciatively.  “Damn. That’s a really good idea.  But Lian isn’t quite there yet.”

She smiled and moved so she was standing closer to him, close enough now that he could run his fingers along her jaw if he wanted.  Well, not if he wanted because he did want, rather if he thought it would be received well.  His fingers twitched to try until he finally had to clench them into fists to stop them.  “Okay, well… what does she like?  I mean, if you want some help.  I know you didn’t ask…”

“No!  No, please.  Please help me.”  He gave her a charming smile before reminding himself what her question was.  He sighed and pulled out his phone to check his texts. “I don’t know…  He said she likes ‘girl things’.”

“Girl things…” she repeated slowly with an unamused raised eyebrow.  “Like saws and computer programs and syringes?  Or things girls didn’t invent just enjoy?”

Jason stared at her for a few seconds before chuckling and looking back at the toys with a sheepish smile. “I don’t think that’s what the idiot meant.”

“So I take it this isn’t your daughter?”

“No.  My best friend’s daughter.”

“Okay, well, your best friend is no help at all.  No offense.” She gave him a smirk that suggested she didn’t really care if she did offend. He smiled back at her and nodded in agreement with her assessment.  “What do you know about her?” she continued.  “How old will she be?”

“She’s turning four,” he started slowly, trying to order all his memories into a useful resource.  “She’s smart.  She likes engines and coloring and painting.  She LOVES cats.  Her favorite color is red.”

Marinette nodded.  “She sounds very smart and artistic.”

“Yeah.  She is constantly painting pictures for me.  My first thought was a book, a children’s classic she could keep for a while, but she recognizes letters but can’t read yet. So that’s out,” he grumbled.

“I don’t know, it sounds like you have two perfect gifts there.” He looked at her questioningly.  “More paint so she can paint more pictures for you,” her voice became increasingly excited as she thought through the gift. “There are art kits a few aisles over or there’s an art store a few doors down.  Or a book, just because she can’t read it doesn’t mean you can’t read it to her, and I bet she’ll think that’s even better.  Or you could do both.  I’m sure there are tons of kids’ books about painting or colors that you could get along with some paint.”

He nodded as he thought about what book to get her and what art supplies.  “That’s…” his words trailed off as he looked back up at her. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement and the only thing he could think was “…perfect.”

She cocked her head to the side and watched him curiously.  “Hmm?”

He shook his head quickly. “Your idea, it’s perfect.  Thank you for helping me.  I’m Jason by the way.”  He held his hand out to shake hers.

She shook his hand with a brilliant smile.  “Hi Jason. It’s nice to meet you.  I’m Marinette.”

“Which would you recommend for the art supplies?” He asked, hoping to draw out the conversation.

She puckered her lips as she thought about it.  “Depends on what she has already and how seriously she takes her art.  There’s plenty here for a four year old.  But, if she knows the difference between shades and gets upset she can’t get the exact color she wants, like I did at that age, you might want a more complete set than is available here.  Or if the brushes aren’t doing what she wants, there will be more options at the art store.”

He grinned at the thought of a four year old version of Marinette stomping her feet in frustration because she couldn’t get the right shade of pink on her painting.  “Sounds like you were really into art.”

Marinette laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I was very… particular.” She shrugged and brushed her bangs behind her ear.  “Still am.”

“So you’re an artist,” he prompted her.

She gave him a relieved smile, grateful for a change in topic.  “A designer, yeah.  You?”

“A… uh… bodyguard.  So you know, if your body needs guarding, let me know.”  He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Marinette laughed and shook her head as she looked down.  “I’ve got it covered but thanks for the offer.”

He pouted slightly. That was one of his better lines.  Clearly a different approach would be necessary, one less superficial and more honest, one more conducive to starting an actual relationship, which he didn’t mind in the least.  “What do you design?”

“Clothing.”  She smiled brightly up at him.

He shot her a crooked smile and leaned closer to her.  “Ah… so you’ve been silently judging my outfit for the last five minutes or so.”

“Longer than that,” she smirked at him.

He perked up and shot a smug smile at her.  “Sounds like you haven’t been able to take your eyes off of me.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself,” she consoled him wryly.  “Your outfit isn’t that bad.”

He pursed his lips for a moment before bursting out into laughter.  “Can I talk you into helping me pick out some paint supplies and a book? Maybe I can repay you somehow?”

“Yeah, I can do that. No repayment necessary.  I want to make sure Lian, was it?” She looked to him uncertainly.  He nodded at her.  She nodded with a smile.  “I wouldn’t want Lian to end up with something in terrible taste.”

“Hey!  I have great taste.”  He objected with a mock offended scoff.

She looked him up and down playfully.  “Yeah, sure you do.”

He laughed again, his laughter echoing off the pink around them.  He took a step closer to her.  “Did you want to come with me to the party, too?  You’re helping pick out the gift after all.  It’s only fair you get to join in the spoils.”

She smiled shyly, but didn’t back away.  “No thank you.  It sounds like a really special event for your friend.  I don’t want to intrude on that.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding. I’m sure my friend would welcome another adult there to help corral the chaos, but I understand not wanting to go.”  He moved a step closer again, his eyes becoming softer.  “But, since you’re going to miss out on the cake and food, how about I take you out to dinner instead to thank you for your help?  I really would have been lost if you hadn’t helped.”

She smiled brilliantly up at him.  “I’d like that.”

[brindlestorm]

They Take After Both of Us

Cloudstar 2.0 AU Takes place between Sunset and The Sight

Cloudstar sighed and laid his head on his paws, staring up at the almost full moon. Three moons ago, Thunderclan announced that Brightheart had given birth to a healthy litter of four. And just two nights ago, she had asked him herself to meet her at their usual spot along the border between their clans. Cloudstar wished they could have spoken sooner, but he understood that she wouldn’t be able to leave the kits alone for awhile. He was ecstatic to learn everything he could about his children, knowing he would rarely get the chance to be a true part of their lives. The bushes shook as Brightheart slipped out from between them, eye darting around nervously.  Cloudstar stood up quickly, “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t be able to get away!” “Sorry, Leafpool needed to speak with me about the kits.” Brightheart purred tiredly. “Tell me all about them!” He insisted with a grin. “What do they look like? Their names? I heard from Thornclaw that you had them outside the territories, what happened?”

She let out a sigh, “About that... There’s something you should know.”

Cloudstar tipped his head to the side and waited for her to go on.

“... Only one of them is ours.” “... What?” “Please don’t be upset!” Brightheart blurted out. “If I had known ahead of time I would have asked you first but it was sprung on me at the time and I just agreed because I couldn’t say no to kits in need but-” “Slow down, Bright! Take a deep breath and start over, I promise I won’t be upset.” He reassured her, grooming her face as Brightheart steadied her breathing. “Okay, okay...” Bright inhaled sharply. “Three of them are Leafpool’s kits.” “I thought medicine cats couldn’t have kits?” “They’re not supposed to,” she agreed. “Mine came early by a few days, Leafpool... Stars, I don’t know how she managed to hide it. She started giving birth just before I did, it was a mess.” “Squirrelflight was supposed to take them,” She added. “She had joined Leafpool and I for a walk when it happened, we barely made it to a sheltered area in time. But she pointed out that it would be impossible for her to get away with claiming them seeing as she wasn’t visibly pregnant before, and then they asked me so I said yes.”

Cloudstar blinked slowly. “So you took in Leafpool’s kits? I’m sorry, what part am I supposed to be upset about? The part where you followed the code and kept three kits safe or the part you where you saved my cousin’s position in her clan?” Brightheart looked surprised, “You aren’t mad?” “Why would I be? Did you forget that Brindleface adopted me as a kit? Ash and Fern will always be my littermates no matter what happens, it doesn’t matter that I was born to a different mother. How would this be any different?” She let out a laugh at Cloudstar’s bewildered face. “I guess I did forget, you had been in the nursery for almost as long as I did, it was like you were always clanborn.” “Well, now that that’s out of the way, why don’t you tell me what you named them?” “Leafpool named hers, I named ours-” Brightheart started. “They’re your kits Brightheart, Leafpool asked you what you thought of the names, right? Explain it as if you named them, not her.” She nodded. “Well, Lionkit is the eldest... She- I named him after my father, Lionheart. He’s the biggest too, and has his pelt color. I bet he’ll grow up to be the spitting image of him!” Cloudstar nodded. “I can see it now, better make sure he doesn’t squish his siblings.” “Next is Whitekit, I named her after my mentor, Whitestorm. She looks just like you, Cloud, but a little less fluffy” She teased. “She’ll wish she has my fluff next leafbare!” Cloudstar shot back with a grin. “Third is Hollykit,” Brightheart said, gaining more confidence. “She’s all black with green eyes, she reminds me of the color of a leafbare holly bush. She’s full of spunk, already has plans to become Thunderclan’s next leader. Or medicine cat, she can’t seem to make up her mind.” “Ambitious! I can’t wait to meet her, I’m sure she’ll achieve whatever she wants in life.” He purred, curling his tail around Brightheart’s. “Then there’s Jaykit...” Brightheart trailed off.  “Is something wrong?” “The reason why I was late today... Leafpool was telling me that Jaykit is blind, she doesn’t think he’ll get to be a warrior.” “That’s a load of foxdung.” He replied flatly. Brightheart shot him a look and he shrugged.

“Its true! You’re a warrior even though you lost an eye, I’m pretty sure One-eye served as a warrior long before she had to retire. And isn’t Longtail blind now as well?” Brightheart flattened her ears and looked away. “That’s different, I’m not technically a warrior yet until Firestar reassesses me, he keeps putting it off, and Longtail is fully blind and was forced to retire early!” “So take this as an opportunity.” He replied easily. “What?” “When Jaykit is six moons old, offer to train him yourself to prove he can be a warrior, maybe you can even pull Longtail out of retirement as well to help! All of you deserve the chance to be warriors, you just need to prove it to Firestar.” “Not that we should have to.” Brightheart muttered.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have to. You have to remember though that even now, Firestar has a lot to prove as well. To himself, to Thunderclan, and the other clans as the first kittypet-turned-leader. He’s doing his best, but you can’t let yourself or Jaykit be pushed to the side because of that.” She purred and rubbed her head against his shoulder. “You’re right, I’ll do just that. I’ve already heard talk about making him a medicine apprentice, he deserves the chance to choose at the very least.” “Would Hollykit even let him choose? You did say she wants to be Leafpool’s apprentice.” “That’s the thing about Jaykit,” Brightheart laughed. “He has the whole nursery wrapped around his tail, His littermates would find a way to take him to the moon if he asked.” “He gets it from me I’m sure, I had every elder and queen at my beck and call as a kit!” Cloudstar snickered. “They take after both of us,” Brightheart agreed. “I can’t stay too long tonight, lets look at the stars for awhile before we have to say goodbye.” “Anything for you, my dear.” Cloudstar whispered. They stared up at the cloudless sky until Brightheart reluctantly pulled herself away to return to her kits. When he eventually returned home, he flopped in his nest to sleep until sunhigh, dreaming of the kits he hoped to meet when they became apprentices.

[uriagii]

Thomastair Youtube AU

Sorry I’ve been neglecting this... I had this started and then my brother got his laptop stolen so he borrowed mine until he got a new one and then I have executive dysfunction. Thanks for being patient!

part 1, part 2

1.6k word count, all i have to say is poor thomas

3: Ignoring my boyfriend!

“Hey guys, it’s Alastair.” Alastair waved. “As you can see, I’m by myself today, Thomas is out getting groceries right now, and while he’s gone I thought it would be a good time to film this little intro.” 

Alastair shuffled a little, fiddling with the camera. 

“So I’ve seen this little challenge going around on Youtube, and I wanted to try it out on Tom. When he gets back, I’m going to be ignoring him to get his reaction.” Alastair continued, “Thomas is a very touchy-feely boyfriend, so I’m anticipating a big reaction out of him. He’d better not disappoint. I’ll blame him if this video flops.

“So I’m just going to set this camera up, and hide it behind the pillows we have on our window seat, and then wait for him in our bed.”

Alastair moved the camera to the window seat, then turned and ran back to the bed behind him, pulled up the duvet and crawled in. 

The footage sped up as time passed, and Alastair looked at his phone while waiting for Thomas to arrive. 

Eventually, the door opened, and a tall, brown haired man walked in. 

“Hey babe,” Thomas said as he gently closed the door.

Alastair said nothing as he continued to stare at his phone, but Thomas didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He simply toed off his shoes, walked over to the bed and leaned down to kiss Alastair on the forehead.

Alastair didn’t make any response, just kept scrolling through his phone. Again Thomas didn’t seem put off by his boyfriend’s behavior, and collapsed onto the bed next to Alastair.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” He asked as he peered over Alastair’s shoulder to see his phone.

Alastair slightly turned away from Thomas, and said nothing. Thomas’ brows furrowed slightly, but he shook it off and peered up again.

“Something I shouldn’t be seeing?” Thomas asked, “Is it something naughty? Did I catch you at an awkward time, love?” 

Again, Alastair didn’t respond, he only gave a subtle look to the camera paired with a small smirk before returning to a blank expression.

“Hey, look at me.” Thomas said, starting to get a little suspicious of Alastair’s behavior. Alastair did no such thing. Instead he sighed and turned his body so that his back was facing Thomas, and he readjusted into a comfortable position as he began scrolling through his phone once again. Thomas sat up with a frown, looking down at his boyfriend, stumped.

“Ooh! I know!” Thomas abruptly stood up from their bed and left the room, whistling as he went. 

Alastair glanced at the camera in confusion and whispered, “What?”

A moment later, Thomas came waltzing back into the bedroom, carrying a tabby cat above his head, singing the Circle of Life. 

Alastair glanced over his shoulder and pressed his lips together tightly, just barely able to contain his laughter and somehow maintaining his passive expression. Thomas looked down from the cat above his head and towards Alastair. He smiled at him then, and it was a brilliant smile. All sparkling teeth and pure love and childish joy in his eyes. Alastair was visibly shaking from the effort it took to not get up and plant a kiss right over that perfect smile.

Instead, he only glanced away and turned back around to his phone, frowning at the camera once.

Upon seeing his theatrics fail to prompt his boyfriend to speak, Thomas lowered the cat and his sunny expression deflated. He set the cat down and reclaimed his seat on the bed behind Alastair, frowning.

 “Hey, are you angry with me? Did I do something wrong?” Thomas worried, though he again received no indication he had been heard. Thomas looked up to the ceiling in concentration. “I did the dishes, I picked up my laundry like you asked, I… what did I do…” Thomas trailed in thought as he tried to jog his memory to figure out any missteps he’s made, and apparently came up with nothing.

“Okay babe, what’s the matter? Did I piss you off? Did you go through my browser history?”

At this, Alastair furrows his brows, and looks at the camera, thoroughly surprised at the idea Thomas would have anything unsavory in his browser history, and curious, he mouths the words, browser history? 

“Just kidding, hmm, what did I do to piss you off? Oh! Is it because I used your toothbrush again?”

At this, Alastair almost breaks character because Thomas knows Alastair doesn’t like when Thomas uses his toothbrush. They’d had that conversation before. And, seriously? Again?

Somehow, Alastair was able to maintain stoicity and he looked back down at his phone. 

Thomas waited in silence for Alastair to respond, but Alastair remained about-face from Thomas.

Thomas grabbed Alastair’s shoulder and tried to pull him down so that he could see his face, but his boyfriend shook him off and returned to his earlier position facing away from him. 

“Hey, Ali, babe, what’s the matter? Did something happen?” Thomas asked solemnly. “You were fine when I left to get the milk, what changed since then? Did I do something wrong?”

Again, Thomas was met with no reply. 

Thomas leaned up and over his boyfriend to try to see his face and get any sort of response. He was met only with Alastair’s blank face, seemingly not hearing a thing he said. Thomas sat back down heavily on the bed behind Alastair with his brows furrowed, beginning to get visibly upset. He sat there for a minute, slouched over and confused. Presumably trying to think of a reason why this was happening. Alastair looked up to see that Thomas was no longer above him, and made eye contact with the camera, before looking back down. Behind him, Thomas turned so that he faced away from Alastair, his back to the camera.

Alastair waited for Thomas’s next attempt at getting him to respond, but it never came. Alastair’s expressive eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to why his boyfriend had quit his antics. He looked over his shoulder to check that Thomas was still there, and when he did, he heard a tiny sniffle, just barely audible. 

Alastair immediately sat up, dropping his charade of ignoring his boyfriend in favor of grabbing Thomas’s shoulder and turning him to face him.

 When he did, he was met with a sight that broke his heart.

Thomas was crying. 

Tears ran down his miserable face, and he sniffled again, this time louder, wetter, as fresh tears spilled from his eyes. 

“Oh, baby, no.” Alastair said softly, his face guilty and regretful.

“What did I do?” Thomas asked, his voice breaking, sniffling again.

“Nothing, love, you didn’t do anything.” Alastair wiped the newly fallen tears from Thomas’s face and pulled him in to give him a hug.

“Are you tired of me?” Thomas said miserably into Alastair’s shoulder.

“Never.” Alastair responded.

“Then why aren’t you talking to me anymore?”

“It was a joke! A prank,” Alastair rushed out, trying to reassure his dejected boyfriend. “A bad one, a stupid one. It was just a prank, love.”

Thomas looked confused, tears still escaping from his eyes.

 “How is that a prank?” He said, unconvinced.

Alastair pointed toward the camera hidden on the window seat and said, ““I was ignoring you to see your reaction. See, it’s just a joke, I’m sorry. It was bad.”

Thomas spotted the camera and wiped his cheeks.

“So… you’re not mad at me?” He asked tentatively.

“Of course not. Why would I be mad at you?” Alastair said, once again pulling Thomas close.

Thomas waited a moment, then pushed Alastair away by his shoulders gently.

“I can’t believe you,” He said, laughing slightly, relieved. “How could you do that? I almost had a heart attack!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t think you would cry!” Alastair exclaimed, then quieter, “I didn’t want to make you cry.”

“I hope it was worth it, you asshole.” Thomas replied affectionately before tackling Alastair onto their bed and burying his face in his shoulder.

“It was not. I don’t ever wanna see you cry ever again.” Alastair said decisively. 

Thomas picked his head up and looked at his boyfriend and sniffled once more. 

“Well now you have something to post,” he said.

“I feel bad about it though,” 

“You can make it up to me somehow.” Thomas said with a grin. “I bet I could think of a few ways you can repay me for subjecting me to this God-awful idea of yours.”

Alastair rolled his eyes slightly but smiled up at Thomas. 

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” 

Then, Alastair leaned up and gave Thomas a kiss, an apology.

The two of them sat up and Alastair got up to dislodge the camera from its hiding place, returning to sit beside Thomas.

“Well that was a colossal failure.” Alastair said to the camera, then looking at his boyfriend. “Sorry, Tom.”

Thomas only stuck his tongue out at Alastair affectionately.

“I almost lost it when you picked up William Shakespurr and sang the Lion King song. I don’t know how I didn’t give it all up right there.” Alastair chuckled.

“I really thought that one was gonna work.”

There was a pause, a silent moment before Alastair said, “I really am sorry, Tom.” Alastair sighed, “I love you.”

“I know. I love you too.”

The two of them leaned back against their plush headboard tangling into each other like vines, silent for a few moments, cuddling contentedly before Alastair spoke up.

“Did you really use my toothbrush again?” 

Comments

>kit does science!: Oh no, no no no. omw to blow up ur house

10,638 likes, 57 dislikes

>cordeliacarstairs: as soon as you said you were ignoring him i knew mans was gonna cry.

10,121 likes, 14 dislikes

Replying to @cordeliacarstairs: i shoulda known

>eugenia lightwood: lol

8,235 likes, 195 dislikes

>vampire-faerie15: heart=BROKEN OMG WHEN HE STARTED CRYING I STARTED CRYING

8,194 likes, 90 dislikes

[specialagentsergio]

now i’m getting colder || part one

summary: Emily’s been dating you for nearly a year and she’s never been happier--until her past come to call. Then she’s gone, and Spencer’s left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader (unrequited), emily prentiss x f!reader

category: angst

content warnings: (faked) major character death, mentions of/implied sex, mentions of vomiting (nothing descriptive), swearing

a/n: i got such a great response from the original fic, so after some requests, i decided to continue the story. thank you all for your support!

word count: 3.8k

series masterlist || masterlist

After the night in Connecticut, Spencer expects everything to change.

He expects you to start spending less time with him and more time with Emily, openly. He expects to have to watch you kiss her, listen to you gush about her to him. He thinks you may even be upset with him for exposing your relationship. So to say that he’s surprised when barely anything changes at all is an understatement.

The amount of time you spend together does go down, but only by about three hours and seventeen minutes per week. (Not that he calculated it on purpose—it’s one of those things he keeps track of without really meaning to.) You still spend a lot of your time with him, listening to him tell you about the books he’s reading and discussing what’s going to be shown at this year’s Georgetown foreign film festival. You don’t talk about Emily that much; at least, not any more than you did before.

Your behavior at work doesn’t change much, either. You and Emily keep things professional there for the most part, enough so that he can almost pretend that you aren’t in love with someone else.

Almost.

Three weeks after Connecticut, his attention is drawn away from his paperwork when you reach over the partition between your desks and tap on the wood.

“Spence.”

“What?”

“Are we still on for the Doctor Who marathon tomorrow?”

He blinks. “Oh, um.” He’s been so caught up in... well, in sulking, that he’s actually forgotten something. “Yeah, I guess. If you still want to. It’s okay if you don’t.”

You frown at him. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”

“I mean, I just figured...” He leans back in his chair, rocking it a bit. “I figured you’d rather spend time with Emily.”

“Oh.” Your expression doesn’t change much; you still look confused by his words. “Just because I have a girlfriend doesn’t mean I want to stop spending time with you, Spencer. You’re still my best friend.”

“Really?” he asks before he can stop himself.

“Really,” you affirm with a small laugh. “One o’clock, my place. Don’t forget the snacks.”

“I won’t,” he replies quietly, trying to ignore the little bud of hope sprouting in his chest, the thoughts of maybe things aren’t going well between you two and that’s why you want to spend Saturday with him, maybe you and Emily are going to break up—

You rest your chin in your hand as your expression shifts into something serene. Your gaze moves from his face to behind him and he follows it, turning in his chair to see—

Emily’s just walked back into the bullpen with a stack of files. Your eyes follow her the entire time as she makes her way to Hotch’s office, a small smile gracing your lips. You don’t even notice him watching you; you just look back down at your paperwork once she’s out of sight, that smile staying on your face.

Spencer’s chest physically aches, the bud of hope crushed. He returns to his own work, swallowing hard and trying to ignore the tears pricking at his eyes. You’ve never looked at him like that, and he would give almost anything for that to change.

---

Emily had wanted to smack herself when she realized that she was catching feelings for a coworker again.

It’s different than it was with JJ, though. With JJ, she had felt an instant connection. She had felt drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And just like a moth, she had been burned—JJ had never felt the same towards Emily as Emily did to her. She might have, someday. But then JJ met Will, and the rest was history.

You’re something entirely different. Emily’s always found you attractive, but for a long time, she didn’t have any desire to do more than simply enjoy the view. It takes her a while to really get to know you, since you spend so much time with Reid. But as she does, she finds herself more and more interested in you. A year passes, then two. One thing leads to another, and another, until one day she finds herself, slightly tipsy at one of Rossi’s dinner parties, looking at her friend and thinking, god I’d like to kiss her.

Following that realization, she notices a few things—you gravitate towards her at work, save her a seat on the jet and request to room with her when you have to double up. She thinks you’ve started touching her more than normal, too, placing a hand on her as you walk past and picking stray cat hairs off of her clothes.

The profiler in her recognizes these as signs of attraction. Now she just has to get up the nerve to make a move.

It happens in a hotel room in Phoenix. You return there from the FBI field office, both still riding the high of a successful takedown. You’ve always worked well together, and this case was no exception. You were the ones who made the breakthrough on it, leading the team right to the unsub.

You’d also been the pair that ended up at the location where he was. He’d tried to run, but you’d worked together without conscious thought. Emily had pursued directly while you took a side route. You cut him off quickly, and moments later had him in handcuffs and on his way back to the SUV. No injuries or additional casualties. It’s just about the best ending to a case that you can ask for.

You’re practically vibrating with excitement and leftover adrenaline when you turn to face her in the hotel room. And that smile on your face—god, it’s one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen.

To hell with it, she thinks, and in the boldest romantic move she’s ever made, says, “I want to kiss you.”

She doesn’t even have time to feel nervous, because you answer immediately by taking her face in your hands and pressing your lips to hers.

Emily’s kissed women before, plenty of them. But none of those kisses had ever felt like this. No other kiss has felt so... right.

She can’t keep her hands in one place as she kisses you back; they roam everywhere, from the back of your neck, to your shoulders, your waist, your hips. You seem to be having a similar dilemma; she can feel you touching her everywhere, as if you can’t get enough of her. It becomes clear where you’re hoping this will go when you push her blazer off her shoulders. She has absolutely no complaints about that, and guides you to the bed that’s closest.  

After, curled up in her arms, legs entwined with hers, you say, “I want more than just this. Not that it wasn’t fantastic,” you add. “It absolutely was. But I want this to be more than just sex, you know?”

“You want a relationship,” Emily infers.

“Yeah.”

She puts a finger on your chin and nudges it up so she can look you in the eye. “That’s what I want, too.”

You smile at her and kiss her again, gently this time. You sigh in content as you settle your head back on her chest.

Emily doesn’t think she’s ever felt happier.

---

A case the BAU gets in a gated community turns out to be a unique challenge.

“And that is the whole kit and kaboodle on each of your sixty-four suspects,” Garcia says. “Nothing really stands out.”

“That’s pretty much the main problem we’re going to have here,” Spencer says. You’ve got your back to him right now, so he’s taking the opportunity to watch you.

“Yeah. Vanilla doesn’t make your job any easier.”

“No, it does not.”  

“So, um,” Garcia starts. “How’s it going with the agent whose father was a... you know?”

He frowns. “How’d you know that?”

“I might have looked into someone’s hidden background,” she admits. When he doesn’t say anything, she continues, “What? I am not gonna let some strange new person travel with my family and not find out who they are.”

Spencer glances at Seaver before returning his gaze to you. You’re wearing a sweater he’s never seen before today, and it’s really working for you. “I don’t know, she seems fine.”

“What is that in your voice?”

He scrunches his eyebrows. “What’s what in my voice?”

“Oh my god, you think she’s pretty!” she exclaims.

“What? I never said that!” he protests. He starts to panic—Garcia is notoriously bad at keeping secrets; she absolutely cannot know how he feels about you—before realizing that she’s still talking about Seaver.

“Ho, ho, you totally do,” she practically cackles. “Ha ha! PG out, lover boy.”

He frowns down at his phone before putting it back in his pocket. Whatever his tell was, he’s going to have to figure out what it is and stop doing it. He’s lucky Garcia wasn’t there to see who he was actually looking at.

“What was that about?”

Spencer jumps a little. You’ve snuck up on him, coming over when he wasn’t looking at you. “Oh, uh, n—nothing. It was nothing.”

You raise your eyebrows. “I don’t believe you. Your voice did that thing.”

“What thing?”

“You know, the thing where it jumps an octave when you’re surprised,” you say, pointing up.

“Oh. Right.” He clears his throat. “It was just Garcia being... you know, Garcia.”

“Uh-huh.” The expression on your face says you still don’t quite believe him, but to his relief, you move on. “Did she find anything in our suspect pool?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Yeah. I like your sweater, by the way,” he blurts out, the words completely bypassing his brain-to-mouth filter.

You give him that smile, the bright, genuine smile that he absolutely adores. “Thanks!” you say. “Emily got it for me.”

Spencer’s never been able to look away from that smile before.

There’s a first time for everything.

---

When Reid stumbles upon the two of you kissing outside of the hotel room, Emily’s actually relieved. You’d both been talking about taking your relationship public for a while, and now she doesn’t have to come up with a way to actually do it. (You’d vetoed her “just stop keeping yourself quiet when I go down on you in hotel rooms” suggestion.)

But you don’t share that relief. Instead, your mood has changed from playful to anxious—she notices your nervous tic as you both enter the room.

She guides you to sit with her on one of the beds. “(Y/N), what’s wrong?”

“I...” You chew on your bottom lip. She waits patiently for you to gather your thoughts. “That’s not how I wanted it to go,” you say eventually.

“It’s not how I pictured it, either.” She tilts her head, unsure what to say to make you feel better. “It could’ve been worse, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“It could’ve been Rossi.”

That gets a small laugh from you, but the smile doesn’t last. It drops mere moments later as you look at the wall your room shares with Reid and Morgan’s. “Do you think he’s mad at me?” you ask.

Emily blinks. “Why on earth would he be mad at you?”

“Well, it’s Spencer,” you say. “’Trust issues’ is practically his middle name, and I’ve been keeping this—us—from him for months.”

She takes a moment to consider this. You’re right, of course—no one knows Reid better than you. He does have trust issues; abandonment ones, too. But she still can’t imagine him ever being mad at you.

“I’m not sure it’s even possible for him to be mad at you.” She takes one of your hands in both of hers. “But I’ll talk to him, let him know this is on me.”

You relax a little, but still say, “You don’t have to.”

Emily shakes her head. “I want to,” she assures. “Besides, it’s the least I can do, since you’ve gone along with my boundaries for so long.”

“Of course,” you say quietly, and tip your head to rest on her shoulder. “Thanks.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” She squeezes your hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

---

There’s something going on with you and Emily.

He sees it in Emily first, noticing that she’s biting her nails and acting hypervigilant, constantly scanning her surroundings as if she’s looking out for something.

He can tell you’re worried, too. You’re watching her more than normal, but with a frown instead of a smile, and you’re quick to look away if she glances at you. Your bottom lip is getting chapped and irritated from how often you’re worrying it between your teeth.  

Spencer isn’t sure what to make of it. It doesn’t help that he’s having headaches more and more often, and getting through them is taking up most of his energy. Even worse, you’re so focused on Emily that you don’t seem to notice that something’s wrong with him, too.

He desperately wants you to, and it’s not because he’s in love with you. He just wants to talk to someone, needs to talk to someone about these headaches, about how much they’re scaring him and how all the doctors say he’s fine but he doesn’t believe them. He knows you would listen, but he just can’t seem to bring it up, can’t overcome his fear of being a burden.

He needs his best friend, but she just doesn't seem to be around right now.

---

“I swear to god, Ian, you come anywhere near her, and I will end you.”

The words she’d spoken just two weeks ago when Doyle brought up your name echo in Emily’s head as she looks down at Tsia’s body. She knew he was hunting all of them, but she didn’t expect this. She’d thought she had gotten Tsia out of harm’s way. Instead, she’d sent her right into it.

She’s usually fine with corpses and blood. After all, she’s seen far worse than a gunshot because of this job. But this is her friend, she was talking to her just yesterday—

Morgan finds her out by the fence lining the building with vomit on her boots. He asks what he can do, and she convinces him to swing by her apartment on the way back to the BAU, not only so she can change, but so she can get rid of the necklace.  

Hotch has just barely started the briefing when they return. His words fade to white noise as she looks over her team, her family. Doyle’s killing families, and now that they’re on the case, hers is next. They just don’t know it.

Her eyes come to a stop on you. The entire team was awake most of the night and everyone’s wearing yesterday’s clothes, but you look as beautiful as ever.

Emily knows you’ve been worried about her this past month, but you’ve also been so patient. You’ve never asked her outright what’s going on, instead dropping hints like you can talk to me about anything and have I ever told you that my college psychology professor said I’m a great listener? When you notice her keeping an odd schedule, leaving for hours at a time, you only ask that she text you when she gets home for the night so you’ll know she’s safe.

When Doyle had revealed that he knew what you were to her, Emily’s first thought had been that she should break up with you, for your own safety. But she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. You were her safe place, her calm in the center of the storm, her sanctuary.

Her profiler brain had backed her up: Ian wasn’t going to care about the official status of your relationship. He already knew she loved you, and he’d recognize that calling it off right after their meeting would be about protection rather than a change in her feelings.

So she had stayed with you, retreated to her safe place when it all became too much. This past month had been hell, but it would have been even worse without you there to keep her head above water.

You are, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to her. And she’ll be damned if Ian Doyle was going to take that away from her.

Enough.

It was time to end this.

---

The only word Spencer can use to describe the hospital waiting room is surreal. It’s eerily quiet. No one is talking, not even Garcia; she’s scribbling in a notebook instead. People switch between sitting and standing. He paces for a while before sitting next to Penelope, hunching forward in a way he knows is going to make his back hurt in a few hours. Everyone’s restless, even if they try to hide it.

Everyone, that is, except you. You’ve barely moved at all.

It had all happened so quickly. Not long after the briefing, they realized Emily was gone. From the document she had gotten from her informants, the team had quickly been able to deduce that four of the names were spies—and through that, that Emily was one, and she was on Doyle’s list.

Hotch found her gun and badge in her desk.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Spencer had said. “Why run? We’re her family. We can help.”

“That’s why,” you’d responded hollowly. “He’s killing families. She ran to protect us.”

It had been a comfort to see JJ walk back into the bullpen, and she was able to get ahold of crucial information: Emily had gone undercover as Lauren Reynolds and began a romantic relationship with Doyle in order to profile him.

It was information that didn’t sit well with most of them, Morgan especially. But you hadn’t seemed too bothered, almost as if it wasn’t news to you. Spencer had brought it up as you were both collecting your go bags for the flight to Boston.

“That didn’t seem to surprise you. Emily sleeping with him,” he clarified when you just raised an eyebrow at him.

“I knew there was a guy she was with for a while,” you’d said. “She told me a bit about what their relationship was like. Said it wasn’t real to her. I didn’t know he was a terrorist.”

Overall, you had handled this as well as could be expected. If it were you instead of Emily, Spencer thinks he would have been an absolute wreck. He definitely wouldn’t have been able to work the case as well as you had. There were some points where the stress had gotten the better of you, though, like when they were watching the video of Emily’s failed ambush and Morgan voiced his discomfort with it.

“She threw a flash-bang grenade into a car. She’s lucky the three people inside didn’t die. Is anybody else bothered by that?”

“No,” you had said bluntly.

Rossi had immediately tried to smooth it over by saying, “Well, three bad guys.”

Seaver is the one who makes the breakthrough on the case, posing the question of, why families? Hotch is able to convince Clyde to help, and Garcia tracked down Doyle’s son. You had recognized Emily’s hands in the photos of Declan’s faked death, and everything had clicked into place, the final piece of the puzzle of her past.

Morgan was the only one on the team to go into the building. “We’re already bending the rules by doing this ourselves,” Hotch had explained. “Our connection to Prentiss compromises the case. We can only afford to send one of us in there. The rest of us will wait outside in the case that he calls for backup.”

Morgan’s call over the comms had given Spencer emotional whiplash. “I’ve got her!” sparking intense relief, but quickly followed by, “I need a medic!”

Hotch had kept everyone from crowding the ambulance. They’d only gotten a brief glimpse of Emily being loaded into the back of it. Morgan had come over to the group once the doors shut and updated everyone on her condition.

“She, um...” He cleared his throat, clearly trying to reign in his emotions. “She was stabbed. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Okay,” you’d said faintly. Then you’d walked a few feet away and thrown up on the pavement.

You haven’t said anything since.

When the team had first arrived at the hospital, you had just stood in the middle of the waiting room, barely moving, until Garcia guided you to sit in a chair. Spencer had tried to talk to you a few times, just to check in, see if you needed anything, but you hadn’t responded at all. Your eyes were unfocused, and he could tell you were lost in whatever was happening in your head.

They wait for a long time. Spencer knows the exact number is floating around in his head somewhere, but he doesn’t care to track it down.

JJ walks in. Everyone looks up. The look on her face says everything he needs to know.

“No,” Garcia whispers at his side.

JJ draws in a breath. “She never made it off the table.”

His body moves on its own; he stands from his chair and tries to leave the room, but JJ stops him with a hand on his chest. “Spence.”

“I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye,” he says, only able to glance at her face once.

“Come here,” JJ says, her voice just barley audible, and pulls him into a hug.

His face crumples, and he starts to cry. His feelings about Emily may have been... complex the last few months, but regardless of any jealousy or anger, she was still one of his closest friends, and he loved her. She was like the big sister he never had, always looking out for him. Being told she’s gone—it doesn’t feel real.

JJ is the one to break the hug, pulling back from him as gently as she can. When he turns back to face the team, his eyes land on you.

You’re sitting next to Rossi and you’ve practically collapsed into him now, your body shaking with silent sobs. Rossi has a few tears of his own falling down his face as he runs his hand up and down your back.

Spencer doesn’t bother to wipe away his own tears as he makes his way to the vacant seat on your other side. He gently places his hand on top of one of yours and says your name quietly. You don’t move except to turn your hand palm up, put your fingers through his, and grip it so tightly, it’s as if you’re hanging on for dear life. He supposes you are.

You’re going to need your best friend to get through this. He knows that because he’s going to need you as well. He may be hopelessly in love with you and long for you to feel the same way, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

It doesn’t matter, because Emily is gone. She’s gone; she isn’t coming back.

And the world feels colder without her.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

[fanartfunart]

Fly Away

Episode 2: The Collector

Ao3 - First

(Féline Sombre & Paon Lilas designs)

Summery: An AU where Adrien never went to in-person school, not getting the cat miraculous, and found the peacock miraculous. -Gabriel Agreste sets out his plan to protect his identity as Hawkmoth. (and try to get some miraculous)

(this is like... twice as long as the first one...whoops)

Adrien felt like a ragdoll. Chloé squeezed him around his shoulders and shook him; squealing the entire time. He just went limp. Resigned to being dragged around from the doorway.

“Hi Chloé. Hi... Sabrina? Er…" Adrien stared at the comically tall stack of luggage, only identifiable as Sabrina by their favored shorts over tights style on the legs behind the luggage. "Is this… a sleepover?” His father barely let them over anymore, how did Chloé convince his father to let them stay overnight?

“Hi,” Sabrina said, muffled from under the piles of luggage.

“It is Adrikins! Your father finally stopped being a stick in the mud for once! I have sooo much for us to do. It simply can not be all done in a measly hour. Sabrina, the guest room is over there, we’ll be sleeping there.” Chloé pointed, and Sabrina grunted in effort before they made their way towards the room. 

“Do you need help, Sabrina?” Adrien asked, watching her fumble with the tower of luggage.

“Oh she’s fine, aren’t you Sabrina?”

“Uhhh, yep! Just fine!” They kicked open the door before Adrien could escape Chloé’s hug to help. She stumbled, and the luggage fell into the room. Sabrina rebalanced themself with the skill of a gymnast, avoiding the fate of the luggage. They looked at the mess and sighed, shoulders sagging.

“See? Now!” Chloé grabbed Adrien’s arm and pulled him towards his own room, “I need to tell you everything about this new hero I met!”

“Oh. Okay?” Chloé had been most of his first-hand information on the superheroes of Paris. Obviously he’d seen the newscasts, and, despite Chloé’s insistence that the “Ladyblog” was unreliable, he followed that too. But Chloé was who he got the details from. He’s been reconsidering some of the stories from Chloé’s hand in causing the last akuma. 

While listening to Chloé embellish her own role in a story he was in, Sabrina eventually returned. She smiled and sat, listening to the last of Chloé’s tale. “After the fight I did get a good look at Paon Lilas. He was kinda cute. Not as cute as you, though, my Adrikins!”

Adrien chuckled and shook his head. “I’m sure he’d look just as cute with a team of people doing his makeup, hair, and wardrobe for him.” 

“Shh, you’re not giving yourself enough credit.” She rolled her eyes, waving a hand dismissively.

"Well, I don't know about him..." Sabrina said cautiously, "When I came in at the end there... Ladybug seemed pretty suspicious of him. Maybe there's something we don't know?"

"He did seem sorta new, but he gave me a real Mr Cuddles! No strings attached like with Hawkmoth. Really, he can't be that bad."

Adrien nodded, "I'm sure he did what he thought was right…"

Sabrina hummed, "Probably..."

Chloé shook her head and waved a hand "Anyway, Sabrina show Adrien our surprise!" 

"Oh! I'll go get it!" They stood up and raced off to collect whatever it was.

-

Sabrina stared up at the stack of suitcases and sighed "This… may take longer than intended."

Plagg zipped out of her purse and propped himself on top of one. "Ugh why go through the effort? Just tell her you broke it when you tripped."

"Chloé is my best friend Plagg, and Adrien is a good friend too. He's been pretty upset since he couldn't go to school. Least I can do is find the gift."

"Blegh, what kid wants to go to school. If I lived in this fancy place I'd be eating camembert all day long!"

Sabrina chuckled and shook her head "You do that anyway. Come on you lazy kitty, at least help me look." They hefted the first suitcase and started carefully looking through it.

Plagg groaned. Then dramatically huffed. Then sighed twice as dramatically and zipped away to find something more interesting. Like cheese, perhaps. 

Sabrina looked up and frowned at the lack of kwami. "Plagg!" She whisper-yelled. Abandoning their task, they ran after their kwami. 

"Oooo, what's this?" Plagg disappeared into a room, and Sabrina followed. He glanced around the room then shrugged, "Boring, next?"

"What's that?" She gestured at the ajar painting. A… door? She stepped over to find a safe.

Plagg hummed. "Okay, interest spiked. Let's see what they're hiding in there."

"Oh I don't think we should. We should get back to finding Adrien's gift-"

Plagg already disappeared into the safe. The door opened and Plagg riffled through the contents, muttering about what was there. Sabrina tilted their head, and Plagg handed her a book. "Pretty mundane if you ask me. I was hoping for a secret food stash, maybe the World's Finest Camembert."

Sabrina shook her head and flipped through a few of the pages. "Miraculous? Why do the Agrestes have this in a safe?" They glanced at the portrait. "Behind a painting…"

"Sabrinaaaaaaa what's taking so long? And fetch my nail kit! My nail chipped!" Chloé called.

"I'll go down and help her-" Adrien responded. Sabrina gasped and closed the safe, and ran back to the guest room…. And they still had the book! Ohnoohno. She scrambled for a place to put it before shoving it under a pile of clothes in Chloé’s suitcase.

Adrien walked in with Chloé trailing behind. "Adrikins it's a surprise, don't you know the meaning of surprise?"

He chuckled "I do but Sabrina, don't you want some help?"

They stared a bit at him, "It might be nice? There's… a lot of suitcases here…"

Adrien gave Chloé a 'See?' look, and picked up a suitcase to look through. "What am I looking for?" 

"It's a surpriseeeee," Chloé huffed.

Adrien smirked, and picked up a shirt, showing it to Chloé "This it?" He picked up a lipstick "This it? Oh what about this?" He picked up a set of earrings, placing them against his ears. Sabrina giggled as he continued, shaking her head.

Chloé groaned and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her nails with a pout. Sabrina quietly handed her a nail kit from their own purse, earning a smile. 

Adrien found it. He pulled out the DVD and tilted his head "What's this?"

"I uh, convinced the class to do a virtual hello- since you couldn't- uh, I also have something else if you don't like it."

His eyes got shiny, and he rubbed his cheeks, smiling, "Thank you. Really." He pulled Chloé and Sabrina into a hug.

Chloé looked a little startled. She likely was used to having to start the hugs, but softened into the hug.

He pulled back with an awkward giggle, "Sorry, uh, I'll watch this later. Really, thank you."

"Yeah, no trouble at all. Apparently one of the kids is like, all about film making. He kinda took over, actually."

Adrien giggled and nodded, "Well, I'm sure you have other plans too-"

Chloé fluffed her hair, "But of course! I have the whole day planned!"

Adrien gave Sabrina a look, clearly looking for comradery in the exhaustion of Chloé’s day-long itinerary. She smiled and shook her head, ready to help Chloé make her plans reality.

-

Chloé had the book. Sabrina stared at it. Why did Chloé have the book? Chloé did not waste a minute to dramatically show off the book.

"Can you believe there's tons of other superheroes that aren't active?" Chloé called, almost immediately summoning the class to surround her and the book. 

Sabrina was going to die of mortification. How were they going to get that back to the Agreste house? Chloé wasn't going to just let her put it back now that it was her newest attention magnet. 

Marinette wasn't late for once. Although, she did feel late. She hopped up and down trying to get a look at what was at the center of the small crowd.

"Is there a horse superhero?" 

"I wonder if Ladybug and Féline Sombre have powers we don't know about."

"Do you know what language that is?"

Tiki gasped. Marinette’s eyes widened as Tiki weaved in and out of the group of teens’ legs. 

Marinette stared anxiously. Tiki returned quickly. “We need to get that book, Marinette!”

“What?” Marinette cried, but thankfully the only weird look she got was from Ms. Bustier.

Ms. Bustier clapped and the group dispersed disjointedly. “Alright class, that’s enough. We do have more to learn about than superheroes.”

Marinette anxiously watched Chloé’s new book the entire class period. The book was mocking her, sitting on the desk like it was innocent.

Marinette eventually got her chance at the end of the school day. Chloé was once again showing off, as Sabrina tugged on her arm, apparently trying to get her to come with her. 

Lila was on her other side, with her head tilted in curiosity. "Where did you get this?" Lila asked.

"It's one of a kind and totally a secret~" She fluffed her hair.

"Come onnn Chloé." Sabrina tugged on her arm again. Hard. Chloé stumbled backwards, and Sabrina caught her, face flushed with embarrassment. "Ohmygosh I'm so sorry!" The book was on the floor. 

Chloé gaped. She pulled herself from Sabrina and walked away without a word. Sabrina immediately followed after, abundant with apologies. 

Marinette dove for the book. And hit her head against Lila's. 

She grinned uneasily at her. "Hi Lila." She tugged on the book, with resistance from Lila.

"Hello Marinette, I've got it don't worry." She tugged back, and Marinette's grip hardened on it.

"I can go to return this to Chloé, they look like they're going my direction anyway. No need for you to go out of your way!" She smiled broadly.

"Oh no, it's fine, I wanted to ask her more about it anyway."

Marinette's smile strained, "Funny, so was I."

Lila yellped. She jumped up and twirled, as if she was stung. Marinette only just barely noticed a red blur return to her purse. She raised a brow. Tiki sure was going to great lengths to make sure Marinette had this book.

Marinette pressed the book against her chest and ran in Chloé’s direction. "I'll tell Chloé you said hi!"

Lila huffed and crossed her arms with a frown, watching the girl run off. 

-

"Chloé could be Hawkmoth!?" Marinette cried, dragging her hands over her face as Master Fu gave her a confused look. "Bah-wha? I need a plan of attack! Paon Lilas did immediately try to protect her so they must be in cahoots. That must be why she torments so many people! She's not waiting for people to have bad days, she's causing them! How do I confront my own classmate? Do I-"

"Marinette! Chloé isn't Hawkmoth." Tiki said, hands on her hips. 

"No?"

"Chloé is a teenage girl, Hawkmoth seems to be an adult man."

Marinette blinked repeatedly. She giggled awkwardly, "Right, right I knew that."

Master Fu shook his head, "But.. Find out where Chloé got the book, and we may find Hawkmoth. I will start translating the book. I am glad you found it, it should be useful."

Marinette gave a firm nod and set out to find Chloé.

-

Adrien stared at the video of Sabrina taking the book and was suddenly very grateful he had thought about cameras when he finally took that brooch…

"Did you know about this?" His father demanded coldly.

He shook his head "No, no. I- didn't know you had that back there!"

"Your friends will not be allowed back here again. Ever."

"What?" Adrien felt like he was sinking, falling, "But father I-"

"They stole the source of my inspiration and betrayed my and your trust. That is not the sort of people I want you associating with. That is all."

Adrien slumped into his chair as Natalie and his father left the room. He stared out the window as a numbness settled into his chest. He didn't know how long he sat there until he noticed Duusu was curled against his chest. A bird flew past outside.

"... Paon Lilas can fly free."

"Huh?" Duusu tilted his head. "Adrien you know what will happen if you transform too often-"

"I just need to get out of this house. Duusu, spread my feathers." Transformed, he leapt out the window and ran. 

-

"Not quite what I expected but the result is the same. Kids, so nosy, taking what does not belong to them. It is time I got my 'book of inspiration' back, and perhaps a few miraculous while I'm at it." Gabriel Agreste picked up the empty book. "Come my Akuma, and evilize me."

The Collector grinned. "Surely they won't mind becoming part of my permanent collection."

Natalie and Adrien’s bodyguard were all too willing for their likeness to be captured, but the bump in the road came with his son. Adrien seemed to have run away. He growled under his breath. But, as long as he was out of the way of the fight, it didn’t matter. He huffed and made his way out to cause as much of a show as possible. Eventually the superheroes would show their faces.

-

“Chloé, I didn’t mean to! But really we should return the book as soon as possible! I don’t want Adrien to get in trouble.” Sabrina pleaded.

“Ugh, but I finally had something that Lila didn’t!”

Sabrina tilted her head “I- Why would that matter?” Chloé just pouted. They sighed, “Can we please return the book now? Uh… Where is it?” 

Chloé looked up. “Oh nooo, you made me drop it!”

“Sabrina Raincomprix and Chloé Bourgeois,” an ominous voice called. Sabrina spun on her heel. It only took them a glance at the akuma to fall into a fighting stance in front of Chloé. “I am the Collector. You stole my book of inspiration, and for that you shall help me build a new one!” The Collector threw his book like a boomerang towards the teens.

Sabrina pushed Chloé onto the ground before it could touch them. Sabrina got up, and taking the opportunity of distraction, ran.

“Sabrina! You- ” Chloé looked around, finding her friend had already left. “….Sabrina?”

“Looks like your friend left you,” The Collector grinned, “She seems to be all around unreliable, hm?”

Chloé took a page out of Sabrina’s book and ran.

“I knewwww I should’ve just put that book back! Now Adrien’s father is akumatized,” Sabrina turned a corner as Plagg zipped out of her purse.

He shrugged, “Eh, not your fault the door was open.” 

They shook their head. “Plagg, claws out!” 

They vaulted up and returned to the spot they’d left Chloé and the Collector, only to find both of them gone. “Sorry Chloé…” She gritted her teeth and began to search for the Collector. 

They found Paon Lilas before they found the Collector. He was sitting on the roof of a building, legs dangling over the edge, eyes distant. Féline Sombre vaulted onto the roof and walked up next to him. “What are you doing up here, tweety bird?”

He chuckled and looked up at them. “Just enjoying the fresh air. Did you and Ladybug reserve this spot?”

“No, but we do have an Akuma to deal with.”

Paon stood up, “Where?”

“No idea, he disappeared before I could catch him. I already know it’s Gabriel Agreste.” 

Paon stumbled. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, he’s aiming to add to his ‘collection’ whatever that means.” She gives the boy a glance over, frowning, “Can I trust you to help find and keep him busy until Ladybug shows?”

He nodded firmly. “I’ll follow your lead, kitty-cat.”

Féline Sombre blinked a little then nodded, “Okay, you go to the left, see if you can find him. We’ll meet up at the Eiffel if we can’t find him. Otherwise, call me.”

“I can call you?”

They blinked “Er- There’s a phone in both mine and Ladybug’s weapons so I’m sure there’s one in your fan?... Good luck. I’ll avoid crossing your path.” She smiled a little then they vaulted off.

He watched her go, the numbness sinking deeper into his bones. He took a deep breath in and headed to the left, watching for someone who would look like an akumatized version of his own father… He let the tides of emotions lead his way more so than his vision, looking for some sense of an exaggerated version of familiar cold anger or disappointment.

He found his father, and the expected feelings were there, but it didn’t seem to fit in with the severity he’d noticed from the last akuma. He didn’t know what that meant. He glanced at the fan, fumbling for whatever would activate a phone. He blinked as the fan created a pop out screen. He found a contact for Féline Sombre, but no Ladybug. He raised a brow, and shrugged, tapping the contact icon. She picked up quickly. “Féline Sombre, I found him. He’s just outside the Louvre.”

“Okay, try to keep him busy and away from the civilians. I’ll call Ladybug.” They hung up, and Paon Lilas dropped off the roof down towards his father. 

“Looks like someone got trapped in a race car paint booth,” Paon taunted. His father turned around and smiled at him. He did not like that smile. Was it bad that he was unnerved by his father smiling?

“Hello to you too, little peacock. You’ll do lovely in my new collection,” He lifted his book and aimed, “But before I do, allow me to seize your Miraculous for Hawkmoth.” He threw the book at Paon Lilas.

He ducked and the book hit the guardrail causing it to disappear. He blinked and his father showcased the guardrail's place in his book before swiping it away, erasing it from the page.

"Just stand still, pretty feathers like those need to be immortalized!" 

"I'm allergic to paper, actually." Paon Lilas joked. He circled the Collector, getting a sense of his surroundings and how to keep him there. He really didn’t want to hit his father, even if it was an akumatized version of him...

"How unfortunate." The Collector said coolly. He threw the book at him again and Paon leaped out of the way.

"Really, I'm not much of a by-the-books person!" 

The Collector growled and caught his book, glaring at Paon Lilas. “I’m starting to see that. You’re all just troublemaking children.”

Féline Sombre did not seem to have the same reservations as Paon Lilas about hitting his father. She vaulted in and kicked him from behind. “Whoops, cat’s out of the bag.”

-

Marinette was definitely glad for the Ladyblog. Having notifications on for Alya’s obsessive tracking of Akumas and the superheroes movements has certainly allowed her to find the Akumas that didn’t show up right in front of her. She turned down an alley, and double checked for onlookers before transforming. She found Féline Sombre’s message, and listened to their briefing while she set out to the Louvre. 

Féline was already there keeping the Collector at bay. ...And working with: “Paon Lilas?!” 

“Oh! Hello m’lady!” Paon grinned. The book flew at his head and his eyes widened as he leaped into the air to avoid it. “Don’t let the book touch you, it will trap you in its pages!”

“M’lady? I love that!” Féline Sombre giggled, “Can I use that too?”

“But of course, Mittens. I’ve got plenty more where that came from!” 

Ladybug landed next to Féline, giving Paon a glare “Oh hush Feathers.”

Paon Lilas gave her an uneasy grin which was quickly erased as the Collector threw a kick at him while throwing his book towards Ladybug. Féline Sombre moved in front of her, blocking with her staff. The staff disappeared from their hands.

“I think we need some luck right now Ladybug!” Féline said, shifting into a hand-combat pose.

Ladybug nodded, calling “Lucky Charm!” The magic provided a miniature trampoline. She looked around with a frown.

The Collector meanwhile, threw his book at the entrance pyramid. He kicked Féline Sombre into the resulting hole in the ground, jumping down after them.

Ladybug and Paon Lilas immediately leapt after. Ladybug caught Féline, swinging in from her yoyo. Paon tumbled onto the ground, and looked over to the Collector. The Collector grinned, throwing his book towards where Ladybug had hooked her yoyo.

“Ladybug!” Paon called. It only earned him a frown and a sharp spike of suspicion rather than her following his gesture toward the book. She and Féline tumbled onto the ground as the yoyo was sucked into the pages of the book.

The Collector caught his book in the other hand, tapping the page with the yoyo, “My collection really isn’t complete with some superheroes in it, but, I promised Hawkmoth your Miraculous first.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not much of an option!” Paon Lilas went for a punch, only to get blocked with one hand. He ducked the swipe with the open book.

Ladybug looked around, glancing at Paon Lilas’ fan and the book. “Of course! Bird Brain, I need a friend who likes to play ball!” Ladybug raised her trampoline. 

Paon jumped back away from the Collector and plucked a feather from the fan. He tried to focus on Ladybug’s determination and imbued the feather with power, sending it Ladybug’s way, “Fly away, little amok.” The feather fluttered into the trampoline. “Got a plan? I assume?” 

Ladybug tilted her head at the presence of Paon’s voice sounding much closer than it should be. The mask of light had surrounded his face, and assumedly hers. She nodded. “We’re going to try to see if we can fill up his collection.” 

Paon nodded and a bouncy ball dropped onto the ground, and multiplied on the impact. “Meet Doubounce!” Paon winked and caught one in his hand, “Hey, wanna play ball?” He threw it towards the Collector who caught it with his book, frowning. Ah, yes, that looked like the usual response to that question.

Ladybug rolled her eyes and used the trampoline to rebound the multiplying bouncy ball sentimonster towards the Collector “We need Dou and the Collector a little more contained- Féline?”

“On it! Cataclysm!” They touched the stairwell, causing it to crumble, blocking everyone against the ruin and a wall.

Paon started using his fan like a tennis racket, while Ladybug redirected the senti-bouncy balls towards the Collector. He walked towards her, catching the ones that got too close to him. The Collector pressed the book against Ladybug’s lucky charm trampoline, but it didn’t disappear. 

“What? Full already?” He flipped through the pages and made a move to erase a page, but Féline kicked it out of his hands. They grabbed the book and tore it in half. 

“Miraculous Ladybug!” The swarm of ladybugs returned Ladybug’s yoyo, allowing her to catch and purify the butterfly. Féline Sombre meanwhile, hugged their baton against their cheek. 

Paon Lilas snapped Doubounce out of existence and raced to his father’s side. “Fa- Sir? Are you okay?”

He looked up with confusion, but he didn’t… feel confused. Which only made Paon confused. Gabriel looked at the hero, frowning. “What happened? Where am I?”

“Er, the Louvre. You were akumatized by Hawkmoth.” Paon offered his father a hand up, which he accepted. “Don’t worry, it’s over now.”

“You’re… The new one, on the news.”

“Oh uh, Paon Lilas.” He smiled uneasily, and glanced at Ladybug. Who was suspicious again. What was so suspicious about talking to people?

His father nodded, and then gasped, “Adrien! I must find him.”

“I’m sure he is safe. If he was caught by your book, the miracle cure should’ve returned him to wherever he was last,” Ladybug explained.

“Nothing must happen to him. He’s too precious to me.” Gabriel said, placing his hands on Paon’s shoulders (daringly close to the miraculous clipped to his chest). Paon smiled softly, hearing his miraculous beep, as well as Ladybug’s and Féline Sombre’s.

“I’m sure he’s fine sir!” Féline said, “But we’re about to transform back… Goodbye!” Féline waved and vaulted up to the entryway of the Louvre.

“Paon Lilas. We need to talk.” Ladybug said.

“Oh…” He stepped away from his father and placed a hand over his miraculous protectively. “Er… Get back to you on that, M’lady…. Goodbye!” He ran. 

Ladybug gave a glance towards Gabriel and smiled, “Sorry sir, goodbye!” She zipped up and away.

Gabriel huffed and called up Natalie. “I’m going to need a ride… I have found a few interesting bits of information about this ramshackle team.”

-

Paon Lilas stumbled into his room. "Fall my feathers."

Duusu appeared with a whoop and giggled. "That was awesome!" 

Adrien closed his eyes, standing still as he tried to let the dizziness fade. "Yeah…" He braced a hand against his temple and huffed, "But… Do you know how we can fix the miraculous?"

"Oh no, you're hurt?" Duusu cried.

"I'm fine…" He sighed and sat on his bed, "But it's probably a good idea to fix it if I'm gonna keep using it…"

"It should be in the spell book!" Duusu said, collecting some seeds from a drawer.

"There's a spell book? Where?"

Duusu tilted his head, munching on his snack, considering. "I remember it somewhere!"

Adrien sighed and dropped himself against the bed. "Alright. Guess we gotta find a spell book." He yawned and closed his eyes, quickly succumbing to sleep.

[redux-iterum]

Okay but I do want you to get into the whole not splitting siblings and (good) mothers part of that last ask if that's OK and you got the time actually... I love reading these little tidbits of worldbuilding they are so so good and interesting to read

Thank you kindly, man! Hopefully this tidbit will be satisfactory.

So the reasons why litters/siblings and good mothers are not separated are thus:

Potential (read: very likely) confusion for everyone because the kits aren't all lumped together into one concrete family. To take an example, if three siblings are split into two different groups (whether that be between Clans or between a Clan and an outside place like a house), that means that these cats didn't grow up together and are going to have a harder time identifying each other as relatives. Not that they can't, it's just a secondary thought for them. They have to call in the memory of "oh yeah, we were all part of a litter together". And if they don't know what their siblings look like, that could raise a whole lot of issues and risk of inbreeding if they do end up being attracted to each other.

Distress for the mother. Queens are already nervous and stressed as it is, being out in the wild surrounded by toms and dangerous animals and diseases. We've discussed the issues that can come up from a queen's stress being unchecked, and having her kits taken away for even a second can freak her out enough to make her dangerous. If she hasn't done anything wrong (intentionally) and is healthy enough to care for her babies, there is no upside to splitting up litters or just removing them entirely. You are just going to cause problems that you will regret causing.

Distress and danger for the kits. Kittens are fragile little things that actually need their blood-mother's milk to survive their first couple of days on this earth. You can get lucky with a surrogate, but it's a hefty risk to take. Plus, even little blind kits can be upset when a sibling is taken away or their mother is gone. Ones that are old enough to form words are going to cry if they suddenly are alone or with a new queen. It'll make them very unhappy for a while at the least, and that can result in them not eating or becoming ill. No one wants that.

Finally, it just feels wrong. Like, even with mothers that are neglectful, warrior don't like the idea of stealing her babies away, no matter how good the reason is for doing that. The Clans love the concept of family - it's one reason that they pity kittypets so much, since they're stolen away from their mothers as soon as they're weaned. They have no sense of siblings or parents (no matter what their owners tell you). The Clans take pride in their families. Even though you're supposed to love all your Clanmates equally, you will love your relatives with a particular fierceness (assuming they're not assholes). Separating families makes everyone a little uncomfortable, good reason or no.

Hope this answered your question!

[asscandles]

Hey thanks for clarifying before now can I have some friendship(maybe secret crush)headcanons for Fuyuhiko, Peko, and Toko with a friend(reader) thats llike your generic dumbass but they are just like a soft dumbass, they are just too cute to get mad at no matter how stupid they are. So basically a giant cuddly dumbass that just radiate baby energy. Like they(reader)just run up to them saying they want to show them something cool and its just a pretty rock but they look so happy. gender neutral.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏɴɢ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴜɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ! ʙᴜᴛ, ɪꜰ ɪᴛ ɪꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ, ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ!

ɪ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀᴛ 3:26 ᴀᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇ, ɪ’ᴍ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴋᴀʟꜰꜰᴅᴊᴋꜰᴀʟ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ

Peko Pekoyama

“I--What are you doing?”

You stand on the counter, arms extended straight out at your sides. You continue staring ahead with an expressionless face. “I see no god up here… other than me!”

Peko sighs, and you immediately look down at her with round eyes. “Oh, but you’ll always be my queen, Peko! I want you by my side forever!”

Since Peko is always wielding/cleaning her sword, you carry around pastel-colored bandaids and a small first-aid kit in your backpack.

You’re usually by her side, so your absence is always noticed quickly, if not immediately.

You once fell asleep somewhere you shouldn’t have, leaving Peko to ravage the island, searching every nook and cranny until she finally found you curled up in a corner of the airport. All she could do was sigh and crack a tiny, relieved smile. She transfers her sword to her hands before easing you onto her back. Her heart swells when you mumble something and wrap your arms around her neck. All the way back to your cottage, she chides you quietly.

“It’s not safe to be so vulnerable out here. If you’re going to fall asleep out here, do it while I’m with you. Then, you can sleep as soundly as you want.”

M A T C H I N G  B R A C E L E T S

You excitedly gave Peko a card to celebrate the anniversary of your friendship. Peko snorted upon seeing that all of the drawings inside were either stick figures or poorly colored. But you just looked so happy… she couldn’t even bring herself to tease you about it.

You both refuse to speak of this, but one night, Peko woke up to the flickering of a faint light and feverish whispering. She had switched into attack mode in a fraction of a second, only to stop dead in her tracks. You had been standing in the middle of the room, doing the renegade by the light of your phone. You froze upon her reaction. Both of you sat there, staring at each other for a solid twelve seconds. You then proceeded to finish the dance, looking her dead in the eye. Peko may have be tired, but she’d be damned if she let you do it alone. So, she does it while standing on her bed, but clearly lacking energy and motivation.

Ambushing Peko with affection is not uncommon for you. It happens rather often, you clinging to her waist and pleading with her, “Hey, tell me that story again! You know, the one where Fuyuhiko was being held captive and you swooped in with your sword and saved the day!”

When you found out that Peko loved fluffy things, you were ecstatic. You bundled her into your cottage immediately, showing off a small collection of stuffed animals that you had managed to cram into your backpack before your arrival at the island.

Peko selects a white cat plushie as her favorite. From that point on, it is your child. No arguments.

You tend to get lost, so Peko sarcastically suggested tying a balloon to your wrist so that you would be easier to find. But, you totally caught her off guard when your eyes began to sparkle and you shouted, “Can I pick the color?” When she doesn’t answer immediately, you grab her hands and hold them close to your own chest endearingly. “Pretty please? With marshmallows and cookie crumble and whipped cream and sprinkles on top?” Peko obliges. When the balloon is finally secured around your wrist, you are absolutely fascinated by it.

You often fawn over Peko’s skills; but when you do, you use interjections and sound effects because you aren’t able to convey your excitement with just words.

Okay, but she’s actually worried about you lmao

“You have… a lot of mosquito bites. What happened?”

“What? They’re not bites! They were giving me kisses, silly!”

You’ve tried multiple times to surprise her with tickle attacks, but they never work. The only time it went according to plan, you managed to get your hands on her for exactly 0.7 seconds before she turned the tables on you.

Platonic dates? Platonic dates.

You’ve 100% made her flower crowns whose petals match the color of her eyes. 

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

“So… I saw some sour candy in the supermarket. If you lend me the money, I’ll give you half of the rocks I found.” :)

“Considering the fact that you get an adrenaline rush from successfully flipping a pancake, a single piece would kill you immediately.”

Everyone who discovers you two are friends is immediately suspicious. When I say suspicious, I mean, “(Reader), whatever blackmail he’s holding over your head, you don’t have to be scared. We can take care of this together.”

But after witnessing a few of your interactions, they learn of one irrefutable fact.

The embodiment of rage and vulgarity bottled up in human skin does indeed have a weakness.

And that weakness is you.

It didn’t take long for Fuyuhiko to become aware of your appreciation for stickers and your tender heart. That being said, when you’re upset, he won’t object too severely when you request to smooth stickers all over him. He would prefer to keep this interaction private, but if someone does happen to catch him with giraffe stickers on his cheeks and rainbows on his jacket, then he’s going to wear them proudly, goddamnit.

And if anyone has anything rude to say about it, then I hope they can speak sign language, because all they’ll be seeing is hands.

You’re aware of his insecurities, and you can understand why he feels the way that he does. But that’s where you come in. You always seem to approach him at the right moments. 

By now, you’ve figured out that he doesn’t always need words to reassure him. It’s enough if you’re just there, ready with open arms and a glass of water. Fuyuhiko doesn’t cry often. But when he does, he ends up dehydrated more often than not.

Let’s be honest. After Fuyuhiko lost his eye, his depth perception was most likely shit. You were always at his side, one hand on his arm as you gently guided him from room to room. You watched over him.

Accidentally knocking over a drink? You were ready to wipe it up. Searching for something he lost? You were there, helping him look. Tripping or bumping into things? You were there with a first aid kit to patch him up.

You try to match his level of sass, but you’re highkey too nervous to swear and you usually stutter the last word of whatever witty comeback you manage to come up with. Fuyuhiko secretly thinks it’s adorable, and he doesn’t want you to lose that part of yourself. That’s why he always defends you when it comes to verbal beatdowns.

You once drew a face on an egg, and when Fuyuhiko questioned you about it, the only thing you could offer was a deadpan “our son.”

“What the hell--that’s an egg.”

“No! His name is Linguini and he’s our child!”

Fuyuhiko is exhausted bro.

You’ve approached him countless times, eyes glowing with awe and insisting that you need to show him something really cool. It’s usually just a rock or a piece of glass, though. He always has the urge to poke fun at you for it, but it fizzles away when he sees how utterly bewitched you are with your find.

One time, he had walked into the room to see you standing on the arms of an office swivel chair, knees bent and arms extended as you fought to maintain your balance. You seemed to be fairly steady.

Still, that didn’t prevent him from nearly falling into cardiac arrest on the spot.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

It had startled you, and the chair rolled out from underneath you. Fuyuhiko rushed to catch you. You both tumbled to the floor in a knot of limbs, lying there in varying degrees of pain. You were laughing. Fuyuhiko was absolutely most fucking not.

“Thanks for breaking my fall!” You had chirped, gesturing to the arm lodged under the small of your back to protect it.

“You little--” Fuyuhiko’s voice had been strained, but his tight-lipped grimace dissolved into a sigh at the sight of your smile. He disentangled himself from you and pressed the pad of his index finger into your forehead. Your lips formed a small “o” shape, your eyes crossing to try to keep track of his finger. “You need to be more careful from now on. I won’t always be here to catch you.”

“But, you’ll still patch me up afterward, right?” You poked his forehead back.

He huffed and pulled away from you. “To the best of my ability. But don’t push it.”

Toko Fukawa

Initially, the only reason that Toko set aside her natural distrust and suspicion of people in order to befriend you was because she thought that you were simply too innocent and simple-minded to ever think badly of a friend.

She thought that having such a sweetheart glued to her side would disperse her dubious reputation and make her seem less suspicious during class trials.

Yep… That’s the only reason she keeps you around...

Not because of the way her heart feels all fuzzy when you embrace her… Or because of how your eyes sparkle whenever she offers to let you read one of her new works… Or because of how relaxed she feels when you weave her hair into intricate braids…

Not at all…

Hahahashutuphahaha…

She often scolds you for being such a pushover when people disrespect you, but she means well. You insist that it doesn’t bother you, but she’s an expert on human emotion. She is a writer, after all. She knows that it haunts your thoughts for a while afterward, and she hates seeing you like that.

You’ve noticed that Toko bites her nails when she’s stressed, so you’ve decided to combat her habit by applying nail polish to her nails. That way, you figure, the taste of the nail polish will deter her from tearing at them with her teeth. She also has the option of picking off the nail polish, which is probably less harmful than chewing on them.

You also kinda sorta... believe that video game cheat codes work in real life, so you’re often moving around and jumping, shouting the combinations as you go.

“Right! Right! Left! Up! Left! Down! Right! X! Y! Now, confess your sins!” You command during a class trial, pointing vaguely toward the accused. Toko just quietly shushes you, dark circles rimming her eyes as she pats your head.

You’ve adopted the habit of narrating the things you do, like whispering “wiggle, wiggle, wiggle” when sliding your feet into your shoes and “shimmy, shimmy, shimmy” when slipping your charm bracelet past your hand onto your wrist. Coincidentally, Toko has also subconsciously started doing the same thing, and she cannot think of anything more irritating.

She once jokingly told you to stop being so dependent on her. You promptly flushed scarlet and snatched the box she had been carrying out of her hands, insisting that you were more than capable of taking it to storage yourself. You had marched indignantly out of the room and headed left, only for Toko to call out, “Uh, storage is the other way.”

You reappeared a moment later, now stomping in the opposite direction. “I knew that!” You huffed.

You’re aware of Genocide Jack, but you aren’t afraid. You whole-heartedly trust that your friendship is enough to outmatch Genocide Jack’s bloodlust, as naive as it may be. Your only response to Toko’s confession of having a split personality is to gift her a cherry-flavored lip balm with a bright smile. At first, Toko is confused. You explain that whenever Genocide Jack makes an appearance, their tongue is always lolling out of their mouth. You’re concerned that their lips will get dried out, and you want to do your best to prevent it.

Did Toko’s heart just burst? Maybe.

Toko shares her romance novels with you, but only the ones without sexual interactions. She believes that you’re far too pure for those. Plus, she would really not rather answer your questions about anything of that nature.

Toko is determined to preserve your purity. She’s very protective whenever someone shows the slightest bit of sexual or romantic interest in you, and has even referred to you as her baby before.

Whenever Toko gets insecure or anxious and covers her face with her hands, you gently remove them from her face with a soft giggle of “Peekaboo!” Toko doesn’t fight you as you carefully pull her into your arms and rest her head against your chest. In fact, she finds herself surprisingly close to tears when you inquire, “Hey, you want to hear a lullaby? I can’t remember who sang it to me first, but it always helps me calm down. So, I want to share it with you!”

There will be times when Toko is too busy writing stories to pay you any attention. But no matter! After a moment of consideration, you have an idea. You gather blankets and pillows and settle onto the floor beside Toko’s seat. Your arms loop themselves around her leg, and your head finds its way onto her thigh. It isn’t long before you doze off, Toko watching you in silent shock, face rosy with bashfulness and eyes wide.

Toko is very adamant about covering up her legs due to both the tally marks scored across her skin and the quote-on-quote “sturdiness” of her thighs. You, however, have an entirely different outlook. You reason, “the bigger your thighs, the more snacks you can hide under them!” 

[dingoat]

[I mulled over a few possible options for this one, heh, but after some chatter with @cinlat I realised I could mush some of my ancient Ahuska backstory with half baked future plans with vague species lore/headcanons and string it along into something roughly story-shaped. The whole thing wound up a lot more somber than I’d anticipated, but at least I can always count on Crow to soften the mood!] ---

For the better part of three weeks, she’d been dwelling. What had started out as the most unexpected news conceivable had led to a flurry of unanswerable questions; was the news welcome? Was she excited? Did she care? Did she want anything to do with it? But that had all rapidly died down into a sullen simmering of nerves, as Ahuska struggled with something she genuinely never thought she’d have to face.

She had a family. She’d been raised well, and loved, as far back as she could properly remember. Did she really want to go back further, did she need to know anything about where she’d come from? The thought of being connected to Bothawui in any way made her feel ill, but Crow had gently reminded her, over and over, that this changed nothing.

She was Mando’ad, where family is built on more than bloodline, and having surviving relatives from a life she couldn’t even recall changed nothing.

Having a twin brother changed nothing.

Except that it clearly meant something to… him. And the older one. Two brothers, with families of their own, who’d reached out to find the sister they’d thought they’d lost with their parents. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know them, but…

“Crow?” Ahuska tapped his arm with a single hesitant finger, but he’d already turned to seek her out. They were more in tune with one another than ever.

“Mmm?”

“I think I… I want you to meet my family,” she mumbled, eyes slipping to the side.

Crow grinned his softer grin. “Ahhh, I think we’ve already been through that part of the relationship. Was a couple years ago now, at least?”

She felt her ears grow warm, but her eyes turned back to him. “With me, I mean. I want you to come with me to… meet the family I haven’t met yet. I don’t know if I even want to call them that yet, I guess, I doubt they’ll want to either once they’ve met me…”

“Oh, psshh,” Crow made to wave away her worry with a flick of his hand. “You said the whole reason they found out you existed was from holos of the business down at the Ve’lora place, right? Not like they haven’t already got some sort of clue about the life you live, and they still reached out.”

“It already feels so weird, though. They’ve known about me… all their lives. They… knew me, a-and mourned me? They missed me, and I’ve just never known… it’s like they’re strangers, who call me a sister. It’s fethin’ weird.”

“I know, I know. And if they’ve got half a brain between them they’ll realise that too. All you gotta do is meet them, say hi to them and their… uh, heh. Hey. What are baby bothans called, anyway?”

“Huh? What, I… I don’t think he told me any of their names, I don’t even know how many kids he said they each had…”

“What? No, I meant like… y’know. Do you call them… uhhh, like how little cathar are kits, and…”

Every one of Ahuska’s nerves abruptly vanished, and the series of blinks followed by a hard stare made Crow immediately realise he’d made one of those mistakes.

“Sorry, sorry, I just figured…”

“Babies,” Ahuska said, her tone completely flat. “Baby bothans are babies. Not cubs, not fawns, not kits…” her snout wrinkled a little at that.

Crow’s manner was meek, but the way he squinted at her made it clear he was still trying to work out where exactly the problem lay. “Okay but… don’t… wouldn’t there be some word you use for them…?”

“What, like ik’aad?”

“Yeah, exactly!” Crow brightened as Ahuska offered the comparison, then immediately ducked his head as her expression grew harder still.

“Like ik’aad. The Mando’a word that literally translates to ‘baby’?”

Crow’s grin wavered, sensing a trap. “Ye-es…?”

“Not likaya? Not pe’ninr?” Ahuska continued to watch Crow carefully as she offered the Mando’a for kitten and puppy.

“Well. No. Of course-”

“Of course not!” Ahuska snapped over the top of him, with an emphatic gesture of both hands to drive her point. “Likaya literally means baby cat. Not baby person. Not baby human, or bothan, or even cathar, it’s the word you use for a little cute wobbly baby animal that meows before it opens its eyes. You wouldn’t call some random Mando kid likaya if we were talking in Mando’a, would you…?”

“I… guess not…” To the unfamiliar, it would look as though Crow were simply still grinning, but Ahuska knew the way it’s quality shifted that he was in fact frowning on the inside.

Ahuska took a slow breath, pinching the bridge of her snout. “And just the same, the bothese for ‘baby cat’ and ‘baby person’ are two totally different words. One translates to kitten, in basic, and the other to baby. Just baby. There’s nothing fancy, nothing cute about it, grown-ass men and women aren’t bucks and does or stallions or vixens, and I’d be willing to bet that there’s a good chunk of cathar out there who hate the way the better part of the galaxy pretends their own native words for their kids translate to ‘baby cat’---!!”

Despite her efforts to calm herself, Ahuska’s pitch and volume had rapidly increased, her gestures had grown more emphatic, and her attitude was positively simmering. Crow didn’t even need to tune into the beat of her heart to know he’d struck a hard nerve, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to handle it.

“Okay, okay,” he said quickly, lifting his hands in an effort to make it clear he was willing to concede. The crease of his forehead knit a little deeper. “I just would’ve thought, of all people, you might… find it kind of cute, at least? Like the way Nines…”

She shot him a look that made him shut up quick smart, then immediately made a visible effort to cool herself off.

“Let me… try and explain it another way,” she said, speaking slowly, her gaze focused inward. “One time when I was little, nine or ten years or something. I was on a trip with my buire, we had to spend the night in an Imperial settlement. We were checking in to some accommodation, just on the outskirts where it was quiet, and… you know buir’ika was a chadra-fan, right? Well, they had me and her go around to the back somewhere, and wait a while in another building. There was a nerf there, a couple of tauntauns, I think a big old varactyl even... one of the tauns had a fawn so that’s where all my attention was. I thought it was excellent, like, some special treat for me, buir’ika sure acted like it was. Anyway, it was a while later that nuvhu’buir… ah, that’s what I called Jinn, yeah? She came round to where we were with all our stuff, a few extra blankets and things, and we built ourselves a bed right there in the hay and spent the night there. I knew she was mad about something, but she never said why, at least not ever to me. I remember falling asleep hearing her and buir’ika talking really quietly together, and I was wondering why she was so upset. Didn’t make any sense to me at the time, since I thought it was… pretty much the best thing ever. I was too little to get it.”

Crow listened quietly, and when Ahuska paused, he didn’t say a word. He just watched her, offering his full attention, and waited for her to go on.

“They made us sleep in the damned stables. It was years later I looked back and realised that. They probably would’ve let nuvhu’buir stay up in a proper room, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with that. Stables, me and buir’ika, just because of our damn faces. So no. No, I don’t appreciate it when people joke about me going to a vet rather than a doctor, or offer me ‘treats’ for being a ‘good girl’. It’s not cute, it’s gross. And that goes hand in hand with asking if my species have litters, or if our babies are called foals, or if we go into heat. Ugh.” She made an ugly scowl at that. “Rule of thumb? If you wouldn’t ask a Mirialan the same question, it’s probably rude as hell to ask a Bothan. Or, y’know. Literally any other sapient species.”

Flushed, Ahuska found herself glancing off to the side, feeling oddly unburdened to have let it all out, and yet also heavy for having to unload to Crow. She knew he meant nothing by it, that of all the beings in the galaxy his intentions were utterly pure. She’d never forget the way he deflected those stuffy noblewomen on Alderaan that time.

She felt his hand envelope hers. “Did you want me to talk to Nines, and get her to let up a bit on the way she-?”

“Nayc,” Ahuska found the answer came easily, even if she couldn’t quite articulate why. “Not to me, anyway. I want to say it’s different, but it’s probably not, really. I dunno. Just maybe give her a poke if she starts on any other bothans with ‘Puppy’, yeah?” “It used to bother you a lot though, didn’t it?”

Ahuska stared out at nothing for a while.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Still sorry.”

His chin came to rest over her head, and she closed her eyes as she let her face rest against the comforting curve of his neck.

“I’m sorry too. Not your fault the galaxy is the way it is. I’m just… a little wound up right now, I think. I’m nervous about this.” “Shhh,” he soothed gently, and she let her face fall against the hand he brought to her cheek. “You don’t need to make an excuse for yourself. I asked you something stupid. Can’t promise I won’t again in the future, but I’ll always be ready to listen to you. Mmkay?” Ahuska found herself nodding against his palm. “‘kay.”

“And I’ll be right there with you, meeting those other relatives of yours. And if they turn out to be bastards? I’ll find a totally not-xenophobic way to give them a piece of my mind.”

She made a little snort, and let her arms wrap around him. “And that’s why I love you.”

[sevenkittensinatrenchcoat]

I Sort of Wrote Something Again

So, I wrote a really sad thing about Bustopher and Mistoffelees and for some reason, my stupid brain came up with an even sadder story:

I created an internal monologue of Jemima seeing Macavity for the first time and figuring out that he’s her father and going into the implications of that. Because it’s a bunch of dark themes from the perspective of an innocent child, the tone is all over the place. Jemima, as I apparently write her, also seems to have some issues focusing, because she gets sidetracked into a bunch of little stories about her friends. I also had to come up with what she was going to call everyone, including having her not really know what to call Demeter. She calls Mistoffelees “Misty” though, so that’s a thing now.

Anyway, there are a few content warnings, though it’s all very vague, because it’s from the perspective of someone who doesn’t really know what she’s talking about. Most of it can be explained in the backstory I have for Macavity and Demeter:

Macavity, like most sociopaths, can be very charming at first and Demeter fell for him. But, he began to show his true colors over time and the relationship became abusive. She decided to leave Macavity after getting pregnant, not wanting a kitten to grow up around him. But, because she’s Macavity’s daughter, even if she’s nothing like him, Demeter was never entirely comfortable with Jemima and mostly let her be raised by other cats. It didn’t help that when she was finally beginning to recover, Macavity kidnapped her.

So, there are references to sexual assault, domestic abuse, and the fact that Macavity attacks two of the kittens before his fight with Munkustrap, along with a kitten having something of an identity crisis. There’s also a reference to Victoria and Plato having sex this one time, but I’m not sure if that needs a warning as anything other than maybe a little weird in context.

Okay, without further ado:

Scared of Me: Jemima to Macavity

There’s something different about you. I know Miss Jenny is not my mother. I know Mister Skimble is not my father. We don’t look the same. I spent a lot of time with them whenever they camp out in the junkyard and they treat me like their kitten, but they’ve never claimed to be my parents and I’ve never tried to call them Mother and Father. I wonder what would happen if I did.

I look like Aunt Bomba and Aunt Demeter who live in my house. When I call her Aunt, Demeter looks sad. She’s Mother, but she doesn’t want to talk about it. She said that it’s not because she doesn’t want me, but because Father made her sad and she remembers him when she sees me. She said it’s not my fault and that she wanted to spend more time with me, but then she disappeared for a while and no one would tell me where she went. She just got back tonight and she hasn’t said anything to me yet.

But now I look at you. You don’t look at me. You don’t see me. That’s good. I don’t want you to. You’re being mean. But, when I see your red, I realize that it’s my red. Aunt Demeter, Mother, doesn’t have very much red. But you’re all red, except for your tummy, which white, just like mine. Aunt Demeter is scared of you, more than everyone else. Are you Father? Are you why Mother won’t look at me? You’re mean enough to have done whatever bad thing made her upset. But why would she have a kitten with someone who was mean and made her sad? Maybe she didn’t want a kitten. Did you? Did you want me, Father? Why did you have to hurt Mother like that?

You know, Victoria, she’s my best friend, she’s mated before, just the one time with Plato while we were all napping, and she says that if you don’t do it right, it hurts. Did you hurt Mother like that? That wasn’t very nice! Maybe it was an accident, but then you would’ve said sorry and Mother wouldn’t be scared of you. I’ve been hurt by accident before. Yesterday, Etcetera stepped on my tail. Uncle Tugger was across the street and she wasn’t looking where she was going. Miss Jelly was more mad about it than I was. I knew it was an accident. We all act silly when Uncle Tugger’s around, especially Etcetera.

If you could hear me, you probably wouldn’t care. I’m sorry. I just thought that if you’re my Father, why couldn’t you be like all the other fathers? My friends all have them. Last moon, I slept over with Electra and Uncle Munkustrap is her father and she tells him all about her day, even the boring parts and he listens to all of it. He must think it’s pretty silly. Grown-up stuff is boring to kittens, so it’s probably the same the other way around. Besides, Pouncival falling down isn’t really a good story, because he falls down all the time. Though, when Pouncival fell down on top of Tumble, so that he fell down too and grabbed onto Plato to keep from falling all the way down, but he just pulled him down with him, and then Etcetera tripped over the pile of toms and also fell down, that was pretty funny.

Etcetera just fell down again. It wasn’t an accident this time. Why did you do that, Father? She wasn’t doing anything bad, and even if she was, grown-ups aren’t supposed to hit kittens. Mister Skimble says that adults who hit kittens deserve to be hit themselves. I hope he hits you, though I know that isn’t a very nice thing to hope. Since you grabbed Aunt Demeter and tried to take her away somewhere, I think Uncle Munkustrap is going to hit you now, which is probably a good thing. You’re not gonna hurt Mother ever again.

It’s really not fair, Father. You’re bad, so I don’t get to have a father like the other kits do, and you made Mother so sad that I don’t get to have a mother either! That’s why Miss Jenny and Miss Jelly and Mister Skimble and Uncle Munkustrap let me stay with them so much. I’m kind of like an orphan, I think, even though none of my parents are dead.

And you don’t want me either. You didn’t try to take me away. I don’t want to be taken away and if you tried, I would definitely bite you, but I’d also know that you wanted me. If you didn’t want to have a kitten, why did you mate with Aunt Demeter in the first place? Victoria says that you can sometimes just mate for fun, but I don’t think Aunt Demeter was having fun. Uncle Munkustrap says that having fun by making someone else not have fun is bullying. That’s what he said when Rumpleteazer scared Mistoffelees on purpose so he’d blow something up with his magic. Teazer just wanted to see something blow up, but she probably should’ve just asked. Misty probably would’ve said no, but you don’t always get what you want all the time anyway. Bullying can make someone really sad, so I guess that explains what happened to Aunt Demeter.

I finally got to meet my Father today, but you made a very bad first impression. Shouldn’t a first meeting be something happy? All I know is that you hurt my friends and took my Mother away from me and all for no good reason. And you took Old Deuteronomy away, you tricked us, and now you’ve hurt Uncle Munkustrap, too! I hate to think I was made from you. I was made from Aunt Demeter, too, but both parents make the kitten.

I guess I got all of my black and my good parts from Mother and all of my red and bad parts from you. I think I have a bit more black than red, so maybe I have more good than bad, too. I hope so. I don’t think I’m much like you, but I can be bad sometimes, and maybe that’s the part of me that’s like you. But, we’re all bad sometimes, right? Maybe you’re good sometimes, though it can’t be very often. Were you a good kitten, Father? Could a good kitten still become a bad grown-up?

Everyone’s scared of you, Father, but I think it might be worse that because of you, I’m starting to get scared of me.

[mortemersgf]

hey if you’re still taking requests for drabbles/headcanons, would you be willing to write one about f!Blaine and f!MC from FA where blaine does something stupid and gets injured and MC has to take care of her?

it’s okay if you’re not interested just thought i’d try anyway! love your fics!

- blaine is a troublemaker. that’s not anything new. it’s not that kennedy dislikes her spontaneous nature, it’s that blaine can be overly reckless sometimes. she does whatever she wants without fearing consequences, something that is rather foreign to kennedy.

- this is why she can only sigh as she cleans up blaine’s wound, which she acquired when she climbed a tree to rescue a cat. blaine had slipped on the way down and scrapped her forearm. thankfully, it isn’t anything too serious, but even so, the worry in kennedy’s eyes is evident.

- blaine takes notice of this and asks, “hey, you aren’t angry with me, are you?” usually playful, her demeanor has shifted to a solemn one seeing how upset kennedy is.

- kennedy releases an exasperated sigh, packing up the first aid kit as she speaks. “honestly? i am”—she snap the lid shut and take blaine’s hand in hers—“i just wish you would be more careful.”

- blaine smiles ruefully and entwines their fingers. “i don’t deserve you, do i?”

- “not at all.” kennedy breaks out into a small laugh, leaning into blaine’s side. “i’m being serious, you know. yesterday, peter was telling me how you went to the ER to get some stitches on your knee last week.”

- “he told you?” blaine begins to explain, but kennedy cups her face, ceasing her attempt at making her trip to the hospital sound less severe than it is.

- “take care of yourself. i mean it. you’re important to me, and i’ll be more than devastated if something were to happen to you”—kennedy presses a kiss to blaine’s forehead, and when she pulls away, blaine has the softest smile on her face—“after all we’ve been through... i just want to live my life the way i want with you by my side.”

- “i hear you loud and clear, rutherland,” blaine says, “i promise i’ll take care of myself because you’ll be more than devastated if something”—her smile turns into a teasing one, earning a groan from kennedy”—“alright, alright. i’m sorry. i’ll be extra aware from now on. i just... hate worrying you.”

- kennedy wraps her arms around blaine, who relaxes in her embrace. “i hate worrying about you, too. so let’s do something we both enjoy then?”

- “oh? what do you suggest?” the tone in blaine’s voice is suggestive, but kennedy pays her no mind, saying, “you could make me ardonian pudding.”

- “right now?” even though blaine laughs through her words, she’s untangling herself from kennedy and stepping into the kitchen.

- kennedy hums in agreement and stretches across the couch. “i like ardonian desserts and you like making me happy. it’s a win-win.”

- “you’ve got me there.”

a/n: thank you anon! :’) i hope you enjoy these hcs

[buckpaws]

Fawnpaw’s Way

(read ch. 1 and allegiances here!)

ch. 2 is done! :D it took a while, but here it is!

words: 8,924

Fawnpaw and friends take a trip to the medicine cats' den, but she gets lost in thought after it all goes less than according to plan.

    Though the sun’s warmth was a comfortable haze over Autumnclan’s camp, Fawnpaw felt cold after watching Fogbright’s outburst towards her apprentice, Plumpaw. The black tom was standing still in place, his green eyes murky as he watched the empty tunnel where his mentor had disappeared. Shadows cast themselves over the four apprentices, who were unwilling to move from their shaded spot to the warmth of the hollow. She resisted the urge to nuzzle his cheek, with his sister, Mistypaw, so close to him already. And he was soon shaking himself out and looking between Mistypaw and the other two apprentices with new optimism. Next to her, Mottlepaw offered no quip, which Fawnpaw found odd.

    “Who does Fogbright think she is?” Mistypaw started up before he could say anything, causing Plumpaw’s tail to fall, clearly hoping to drop the subject. Fueled by moons of training together with Fallenwing and Fogbright every day, the apprentice ranted, “I swear, sometimes she just treats you like a stop to becoming deputy. How miserable!”

    “Let’s just get going, okay? The medicine cats might be getting ready to leave for the 'Cave soon,'' Plumpaw meowed, his words edged with his tenseness. Mistypaw didn’t seem ready to let the issue go, though all she let indicate it was a single whisk of her tail, and thoughtful irritation swimming in her blue eyes. Before anyone could follow Plumpaw’s lead, Fawnpaw felt an emptiness against her flank when Mottlepaw pulled away. Another feeling came - a heavy dropping sensation in her chest that made Fawnpaw’s legs quiver. Her balance was unsteady, and if there wasn’t a wall of rock on her other side, she might have collapsed. Unsure sounds were bubbling up out of Mottlepaw’s throat, and Fawnpaw knew the worst might be coming. White ringed her sister’s dark eyes.

    “No!” The first protest came, “Mapleflower will be mad too! No!” Her yowls rang off the red-rock walls, hardly muffled by the thick soil padding the ground and edges of the gorge. Mistypaw seemed totally taken aback, ears flattened. She backed up, and Plumpaw stood even closer to her, keeping his own pricked toward Mottlepaw. His fur remained flat. Where the gorge’s walls normally felt safe, arching over Autumnclan’s camp in shelter, they now seemed to trap the apprentices in a claustrophobic embrace.

    “Mottlepaw, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Mapleflower won’t be mad at you,” He tried to say in a soft tone, against Mottlepaw’s loud meowing and hissing. She had now backed herself next to Fawnpaw, as she struggled to stand herself. Her gaze swam, Plumpaw and Mistypaw blinking in and out of view as dark and light colored clouds. Mottlepaw’s cries overwhelmed her senses, almost blotting out the shaking pain of the muscles in her legs, threatening to take away her ability to pretend that she was fine. Without a voice, she tried to keep listening in to her sister’s meltdown. It felt as if her heart raged with any attempt she made to move. Starclan, where was her strength when she needed it? In her place, the older apprentices were left to manage Mottlepaw before she began to attract the attention of cats trying to rest after their patrols. At sunhigh, her outburst would be especially noticeable. Fawnpaw’s teeth ached from clenching her jaw. The thought of another aggressive confrontation against her sister made Fawnpaw want to whimper.

    “Shut up! I don’t wanna! I’m not going! No!” Mottlepaw was making shrill sounds after her words now, her normally thick tail now plumy with her frustration and panic. Her breathing was strained, the wet and painful sounds even worse when she raised her voice. Plumpaw pushed forward bravely with a step closer, gaze flitting between Mottlepaw and Fawnpaw. He lowered himself to the ground to seem less of a threat to the tortoiseshell apprentice, but she met his mercy with a nasty spit, leaving him sputtering backwards. His sister quickly stepped in with one paw in front of the black tom. Fawnpaw’s chest fluttered in vain to form words for Mottlepaw’s sake, her effort clawing at the air in her lungs like a butterfly floating just too high to catch. Around her, the air crackled with escalating tension, teetering on the edge of something she would not be able to fix. Mistypaw regarded Mottlepaw with a hard gaze

    “Mottlepaw, stop! Plumpaw just wants to help you!” Mistypaw exclaimed, her pale fur fluffing up to meet the other apprentice’s challenge, and Fawnpaw wanted to interject - she’s just confused! She isn’t like you! But her voice still failed to come, all energy spent keeping her paws upright. Shuffling against the wall of stone, Fawnpaw managed to whip her tail. Her sister needed her. As Fawnpaw expected, Mistypaw’s loud voice only exacerbated Mottlepaw’s protests. It was just as when they had all been kits together, but now, Mudpetal was not hovering closeby to handle her kit with love and seasoned paws. Plumpaw did his best to recover from Mottlepaw’s aggression where he crouched close to the ground.

    “That’s right, Mottlepaw. Aren’t we friends, Mottlepaw?” In response, the tortoiseshell hissed once more, quietly now. After the outburst, Mottlepaw’s body had begun shrinking down into her thick fur. Shades of black, brown and copper fluffed up to protect her from the overstimulating world in front of her, but it still couldn’t cure the distress she felt inside. The force of Fawnpaw’s sympathy hurt her heart, beating rapidly alongside her sister’s. Seizing the opportunity, Plumpaw advanced closer once more, and Mottlepaw let him this time. Once he was within a tail’s length of Mottlepaw, he tried to reach out and touch her paw with his. Mottlepaw did not move away, only staring warily between her sister and denmate. With a deep breath, Fawnpaw finally found her strength and turned her head to give Mottlepaw a reassuring blink.

    “Plumpaw i-is a good friend, isn’t he? He wouldn’t make you do anything scary.” She murmured to her sister, feeling a glimmer of hope when recognition shone back in Mottlepaw’s normally sweet green eyes. Fear and confusion still dominated the apprentice, her flattened ears and fluffed up fur continuing to protect Mottlepaw from the stimulation of everything around her. From her distance away, Mistypaw continued to watch her brother with disbelief. Plumpaw closed the distance from him to Mottlepaw, allowing his black pelt to become a kindly shadow pressing against her streaked fur. 

    “I can’t!” Her voice suddenly rose to a wail once more, and Fawnpaw caught the next cry before it came by slipping her head underneath Mottlepaw’s chin. She comforted her sister with broken purrs, enveloping Mottlepaw in warmth alongside Plumpaw. The steady sound reverberated between the cats huddled together, slowing the tortoiseshell’s rapid heartbeat. Mistypaw’s tail flicked back and forth now, uncomfortable, or maybe unsure, at the sight before her, though Fawnpaw found it difficult to care in her exhausted state. Relief washed over Fawnpaw profoundly as her sister began to calm down. As the quiet extended, so did the lengths of her purring. Minutes passed, giving even Mistypaw the chance to sit down and relax. She drew her paw over her ear in washing, as if trying to allow the other apprentices space. From where they huddled together, the sun was hidden from view behind one rise in the gorge, which left the stone cool and dew glistening on patches of shaded grass. Fawnpaw felt her eyelids grow heavy; Mottlepaw’s intense purring brought her back to being a tiny kit snuggled between her littermates. Plumpaw rested with his head on his paws, his long tail curled over Mottlepaw’s back. When one of the cats finally spoke, it was Mottlepaw in a whisper.

    “I’m sorry for talking like that to you, Plumpaw,” She mumbled into her paws, “I didn’t mean to.” Guilt was undeniable in Mottlepaw’s voice, and Plumpaw lifted his head, touching his nose to her ear.

    “Thanks for apologizing, I know you didn’t mean to. It’s still important to remember that it hurts other cat’s feelings when you raise your voice and get upset,'' He meowed with an assuring yet firm tone, rising on his paws only enough to stretch himself out. “Besides… that’s why Dappleheart is so nice, huh? She can use a cave-voice, even for an apprentice like you, Mottlepaw!” The glow in Plumpaw’s eyes was contagious, and Mottlepaw beamed back with a rumbling mrrow of laughter. Fawnpaw felt her heart soar with admiration. Plumpaw sounded like a mentor already, so wise and patient, when he hadn’t even been made a warrior yet!

    “Daring to call out Mapleflower, brother?” Mistypaw chimed in, and he gave her a fervent nod. The dark tom straightened himself out, his black fur sleek and prominent against the gorge’s curving red walls, even amongst their many shadows. He stood tall in pride for his bravery. Autumnclan’s medicine cat was well-respected, but no cat escaped her short temper and high expectations, least of all her apprentice, Dappleheart. Despite the shocking difference in their size and strength, Dappleheart seemed meek and innocent as a kit next to the compact calico she-cat whose yellow eyes could survey a group of cats with a warrior’s intensity. With any luck, she would be in a good mood when they entered her den.

    “Someone has to,” Plumpaw admitted, “She can be so grumpy, but the four of us can surely take her, right, Mottlepaw?”

    “Yeah!” Mottlepaw rose alongside him, which Fawnpaw used as an opportunity to also scramble to her paws. They ached with weariness, but the exhaustion would be manageable now until she could get to the medicine cats’ den and rest. For the time being, Fawnpaw leaned on Mottlepaw. Through her pelt, Fawnpaw could feel Mottlepaw’s heartbeat growing slower and calmer. In response to her brother, Mistypaw purred once.

    “Do you think you can manage without me? Runningpaw said he wanted to go check out a thrush nest when he got back from patrol. I should wait for him, it could be good hunting for tomorrow.” She meowed, already moving back towards the gorge. Mottlepaw made a disappointed sound at the mention of her older brother, though Fawnpaw jabbed at her sister with her tail. She began to protest, but managed to quiet down with a huff when Fawnpaw mumbled an unrealistic promise into her ear as conciliation.  Plumpaw had also shifted himself in front of the other two she-cats, waving goodbye to Mistypaw with a motion of his tail.

    “We’ll find a way. Tell Runningpaw I said hi.”

    “For sure. See you all later!” Mistypaw called over her shoulder as she trotted away, weaving around small rocks and gravel to find a clear spot of smooth limestone that had been warmed by a patch of sunlight. When she settled, her fur was a nearly-white glow amongst the gorge’s sheer, shaded walls. Shadows of birds overhead flickered across Mistypaw’s pelt, sleek from where she had groomed herself earlier. The grace with which she reclined in the sun and shut her sky colored eyes amazed Fawnpaw.

    She didn’t have time to look long, as her group had moved on without her. Fawnpaw followed quickly, leaving Mistypaw to sun herself until the morning border patrol returned. With Plumpaw in the lead, the trio of apprentices padded away from the sunlit gorge and its dappled warmth, back to the tunnel which led into the camp’s underbelly. However, rather than plunge down as Fogbright and the other warriors had done, Plumpaw traced the solidly packed dirt along the tunnel’s edge in easy strides. It formed a path upwards, gently sloping up to higher ground where the gorge’s walls converged closer, creating a tighter space around the flat stone marking what would be the roof of the cavern below. However, where the forest floor met the edge of the gorge, soil was easy to move and shape; brambles and shrubs wove together as a testament to generations of warriors working to manipulate earth and foliage around them into their camp’s main exit. On her first night as an apprentice, while her littermates enjoyed the excitement of a Gathering, Mudpetal had told Fawnpaw of her own father, Hayjaw, before they retired together to the nursery. He had succumbed to greencough before her litter could open their eyes to meet him. Although her eyes strained against the brightness of silverpelt shining through the woven tangles, Fawnpaw had searched its magnificence for her grandfather amongst the stars. The moon, bright and full, shone back at her as an unblinking eye. Even now, Fawnpaw craned to see the sky through the bramble tunnel, but clouds peered back at her this time.

    A new wind of excitement to get out in the forest made Mottlepaw scamper after Plumpaw without protest, and Fawnpaw followed close behind her sister’s tail. Underneath her paws, the soil sloped up even higher, becoming darker and softer until thick brambles gave way to lush undergrowth. She didn’t have to wriggle to get through the bushes like her cohorts, her small frame slipping easily through a hole Without sunken earth to muffle the winds and sounds above, Fawnpaw felt the entire forest roll over her senses, making her whiskers quiver. Mottlepaw’s dilated eyes flashed excitedly at the trees, teeming with chittering prey in greenleaf. The sea of birch trees framing the sky above created a blue-and-green warmth inside of Fawnpaw, familiar beyond her years, even when she blinked.

    Plumpaw did well to keep his friends on course, guiding Mottlepaw with his tail along the stretch of ground, the leaves and grass there flat from many pawsteps. Briar thickets helped to keep the pathway enclosed and safe from being worn away completely, and the apprentices ducked under their longest branches for a few fox-lengths. When they emerged, the tangle of brambles and bushes gave way to a small knoll sporting viburnum bushes flowering white, and prickly larch trees. Its south-facing side held the den’s entrance. It was a cave of its own, much smaller, and rich with moss and ferns clinging to its stone interior, damp from a steaming underground pool. A thick sheet of dried willow vines secured at the cave’s mouth by stones shielded the tumble of rocks that lead into the den of Autumnclan’s healers. When leaf-fall came again, the withered vines would be replaced by the medicine cats with ones that were freshly fallen. Mottlepaw shimmied her haunches to stalk a stray catkin as it came under her paw, but the older apprentice stopped her with a small cough. The sound pulled Fawnpaw from her thinking.

    “Come on, Mottlepaw,” He said easily, and she trotted after him.

    Once the apprentices had passed underneath the willow vines, the air around them quickly became cool, quiet, and still once more. It always felt exactly how she left in when she moved back into the nursery, save the mess of two busy medicine cats with an apprentice den full of rambunctious cats. Today, though, the herbs were laid in neat piles and fine rows, as if great attention had been paid to them.

    In the further darkness of the cave, Fawnpaw saw a pair of glinting eyes glow back at her. Almost at once, the large, golden she-cat presented herself, dark spots shifting across her pelt as she lowered herself from a stone cleft full of flat pink flower petals. The divot was nearly halfway up the cave wall, its contents hidden to any cat below the medicine cat’s towering height. Fawnpaw admired her powerful frame as she approached the apprentices with an amiable look in her honey sweet eyes.

    “Welcome! I was hoping you’d stop by.” Dappleheart meowed in greeting, giving a friendly blink to the three young cats. The kind tone of Dappleheart did little to calm the guilty feeling that sparked in Fawnpaw’s chest.

    “We tried to get here earlier.” The tabby mewed, beginning to sputter with her lack of excuses. In truth, it was not expected of Fawnpaw to follow her sister at all times, but it made her a little nervous not to know when or whether Mottlepaw had taken care of herself. Considering that Vixenbreze had not been with her, it was likely that her sister had been so helpfully assisting Plumpaw without her mentor’s permission. Even as she grew restless and confused from pain associated with her condition, Mottlepaw popped up around camp to help others, and Fawnpaw loved that about her. She just wished that there was some way to poke around inside her sister’s brain, dislodging whatever froze her up, or pinched her nerves at the thought of eating herbs.

    Tilting her head to one side, she gave Mottlepaw a curious look, but the apprentice was avoiding all eye contact in favor of an invisible bug somewhere between her paws. Plumpaw sat next to her, his tail relaxed, only his eyes appeared to be more focused on the exit of the den than what was happening inside. Dappleheart observed her for a little longer in the quiet, before rising to her great paws.

    “She needs to have thyme before sunhigh,” Dappleheart murmured, more to herself than Fawnpaw, and she padded off quickly. The length of her tail meant a small bit stuck out from the crevice of rocks, and after just a few moments, the tall she-cat emerged fully with a few thick pieces of thyme in her jaws. Dappleheart laid them before Mottlepaw, who reluctantly lapped them up and began to chew after Fawnpaw gave her a reassuring gaze. “This is a calming herb. It’s good for feeling better when you get overwhelmed,” She explained to Mottlepaw in a practiced tone that indicated just how many times she had gone over this with the stubborn tortoiseshell. Fawnpaw still listened intently, always ready for a chance to learn how to help her sister. If something went wrong, or the medicine cats were gone from camp, surely it would fall to Fawnpaw to administer her sister’s necessary herbs. This newest outburst made her realize just how much she would have to train to be ready for that moment. She couldn’t help but feel her ears droop; she had nearly collapsed during Mottlepaw’s fit. If Plumpaw and Mistypaw hadn’t been there, she would have had no way of helping her sister without becoming a problem herself.

    Fawnpaw wanted to shake her head fiercely to clear her ever-churning thoughts. No. They were not problems. If cats were supposed to be perfect, they wouldn’t have to be apprenticed at all. For now, she tried to focus her attention back on Dappleheart, who was now fetching Mottlepaw the rest of her herbs, which she had wrapped neatly in an ivy leaf. Fawnpaw let her short tail rest on Mottlepaw’s flank as she settled down in a resting position and lapped up the deep blue berries before her first. Plumpaw also gave her a friendly bump of his head to hers in encouragement. With some prompting, Mottlepaw also took a couple of light green leaves, each sporting rounded points, into her mouth and eventually swallowed them. Some had still stuck to the cleft in her lip, but she licked the mess away quickly. Dappleheart was patient enough to wait until she had cleaned herself to continue.

    “If Pinekit didn’t need the last of our coltsfoot to get over his kitcough, I’d use that for your breathing. This is feverfew; it’s best for fevers, of course - but I think it does well with thyme for your chest and your headaches, Mottlepaw.” Dappleheart spoke, though she only really directed the words at the pair of sisters. Fawnpaw felt her memory ache at the different herbs. Were the medicine cats so overworked that Dappleheart needed to pass on all this important knowledge to the apprentices? Or did she just know how much the small cat needed to watch out for her innocent sister? Fawnpaw vowed to learn as much as she could, for Mottlepaw and her other littermates, who needed to focus on learning about other aspects of clan life. The elders’ and medicine cats’ dens were already more familiar to her, anyway. She glanced at Plumpaw to see if he was listening, and saw that he was once again looking at the mouth of the cave. The tips of his ears twitched, but not in the direction of the medicine cat’s teaching.

    “They’re so gross…” Mottlepaw whined once she had swallowed the last of the herbs. She had now taken to shredding the ivy leaf wrap. Fawnpaw nudged her flank gently with a paw, drawing her attention back to Dappleheart’s lesson. Obliging, Mottlepaw’s ears faced the tall she-cat once more. Amber eyes blinked gratefully back at Fawnpaw for her help.

    “That’s why we only use them when we have to,” Dappleheart meowed evenly, before adding in a more earnest voice, “And why you need to have them consistently. The more you forget, the more yucky herbs we’ll have to use to treat you, Mottlepaw.” The medicine cat’s honesty made Mottlepaw sheepish, once more staring at her paws instead of making eye contact with the large she-cat. Fawnpaw knew that her sister was aware of how important the herbs were to her health, and moreso, knew better than to skip her daily visit with the medicine cats. Still, the young apprentice often seemed unable to help herself from running away, or becoming upset at her routine. Vixenbreeze did well in the last few moons to teach Mottlepaw to accept that she didn’t get to choose patrols, or when to help the elders. Despite her cool appearance, her sister’s mentor put in a clan’s worth of effort into her apprentice - a labor of love that often went unnoticed by other members of Autumnclan. It was no surprise that her son would have his mother’s compassion, and perhaps his father’s as well, though Fawnpaw couldn’t say.

    “Thanks, Dappleheart…” Mottlepaw mewed, looking up at the medicine cat apprentice for her approval. When Dappleheart leaned down to nuzzle her head with her nose, the tortoiseshell gave a squeal of delight. Dappleheart purred, loud and song-like. The small tabby she-cat’s throat felt tight with her happiness, how the medicine cat still treasured the apprentices which she had saved as kits. Though it was her home no longer, this richly green cave brought the same warmth to her chest as it did when she was an even smaller cat. The cacophony of herb-smell no longer bothered her, either. Dappleheart’s eyes had moved from Mottlepaw to where she sat quietly.

    “How about you, Fawnpaw? Are you feeling okay?” She asked kindly. Fawnpaw nodded, feeling hesitant to mention her fit of weakness around Mottlepaw for fear of upsetting her once more. She also wasn’t very interested in mentioning her weakness around Plumpaw, either. Instead, she searched Dappleheart’s gaze for understanding. Within a few moments, it registered in Dappleheart’s eyes what the young tabby was asking of her without speaking. She purred again, touching Fawnpaw’s own head with her muzzle. Her breath carried a hint of some of the sweet herbs she had worked with earlier that morning.

    “Good… But it can’t hurt to have a little something for your strength,” Dappleheart meowed, returning to the crevice full of berries and herbs. Mottlepaw gave her a horrified look, as if prompting her to protest before she too received the yucky herbs, but Fawnpaw just gave her a playful cuff on the ear. This time, Dappleheart’s jaws were clamped around a few sorrel leaves. For as long as she could remember, the medicine cats had given her the sleek leaves on her worst days to build up her strength and give her any appetite at all. They would settle nice in her belly when she had the chance to pick something up from the fresh-kill pile. Fawnpaw gratefully chewed the green leaves until they lost their shape completely, hoping to wash the ache from her legs. When she was done, she looked up to see Mottlepaw playing with the scraps of ivy leaf once more. At least she wasn’t trying to dig up the ferns and moss that Mapleflower and Dappleheart carefully cultivated in the cave. It had taken a quarter moon for the former to forgive Mottlepaw, which only made administering her herbs that much harder.

    “Thank you, Dappleheart,” Fawnpaw echoed her sister, but her tone was sincere. Dappleheart blinked slowly down at the apprentices, finally sitting before them with her strong white paws neatly together. Even though the cave was dim, with a jagged, sharp peak of a roof that bathed much of the den in heavy darkness, the comfort of Dappleheart’s presence was a constant warmth to Fawnpaw. As a kit, all shadows had seemed darker. Even in the medicine cats’ den, where her every cry was met with Dappleheart’s comforting hush. She loved the verdant space and steaming pool it offered, but when peeking moonlight found its way into the cave, sprouting foxglove and ferns had created flickering, dark ghosts between their fronds. They whispered to each other shadow-y words, and fear nurtured the pain and weakness of her muscle aches. Dappleheart was the one who had nuzzled her during those sleepless nights.

    “Of course,” Dappleheart said cheerily, her pelt the same color as the yellow bells growing in clustered shoots around the cave; flowers which no longer scared her. Sensing the end of her visit, Mottlepaw nearly jumped to her paws. Her fluffy tail was swishing in excitement. She looked to Dappleheart expectantly, and the golden cat dipped her head. “Remember to stop in tomorrow morning, Mottlepaw. I don’t want a single mouse caught until I’ve seen you!” Her meow was as stern as the easy-going she-cat could muster, although her affectionate gaze revealed just how much of an effect the tortoiseshell apprentice had on her. “And thank you, Plumpaw,” She said more quietly to the dark apprentice who had waited so patiently for his younger denmate. He gave her a polite nod.

    “Yeah!” Mottlepaw yowled eagerly, spinning around and bounding up to explode out of the cave’s mouth back into the forest. Willow vines buffeted each other in her wake. Her quiet sister was seemingly forgotten. 

    “I guess that’s my cue. Bye, Fawnpaw,” Plumpaw meowed, leaving with a swish of his tail. She wished that Plumpaw would stay longer, and her gaze trailed after him until his lean form was gone through the vines as well. Dappleheart just shook her head, watching after the bombastic she-cat and quiet tom trotting behind her humorously.

    “She’ll be a great warrior once she learns to slow down a little,” The medicine cat mused. Fawnpaw thought she might agree, but didn’t say it out loud. Without Mottlepaw to distract her, the den felt very quiet. Dappleheart turned her attention back to the remaining apprentice. Her amber eyes flashed with interest, causing Fawnpaw to sit up straight. “By the way, how’s your training with Mudpetal going?” Feeling a little sheepish now that she was on her own, she averted her eyes from Dappleheart. 

    “It’s good. I think I’ve really got the Warrior Code down to memory now,” Running through her typical day, went on, “I always try to make good arrangements for the elders’ den, and get them the best moss, too.” Fawnpaw meowed.

    “That’s good to hear. I’m willing to bet Marblecoat has taught you more about moss than even your mentor, though,” Dappleheart snorted, giving her shoulder a lick. “I get all of his complaints so that Mapleflower won’t ring his tail.”

    “Maybe…” She murmured indulgently, before looking up at Dappleheart with curiosity. “Where is Mapleflower? She hasn’t gone to the Cave without you, has she?” In response, Dappleheart shook her head. The she-cat’s long, spotted tail abruptly twitched, the dark tip shifting like a beetle. Her claws scraped lightly on stone. Fawnpaw wondered what had her so nervous, and recalled her conversation with Mudpetal earlier that day. We’re facing some difficult times.

    “No, she’s out picking horsetail,” While she spoke, Dappleheart indicated the piles Fawnpaw had noticed earlier, and she started to make out  “This would usually be enough for the season…” She murmured. Something about her tone made Fawnpaw think she didn’t want to keep going. Seeing Dappleheart’s confidence falter made Fawnpaw’s heart thud with worry. Seeming to notice the apprentice’s stare beginning to grow panicked, Dappleheart sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, there’s a lot on my mind. We’re lucky to have as many herbs as we do, and Mapleflower will only find more. She should be back any minute now.” Relieved at the return of her warm gaze, Fawnpaw nodded along. The thought of difficult times rested underneath her desire to connect with Dappleheart like a snake in tall grass. If there was any pair of cats that could handle a challenge, it would be Mapleflower and Dappleheart; Fawnpaw tried to reason with herself against her own unease. 

    A quiet bubbling from the steaming pool was all that broke the den’s quiet. Drawing a paw along the edge of her piles, the medicine cat hummed, “Say, it should be your turn to come with us to the Cave one of these moons.”

    That peaked Fawnpaw’s interest, her swivelling ears betraying the fact. “Are you taking Volepaw this time?” Her boisterous brother had to be her first guess. Volepaw had been devastated when the medicine cats chose Brindlepaw last moon. She knew that his constant bragging could be exaggerated, but even still - she thought his catches were quite impressive when he showed them to her on the fresh-kill pile. He would do well to protect the medicine cats. Looking up from the array of fresh and dried leaves she had now moved around, Dappleheart shook her head.

    “Runningpaw was our choice, actually. I think that he’s ready this time around. Not to mention, Yellowbirch can keep up with us, unlike some of our warriors,” Dappleheart puffed out her chest, but seemed to catch herself on some realization, to which she leaned back down to Fawnpaw’s level to nuzzle her cheek. Fawnpaw shrank shyly into herself as her tone went sweet once more. “Well, the Cave of Bones and Moonlight is a very long way away. Most apprentices find it intimidating their first time around, even me. It’ll be easier once you’ve gone to a Gathering at the lake. Let me show you,” She separated some berries, rich and red, and began to place them in a line. The thought briefly crossed her mind that Mistypaw must be disappointed that Runningpaw would have to leave camp before they could go hunting. She would also have to enlist Volepaw or Brindlepaw in getting Mottlepaw to eat before going to sleep if her father was on evening patrol … Fawnpaw blinked to clear her thoughts of responsibilities, and observed the movements of Dappleheart’s paw with fresh intrigue. Two of the berries sat relatively close together, only about a mouse length apart, while the third remained far out of reach. “This is our camp. It’s only a few hillcrests to the Gathering-Place, sure, but we have to go past Acaciaclan’s territory and a few twoleg villages to even get close to the Cave.”

    “Why go all that way if silverpelt is above us no matter where we are?” The thought dawned on Fawnpaw before she could hold it back, her mind’s eye conjuring warriors she saw looking up at the night sky when they thought they were alone. A smile gleamed in Dappleheart’s eyes. 

    “It’s not just about finding a place to talk to Starclan. It’s about seeing the world out there, and seeing it through the eyes of the other clans, too. When we travel, we go under the darkest phase of the moon. We have to trust that we all know the way, even without the moon to show us. There’s no squabbling about borders if you want to have an easy time about it.” Fawnpaw’s eyes widened at the she-cat’s confidence.

    “What if you can’t work together and you get stranded in the dark?” She mewed.

    Dappleheart laughed, “What places your mind goes, Fawnpaw,” A small shade of seriousness tinted her clear amber eyes as she went on, “Disagreement is part of life. It’s completely natural to feel differently than others around you, especially when they’ve lived very different lives. I like to think I’ve learned a lot from the experience of the other clans.”

    “I think that makes sense. I guess Starclan would protect you too, since you’re all medicine cats, right?” Fawnpaw asked, only to be met with a thoughtful look from Dappleheart that suggested she hadn’t answered entirely correctly.

    “Maybe they’re watching out for us, but it’s the cats we choose that really protect us on the journey. We’re safer in numbers, and better for it if we cooperate instead of fight.” Fawnpaw was enthralled, only for Dappleheart to falter suddenly in her passion. Her line of sight was fixed behind Fawnpaw, who turned to see what had stopped her.

    Mapleflower stood at the precipice of the cave, her yellow gaze cold when it landed upon the pair of them. All at once, Fawnpaw went quiet as well. Without greeting them, the medicine cat made her way down into the cave, the clumps of wispy horsetail swaying between her jaws until she dropped them at Dappleheart’s paws. One of her black-tipped ears twitched in annoyance.

    “If Starclan picked Runningpaw, they made a mistake this time,” She said, her strong voice resounding in the cave. “Put these with the rest of our supply. I’m going to have to find a new apprentice to take with me.” Her words were gruff. The echo of difficult times slithered from the tall grass of her mind, baiting Fawnpaw to step within its range to strike. With her brother’s name in the conversation, she felt a cold stone drop in her stomach,  

    “What happened to Runningpaw?” Dappleheart mewed in worry once the horsetail had been placed in one of her piles.

    “Blazingbird said he fell out of a tree,” Mapleflower shook her head. “He’s lucky it wasn’t a break. We can hardly waste the herbs.” The comment made Fawnpaw look away when the medicine cat immediately went to the main herb store and pawed through its contents with a dissatisfied noise. She was clawing into the same place where Dappleheart had retrieved Mottlepaw’s herbs. The thyme she inspected in her upturned pad was dry and nearly falling apart. “I’ll need to get more of this too…”

    “Fawnpaw suggested Volepaw earlier-” Dappleheart tried to offer, only to be cut off by her mentor.

    “We’re not taking Volepaw, he’ll get us killed,” Mapleflower said harshly, whipping towards the brown and white apprentice and dropping the herbs altogether. “What do you know about our journey to the Cave? Has Mudpetal even taken you out of camp yet?” Fawnpaw’s ears went flat to her head at the unpleasant sheen in her scrutiny. Why did she have to bring up her mother in that tone? Her tail wrapped protectively over her paws. She didn’t know if Mapleflower actually wanted a response, so she just stared quietly back up at her. The marking around the medicine cat’s muzzle curled into a smirk for just a moment. Fawnpaw felt an unbearable heat rise to her face.

    “What about Plumpaw, then?” She blurted out. Heat sparked in the yellow eyes bearing her down. Teeth bared, the calico she-cat took in a sharp breath and leaned forward as if she was going to tear into her, reminding Fawnpaw of a great owl spreading its wings. Dappleheart wasted not one more breath before she stepped between them. The large she-cat blocked Fawnpaw’s view of Mapleflower, until she sat back down with her tail resting in front of the apprentice. Her suggestion had been completely on impulse this time around, thoughts of her friend apparently still flickering in her flustered mind. Dappleheart’s pushy interjection took some of the pressure off her. As long as Mapleflower wasn’t staring at her in the way she did, there was still a chance to recover her nerves. Though, the she-cat’s orange and white face wasn’t obscured for long as her apprentice’s posture once again relented to her respected mentor.

    “He’s a great choice! Maybe it is better we take an experienced apprentice this time around.” As quickly as it had come, the fire in Mapleflower’s eyes was gone, and she let out an exasperated sigh. Fawnpaw caught a glimpse of dullness replacing their intensity when she turned away, shouldering past Dappleheart to the herb store. Fawnpaw’s throat felt tight.

    “It’s going to be a long journey,” Was all that Mapleflower offered in reply, before her attention was back on her current task. Speaking without looking at them, the terseness in her voice was authoritative. “Now, unless you have any more helpful suggestions, I’m going to deal with this while we still have some daylight left. Dappleheart, bring that dried thyme and come with me. It’s about time Fawnpaw went back to the nursery.”

    Her words were biting enough to make Fawnpaw stare at the ground, imagining the sheer stones under her paws were pure white and she was in the moon’s territory instead. The surety of her mentor’s command left Dappleheart floundering to mediate the older cat’s callousness. Dappleheart was left instead to awkwardly sit amongst her herbs while Mapleflower got whatever else she needed. With a practiced skill even faster than Fawnpaw had seen before from Dappleheart, Mapleflower plucked several ivy leaves from a shelf along the opposite cave wall, and laid them flat next to her. Each one was swiftly filled identically with leaves that were clustered with tooth-like edges, topped with small yellow and white flowers. Her paws followed an effortless rhythm - folding each leaf into itself twice, and then flipping them over to keep them secure. From behind, Fawnpaw stole a look at the medicine cat, and saw twigs and dead leaves from the undergrowth stuck to her hindquarters and tail; she had come straight from the forest, preoccupied and unthinking to clean herself up.

    When the leaf wraps were ready, Mapleflower emerged with a mouthful of spine-like green stalks, adorned with a dried poppy head which she balanced gingerly between her teeth. She didn’t set them down to say anything else, only looking tiredly at the pair of younger cats before her. The fierce she-cat was only as old as Fawnpaw’s mother, yet seemed so much more weathered when her gaze bore down into the young apprentice. 

    Her message to Dappleheart needed no more words, anyway. When her tail tip disappeared through the curtain of vines, Dappleheart let out a breath. Although the spotted she-cat was polite enough to not run off without her, it was still clear to Fawnpaw that she was being prompted to take her leave. She scooped up the ragged thyme into one of the leaves Mottlepaw had not torn apart, but spoke before she carried the herbs out after her mentor.

    “Remember - all apprentices get their turn!” Dappleheart blinked hopefully back at Fawnpaw as she added, “Think about what we talked about earlier, too. Mapleflower will learn from you, just as you should from her.” Kind in intention as they were, her words didn’t help the way Mapleflower had made Fawnpaw feel. Numbness tingled in her paws as she followed Dappleheart with her tail drooped and dragging along the softly sprouting ferns of the cave. She was always the last one in and out of the den, it seemed. Forest-tinted light engulfed her view, replacing the dim cave, and Dappleheart’s spotted pelt only shone a greater shade of gold. In the sun, the intricacy of her dark markings were striking in contrast to the soft white of her muzzle and paws. One last touch of her tail to Fawnpaw’s flank was her goodbye. All around her, the forest continued chirping and crackling with life and activity, but she still felt it was too quiet without another cat beside her.

    The short trek through the forest back to the cave did little to raise her spirits, even when she passed Marigoldtail and her kits playing out in the sunshine. Rosekit and Pinekit bumped around her paws, spouting their ambitions and teasing each other. She purred at them, but the sight of the good-humored white and orange queen rolling in the grass with her litter made Fawnpaw’s thoughts spiral further. Mapleflower and Marigoldtail looked so much alike with their orange-and-black speckled white pelts; both were her kin. And yet still, she couldn’t please the reserved medicine cat who had also saved her during her delicate kithood. Did she stop caring, or did she never care in the first place? The thought so thoroughly sapped any good mood she had left that she missed a sparrow swooping through the rustling leaves around her and into the grass where she had paused without realizing. Its brown and white little body rustled in its feathers as it ate an unlucky worm with a satisfied toss of its dark brown head back. Frozen, she watched it seemingly gloat, unaware, in its catch.

    For several moments, Fawnpaw watched the sparrow and held her breath. How could she approach it without rustling the leaves and clumps of clover and grass around her paws? Would the bird fit between her tiny paws, or slip through and fly away? For almost half a moon, she had asked Runningpaw to show her his crouch-and-leap, but the time never came around. Now, with the impulsivity of her short talk with Mapleflower fresh in mind, it left her hesitant and timid. And in just the second that she lifted a paw to get closer, it flitted off in a streak of oak and white colored feathers.

    Just as Dappleheart advised, Fawnpaw tried to replace her mishap of a hunt with what they had discussed. Everyone relies on each other, in the clan and as clans together. She traced a different path that wound away from the medicine cat den, feeling the thick forest floor give way to a steep shelf of sandy earth where a riverbed once held a stream. Slipping into it, she kept going without truly feeling her paws. They ached, but that was nothing new. The greater river gurgled along nearby, unaware that one of its ghostly limbs was her way home. Her thoughts and stomach churned with thought like its bulging water. Every link in the clan is important, even if their role seems small or they can’t hunt like other cats. She stuck to the riverbed until it tapered off to a wider dip where both edges met a side of the cave that any cat might miss under the tall weeds and shrubs that had grown there since the water shrunk. 

    Fawnpaw eased herself under the gap in the rock, and found herself once more in the lower half of camp. This was the closest entrance from the forest to the nursery; it was the gentle white smudge along the eastern cave wall, inviting her to follow its sloping cave back to her mother. However, she lingered a little ways away from where she had come, at the shelf that marked the apprentice burrow. On the surface it was only a tunnel inside of an already winding cave, but patches of flowers and muddy pawprints leading inwards made it feel personal, lived in. Even more, she could hear voices, and wondered which apprentices were there. She thought of Runningpaw with his sprained leg wrapped in rush to keep it straight, with Brindlepaw or Mistypaw comforting him with teasing and balls of moss. Plumpaw could already be back at the medicine cats’ den, forcing down travelling herbs for the long journey to the Cave.

    She jolted with realization. If Mapleflower did go with her spur of the moment suggestion, Plumpaw would have to wait for his warrior assessment. He would be across a stretch of land immeasurable to her. Would Applestar go ahead with the assessment and name Mistypaw before her brother even returned with the medicine cats? Guilt ate at her as she stared down at the apprentice’s den. She had to face away, resigning herself to her nest for the rest of the night until her instincts as a sister called to her again. The grit of the cave gave way under her paws to petal-dusted marble. Within a few fox lengths, she shifted left past Marigoldtail’s empty nest, and found the hollowed cove where Mudpetal was weaving a few strands of honeysuckle onto a lengthy bramble. Each sharp thorn held a blossom in its grasp.

    “Welcome back, sweetheart.” Mudpetal crooned when she saw Fawnpaw’s return, her eyes twinkling with love like tansies soaking up greenleaf sun. Fawnpaw’s heart ached with affection, and she touched her nose to her mother’s. While she fielded questions about her day, the static feeling crept back into her periphery; it reminded her of its presence starting with a throb in her hind legs, which only escalated when Mudpetal invited Fawnpaw to weave alongside her. As she stood, one paw buckled suddenly beneath her, causing the bramble to fall over and scatter some unsecured vines. Mudpetal helped her up, and nosed at her thin legs.

    “It’s time to do some stretches, I think.” Her mother meowed, and Fawnpaw obediently stood up once again. She hid the quiver of the one paw stinging by shifting her body away from the tortoiseshell. Mudpetal began to brush the mess of bramble and honeysuckle aside, also clearing bits of fern to make solid room for the pair to train. Their den was a sizable one in the nursery, a deep crater in the marble cave that looked out over a part of the greater structure below - but it still felt cramped to train in at times, most often near the end when she was pushed to her limits. After a short period to recover from the brief shock in her paw, Fawnpaw stood at the ready.

    “Keep your front paws steady, and then pull your left back foot forward.” Mudpetal instructed concisely, reminding Fawnpaw that she was still her mentor just as well as she was her mother. She unsheathed her claws and held to the soft marble as she lifted a back paw off the ground. Without any struggle to keep it there, Fawnpaw’s pale yellow eyes craned at the thick-furred tortoiseshell watching her. “Now, the other one.”

    Fawnpaw nodded and switched paws.

    “Lift it higher and hold it, while crouching on your other paw,” Mudpetal meowed, beginning to lightly test her apprentice’s boundaries. Again, Fawnpaw followed her instructions and bent her opposite knee. Immediately, she felt the strain as her front paws carried the tension of her supporting leg. She waited for her next move, but Mudpetal just waited and watched her. The time stretched on, and in what was only a few minutes, her stance had begun shaking.

    “What about the other one?” She hiccuped in her heavy breathing.

    “We’ll get there, my sweet,” Mudpetal reassured her with one lick to her cheek. She soon sat back a few tail lengths away, with gentle determination in her expression. The pain of supporting herself on one back leg only grew as more minutes passed, and Mudpetal introduced straightening and bending the leg in addition to holding the other up higher and higher. It was a merciful command to switch paws, and Fawnpaw blearily pushed herself to follow it. They continued like that for a while, engaging different parts of her lower body until her mouth fell open in a pant.

    “You’ve improved since you last did that one.” Fawnpaw’s ears shot forward, momentarily dissolving her body’s burning strain as she recognized the voice. Foxburrow’s scent filled the nursery, bringing with it heavy notes of the forest, earthy and sunbaked on his wavy fur. Restraining herself, all Fawnpaw did was raise her tail stock-straight and kinked at the tip of her tail. Mottlepaw would have barreled towards him; the smaller cat wanted to make her father proud of her for staying focused on her training. After all, this was part of it, and she knew it was important, even if her older siblings didn’t have to work so hard to keep their muscles strong. Knowing that her father was also spectating her progress was an extra wind under her wings.

    For a long while longer, Mudpetal continued to coach her through the stretches, until at the conclusion of a particularly grueling exercise of pressing her back propped to the wall and lifting her legs up, she finally gave her apprentice the okay to stop. Promptly, Fawnpaw collapsed on the floor of the den.

    “You get better every day,” Mudpetal murmured into her ear fluff as Fawnpaw sprawled along the floor, enjoying its cool touch on her heated fur. She hardly processed the words in her tiredness, or her father joining and nuzzling the back of her neck, but gave her parents a stuttering purr. She just laid there for a time, shutting her eyes and getting her breath back. Mudpetal’s tongue rasped over her ears.

    At some point, Foxburrow’s dark paw pushed a fat shrew towards her, and her mouth watered. She hadn’t eaten since that morning before her nap.

    “Eat up, Fawnpaw. You’ve earned it.” Her father’s airy meow made her quiver in happiness at the combined praise. She worked at the shrew in small bites at a time, savoring the taste until she couldn’t take it and wolfed down the last few morsels with a lick of her lips. Foxburrow and Mudpetal had settled together, sharing a rabbit.

    “Nobody catches them like you.” Mudpetal purred into her mate’s neck, also swiping her tongue over her jaws. Having finished his half, Foxburrow drew a paw over his prominent white whiskers.

    “I do what I can,” He said confidently.

    “And nobody does what you can,” Mudpetal reiterated with a hum. “You trained Gorsewind well, though. She brings me ones almost as juicy as this.”

    At the mention of his recently named apprentice, Fawnpaw saw her father’s eyes shine with pride and amusement. “You’re definitely right, there. She’s faster with one eye than I ever was at her age, or with two.”

    Mudpetal nodded, “She’s exceptional, even after everything she’s been through. What an awful day when she finally told you…”

    Foxburrow’s eyes briefly averted from his mate, as he seemed to recall the same memory as Mudpetal. “It was bleak,” He admitted, adjusting the moss in her nest. “We’re lucky to have your sister and Dappleheart. I wasn’t giving up, but without their healing, it would have been a steep hill for her.”

    At the mention of the medicine cats, Fawnpaw remained quiet and listening with her eyes shut, and her head resting on her small white paws. Her parents went on like that, reminiscing and talking, until Foxburrow had to slip away to check on his other kits. She hardly noticed when he was gone, as gentle waves of sleep rushed over her like the orange light of the setting sun.

                                                         ***

    When Fawnpaw awoke again, she didn’t know how much time had passed. The space around her was completely dark, and Mudpetal slept beside her, paws twitching in her dreaming. Foxburrow had also returned at some point in, and was a lithe shape entwined with Mudpetal’s large frame. His sleeping head rested on her back, with his large ears poking up as black points rising from his mate’s flank. The gentle snoring of her father in the den could normally lull her back to sleep when he joined them, but tonight that sound nagged at her sensitive ears. 

    No moonlight filtered in through the mouth of the den, leaving her senses unoccupied yet on alert. Her shadowed vision crawling with memories of the day; of Plumpaw’s tail disappearing into the forest, and the way Brindlepaw ducked her head to avoid her younger sisters. Mapleflower’s eyes shimmering like a yellow moon cast their own light in her mind, to a chorus of powerful elders unamused by her presence in their court. Truly, the real moon above held only a bare sliver of light as it faded into its darkest face. It would give the medicine cats of all five clans the cover of darkness that they would need to see silverpelt 

    She pawed at a catkin sticking up from the nest. Her front paws itched with urgency, and yet her hind legs trembled at the thought of going back outside of the nursery. Stretching them for her training session with Mudpetal had drained the last little droplet of strength that she had. Sleep continued to evade her despite her exhaustion. With a small flip, Fawnpaw curled back against Mudpetal, who didn’t stir at her daughter’s tossing and turning.

    There she stayed for what felt like a long time. She wished that the moon was full enough to call her out of the nursery. With its light, she would walk to the edge of camp, feeling strong as it pulled her. Where the edge of the gorge met the forest completely, Fawnpaw would angle her ears to the night birds above. As it was, the nursery was too deep underneath stone to carry the forest sounds to her worried mind.

    Even birds have to sleep, came a small voice in the back of her mind, sweet and unlike her spiraling thoughts. Fawnpaw leaned into the rise and fall of Mudpetal’s flank and closed her eyes, picturing a sparrow sleeping nestled on a softly rustling branch.