#red cedar ceiling

[you-will-rebel-to-any-thing]

Medium Sun Room Medium-sized mountain-style sunroom image with a regular ceiling and no fireplace

[shiningnewlight]

Porch Front Yard Bridgeport Mid-sized arts and crafts front porch idea with decking and a roof extension

[blacksheeptown]

Bridgeport Craftsman Porch

Mid-sized arts and crafts front porch idea with decking and a roof extension

[estimatey]

Transitional Patio Seattle

Ideas for a medium-sized, transitional backyard renovation that includes an addition to the roof

[unstablexbalor]

Newark Living Room Home Bar Image of a large open-concept living room in a mountain style that has a bar but no fireplace or television.

[shipsi]

Family Room - Open Example of a mid-sized open concept vinyl floor, brown floor and exposed beam family room design with gray walls and a wall-mounted tv

[silvabrylee]

Porch in Seattle Ideas for remodeling a sizable coastal side porch with a fireplace and an awning

[emvozbaixa]

Beach Style Living Room in Seattle Example of a large living room in the beach-loft style with white walls, a tile fireplace, a standard fireplace, and a wall-mounted television.

[satan-ryoasuka]

Exterior in New York Large coastal orange two-story wood exterior home idea with a shingle roof

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Fascinating 1980 home in Pittsford, NY looks nice from outside, but it has some fascinating features inside. 4bds, 3ba, $575K.

This is very nice, an indoor garden on a raised platform.

I don't think that I would decorate it this formally- it's a light and airy home.

This furniture is too heavy for it. I think that lighter decor, maybe some wicker and more plants, would make it look much nicer. Bright colors, too. Then, you wouldn't have to do much updating.

Next to the kitchen there's a large fireplace wall with a conversation pit. I've never seen a narrow rectangular pit, but it has nice built-in seating. Then, behind it is a path to the kitchen and what is probably supposed to be a wet bar that they have as book shelving.

On the other side, they have a family room with sliders to the deck.

The eat-in kitchen is nice. The cabinetry isn't bad.

A simple 1/2 bath.

The round bed in the primary bedroom has what appears to be a round mirrored coffee table attached to the ceiling. Sliders to a large deck, bright red carpeting, a wall of frilly draperies and a mirrored wall complete the look.

The bath has that stupid carpeting, but I do like the gray tub and sinks.

There's also a beautiful new shower.

And, a cedar closet. If Moth Man ever showed up, this would be like a safe room.

I've never seen a narrow landing with a door right in front of the stairs.

The 2nd bd. is a good size.

The 3rd bd. is a bit smaller, but it could be cute.

Bd. #4 is larger.

The baths are pretty large. This house needs decor.

The deck is huge, but it's drying out- needs some treatment before it deteriorates.

0.68 Acre lot

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/5-Fenimore-Dr-Pittsford-NY-14534/31030260_zpid/?

[acotarxreader]

Shadow and Flame pt 3

Azriel X Reader

Warnings: Angst, smut, miscommunications, mentions of burn.

A/N: Right, I haven't written smut in a very long time and I am very rusty so apologies in advance there 😂 the end of this segment I hope it's clear that both situations happen concurrently and that that comes across yikes! I'm still blown away by people's kind words and welcoming nature. Thank you so much loves! Part 4 loading

Part 1 Part 2

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

You woke to the smell of cedar and mist replacing the smell of burned skin in your nose. You sighed gently, tempting your eyes to open. You reached to feel the softest silk beneath your hands. This sent fear through you. Where were you? You tried to will your body upright but insurmountable pain shattered through your bones. Your eyes peeled open, to stare up at a delicately painted ceiling, the stars of the night sky looking back at you. You reached for any flame you could find but none came to you, your own fire truly exhausted from the battle with your Father's. 

“Easy there YN” the female's voice stopped your movements, your eyes frantically searching for the source as she stepped out of the shadow.

“Hello, I'm Feyre, please be gentle with yourself you were ravaged” she said quietly and you hated it. Hated the pity. You knew of Feyre, you knew of her and your brother, what happened Under The Mountain and all the things that happened since but mostly you knew she was not an immediate threat unless threatened. 

“Where am I?” You rasped through your smokey throat. 

“Velaris, this is our home, Azriel brought you to us when you landed on the town house steps, we have healers round the clock for you, it won't be long until you're right again” you groaned, trying to move your body, pushing away the pain. 

“I need Lucien” you breathed

“Yes well….about him, he is kind of sort of not available at the moment”

“What?” You gently turned your head to get a look at the beautiful High Lady.

“Az won't allow him to darken the door. I'm sorry if this upsets you but we must let him work through it himself if we are ever to see them in the same room again” Feyre left out the part where Azriel had nearly torn the Prince of Foxes limb for limb, leaving him in his own state of disrepair.

“I have to go, I have to go back to Autumn, he'll come for me”

“Beron will not step another foot in this Court unless he fancies losing it. My mate is handling him as we speak” she spoke with such hatred in her voice for your Father. He had crossed into the territory unwelcomed, certainly ruffling the treaty but you were his to fetch. You knew he'd come back, treaty or not. You couldn't stay here and risk the vengeance. You couldn't stay here and risk them finding out your heritage. You pushed up slightly to sit and rest against the headboard, your skin screaming at you to stop. You glanced around the room lit by sunlight, no flame to be seen

“Feyre, I need fire”

“I think you've had enough of that” she laughed but stopped once she noticed your stony expression.

She cleared her throat before speaking again. “Az has instructed us to keep you from fire until you are rested, he said you're a flight risk, he didn't care to elaborate” she gave a small smile. 

“Azriel is not my keeper. I have to get to flame, it will help me to recover” she weighed up her options as you pleaded with your copper eyes. She moved slowly to the fireplace to retrieve a matchbox and tealight, figuring a small light was of minimal risk. Your eyes followed her hands as she drew the match backwards, watching and waiting for the relief the crackle of fire would bring. The match drew against the red phosphorus as you held your breath. A shadow quenches the flame before it could grow.

“Feyre” her head snapped to Azriel as he stood in the doorway, tea tray in hand. She looked at the Shadowsinger as if she was a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. 

“I-she said she needs it to recover” he sighed at her before glancing straight to you, the words she said only resonating with him then, you were awake.

“YN, thank the Gods” he dashed to your side, putting the tray down. Feyre allowed a smirk to grow, dropping the matches at the end of the bed before seeing herself out of the room.

“Get me Lucien” his face twisted in anger at the sound of the name and that these were the first words you'd uttered to him in a week. 

“YN, please I know he is your love but-” your loud laugh cut him off, pressure releasing as your ribs shook.

“That is disgusting” you remarked with a smile to the confused Shadowsinger. You swallowed the laugh growing in you again, attempting to swing your legs to the side of the bed to have Azriels hand stop you in your tracks. 

“YN please you must rest”

“I must get out of here before Fa-Beron comes and burns this place to cinders”

“He wouldn't dare, what is it he wants with you?” You glanced down at your feet and back up to meet the hazel eyes. You must have looked like a nightmare, ash still in your hair, cracked skin screaming to be reconnected with itself and yet Azriel looked at you with pure kindness in his eyes. 

“He wants - I can't tell you what he wants but I should go to him before he comes to collect” you said smally. Azriel kneeled to the side of the bed to fall between your legs as they hung over the edge. His hands slid into yours as if they were always meant to be there. You watched the movement with such caution. This wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to be seen. You weren't supposed to want to be seen. 

“I will not hesitate to kill him where he stands should he cross the threshold of the Night Court without permission again” his eyes searched yours with determination.

“I want to trust you” he lowered his head to your hands at your response. Azriel almost painfully slowly raised your hands to his mouth to place the gentlest of kisses on your cracked skin. This sent tingles through your body, the lovingness of the gesture warmed you, soothing your exhausted internal blaze. 

“Then trust me” His words broke your heart, but you felt you trusted him as much as you trusted your father would come for you.

“Give me a flame” your eyes landed on the box of matches at the end of the bed. His eyes followed yours with trepidation. If your father was to come then you were not going to have him find you broken in a bed. 

“YN-”

“-If I am to trust you then you are to trust me, give me a flame to aid my recovery” your eyes scanned him from side to side, hoping to portray the genuineness you felt. He released your hands, reaching for the match box again.

He dragged a match from its cage and looked into your eyes as he struck it off the red phosphorus, bursting into life. Its glow illuminated the space between you both. You reached a shaky hand towards the flame, it almost stretching out to you in joy of being reunited.

Azriel watched in awe, never had he seen the elements behave in such a way for any ordinary Fae. But you weren't ordinary, you were of pure Autumn Court blood, the flame a friend of yours. Your finger made contact with the heat, Azriel tried not to cringe at the sound of the sizzle. You breathed the energy before diving in. You were pulled from the bed and deep within its heat. Azriel leapt to his feet at the now empty bed in front of him. He cursed out loud, he trusted you and you left. He wanted to help you and you left. He cared for you and you left. The match fizzled out. 

“Told you” he jumped on the spot as you stood from behind him, skin beginning to knit together again faster than any healer could work. Your loose nightdress flowed over the scars now melting back into your skin as you smiled at the Shadowsinger. He exhaled in relief, closing the distance between you.

“Did you think I'd gone?” he caught hold of your hands as you gave a small laugh at his surprised face. 

“I thought you had evaded my touch once again Flame” you tried to hide your blush at his new pet name for you, failing miserably. You felt yourself almost fall into the shrinking space between you both, Azriels shadows dancing with your flames around your feet, finding home in one another. 

“Who are you Flame?” It was hardly above a whisper.

“I-”

“-Excuse me!” Madjas sharp voice split you both apart. 

“Madja I was just-”

“-Leaving Lady YN to bed rest, as we had agreed” she raised an eyebrow as Azriel almost shrunk into himself like a bold school child. You let a little laugh leave you at the sight, until Madja landed her gaze on you and you hung your head almost in shame. She pointed to the bed with a slender finger, you went to protest but her heated stare told you otherwise as you slipped back into the sheets. 

∆***************∆

You sank into the medicated bath. Normally being submerged in water had you feeling ill but the myriad of lit candles surrounding you gave you comfort. Madja had ordered you to soak your stitching skin and you now feared her almost as much as your father so you obliged. 

You hummed gently as your eyes rested in the swimming pool-like bath that was flush with the floor. You wondered where Lucien was, how angry he'd be with you, how enraged he'd be at the sight of you and Azriel earlier. You couldn't help but smile at the discomfort you'd bring your sibling. You reached for the salve Madja instructed you to apply, it's cream-like consistency foaming on the grooves of your skin.

“YN I brought you- Fuck sorry!” Azriel shielded his eyes quickly while dropping the books he held in his hand. You moved deeper in the water, suddenly shy at his presence. He moved to gather the books still blocking his eyes, kicking one into the bubbling water. 

“Shit!” 

“Azriel just open your eyes before you end up in here with me” you laughed retrieving the book, its ink blending into the water. Azriel thought for a moment to keep his eyes closed, the possibility of ending up in there with you making the hair on his neck stand up in excitement. He opened his eyes cautiously to find you staring up at him through your lashes.

“Thank you for lighting the candles for me earlier, a lovely surprise” 

“You're welcome, anything you need” he gathered the books, shivers running through him at the sight of your body beneath the bubbles.

“Actually Azriel….nevermind”

“No, what is it? Tell me” You shrunk in on yourself slightly, your boldness leaving you. He wanted to stay there with you as long as he could, in any capacity. 

“It's just….I need to put this salve on my back and…I can't reach and Madja has gone home for the evening and-”

“Sure” he replied quickly, cursing himself internally at your smirk. 

Azriel lowered himself on his knees behind you, his wings balancing him from teetering over the edge. You passed the jar back to him over your shoulder, trying to keep your anticipation to a minimum, fixing your glance at the navy tiling. 

He hovered his shaking hand above your shoulder as it glistened from the water. Azriel every so gently rubbed the salve into your skin, it foaming on contact. You rolled your head back slightly at the feeling of the soothing balm on your cracked skin causing a breath of relief to leave you. Azriels eyes fell over your shoulder for a moment to glance at your chest, he mentally scolded himself immediately for stealing the glance, pulling his hand back.

“Are you okay?” You noticed the missing sensation straight away, you rolled to lie on your stomach, forearms across the rim of the bath, you looked up at the Shadowsinger on his knees above you.

“I-I’m not sure I've ever felt so okay before in my life Flame” his eyes were so lovingly looking at you with such true sincerity you'd never felt from someone before. You pushed up from the bath to your feet, your whole torso dripping in bubbles gleaming. Azriel swallowed the lump in his throat, he was now eye level with you as you reached for his hand and pulled him closer to you. He couldn't help but trace your whole body with his eyes, drinking you in. Your hand slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him up from his knees and forward to meet your lips. 

Inferno. Azriels whole body felt warm and secure as you kissed him deeply, his hands going to your waist. You shuddered a little bit at his cold hands meeting your wet sides.

“Sorry sorry did I hurt you?” he pulled back suddenly to your surprise. 

“Azriel do you intend on hurting me?”

“No”

“Then no, you didn't hurt me, it's just because I'm all….wet that your dry hand just…startled me” Azriel took a moment to think before a devilish smirk grew across his face, he stood and began to strip down in front of you. Your mouth dried out at the sight of him, your skin felt electric as he sank into the water alongside you. His hand grazed the side of your cheek, pulling you forward to meet him gently. 

“I-was-so-scared-when-I-found-you-on-the-steps” Azriel breathed out between kisses. You passed one of your legs over his lap beneath the water to straddle him, tilting his head back to deepen the kiss. 

“Were you looking for me?” You smiled into the kiss, his hands wrapping around you to pull you flush into him. 

“I think my whole life Flame” your heart sang at these words, your breath taken from you as he attached himself to your neck. You moaned at the feeling of his teeth nipping you, trailing down your neck to your chest. Azriel hardened beneath you even more at the sound. You leaned up slightly, running a hand down his chiselled chest to beneath the surface of the water to his lengthy member. 

“Fuuuck” he breathed at the feeling and you grinned. You slowly lowered yourself back down onto him, moaning loudly in his ear, your nails dug into his shoulders at the sensation. You adjusted to him between your legs, the flames of the candles growing wilder around the bath. 

“Are you going to set me on fire Flame?” Azriel groaned out as you began to bounce slightly on his length. He reattached to your neck to muffle his groans, failing massively. The both of you moved in unison, tension building building building. Azriels fingers gripped into your sides with burning pressure, the flames around you growing taller and taller with your tighting core until the whole bath was surrounded by a ring of your fire. If Azriel was honest with himself, he was a bit afraid of the growing towers of fire but he felt so easily lost in your moans he forgot the fear as soon as it came. You moaned his name so loudly you were sure they heard you in Summer Court, toppling Azriel over his own edge, the flame on the candles becoming small and still again at the release. 

You stayed on his lap for a moment, until he stood with you still in his arms. He passed through the bathroom doors into your adjacent room with your flames dancing around to dry you both before he placed you on the bed. 

“Flame, I have to see to something with Rhys but I will be back before you know it” you ran your hand gently down his cheek as he leaned and whispered those words from above you. 

“I'll be here”

“Do you promise?”

“Do you trust me?” He kissed your cheek in answering your question before retrieving his clothes and redressing. You allowed your eyes to fall close as he slipped out the door. 

********* 

You rolled over to find the bed empty alongside you still an hour or so later. You lifted yourself from the bed, dressing in a robe that Feyre had laid out for you. You wandered down the hall in search of Azriel. 

“I don't care Rhys, she stays!” You heard Azriels sharp tone from the other side of a large oak door. You couldn't help but stop and listen. 

“Az, she is not from the Court, she belongs to Autumn-”

“She belongs to no one” Azriel seethed.

“Brother, she brings a threat to our door. Lucien has told us she must go to Autumn, to Beron, it is beyond our control-” your breath hitched in your throat, had Lucien let the cat out of the bag?

“It is very much in your control Cass” 

“Beron has made it clear that he will help us in our efforts should we return YN” 

“She is not a political pawn!”

“She belongs to Beron, she must go back! I am not going to war for some female that landed on our doorstep! He wants you dead Azriel, I will not have you sacrificed for her!” Rhysands hands banged against the solid wood of his desk. 

You took a step back from the door again. They were going to send you back. Your Father would have you mangled for the embarrassment of having to be sent against your will back to him. You looked at the candles lighting the stairwell adjacent and with a deep breath you knew it was time to go before they took you kicking and screaming. But you didn't want to, you couldn't leave like this, couldn't leave Azriel. The rock of having him hurt because of you and the hard place of returning to a vengeful father is where you found yourself wedged firmly between. You ran from the stairwell to your room, head scrambling.

“I could have said the same when you barraged in on Tamlin and Feyres wedding!’

“Az!” Cass reprimanded Azriel with his eyes for his comments. 

“That was different Az, Feyre is my mate!”

“And what if YN is mine!?” The two were instantly silent to this. Azriel felt such strong and complex feelings towards you, such a magnetic force, the flame to his smoke.  A chill ran down his spine. Something was happening. The three Illyrians took an instinctive fighting stance.

“Y/N” your father stood in a circle of flame in your room, eerily calm with an outstretched hand. 

“Come home now and all will be forgiven” Berons eyes told a different story. He was boiling in anger, anger you knew Azriel would take the brunt of if you didn't go now and yet you hesitated, looking around the safe space Azriel had made for you. You went to speak, to defy, to scream but you were too slow, too weak still, Berons flame engulfed you and pulled you from where you stood. 

 ****

Azriel materialised into your room, the other two warriors searching for the source of their unease elsewhere in River House. 

“Flame, you wouldn't believe the- YN?” He materialised in your room to find it empty. He ran to the bathroom to find you gone from there as well, all the flames in the room doused out.

*******************

What do we think friends?

Part 4

Tag list: @sunshineangel-reads @skylarkalchemist @tele86 @saltedcoffeescotch @impossibelle @quiettuba @thecraziestcrayon @fightmedraco

If you were forgotten please feel every right to give out to me

[trashmouth-richie]

⛧「 ✦ 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔫𝔢 ✦ 」⛧

⛧tattoo artist! steve 💋 ⛧rising rockstar! eddie

⛧eddie x fem reader | previous steve x fem reader

⛧reader is nicknamed cherry 🍒

⛧summary: series of blurbs revolving around you, eddie and steve. after vecna: eddie sold his soul to remain alive— him and steve leave hawkins and indiana to go to college and leave what happened in the past. eddie is on the rise of fame while steve is still battling his demons. they both meet reader at school. reader has no idea what happened, and never finds out the truth. eddie progressively turns into a mentally abusive asshole throughout this story so keep that in mind. he’s not our lovable boyfriend.

⛧part one summary: a surprise for your boyfriend, you decide to get a tattoo of his name in a very private spot, from the only one he would trust to do it, his best friend… whom you have a past with. 

⛧warnings: implied smut, depression, anxiety, possession, selling soul to devil, post s4 where both eddie and steve leave hawkins. there will be a few blurbs in this au, (in other parts: smut, degrading, possessive mean! eddie)

It was your idea to surprise your boyfriend with a tattoo. After months of him joking around about branding you as his in a more permanent way, you decided to do it.

A tattoo would last forever, it wouldn’t heal like teeth marks did or fade away like his hickeys would. His dick kicked up at the thought of his name scratched into your delicate skin. The same night he had mentioned it he had you face down in the sheets, burying himself deep within your walls until you were both out of breath. Panting, aching for and from one another. 

The date was set, and you knew better than to go to anyone but Eddie’s best friend to get it done, and Steve agreed to do it for free, since you’re Munson’s girl. 

He agreed to keep it secret because you had wanted to surprise Eddie, but as the appointment creeped up, you became more and more nervous about trying to keep your present for him under wraps. 

The day of the appointment landed on a Friday, the same night Eddie’s band was set to play at The Bloody Dime, an up and coming bar that was known for fights breaking out and drinks being cheap. 

Per his demands, you weren’t allowed within 10 feet of such a place, already having to find out the hard way when he beat the bricks off a guy who wouldn’t stop staring at you. 

Pretty baby like you doesn’t belong there, kitten�� understand?

Steve’s shop was downtown from your apartment, a cozy little space nestled into a black brick building—Inked Demo spelled out with neon blue lights. 

The walls were covered with paintings of strange creatures you couldn’t imagine in your worst nightmares, deep reds and violent shades of purple. Various plants hung from the ceiling and were potted in planters or tucked into ornate little terrariums. 

It smelled of rich cedar and hand rolled cigarettes. The bell on the door dinged announcing your arrival and Steve stepped from behind the back wall. His hair was how it always was, slicked back in a dark wave, and he merely nodded to acknowledge your presence. 

“Cherry,” he greeted, using the name Eddie had introduced you to his friends. He wrapped you in a bone crushing hug, kissing your cheek gently before he held you at arms length. 

Out of all of Eddie’s friends, Steve knew you just as well as your own boyfriend did. 

A smile creeps across his lips as he lets your arms go and walks to a small desk. His tall frame slinking like a shadow as he clicks on a slim lamp and begins flipping through a binder full of current work and past tattoos. He finds the heart shaped cherries with Eddie written in pretty cursive underneath. 

They were perfect— Steve was able to capture your ideas through horrible explanations and give his own little twist to them. A modern mockup of American traditionalism with the speckles of glitter you had seen on Pinterest.

His eyes sparkle through the shadow from the light as he proudly holds up the drawing, “so… where we puttin’ this sucker?”

Originally you had thought to put it on your chest, but decided against it when Robin had told you how much her tattoo had hurt there, even more so when she had to get Barb’s name covered by a butterfly. 

Crossing the tiger print carpet to the black tattoo chair, you sit down gently with your ankles crossed, “umm, would it be weird to put it on my thigh?” you asked meekly, “kinda high up so it’s a little more private?”

Raising your skirt, you show Steve the placement. A slivered peek of scarlet lacy panties are visible beneath the hiked up fabric in your fingers, and he nearly bites a hole in his cheek to not look. 

“You could put it there,” he ponders, moving a large veiny hand through the slick of his hair, only to land on his chin to really sell the act of him thinking, tapping his bottom lip, “but ass tats are really popular.”

Eddie would go berserk seeing his name anywhere on your body, but you had to admit— there was something a little bit sexy about his name being tattooed only somewhere he could see. 

“Will it hurt?” 

His eyes light up as he grabs supplies to sanitize his work area clearing his throat, “haven’t had anyone cry yet, so I’m gonna go ahead and say no.” 

Steve’s reputation for his artwork spread far and wide, he was booked solid for months on end, self taught, making tons of money for a college drop out— despite what his dad had said. 

He had done all of Eddie’s tattoos including the enormous stretch of bat wings that spread across his shoulders and down the expanse of his back. Sharp talons protruding onto the beginning of his hips, curved around to his wrists. Steve had freehanded most of it, as if it were from memory. 

Biting your lip contemplating the placement, you think of Eddie and the swelling size of is cock as it split you open once he laid eyes on his name branded into your skin. 

“Okay,” you smile, “let’s do it.” 

Steve smirked and rubbed his jaw, “cool, lay on your stomach for me.”

Flipping onto your front you lay with your hands under your chin, looking up at him through your lashes, “like this?” 

Steve sits on the stool facing away from you, straightening his table and tattoo gun, looking over his shoulder meeting your eye, “yeah… that’s perfect, Cherry.” 

You watch in amusement as he sterilizes his work station and sets up the ink, “Eddie playin’ at the Dime tonight?” 

“Yep,” you sigh, thinking of all the time you’d spent alone while he was gone, “last show of their College Daze Tour, then back to finals, and normal life.” 

A scoff rumbles from Steve’s throat as he wraps his gun, “what’s even considered normal? Everything is pretty shitty around here.” 

Propping up on an elbow you set to argue with him, “going to class is normal, hanging out with our friends, partying, sleeping in the same bed instead of him crashing in the back of someone’s van— that’s all routine for me, for us…” you sigh a little, picking at your thumbs. 

Steve looks over and sees the sadness in your face, grabbing the pink disposable razor, “last I heard from him, he was looking to leave Corroded and start up somethin’ with a few guys from here. Can’t say I blame him, anything to do with home is hard to deal with.” 

Eddie never talked about Hawkins. The only thing you knew about it was that he and Steve got the hell out of there the year he graduated, never looking back, never visiting. 

“That’s the plan for now at least… honestly, I wish he would take a break for a while, but you know him— he’s really driven to be the best he can be.” 

Steve knew all too well. Spending nights awake staring out of his large apartment windows, missing the way things used to be, regretting everything that happened in Hawkins. 

 “Eddie’s…passionate…about the things he cares about, he’s always been that way.” 

That part was always true, Eddie carried his feelings on his sleeve, never afraid to show his emotions, or make sacrifices for people he loved. Steve himself was a living breathing reminder of that. 

“…alright Cherry,” his voice dripped with smoothness as he got closer to you, “everything’s ready…I’ll need to lift your skirt so I can prep the skin, you cool with that?” 

You reply with a yes, and feel the goosebumps prick at your skin as the cool air hits your exposed cheek. The rubber of Steve’s glove drags across your skin as he rubs in the sanitation spray. “‘m gonna shave you now.” 

This being your first tattoo you didn’t know what to expect, heat flooding your cheeks immediately, “oh my God is it hairy?” 

Steve chuckles low, a fan of his breath blowing warm against your skin, “not at all honey, it’s just standard procedure for any tattoo.” 

He was delicate as he ran the blade across you in small motions away from him. One rubber gloved hand held your skin taut, the other on the razor. Your ass bounced back to him after the last drag of the razor leaves your skin, and you swore you heard him suck in a breath. 

Steve had always been handsome, ever since the first time you met during that freshman year mixer in the backyard of some random frat house it was that he was rushing for. 

He was different then, preppy clothes and expensive shoes, surviving during the week just to live for the weekends. A flask with his name claim permanently pressed to his palm. King Steve. 

But somewhere along the lines of college stresses and life back in Hawkins— he changed, dropped out of college completely and dove into his natural talent. Making a name for himself, carving his own path. 

That was why you had fallen for him to begin with. 

“E-Eddie said you have a date this weekend, are you excited?” 

Steve wipes your skin with a paper towel and spreads a thick ointment to lay the stencil, “I wish he’d stop trying to set me up.” 

His thumbs sweep across the stencil laying it firmly in place, “oh c’mon Steven…Lydia’s cute, she’s in one of my elective art classes, she reminds me of you.” 

Steven. Nobody ever called him by his full name.

“Of me?”

Looking over your shoulder you meet his deep mossy eyes, “in a weird way I guess, yeah.”  

He looks back into your eyes, watching as you slowly blinked and drifted your gaze downward to where his large hands were still splayed across your ass. 

The dusting of hair on his arms tickled your skin when he pulled back gently, pinching a corner of the transfer paper and peeling it from you. He purses his lips and blows on the stencil lightly. 

Steve often thought back to the way things were three years ago. The way your eyes gleamed under the string patio lights, the scent of your vanilla perfume and how it seemed to bake deeper with the sun's rays on your skin. 

He remembered how your lips tasted like melted ice cream against his, and how deeply he craved to be floating in the candy confectionery of sugar and sprinkles with you in the center of it, center of his world. 

Steve shakes his head, trying to erase that time in his life but always coming up short. “This won’t hurt too bad, I’ll stop whenever you need, okay? It’s best if you lay down.”

Your chest tightens with nerves as you nod your head, pressing your cheek into the vinyl of the black headrest. 

The gun starts and Steve tells you he’s going to do the outline of the cherries first. The needle vibrates into your skin and you wince at the first few lines made but eventually getting used to the way your skin buzzed and the pain that came from it. 

You whimpered out in a few spots and Steve’s velvet voice shushed you gently, telling you the worst was almost over. 

“Outlining is finished,” Steve murmurs, rubbing ink from your skin, “you’re doing really good, honey.” 

Your mind slips to him saying those words in a different setting, a miniature golf course with clubs that were too short and a go-kart track. He had said it when you finally sunk your ball after par ten thousand on hole eleven. 

Sarcasm spread across his face and you wiggled your tongue at him and threw a middle finger his way. Only for him to chase you around the tiny windmills and grassy hills, catching up and tickling you under your arms until you were near to tears. 

You thought he would have kissed you that night, but to your surprise and dismay— he had waited for the third official date.

“Thank you,” you smile weakly. 

He returns the smile and looks away, clearing his throat, “the shading will be a cake walk, we’ll be done here before you know it…might even catch the end of Eddie’s show.” 

“Really?” you say with a spring of hope in your voice. He couldn’t dismiss how his friend's name made his mouth taste like poison, but how it made you weak in the knees. “That would be great, Steve.”

“Sure thing princess,” he nearly whispered, “lay back now, I’ll be done soon.” 

Steve tried to blank it all out as his tattoo gun spelled  Eddie in a cursive calligraphy he knew was yours. Letter by letter he swallowed down the feelings he had been harboring from you, from him— from everyone. 

He wished he had never taken you to that concert. He loathed himself for the way Eddie slithered between the two of you, how Eddie could have had any girl at that after party but he chose you simply because you were with him. 

Steve tried to deny him of it, tried to steer him toward another girl, a girl who wasn’t you. One he hadn’t been in love with, one who didn’t appear in his dreams despite the nightmares clouding in. But one low growl and a flash of those sharp fangs and Steve knew he didn’t stand a chance. 

Letter by letter he branded his friend’s name into your skin, giving the girl he loved a silent goodbye with every curve and final dot of the ‘i’.

“All done,” he said with a shaky throat, cleaning you up, “wanna see it?”

You nod and reach for his outstretched hand,  swinging your legs and standing to follow him to the mirror. It was perfect. Equal parts colorful yet traditional with a spark of modern flare added to it. 

“Steve,” you gasp, mouth hung open in adoration, “it’s beautiful!”

He rubs his neck and watches your reflection in the mirror, the way your mouth ticks up on the ends into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

His heart was aching knowing it wasn’t for him

[icarusdescending7]

Aquamarine - Chapter 3

Ao3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Your fiancé died seven years ago, and you joined the military in his wake to fill the void his death put on you. Now, you work with the 141 for an assignment, hunting associates of their enemies.

Their Lieutenant, however, given you an uneasy feeling. You have a vague sense of familiarity with him, but from where?

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

You sighed as you stared up at the ceiling, replaying the day's events over and over. What a… stressful first day. First, the other Lieutenant doesn’t like you, then the gift your fiancé gave you breaks, and you get the shards in your hand and have to have Soap help you pull them out. What a mess. You clenched your hand a little, sighing at the feeling of the wounds splitting open. These are the days you wish he were still- you need to stop thinking about him. He’s dead and gone. In the past. If only it were that simple. But it is that simple. It really isn’t. It is. It’s not.

You rolled over, glancing at the clock, and sighed— 1 am. You buried your face into the pillows and immediately relaxed. Your brow furrowed for only a moment before you fell asleep. The smell of citrus and cedar lulled you away to the best sleep you’d known in years.

~~

You were lying on the ground, a thick dust clouding up around you as you struggled to regain your senses, the sound of thundering boots approaching you, grabbing you by your vest, and attempting to pull you up. Keyword: attempting. You were quickly dropped as a red mist hit your cheek, the hulking man before you with a newfound hole in his head. He collapsed on top of you, and you were quick to shove his corpse off, the drop shaking you back to reality.

“Too close, Ghost.” You grumbled into your earpiece, wiping the blood off your face with the back of your hand. You recovered your rifle and shouldered it, moving to take cover.

“You’re getting sloppy. Did you eat when we told you to?” He asked, another gunshot coming over his mic. “I have a feeling you didn’t. I can see it, in the way you’re shaking.” He said, a hint of annoyance in his voice— which wasn’t lost on you.

“I meant that you almost got me too with that shot. Did you eat?” You asked, annoyed, “Why do you care? Christ, you sound like my fiancé. Always on my ass about eating…” You mumbled, turning to move forward, finally hitting the door you were trying to get to and shooting the lock off. You swapped to your sidearm, dropping low as you entered, waiting for Soap to catch up.

“What, we can’t be concerned for our teammate's health?” Soap’s voice came in over the comms, breathless like he’d been running. “We cannae do a ton with you operatin’ at fifty percent, can we?” He slipped in through the door, giving Ghost an indirect thumbs-up as he did.

“Right, because me being a little hungry is so much worse than you dodging bullets at every opportunity you get.” You rolled your eyes, looking at him. “Look at you, you’re covered in scrapes and gashes… Ghost, you got our six while we’re in here?” You asked, poking your head out and looking for the glint of his scope.

It takes him a minute to respond, then a raspy “Yeah, got an eye out.” rung in your ears.

~

“Soap! You done planting those C4 yet? We got to get the fuck outta here!” You shouted, ripping the hard drives and USB sticks from the computers you found, hoping something might be useful beyond what you were sent after. You quickly shoved it all in your pack, running down the hall and dipping into the room he sat in.

“Yeah, lass! Let’s go!” He said, grabbing your arm and dragging you along as fast as possible to get out. At some point, you ended up in a fireman carry over his shoulder, being shaken about as he ran like a bat out of hell. You let it happen, not trying to run when you could barely see straight.

He dropped you on the ground face down, a puff of dirt kicking up around you. You got up on your knees, shrugging your pack off your shoulders, and flopped onto your back, trying to cool your pulse. You were shaking like a leaf. No, you didn’t eat. Before you could fully recover, your pack was snatched off the ground by Soap and you were quickly picked up by Ghost, who carried you much more delicately if not a bit tight— bridal style. The three of you booked it, the sound of trucks rumbling on the dirt path, getting closer with each second.

After an hour of running, the three of you finally settled in a dense patch of woods, taking a moment to breathe. Before you could think, they both shoved energy bars in your face, their expressions mildly annoyed.

“Eat.” Ghost nearly demanded, opening the bar and shoving it in your mouth when you went to protest. “I’m done carryin’ your ass around.” He huffed, leaning back against a tree and closing his eyes.

Soap closed his eyes, also leaning against a tree. “Where are we, now? We must’ve missed evac by a mile by now.” He sighed, pulling a satellite GPS out of his bag. “Sorry, two miles.”

You finished eating the bar that Ghost gave you, swallowing the last bite. You took Soaps GPS, fiddling with it for a moment before locking it on a clearing about 4 miles north of you. “We could make our way there, send the coords to Watcher?” You offered, handing it over to him and plucking the other energy bar from his hand.

He showed Ghost the suggested route, shrugging. “Could work.” Ghost only nodded, sighing a bit.

~

The car ride was quiet except for the grumble of the vehicle and the occasional bump making stuff roll across the steel floors. Soap had fallen asleep at some point and was snoring loudly, and you were fighting to stay awake.

“You should sleep.” Ghost's voice broke through the silence, making you jump a little.

“Don’t want to.” You said, looking at what you could see of him. It was dark in the cabin, so all but that creepy mask of his was in shadows. “You’re creepy.”

“So I’ve heard. You gonna fight sleep the whole way or…?” He questioned, turning to look at you. “If you don’t sleep now you won't get any until we get back to base.”

“I’ll sleep when I want to. Are you gonna sleep, or do you have the whole ‘I don’t sleep mehmehmeh’ vibe going on?” You asked, your joke making him huff in amusement.

“I don’t sleep. Not when I’m in the field.” He said, “Just sleep. You’re clearly fighting it, there's no use.” His hand came up to make you lean back to rest. You could only grumble before succumbing to sleep, your head lolling from the back of the seat over to his shoulder, despite the awkward distance between you two.

~~

He watched you as you raked the leaves from your yard into a pile, your focus waning slightly as you hit the same spot for the third time now. Simon went out, taking the rake from your hands and making you take a break.

“Did you eat, sweetheart? You look dizzy.” He asked, making you look up at him. Your eyes were unconcentrated, making him frown. “That’s a no. Go inside, love. I’ll finish up.” He kissed your forehead, sending you on your way.

“Was gonna finish this then do that, but sure, okay.” You grumbled, gently touching the spot where he kissed you. “Are there leftovers from breakfast?”

“Yeah. Go eat those. I’ll be in after a bit.” He called over his shoulder.

You went in and heated up the breakfast you made, taking the plate to the couch and watching him from the window. He’s so kind that you find it hard to believe that he’s a soldier. But then again, it was easy to believe he was a soldier. The scars across his arms and neck and face told all kinds of stories. Not ones you knew, of course, he would never in a million years tell you his tales of war. You were too precious to him, and he feared that you’d fear him instead of love him if you knew the horrors he witnessed and contributed to. But you knew. Even if they were vague hints and words of the ghosts that haunt him. You’d had to ground him from PTSD flashbacks on more than one occasion, and they were never pretty. After each and every one, he’d apologize, hold you close, call you his “pretty girl” and “love of my life”. He’d worry about making you go through that with him, even though you never minded.

You broke out of your trance when he sat his hand on your shoulder, making you turn up to look at him. His cheeks were rosy from the chill of the autumn air, and his hair was messy from his stocking cap. You sat up on the couch, pulling him to eye level and examining his face. You ran your fingers over scars you’d memorized, then found a new one.

“You have a new scar. How’d you get this one?” You asked, knowing you wouldn’t get a straight answer. You ran your fingers over it, bringing him closer to kiss it.

“A battle. Like most of the other scars. Nothin’ you need to worry about” He answered quietly. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to fuss over every new scar, you know.”

“Maybe not, but is that going to stop me? No. I need you to know that I love you, even with all your battle wounds.” You hummed, closing your eyes.

[bugsnax-community-questions]

Bugsnax Community Questions ~ Poll #25

Put filbo, eggabell and the others in one option because there aren't enough slots to fit everyone.

FILBO: Basic Furniture, Dandelion, Cot (secret), Grumpy Baby Mayor, Pawprint rug, Cloudy paws print, painted hut, Group Photo, Streamers, Garden gnome, snaxburg flag, Golden Strabby, Certificate of completion

WAMBUS: Scarecrow, beechwood, Sauce plant seedlings, Sauce rug, Rustic Bed, Mini Cactriffy, Grow light nursery, Wood panel print, cowboy hats, ceiling fan

BEFFICA: Sleeping bag, Ladder Shelf, bestie print, Bestie (exterior), Fuzzy heart rug, Privacy curtains, Bulletin board, glowing stars, purple lupin, befficas journal, Kiddie pool (technically from floofty)

WIGGLE: Hanging lights, Luxury bed (secret), Gilded (Secret), record player, Palm tree, Platinum Award, Beach Chair + Umbrella, Armoire, Music print, Rock club sign, Psychedelic rug

TRIFFANY: Map of Snaktooth, Drafting Table, Prehistoric Floorcloth, Grumpus Skull, Giant skeleton, Barrel cacti, Dig site print, hanging pots, ancient bugsnax statue 1 (pinkle), ancient bugsnax statue 2 (incherito), Bone and Stone (exterior), Bone and stone bed

GRAMBLE: Lantern, Pink oleander, Weather Vane, Knit Sprout Mat, Hay bales, knit bed, Strabby Hat, Doily Table, knitted (exterior), knit baskets, Strabby print, Bunger bed

CROMDO: Tulips, Police tape (Secret), Bug juice dispenser, Big safe, A single hanging bulb, boombox, money print rug, worn mattress, billboard, Motivational poster, Antique print

SNORPY: Loose Newspaper, Conspiracy board, Blueprint print, Protective coat hangers, Metal plating (exterior), Metalworks flower, Satellite dish, deprivation tank, bookshelf, HAM radio, hot tub

CHANDLO: Red Cedar, Framed jersey, Rock climbing holds, Strong trophy, Hammock, Bean bag, Orange bloodroot, Home gym (secret), Sports print (secret), Gym mats, chandlolier,

FLOOFTY: red ti plant, lab bench (secret), Specimen jar, Pirate ship (exterior), Beheading machine, ecience poster, chemistry rug, test tube lights, science print, Chalkboard

SHELDA: Hanging Planter, Herbology station, Primitive grass, Salt crystal, ebony stained wood, zen garden, Meditation cushion, Prairie grass, wind chimes, desert print, torch

EGGABELL: Family Photos, Eggshell print, medical egg rug, Medicine cabinet, Emergency bell, First aid kit, Draped fabrics, igloo (exterior), snow grump, medical bed

OTHER: Cowboy hat roof (Cactriffy), Planted snak (Cactriffy), Snak print (L), Strabby Shelf (L), Snakgoyle (Snaxsquatch), Matilija Poppy (Snaxsquatch), Eyes (exterior ~ B), Legendary snak rug (B), Snak mobile (C), Sodie Fountain (C)

[moths-in-the-attic]

And Now for Something Completely Different: Cerise Hood

Reservations

I have a secret. I know what you’re thinking…everyone has a secret. But, does everyone have to hide their secret every moment of every day?

I go to Ever After High because it’s my destiny to be the next Red Riding Hood. But that’s not all of who I am. That’s because of my father, the Big Bad Wolf. Even though he can change from wolf to human whenever he wants, he and mom weren’t supposed to fall in love.

So, I guess you could say I am my secret. Every day I have to hide my half wolf ears. Nobody can ever know about my true nature, which is total fairy-fail! Truth is, I’m he most athletic fairyteen in school… even more than Hunter Huntsman and Daring Charming. When I run like the wind, I feel free. I wish I could join the school track team, but I have to hide my strengths. Or do I? I’ve heard whispers that we might be able to rewrite our own destinies. It makes me wonder… can I trust anyone with the real story of me?

CHAPTER 1

Legacy Day… that’s all everyone talked about. Legacy Day dress rehearsal, Legacy Day dance, Legacy day EVERYTHING! UGH! So I wasn’t exactly huffing and puffing when dad Mr. Badwolf called me to his office. Even though I’m not in any of his General Villiany classes, I still need to respect him as his daughter a student.

His door opened, and there he stood intimidating to most, but kind to me. “Ms. Hood,” we always act formal at school. “I need you to run an errand.” He handed me a letter, “This is signed by Headmaster Grimm. It excuses a student from his Orientation speech to get supplies for me.”

Reading between the lines, he didn’t tell Headmaster Grimm that I specifically needed to run the errand. That meant one thing – family matters. “Where am I going?”

“The Mad Hatter’s Tea Shoppe in the village of Book End,” he put his hand on my shoulder, “Don’t take too long.” This sounded important… does that mean I can trust the Mad Hatter? His daughter Maddie has always been wicked nice to me…

OOF! Just my luck, I literally bumped into Cedar Wood, the daughter of Pinocchio. She’s such a sweet girl, but everyone knows she really can’t keep a secret. Her dad had a truth spell cast oh her, and now she can’t lie. It’s not her fault, but I get nervous when she asks things like, “Hey Cerise, where are you going?”

“Village of Book End,” I waved the letter, “Headmaster Grimm knows. Bye.” I hoped nobody would ask Cedar if she’d seen me.

CHAPTER 2

The scent of fresh sugarplum biscuits tailed back to the Mad Hatter’s Tea Shoppe, and I suddenly got every hungry. My, how bizarre the Tea Shoppe is – teapots on every table whistle in unison, upside down clocks tick-tock above countless doors. I was immediately lost inside once the door behind me slammed shut. A door on the ceiling swung open, and The Mad Hatter dropped to the floor, “No room! You need a reservation.”

I looked around, “But there’s nobody here.”

“Exactly! They didn’t have a reservation!” the Mad Hatter pulled out a dusty old book, “Here we are… Cersie Hood.” He looked up as if seeing me for the very first time, “Oh, you do have a reservation.” From his vest, he pulled on a long chain, and at the end of it was a key to a wicker door. He unlocked the door and out stepped my mother, “How are you, Cerise?” She hugged me, “Sorry for taking you out of Orientation. Dad left this at home,” she reached into her basket. It was a simple book with a massive front lock, “I don’t get it…”

She sipped her tea, “Since Dad and I can’t risk talking on MirrorPhones, we leave messages for each other in these two-way books. What he writes in his book appears in mine.”

“Mom, you could get in trouble!” I whispered as the Mad Hatter buttered a stack of toast.

“We can trust Mr. Hatter,” she smiled tenderly, “I better go. Send Dad my love.”

I hid the book inside my basket, and made a beeline for school. Right away, I couldn’t shake the feeling someone was following me. Quickly I turned into an alleyway, held my breath and dove into the shadows… literally. My magic riding hood lets me walk inside shadows. It’s kind of like swimming underwater.

Someone hurried past and I stepped out behind her. Odd… it was Briar Beauty, who shockingly jumped when I asked, “Why are you following me?”

That’s when she caught me off guard… she asked me to help plan the Legacy Day dance. For a brief moment I was happy. Everyone sees me as a lone-wolf. I dreamed of just hanging out and planning a party. But the happy moment ended… Briar smelled guilty. I just knew she didn’t want my help. Rather than call her out, I let her off, “We both know the school would never let a non-royal plan the dance.”

CHAPTER 3

The door to my father Mr. Badwolf’s office was open, but inside looked empty. However there was the faint smell of porridge all over the room, “You can come out, Blondie.”

With a CRASH, Blondie Lockes fell from behind the desk. True to her Goldilocks’ roots, Blondie always walks into places she doesn’t belong. “Just who I was looking for,” she held her MirrorPad up, “Hex it out, my MirrorCast audience, Cersie Hood just walked into an empty teacher’s office! But not just any teacher… Mr. Badwolf! Say, Cerise, isn’t he Little Red Riding Hood’s villain?”

“MirrorCast? Villian? No! I mean, yes, but-“

“And you’re the next Red Riding Hood! So why are you here?”

“HAT’S WHAT I’D LIKE TO KNOW?” With a huff and a puff, the Big Bad Wolf blew Blondie’s interview down, “This is my private office! Leave… NOW.”

“That sounds about just right,” Blondie ran like she was being chased by three bears.

Before I could take one step, he growled, “Not so fast.” He snatched my basket off my arm, “I’m confiscating this. You’ll get it back one I’ve made sure you don’t have something that belongs to me.”

“Yes sir,” I walked out, relieved he got his two-way book without arousing suspicion.

That night, there was a knock at my door. When I opened it, there was my basket, with a note reading: “Sorry about earlier. You’re the best daughter ever after.”

CHAPTER 4

In the Castleteria, royals almost always sit with each other. So imagine my surprise when a princess I never met before sat down, “Can I join you?” She had a kind smile, and my, what long hair she had. Three people tripped when she tossed it.

I shrugged my shoulders. Usually I’ll only eat with Raven Queen or Maddie. It was nice to have some new company.

“I;m Holly, the next Rapunzel. I’m new here,” her eyes darted to my cloak, “And you’re… the next Red Ridin Hood!” Oh no. She was going to start prying. “So do you hate Mr. Badwolf?”

“Not really.” My hair stood on end. Why was everyone getting all up in my hood lately?

“I think I would,” she didn’t drop it, “I always wondered, why would he eat your grandmother when-“

“JUST DROP IT!” I walked away, leaving my breakfast unfinished.

As I passed the royal’s table, Blondie shouted, “Holly, come sit with us!” So much for making new friends.

CHAPTER 5

Afterwards, everyone kept their distance from me, though my name kept coming up in hushed tones. It didn’t bother me until I heard, “Psst psst Cerise psst psst Legacy Day psst psst MirrorCast.”

My throat closed. Immediately, I unlocked my MirrorPhone and tuned in to Blondie’s MirrorCast, Just Right. It was about Legacy Day. Specifically the Legacy Day dance and how someone was trying to ruin it. And apparently that someone was me… because, she said, I hate the Big Bad Wolf… She talked about Cedar saying I went to Book End, me breaking into his office, and finally what happened when Holly asked if I hate Mr. Badwolf.

Taking the deepest possible breath, I ran to the nearest shadow. It felt good to run.

CHAPTER 6

Racing in the shadows, I finally found the darkest room in school – the empty Grimmnasium. Hours must have passed before I heard their footsteps. The center of the floor flipped open. Smells of chamomile tea filled the room, as the Mad Hatter’s daughter, Maddie, emerged, “Found her! It’s Cerise!”

Cedar climbed out, followed by Raven, “Are you okay, Cerise?”

Raven sighed, “We all saw Blondie’s MirrorCast. We know it’s a poisoned apple.”

Tears stung my eyes, “Why would she cry wolf?”

“Because I got carried away,” Blondie appeared behind them, “cerise, I was just wrong. I thought I was saving Legacy Day.”

My teeth grinded, “What did I ever do to you, Blondie? Are you happy I don’t have any friends? You know what would be just right? If you go away!”

Her head dropped, “I deserve that. Headmaster Grimm wasn’t happy either. I got in so much trouble…” sincere tears dropped from her eyes, “I never got your side of the story. I-I’m so sorry.”

Raven sat next to me, “By the way, why do you think we were looking for you? We’re your friends, Cerise.”

“I’m going to post a new MirrorCast,” Blondie grabbed her MirrorPad, “Let’s tell everyone the truth.”

Smiling, I stepped through the door, “Thanks Blondie, but I think I’ve had enough attention for one day.” For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like a lone wolf.

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 8

Although Weedfoot recovers from yellowcough, Twinekit dies of greencough.

[Image ID: Moonpaw faces Twinekit, who is now a StarClan cat. Moonpaw says “Hi, Twinekit. You’re okay now.”]

By the time the new moon arrived, Weedfoot and Oilpaw had to decide on RippleClan’s funeral traditions.

They would need a vigil for Twinekit, as all Clans did to mourn. It was Oilpaw who suggested dressing Twinekit in her namesake rather than just the death-shrouding herbs Fennelspot needed to make the small kit presentable. Carnationpaw crafted a simple necklace of cedar bark twine and placed it around Twinekit’s limp neck. Oilpaw tucked a few dry catmint leaves into the necklace too, as eternal protection against the disease that took her little sister.

Rustshade had been silent since Fennelspot stepped out of the medicine den and made his solemn announcement. He wordlessly agreed to all of the Clan’s ideas for how to properly honor a life that never truly began. When Fennelspot placed Twinekit in the center of camp, Rustshade laid beside her and did not move.

Scrubmask had to explain the situation to Burdockkit, Clamkit, and Locustkit. Burdockkit seemed not to grasp what Scrubmask meant. It took many painful questions before Burdockkit understood that no, Twinekit was not asleep, and no, she would not wake up. Clamkit went back to the nursery as soon as she could, and none of Downstar’s gentle coaxing could lure her out. Locustkit was the only one who cried, clutching a moss-ball as he laid at Rustshade’s side, head pressed into Twinekit’s fur.

Twinekit passed in the middle of the day, which meant RippleClan still had to go about their daily tasks. Oilpaw lingered as long as she could before Weedfoot, finally free of her wicked cough, took her and Carnationpaw on border patrol. Puddlespeckle joined Scrubmask on a hunt and brought back a humble mouse. Carnationpaw cooked it in the smoker and coaxed the kits to eat. She finally soothed Locustkit’s cries and sent him and his siblings to nap.

Rustshade, meanwhile, did nothing. No one could drag him away from his daughter, and no one wanted to. He stayed at her side, silent, until the last moments of dusk turned him into another red beam covering the camp. It was at that late hour, when the whole Clan rejoined Rustshade in his vigil, that Fennelspot asked an important question.

“Where do we bury our dead?”

It was a question no one had thought to ask themselves when they arrived at the shipwreck. They’d managed over half a year without any deaths, after all. RippleClan’s faces were empty of ideas. Oilpaw pretended to study the thick ceiling of clouds to hide her own lack of imagination.

“We’re the only Clan to live near the sea,” Scrubmask finally noted. “We could send the body out on the waves.” RippleClan’s empty faces filled with horror as all the adults stared at Scrubmask. Rustshade sneered at the pale ginger molly.

“We won’t disrespect her like that,” he growled. His voice was rough, as though he ate sand.

“LynxClan leaves their dead in the mountains all the time,” Scrubmask said, ignoring the outrage rippling through camp. “Twinekit’s spirit is gone. This is just her shell. We can’t disrespect her if she’s not here.”

“I think we need a different tradition,” Downstar sighed. She sat next to Rustshade and groomed his head until his face dropped and he relaxed back into Twinekit’s body.

“I have it,” Weedfoot gasped. She jogged across camp, almost knocking into Puddlespeckle. She jumped on the stones bordering the camp and flew over the brambles.

“Weedfoot, what are you doing?” Oilpaw called. A few minutes later, Weedfoot trotted through the entrance with a stone in her mouth. She dropped it at her paws.

“Our territory is full of stones and planks,” Weedfoot explained. “When someone joins StarClan, we can mark their resting place with this.” She patted the stone. “None of the other Clans do this. It would be a pure RippleClan tradition.” Rustshade stood. His joints groaned as he did so. He slowly approached Weedfoot and her stone. The rock was wet and glistened with salt. 

“Can we have a few more?” Rustshade asked.

“Of course,” Weedfoot said. “I’ll be back.” She touched noses with Rustshade and hurried back out of camp.

“I suppose I’ll need to find a spot to bury her,” Puddlespeckle groaned, stretching.

“What?” Downstar scoffed. “No. I’m sorry, but I’m not comfortable with our elders burying the dead. I don’t think it’s good for your health.”

“It’s perfect for my health,” Puddlespeckle grumbled, turning on the pregnant leader. “You wanna know why AshClan elders bury their dead? Because we’re the furthest on our path to StarClan. When you’re the one putting a body to rest, it makes death a little less scary. We know what’s coming. So if we’re brainstorming traditions, that’s what I want RippleClan to do. Am I part of this Clan or not?” Downstar sighed. Her paw drifted over her swollen belly. Eventually, she nodded.

“Puddlespeckle,” Downstar declared, “it is your responsibility to put Twinekit to rest and choose a place for RippleClan to bury their dead.” She waddled to Puddlespeckle and touched her nose to his forehead. “Thank you.” For the first time Oilpaw could remember, Puddlespeckle’s eyes were soft as he bowed before Downstar.

Soon after, Oilpaw joined Rustshade, Fennelspot, and Puddlespeckle on a long walk through RippleClan territory. Puddlespeckle carried Twinekit by the scruff while Fennelspot carried a basket of stones. Oilpaw kept slipping on slick snow clinging to steep slopes, but the others were sturdy on their path. Puddlespeckle took the lead, as though he had buried the dead dozens of times.

“Here,” Puddlespeckle finally said through Twinekit’s scruff. He stopped at the top of a slope overlooking a more open field. The trees were fewer and farther apart below the slope. Oilpaw could imagine plenty of herbs and tall grasses growing there come the new year. If Oilpaw focused, she could see human dens far in the distance, toward WheatClan’s land. 

The old tom led the group down the slope and into the field. He stopped at a spot where the snow was thin, merely speckling the dead grass. He set Twinekit’s body down and began to dig.

“Why here?” Oilpaw asked as Rustshade joined Puddlespeckle.

“It’s a corner of the territory you’re almost certain not to lose in any conflicts with other Clans,” Puddlespeckle huffed as dirt piled behind him. “This way, she’ll never be defiled.” 

Puddlespeckle and Rustshade finished digging soon after. Fennelspot set his basket down and muttered a gentle prayer. Oilpaw picked up a few words and mumbled along. Puddlespeckle grabbed Twinekit’s scruff and set her in the hole. Rustshade stepped back as Puddlespeckle filled the hole back in. Oilpaw kept her eyes on the basket until Puddlespeckle was finished. 

“Grab a stone, everyone,” Fennelspot sighed. He plucked a sea-worn stone from the basket and set it on the mound. Puddlespeckle and Oilpaw placed their stones beside Fennelspot’s. Rustshade crowned the pile with his stone, carefully placed on top. 

“Hold on,” Oilpaw muttered, glancing back into the basket. “What’s this?” Oilpaw pulled a worn moss-ball out of the basket.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Fennelspot sighed. “Before we left, Locustkit gave me his moss-ball. He wants Twinekit to have it. He said it would give her something to do in StarClan.” Rustshade groaned in a voice so soft that Oilpaw mistook it for wind at first. She put the moss-ball next to the rock pile.

“Let’s put this in a place of honor,” Puddlespeckle sighed. He moved the moss-ball on top of the rocks. “There we go. Rustshade, what do you think?” Rustshade nodded silently. He sat at the edge of the mound and rested his chin on the disturbed dirt.

“I’m gonna stay here with him,” Oilpaw whispered to Fennelspot. “Is that okay?”

“I think Weedfoot will understand,” Fennelspot sighed. He picked up his basket and made his way back up the slope. Puddlespeckle stopped by Rustshade and rested his tail on the ginger tom’s back. Rustshade purred softly and brushed his own tail against Puddlespeckle’s foot. With that, the rosetted elder followed Fennelspot home.

Oilpaw settled next to her father. She didn’t feel cold next to him, but her guilt dragged her down. How much anger brewed under Rustshade’s fur? Did he hate Oilpaw for not talking to Sunstrike? Sure, Rustshade could be a lying, stuck up hypocrite, but he was still Oilpaw’s dad. He still raised her when Sunstrike couldn’t. 

“I can’t tell her,” Rustshade groaned softly. He turned his face away from Oilpaw and the rock pile. “I can’t face your mother now.” Oilpaw pressed her head into Rustshade’s side before she even thought to do so.

[Image ID: Oilpaw and Rustshade face a small stack of stones with a moss-ball on top. A transparent version of Twinekit stands behind the stones. Oilpaw says “I’ll tell her, Dad. You were right. She deserves to know.”]

“I’ll tell her, Dad,” Oilpaw gulped. “You were right. She deserves to know.” Rustshade curled himself around Oilpaw, like when she was a little kitten and settled by his belly for a nap. Oilpaw purred and rubbed against Rustshade as the codekeeper closed his eyes.

“Is this for me?” a small voice asked. Oilpaw’s heart spasmed. Her eyes locked onto the grave marker. Twinekit stood beside the stones, sniffing the moss-ball. Her twine necklace dangled against her chest. Her pelt was soft and lucious. When the light caught her fur at the right angle, it sparkled like a star. Oilpaw could see through her little sister’s body to the snow beyond. 

Oilpaw didn’t dare to breathe as Twinekit grabbed the moss-ball. The moss-ball itself did not move; rather, Twinekit picked up an identical copy as transparent as Twinekit. Oilpaw looked to her father, praying he saw the miracle too, but he stayed oblivious, eyes squeezed tight as he fought through waves of grief.

“Are you ready to go now?” someone groaned. A familiar white figure trotted out from behind a tree. She was a molly with soft green eyes. Unlike Twinekit, this newcomer’s pelt was solid, but glistened with the beauty of a hundred stars. She left no paw prints in her wake. 

“Look what Locustkit gave me!” Twinekit chirped through a mouthful of moss. The mysterious stranger laughed and batted at the moss-ball.

“I love it,” the stranger laughed, “but are you ready?” Twinekit shook out her pelt. Her form grew solid and starlight surrounded her, just as it surrounded the stranger. Twinekit nodded, earning another laugh from the stranger. Oilpaw forced her fur to stay flat. Despite her best efforts, her pelt spiked when the stranger locked eyes with her.

“So you can see me!” the stranger gasped. “I knew it! Do you remember me? You saw me on that beach patrol with the dog.” Oilpaw nodded stiffly. Shouldn’t she say something? She couldn’t make herself talk. “This is really interesting. I can’t stay long, but you should at least know who I am.” She pulled Twinekit close and fluffed up her chest. “I’m Moonpaw, mediator apprentice extraordinaire! If you can see me know, you’ll probably see a lot more of me. Now, if you’ll excuse us…” 

Moonpaw nudged Twinekit along. Twinekit waved her tail goodbye, purring. Oilpaw carefully lifted her own, unsure of what her eyes told her. Moonpaw walked beside Twinekit, leaving stars in their wake. The pair walked behind a tall pine and did not appear on the other side. Oilpaw watched the tree for a long time, her breath quick and mind blank.

“We’ll be okay, Oilpaw,” Rustshade mumbled. He groomed Oilpaw’s head with half-open eyes. Oilpaw tucked herself closer to her clueless father. Her grief had been ripped away and replaced with a deep unease that squeezed her guts.

(Weedfoot: 57, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)

(Oilpaw: 12, female, historian apprentice, charismatic, morbidly curious)

(Twinekit: 2, female, kit, noisy, quick to help)

(Rustshade: 65, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Fennelspot: 65, male, cleric, insecure, valuable insight, incredible runner)

(Scrubmask: 25, female, warrior, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)

(Burdockkit: 2, male, kit, bossy, interested in Clan history)

(Clamkit: 2, female, kit, lonesome, interested in Clan history)

(Locustkit: 2, male, kit, troublesome, moss-ball hunter)

(Downstar: 67, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Puddlespeckle: 134, male, elder, strict, good hunter, good kitsitter)

(Moonpaw: 10, female, mediator apprentice, childish, good hunter)

Downstar doesn’t feel ready to be the mom of four kits, but she promises the tiny flailing limbs at her belly that she’ll do her best, she swears on StarClan.

[Image ID: Downstar sits above four newborn kits; Halibutkit, an impulsive male; Duskkit, a troublesome female; Graykit, an impulsive female; and Shadowkit, a troublesome male. Beside Downstar, update text reads - CONDITION: PREGNANT, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH]

---

For a while, Downstar thought the pain would never end. Her contractions started at some point in the middle of the night, and only grew worse over the course of the day. Fennelspot never left her side, helping her through each terrible spasm. According to him, the delivery was perfectly normal, but Downstar was certain she would lose one of her nine lives that day. She had the lives to spare; if she had to give one up to bring her children into the world, she would gladly do so.

Night blurred into day and back into night. Slowly but surely, each of Downstar’s kits popped out and settled by her belly. She was too focused on the next delivery to truly soak in the small body suckling next to her, but Carnationpaw, who stuck with Downstar as much as she could, assured her that each kit was beautiful.

“It’s a tom,” Carnationpaw said of the first kit when Downstar was too delirious to think straight. “He’s a sort of silvery-gray color. A mackerel tabby, I think. The color looks a bit like Weedfoot. Oh, wouldn’t it be cute to name him Weedkit?”

“I’ll name them later,” Downstar groaned through the stick in her mouth. 

The second kit, a black molly, came out soon after her brother, just as dusk hit the camp. Her tiny paws kneaded and poked at Downstar’s belly in a violent search for milk. Downstar couldn’t help but laugh. It was like the small kit knew just what to do to distract her mother from the pain.

The third kit took a while to arrive. Twilight had almost faded completely from the territories before a little molly slipped out. Carnationpaw oohed and awwed as Fennelspot cleaned the squirming kitten up.

“Wow, Downstar!” Carnationpaw laughed. “She looks just like your first kit! Same colors, same stripes… you have a pair of twins on your paws!”

“In SlugClan,” Fennelspot said as he guided the kit to Downstar’s belly, “identical kits are a sign from StarClan. Their lives will be forever intertwined. They will complement each other well.”

Downstar’s fourth and final kit arrived just as Scrubmask and Rustshade returned from night patrol. The little tom was black, like his oldest sister, but had stocky stripes and a lighter tint to his fur that better matched his other sister. 

“Not a single ginger pelt in the group,” Carnationpaw chuckled. “That’s impressive.” As the pain began to fade and her Clanmates’ congratulatory purrs filled the nursery, Downstar studied her beautiful kits. They were so alive. Each one wiggled, squirmed, and mewled as loud as they could.

“We couldn’t have asked for a better delivery,” Fennelspot purred. He rubbed against Downstar’s head. “How do you feel?”

“Overwhelmed,” Downstar laughed. “I was certain something would go wrong.” But it didn’t. She was a model mother, but would that last? Could she lead both a new Clan and four new lives?

“What will you name them?” Carnationpaw asked, leaning close to the kits.

“It’s better to wait,” Fennelspot said. “Sometimes, StarClan sends one of its spirits down in the form of a kit to guide the others before returning to the sky. It would be insulting to name someone who already has a name.”

“Do you mean one of them could die?” Carnationpaw gulped. “But you said they were all healthy!”

“They are!” Fennelspot stammered as Downstar’s heart ached. “The nature of birth is tricky. It’s best to wait a quarter moon before giving them proper names. I’m hopeful, though. They all look strong.”

“I already have names for them,” Downstar admitted.

“I’ll tell the Clan you’re doing well,” Fennelspot sighed, nuzzling Downstar once more. “You can have visitors in the morning.”

“I promise I’ll help however I can,” Carnationpaw said, licking Downstar’s ear. “I’ll make sure your kits are never lonely.” Downstar nuzzled her apprentice as a deep purr rippled through her. Fennelspot guided Carnationpaw outside and left Downstar in the cool dark of the nursery, illuminated by the small fire built just beyond the den.

“You’ll be Halibutkit,” Downstar mumbled, nuzzling her oldest son. “It’s a type of fish from the ocean. I found one washed on the shore when we settled in camp. It’s a good omen for RippleClan.” The black molly squealed, as though offended that she did not get her name first. “I’m getting to you, little Duskkit. Do you like that name? You were born at dusk. I think it fits.” Next, Downstar studied her gray daughter. “You’ll need a good name so I don’t confuse you for your brother. How about Graykit?” Graykit mewled softly and continued her suckling.

Downstar studied her youngest for a while. He looked so much like the proud, sturdy tom who trained her, who taught her how to care for others, who gave her a life for that very purpose.

“Is that you, Shadowsun?” Downstar whispered. She sniffed the dark gray tom’s sleek pelt. “Did you come to guide my kits? Or are you your own tom?” She licked the kit’s head. The lookalike squealed and flailed his little legs about. “Well, if you’re staying here, I’m going to call you Shadowkit.” Downstar tucked her paws under her and rested her head, never taking her eyes off her four kits. It was a big responsibility, but she had managed as leader so far. She would do her best as a mother, too.

(Downstar: 67, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Fennelspot: 65, male, cleric, insecure, valuable insight, incredible runner)

(Carnationpaw: 10, female, caretaker apprentice, compassionate, splashes in puddles)

(Halibutkit: 0, kit, male, impulsive)

(Duskkit: 0, kit, female, troublesome)

(Graykit: 0, kit, female, impulsive)

(Shadowkit: 0, kit, male, troublesome)