#there is nothing worthwhile or interesting in my head so i am not a worthwhile or interesting person when u really get down to it

[lets-try-some-writing]

for the salty ask:

1, 3, 5, 7, 11

What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?

Bee and Charlie, or honestly, any human x bot pairing. I just can't see it. Well, I see why people see it. Who doesn't want to be with their special little creature? But I work on a logical and story telling basis more often than not, and I simply cannot comprehend why a million year old metal alien from a war torn world would want to spend the equivalent of like, a month, hanging around with a squishy human. Now if the story is adjusted to make it make sense, then I can get behind it. Like if the squishy is made not squishy, or there is some sort of plot device to make the bot's emotional investment worthwhile and logical. But without all that, it feels a lot like a human falling head over heels for an actual ant. I can't get into it because that mental image takes me right out.

Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?

I don't think so? I only unfollow people if they A. Begin doing nothing but throwing around real life politics (I am here to have fun not lament life) or B. start reblogging a ton of spam and stuff I have no interest in seeing on my dash. I am pretty picky with who I follow, and half the time the people I follow are either mutuals or folks I am trying to learn from through observation (thank you TF artists). It's nothing personal when it comes to fandom. In fact, I follow quite a few people who I do NOT agree with fandom opinions wise, but I enjoy seeing their different views.

Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

Nope. I came in here not wanting to ship and left with a basket of ships I find appealing even if they aren't my OTP. It helps that the transformers fandom, at least those who I have interacted with, are really nice and accepting.

Is there anything you used to like but can't stand now?

Pure evil Megatron. I was on board with it for my first year or so in fandom because that's all I knew about him. I grew up on G1, hopped straight to TFP, and then jumped over to the Bay films before sliding my way into a few of the comics (I have no idea what I read, they were too dense). I liked Megatron being the worst with no redeeming qualities because that was the Megatron I knew. I didn't think he had many facets. But after being here longer, I've learned to adore Megatron and his very complex character. Now I can't read a fic where Megatron is just the worst without internally cringing. Although I will note there are times and places where him being nothing but evil is delightful and tastefully done.

Is there an unpopular character you like that the fandom doesn't? Why?

This is the transformers fandom. There is not a single character who doesn't have a small fanbase of diehard fans. I doubt I could like a character that doesn't already have at least ten folks bowing at their feet. So no, there is not an unpopular character I adore because there is no such thing as unpopular in this fandom. Everyone is adored by someone, and honestly, I'm glad.

[1roentgen]

.

[emdotcom]

Tbh, can't believe I'm cutting ties with Fnaf before Batim.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#383

“Hello, you must be the asseater….  After you pick up your jaw from the floor, c’mon in.  I usually get that result from fag asseaters.  When I’m at home, I don’t wear clothing.  Shut up.  I don’t need to know your name.  I ain’t going to carry on much of a conversation with you.  Besides, your tongue is going to be doing something else worthwhile.

“Follow me in here.  I have my rim chair set up and my porn ready to go.  I had it specially made for my size and my needs.  Seeing that you are going to be under me for hours, I’m gonna let you use the platform to elevate your torso to the right height. 

“What the fuck are you doing?  Nobody told you to strip.  I have zero interest in your naked body, and you certainly won’t be jacking off in my house.  You answered my ad on that fag site looking for an asseater who will eat my hairy crack for hours.  The only reason why I use faggots is that women don’t eat ass, and if they do, they don’t know how to do it right, let alone for hours at a time.  You faggots are willing to do it all.  I don’t have to buy you flowers or take you to dinner.  No, my fat ass is your dinner.

“Get under it.  You’ll see this contraption is made for long term shithole worship.  That netting is where your head goes.  The designer called it a head hammock.  It supports your head as it keeps your face firmly in my crack, angling it to allow the deepest penetration from your tongue.

“This is my favorite part of this chair.  When I sit down, my weight pushes down on this chin guard which goes below your chin prohibiting you from pulling out.  The only way you get out is when I get up.  If I lock it in place, then you ain’t getting out. 

“You get the picture?  You mean nothing to me other than your tongue slurping on my shithole and cleaning my crack for hours at a time.

“You drink piss?  My full time asseater I had in Cleveland drank my piss; he begged me to give it to him.  There’s no way in hell that I’m going to stick my dick in any faggot, so I used a funnel on him.  If you want my piss, I can have a funnel nearby.  He was a total pig.  I assume you are too.

“Look up at my ass.  This is what you are going to worship the next few hours.  I worked out in the yard this morning, then I went to the gym.  It’s going to be rank in there.  And even though I wiped this morning, being as hairy as I am, I’ll probably have some dingleberries for you.  And should I fart, consider that me blowing you a kiss. 

“You ready to be what you were meant to be?  You do a good job, when I blow my load in my hand, I’ll wipe it on my asshole and have you lick it off…. 

“That got a smile out of you.  Now stick out that tongue as far as you can.  I need to have a seat….

“…Don’t start gagging.  You are going to be down there for hours, you get used to it.  Now stick your tongue in deep.  Like thaaaaat.  Fuuuuck.  Oh man.  Fuck yeah faggot.  Fuck yeah….

“I don’t understand why more men don’t use faggots like you like this.  But hey their loss is my gain.” 

[stormofdefiance]

True knowledge exists in knowing you know nothing || Dr. Ratio & Socrates

Okay, I legitimately laughed out loud writing that title, but listen. LISTEN.

Ratio's inspirations derive from many sources; from referencing Archimedes's brain-blast in the tub, to being doomed to have his head bonked by Newton's apple ad infinitum in his idle animation, to his ultimate line ('esse est percipi' / 'to be is to be perceived') a direct quote from Berkeley on Idealism - it's apparent that his design nods towards scholars across time periods rather than being a direct parallel to a singular academic.

Nevertheless, just for fun, I've been rotating Ratio and ancient greek philosophers around in my head and have had a great time chewing over how parallels Socrates in particular. I am in no way saying that Hoyo even thought about Socrates while they were designing Ratio, but I thought I'd share my thoughts. I think there are some worthwhile parallels to be drawn that touch on all aspects of Ratio's own philosophy regarding ignorance, the value of knowledge, and his deep appreciation of life. So, let's get into it.

Ratio is interested in humanity and curing 'ill minds with knowledge', that 'to turn a blind eye to the folly of others is not an etiquette, but a wicked worldly practice.' Ignorance is a disease - this is a concept that can be viewed through a Socratic lens. Socrates believed that that virtue and knowledge were impossible to separate from one another, and that virtue could be developed through acquiring knowledge and insight. If knowledge is virtue, then ignorance is vice. In Socrates's mind, no one would rationally choose to do something bad. People might choose to do bad things, but this is rooted in their own perception of the world - as in, someone would only choose to do something bad (for the world, or for themselves) because they believed (erroneously) that it was the right or good thing to do. To Socrates, the cure to this was knowledge: 'There are two kinds of disease of the soul, vice and ignorance.' & 'What does most harm in the world is not sinfulness but ignorance'.

To Ratio, 'If ignorance is an ailment, it is the duty of the scholars to weed it out and heal the universe'. He views his own ignorance as 'filth' that must be cleansed through methods such as reading. He also views knowledge as a method for humans to overcome their problems - 'Another day has passed. If your problem still hasn't been solved, is it possible the problem is you?' & 'You look distressed. Is something troubling you? if so, you can figure it out for yourself.' These statements sound harsh, but they also clue us into Ratio's philosophy - that through self-examination and improvement, one can overcome one's ailments.

Socrates was also known for being a trouble-maker, he was abrupt and tactless and did not care for someone's social standing nor decorum. He was also known for using what is now called the Socratic method, asking a series of questions that ultimately seek to show contradictions in the beliefs of those who posed them, and to move systematically towards a hypothesis free from contradiction. Socrates rarely made assertions himself - after all, he had no wisdom of his own. But he could interrogate others in order to expose their own foibles, much to the embarrassment and annoyance of those around him. He was once described as a 'gnat' chewing on the 'lazy horse of Athens', causing it to wake up and spring to life due to his persistent gnawing and prodding. Ratio also employs the Socratic method - 'I'm asking questions' - and also adopts sophist tactics such as playing devil's advocate and taking opposing sides (with both himself as seen a story quest, and with others as we see with his texts urging us to take up a side so he might debate us). Through questioning and interrogation, upsetting what we consider social convention and norms, we can dispel contradictions and thereby come closer to some form of truth.

To add to this - as highlighted in the replies below - Ratio’s skill ‘intellectual midwifery’ is a reference to the Socratic method. The idea being that Socrates helped those around him give birth to the knowledge that was already within them, rather than treating his students minds as empty vessels for him to fill with his own answers. Again this is beautifully echoed in Ratio - he doesn’t want to tell you how to live your life, he wants you to work out for yourself what it is you need, thus empowering oneself through self-examination and questioning.

Socrates did not believe in writing anything down. He believed that face-to-face communication was a far more effective way of communicating knowledge - which means, unfortunately, what we know of Socrates is primarily derived from secondary sources. Much of what we know about him today comes from Plato's dialogues, and Plato was known for liberally exercising artistic license.

Although Ratio is not dead, I find it interesting that his character story is told exclusively through secondary sources. To quote - '…There are no less than eight documentaries detailing his legendary exploits, and over a dozen memoirs about him. However, despite the plethora of commentaries, none of them seems to provide a compelling perspective.' It's as though there are no surviving fragments penned by Ratio's hand and all we have to go on is through the lenses of other people. This challenges us, perhaps, to try to think about our own interpretation of Ratio since secondary sources cannot be taken as a wholly unbiased account - and once again employing the Socratic method and empowering the reader to come to their own interpretation.

While Socrates left no writing behind, he was interested in spreading knowledge. Socrates spent most of his life in Athens, a city that was, during his lifetime (~470-399 BC), a hotpot of scholars, wisemen and philosophers. Athena, the Greek god of wisdom, was named after the city - her symbol the owl that is also appropriately perched on Ratio’s shoulder. Also in Athens at this time where the sophists. The sophists were a class of intellectuals who were known to teach courses in various subjects - but often for a high fee, and generally centred around the idea that persuasion and the use of knowledge as a tool was more important than wisdom or truth itself. There's some debate about whether Socrates could be characterised as a sophist himself, but, crucially, he is characterised as refusing to take payment for his teachings. He was born a plebeian (perhaps you might describe it as a mundane background.) He was known to dress in rags and go barefoot, speaking to and (often antagonising) people from all walks of life, preferring the marketplace as a center of debate than palaces or courtrooms. I can't help but think of the sophists as similar to the genius society (or at least Ratio's depiction of them in contrast to himself), cooped up in ivory towers and gatekeeping knowledge to the most privileged. He doubts if Herta's talent is always helpful to others, he compares Screwllum to a 'monarch'. Then again, the sophists may in fact be a bit of a parallel to the Intelligentsia Guild - from Ratio, 'when someone is willing to listen to knowledge that is being disseminated and circulated, a price is created'.

Socrates (or at least the Platonic depiction of Socrates) was at one time declared the wisest man in Athens by the Oracle of Delphi. Socrates balks at this assertion - how can he possibly be the wisest man in Athens when he in fact knows nothing at all? This was not a claim made of modesty - he truly believed that he had no wisdom, that he was unsure what 'wisdom' itself even was. Ultimately, Socrates concludes that the only way that the Oracle could be correct is that by actually acknowledging that he knows nothing he paradoxically is the wisest man in Athens. All wisdom, therefore, is rooted in wondering, with wondering only possible if one is open to admitting one's own ignorance.

What I love about all of this in relation to Ratio is that Ratio styles himself as a mundanite. The Intelligensia Guild advocates that 'all knowledge must be circulated like currency' and accepts 'all beings… who seek to learn'. Ratio has no time for the satisfied self-styling of intellectualism, he himself states that 'to speak knowledge, we must first make people realise their own folly.' No one is above criticism in this regard, even himself - again, to quote 'Whenever someone agrees with me, I feel like I must be wrong.' Again, I feel as though he would resonate with Socrates here: 'Smart people learn from everything and everyone, average people from their experiences, and stupid people already have all the answers'. With Aventurine, he is quick to mock his appearance as over-the-top and vapid - once again making it clear his distate for vanity and hollow displays of showiness (albeit he may have been acting for Sunday's sake here. Also, no comment about this coming from a man who runs around in a toga, lmao) Equally, with Aventurine, it is clear that Ratio is willing to learn from him - he apologises when he offends, he abhors his methodology and yet he still relies upon it and trusts in Aventurine's plan, he is drawn to him in some ways precisely because he is so different to himself. Aventurine (at least styles himself) as impulsive to Ratio's slow and steady methodology, Aventurine whose learning has been entirely self-made vs Ratio who has spent his life in classrooms, Ratio who scoffs at Aventurine's favourite games of chance yet adds slot machines to his simulated universe. And to Socrates, the experience of aporia – in all of its discomfort and disruption – is the very catalyst of wonder, and that wonder was not just the root of wisdom but also the way to live a good and happy life. There is something beautiful in this to me, and this extends to Ratio. Ratio fundamentally cares about life. For all his brashness, his lashing out against 'idiots', his harsh demeanour - he wants people to live good lives, he wants to contribute to the good of humanity - all people, even those he is annoyed by, he cares so profoundly and absolutely about life. The entire reason why he is obsessed with wisdom and learning is not to exalt or elevate himself, not as some kind of ritualistic expression of piety towards a deity, but it is instead an expression of devotion towards life itself. Ratio has a strict work out routine not so that he can show off his body, but because living healthily is living well and working out is a component of that. Even the way he fusses and worries about Aventurine, someone he is pointedly irritated by, reveals how deeply his care runs. So so much of his character is centered on caring for life, even if it is not immediately obvious.

Finally, I'd like to highlight some ways in which Ratio is not like Socrates. First of all, Socrates was repeatedly described as 'ugly' by fellow philosophers Plato and Xenophon - this is contrast to Ratio being repeatedly described as 'handsome'. This is an interesting subversion to me (albeit likely an indulgent one) as in both cases both men attempt to distance their physical appearance from the weight of their words. Ratio wears the bust for many reasons, but way to view it is that he is attempting to stop his appearance from bearing any influence in the subject of debate.

Socrates was also said to be blessed by a divine touch, and as we know, this is something that agonises Ratio as Nous has not yet turned THEIR gaze towards him.

Lastly, Ratio has - thankfully - not yet been ordered by the state to drink hemlock for all his trouble-making and blustering. Though perhaps he may someday be put on trial by the IPC if the theories that he is working alongside Aventurine to undermine the corporation are true - we will just have to wait and see.

Thanks for reading my little ramble. I'd be super interested in anyone's thoughts if they'd like to share, but regardless, I'll leave off on some of my favourite wee quotes from the Rat man:

'Even a life marked by failure is a life worth living - it is only in moments of solitude and despair, when help is absent, that fools grasp how to pick themselves up.'

'Do stay alive. I wish you the best of luck.'

[makingspiritualityreal]

Why Saturn Makes you Bad at Doing Things

Saturn in our chart is about things we don't have an instinctive understanding of. These are things we have to work hard (as in tediously, long term) to improve. Over time, we can become meticulous and more decent at this area of our lives, but it takes time for us to get there.

Example, I have Saturn in Aquarius and it took me over 10 years to get the hang of social media, and I'm still learning. Since according to Vedic classics, Saturn is "lame" by nature, these are the areas where we end up with what we feel are initially inadequate results.

What is the reason for such a situation with Saturn?

1. Karmic delay manifesting as lack of financial physical support in your Saturn area. You simply receive the necessary basic tools to be able to accomplish anything worthwhile in this given area with a delay. Example - I have Saturn in Aquarius in the 4th, and I really care about memories and pictures and organising them on socials as a sort of virtual diary. I have been a content creator for 5 years now. I endlessly struggled with inadequate technology, poor quality gear or no gear, and lower quality content as a result. Editing only takes you so far. Tools of the trade are important.

2. Lack of external support and education, delayed access to basic support and education. Noone is going to help you in the area of your Saturn, unless you have excellent synastry with somebody. You need to learn everything by yourself from the ground up, starting from nothing, feeling like you're behind your peers. You don't know yourself in that area, so you don't know what suits you and as a result you have a delayed awareness of what is good for you.

3. Which brings me to my next point, perfectionism. Saturn is what our soul wants to perfect and master, and then release once our legacy is perfected. You will not be satisfied with mediocrity there. I have heard it countless times from people "why do you care about random pictures" well because my Saturn in the 4th wants a perfect photo diary and I want it to be organized and look good. Memories matter to me so I take them very seriously. As a result, we end up being harder on ourselves there than the average person, because we want more, and we want better. If used well, as a result of this attitude, Saturn has the potential to deliver high quality results.

4. Not fitting into trends, first because of the delayed learning process, then because you skipped on major social moments. You just don't know how to be "cool" where your Saturn is placed, because it takes time to build up that ease, and it's always with a lot of practice. As a result, you feel inadequate and lonely in that area, because your difficult experience makes it impossible to connect with your peers, who may mock you over traits of your Saturn. Over time, if Saturn is strong you can become an inspiration and a trendsetter yourself.

5. And finally, and most surprisingly so, lack of interest. The mix of karma and external circumstances and understanding of futility makes us subconsciously reject deeper involvement in the karmas of our Saturn and its Nakshatras. Example, I have Saturn in Dhanishta and I simply refuse to do anything for the sake of popularity, to impress any group, or even join a group for status. I am ready to die alone in my isolated cute house (probably because Saturn in the 4th) just to be myself. Growing up, I denied all social adherence within my family, because I believed they do everything wrong. I also denied all social adherence to the most popular people in school, finding them shallow and disgusting, and throwing their life away while I put my head to my studies and focused on my goals. As a result, my personal journey is unrelatable to most people, because few have the gumption to resist their environments so completely, few are so critical of these environments, few people choose strife, loneliness and lack, because it's the right thing to do. So you can see how our Saturn makes us subversive, denying granting people any expectation in that area and doing everything "their own way".

[kairiscorner]

ok but imagine miggy with a perfectionist/overachiever/burnt out gifted kid reader

(tw: mentions of light self-starvation, keep yourselves fed babes, you deserve to eat)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

...

summary: you really wanted to keep your number one spot, but at the cost of your well-being? miguel refuses to watch you do this to yourself any longer and takes matters into his own hands.

word count: ~1.7k

it was 2 in the morning, and you were still burning the candle at both ends. you were hard at work memorizing concepts, diagrams, easily mispronounced words and acronyms you'd never use or find useful ever again in your life unless you were on a trivia gameshow.

you were hard at work trying to understand what little was entering your mind already, a little overwhelmed by the concepts flooding your brain, but not ready to get to bed yet, out of fear someone will push you off your throne as one of the top students of the class.

you were intelligent, you had a gift; you heard those words all your life, every tine you came home with a new certificate, medal, trophy–or all three at once. you couldn't help it, school was just too easy for you back then; you could take the tests with your eyes closed and without even studying the night before.

but soon, it got harder for some reason. you originally didn't mind, you still passed with flying colors and with minimal effort–but at the cost of your sleep schedule and eating habits. you convinced yourself it was fine, it was okay, so long as you were on top.

that was all you could think of, "i just need to stay on top, then i'll be fine. nothing's better than showing them all i'm better, i'm smart, i'm... worthy of this, all this."

your mantra worked, but it worked too well that it backfired horribly.

hence, here you were, on an empty stomach that was growling, begging for you to fill it with sustenance, as the clock soon ticked to 2:15 am. the constant ticking of the clock irritating you, and thoughts of getting a digital clock to lessen distractions filled your head–ironically becoming a distraction in itself.

you groaned, you had to face it, you weren't going to get anything done at this rate. you decided to check your phone for something that might help stimulate you, maybe motivate you, even, to get back to studying.

you went online for a little, laughed at a few videos, got interested in some rabbit hole videos, found yourself singing along to some songs that you clicked on from your feed. it was peaceful.

but soon, you were greeted by a flurry of messages from your concerned friend, miguel o'hara.

you opened your latest message notification from him and read it as soon as it flashed on your screen. "what is so important that you should be up right now?" he asked.

you bit your lip as you tried to think of what to say. you knew miguel was the unyielding type of person, if you gave him a bullshit answer, you were going to get bullshit from him. you typed, erased, retyped and re-erased your message over and over again. but you finally came to the conclusion to type out, "why are you up rn?" you texted, sending him a duck emoji afterwards. he hated when you did that.

"it's 2:20 am," he argued. "correction, 2:21 in the morning," you responded. "are you even doing anything worthwhile right now? maybe rethinking which direction your life's headed before graduation?" he texted back, to which you giggled.

"you didn't answer my question," you replied, with a duck emoji again. "i was up because i saw your online status. don't think you're slick, you didn't answer my previous questions, either." he replied. "and what relevance does the duck serve in this conversation? i seriously don't understand."

you laughed aloud at his blunt answer, and in your half-tired daze, you accidentally pressed the call button. it wasn't until you heard his voice on the other end that you realized you accidentally called him.

"hello?" rang his voice from the other end, a little groggy. "um, hi." you responded as he groaned. "why the... shock are you up?" he asked, a little irritated. "we have our finals tomorrow." you replied curtly. "so? that doesn't answer my question. why are you shocking up?" he asked in a more annoyed tone as he shook off the grogginess in his voice.

"por el amor de Dios..." he muttered under his breath. you were a little taken aback by how... captivating he sounded when sleepy. a little grumpy, yes, but you felt like you could listen to his voice be like this every day. maybe you would stay up a little late just to hear him like this.

"go back to bed." he told you, trying to sound commanding. "and why would i ever do that? you know how important the finals are." you remind him. "...and how important being the top student is for me." you murmured out that last bit, to which he raised an eyebrow at.

he breathed a sigh. "i seriously can't believe you'd prioritize being a top student over giving your body a much needed break." he berated you as you hunched your shoulders, a little disappointed that he had a point. before you could say anything to retort, your stomach sided with miguel and let out a deep, rumbling whine.

the sound of your stomach complaining about how poorly you've been keeping it fed alerted miguel as he sighed yet again. "what time was it when you last ate?" he asked you, his voice soft as he tried to keep himself calm and composed.

"ah, well, maybe around... i forgot." you answered honestly. "you forgot?" he asked in a concerned voice. "you really can't live without me, huh?" he asked as you heard the shuffling of bed spreads and his big footsteps as he walked around his room. "what are you doing?" you asked him.

"more important question is where i'm going, and if you must know, i'm headed to your dorm right this–" and before he could even finish, there was a rapping of knocks on your door. you got up as you wondered if the person knocking was who you feared it was.

"–my phone died." he said in a low voice. "hope it rests in peace." you joked in a straight, nonchalant tone as miguel sighed at the bad joke. he entered your dorm without another word and set on your table the big white plastic bag he brought with him.

he didn't change out of his white shirt, dark and light blue striped pajama pants, and wore the jacket you bought for him on his birthday. "sit down." he commanded in a soft voice. "what is th–" "sit. down." he repeated himself in a more solid voice, which shut you up and got you to sit down immediately without asking any questions.

before you could get another word out of your mouth, miguel handed you an empanada. it was a little soft and limp, but it was warm. you could tell this wasn't made by just anybody. no, you recognized this style of empanda wrapping, the way it was golden brown on one side, slightly browned on the other–the abundance of meat in the filling with hardly any vegetables, just the way you liked it.

the only person who knew how to make it this way was...

"well damn, miggy, didn't think you were gonna make me anything." you said as you took a bite of the empanada. he shrugged. "i was going to give them to you today, but you were holed up in the library all day. if not the library, then in your dorm, locking yourself in your own misery." he said as he ate his helping.

you chuckled. "hey, don't laugh. i worried about you all day." he scolded you lightly with a half-full mouth. "oh. is that why you were online earlier?" you asked him, eating your empanada to satiate your starving stomach.

"i... i couldn't sleep." he admitted. "why not?" you asked him. "...a part of me thinks it was because i couldn't stop worrying about you. i didn't see you the whole day and i really, really wanted to know if you were okay. you know it kills me every time when you don't talk to me, let me know if you're alive, at least." he said as he looked up at you, his expression softening.

"oh, mig, i'm... so sorry." you said as you realized the weight of your actions, how it affected not only you, but miguel, and possibly other people who cared about you. miguel put his non-greasy hand on your cheek. "you should be." he said promptly. "but don't beat yourself up over it, you've been beating yourself every day since you were on top, not wanting to lose." he went on as he rubbed the side of your face.

"it's admirable, but please don't lose yourself over it. i think you're good enough already at second, third, or even no place at the top. you'll always have a place in my heart, that's the only thing no one can take away from you. that's the only place you'll always be number one in." he said with a small smile. "please promise me you'll take care of yourself, even if you can't accept losing once or twice or many more times in your life to someone else. i'd rather see you lose at everything but yourself. but i know you're good enough already, you don't have to overdo it anymore, okay?" he reminded you, to which you nodded and rubbed away at your eyes.

tears formed and rolled down your cheeks as he spoke, tears you never realized you were holding in, which suddenly came flooding right out when miguel talked to you. "ah... sorry." miguel apologized as he wiped away your tears with a napkin. "i promise, miguel." you sniffled out. "i'll... i'll try to take care of... myself." you promised as miguel held your face in his hands. "and if you can't... i'm right here for you. i've always got you, no matter what." he said as he kissed your forehead, a gentle and loving reminder that you can be number one at everything all you want, you already are his number one, but never forget that you have to be number one for yourself, first.

a/n: I NEEDED THIS WHEN I WAS 1 POINT AWAY FROM A 98 GENERAL AVERAGE ON MY CARD I SWEAR /cries HOPING YOU BABES LOVED THIS

tags !! @miguelswifey04

[scarletwritesshit]

⚰️ Luocha x Sunday ⚰️ Tangled in a Devil's Deal

An ashen-blue dove was entangled in thorned vines, pinned firmly against the wall. His hands and legs were tightly bound, eliminating any chance of a successful struggle. The vines wrapped around the entirety of his body, piercing every inch of his flesh with the slightest twitch of a nerve. He could not allow himself to move, not to struggle, not to readjust, lest he wanted his flesh to be sliced further.

His wings were rendered as worthless as the rest of his limbs, regardless of his movement ability. They had long since been clipped, and the feathers of his that were spared were ruffled beyond useless.

The dove was left to bleed out and die nailed to the wall by the thorns of his sin. His brief time of flight had concluded, and his heart was torn open dripping blood onto the stone floor. Robes that were once white with purity were now stained red as an eternal reminder of his fall.

His head slumped, sides of his face being scraped and cut open as it dangled. The bleeding heart dove could no longer muster the strength to keep his head up.

After his fall from grace, the only path left for him to traverse was the slow and bloody journey towards death.

In a miraculous twist of events, the attention of a wandering merchant was piqued when his white boots were stained with the splashes from the blood puddles. Luocha, this man claimed to be called, possessed the most interesting traits of long blond hair and a dastardly smug demeanor, something perhaps too familiar to an angel such as him. The healer’s garbs were nothing more than a deception, for the devil walked amongst him clad in holy white. And on a Sunday, nonetheless.

Luocha spun his golden cross necklace around his fingers and looked up at the Halovian nailed onto death’s door.

"Little birdie, you’ve found yourself in an awfully compromising position," Luocha said.

"What? Come to laugh at an angel’s fall from grace?" Sunday spat, blood rolling from the corner of his mouth.

"Laugh? I find no humor in your situation. Rather, I see this as an opportunity."

"An opportunity for what? Defiling what’s left of me with your devilish hands?"

Luocha caught the cross charm in the palm of his hand. "Quite the opposite, actually. I’m here to help you take flight once again and heal the wounds that taint your body"

"...Heal?"

"Indeed. For nothing more than a small price, of course."

"You would ask a man with a value of zero to repay you?" Sunday asked, baffled.

"Don’t let such lies escape your lips," Luocha said, reaching out the tip of his rapier to prod up Sunday’s chin. "I’m not here for what you have, but rather, what you are."

Sunday drearily looked at Luocha with what little strength he could muster.

"You’re the closest anyone has come to true Aeonhood," Luocha said, gently stroking the lid of his coffin with his free hand, "and I have a task suited to only someone of such caliber."

"You see an Aeon in this dead dove?"

"I see a dove that has yet to take flight… one that still hasn’t realized his potential."

Luocha swung his rapier aside, scraping Sunday’s throat as he allowed his head to droop once more.

"All I ask is for you to strike a deal with me to amend your wounds.”

"So I was right. You want to defile me and what my existence once stood for."

"Don’t be hasty, darling. I haven’t even had a moment to explain myself. My intentions are the exact opposite of what you presume, as I only desire to allow you to rise once again."

Sunday’s head perked up a little and he looked at Luocha with wide eyes.

"Alas, to make my sacrifice worthwhile, I need you to do my bidding for a short time," Luocha said, running his fingers along the coffin lid. "I have a… friend here, and I need an Aeon’s power to bring her back."

Sunday scoffed and fell completely silent.

"What happened to wanting to make everyone happy? Allowing yourself to die here when I am offering up my hand is the most selfish course of action you could possibly take.”

"That dream is dead, you devil," Sunday snapped with the last of his energy.

`"Little dove, why do you close your eyes to the sensible truth in front of you? Think of those who still depend on you. Think of Robin."

Right. Her. If Sunday had any reason to desperately free himself of those thorns, it would be for his beloved sister Robin. If he allowed himself to fall here, he had no other way to guarantee that this bastard wouldn’t say something to Robin that she was better off not hearing.

At the mention of her name, his wings began to flutter, and Luocha took great delight in seeing this.

"Ah. I knew that had to be enticing to you," Luocha said.

He put his palm on the coffin and it began to emit a strange green light. The vines entangled around Sunday mimicked this effect, and their hold on him gradually loosened. The thorns withdrew from his flesh, leaving now-dried bloody lacerations open across his body. With his body weak from the hefty blood loss, Sunday was rendered unable to brace himself for a fall, and so he accepted his fate of crashing into the ground once the last of the vines holding him up slithered back.

His fall was unexpectedly gentle, as Luocha held out his arm and caught the pale angel. Luocha’s grace was short lived, as he tossed Sunday down onto the ground with his back slumped against the wall.

"But before I can trust your loyalty to the deal, come forth and bow before me."

Sunday could not muster the strength to push himself forward onto his hands.

"I said bow."

Luocha grabbed his rapier once more and nudged Sunday down by the back of his head. Unable to reach out his hands to steady himself, Sunday bowed down supporting his body with his arms while Luocha kept him firmly in place with his rapier pointed at his throat.

"A soul for a soul is a fair exchange, wouldn’t you agree, little dove?" Luocha said, prodding his throat.

"Ngh…I have just...one request before I can agree to being in your service," Sunday coughed.

"I gave you life, what more could you possibly ask for?"

"...I beg of you, do not allow my sister to see how far I have fallen."

"Perhaps...if I am feeling a bit generous, I’ll spare her the pathetic sight of her brother kneeling to me in submission."

[achillesreborn]

my tips for uni! <3

psa: whilst I am both loving & succeeding at my university, I am by no means a perfect student or top of my classes; take everything I say with a pinch of salt & realism <3

attendance is everything; this is incredibly hypocritical of me, as my current attendance is really low (mental health & sads mostly), but if there's one thing i've learned it's that nothing can quite match the feeling of a lecture hall. even if you're not taking notes or plan on catching up later, go to the lectures. at least you'll get out of the house for a bit!

stay on top of work; fairly obvious, but so important. with the increased workload, keeping up with lectures & assignments can be really overwhelming. schedule yourself, give yourself breaks & try to complete everything before the deadline to minimise stress. but remember, late work is better than no work.

take care of yourself. seriously. not just skincare & smoothies, actually look into who you are & what keeps you going. take the time to understand what you enjoy, what calms you down & what keeps you focused. sometimes self care isn't easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is.

try not to obsess over what comes next. univeristy is a short time, mostly 3-4 years for the average student, but that time is so intense that it'll feel like forever. your school wants you to succeed after you graduate, it looks bad when you don't, so talk to your academic advisors & professors, but don't panic.

push yourself to make friends. it isn't easy, it can be really hard to get yourself out there, but attend some clubs you find interesting & fake that extrovertism until you make it. trust me, the loneliness & isolation has driven away plenty of incredibly competent & strong students. be kind to those you meet, you might be the only one trying.

keep a diary & an academic planner. the planner to stay up to date, to structure your life, but the diary for rambling, venting, poetry, etc. get it out of your head, it might help you sleep. be vulgar, be messy. it's yours & yours alone.

sleep is vital, protect it. it'll be the first thing to go, so be strict with yourself whenever possible.

you're better than you think. struggling is normal & the worst thing you can do is pretend you're not. ♡♡

[thingsseenandheard]

Okay well I don't know what else to do with it and this blog is here for the express purpose of me being very normal about Cazador so here's my preliminary Cazador narrative voice scene. It's the first one I've written oriented towards him so I'm very much still developing his character & what I want his narrative voice to sound like, this was a fun little exersize <3. More notes at the end because I've changed some things about his backstory prior to all of this.

TW For Cazador and Vellioth in general, and for suggestions of torture & sexual violence. Caz gets slapped, but nothing else is explicit.

.

Cazador knows this game well, and he stands stock still while the drow matron circles him. He is being appraised both physically and mentally. She is searching for weakness, searching for a reason to either keep or to discard him. Malnourished, dirty, and mute as he is, he hopes she will decide he has nothing worthwhile to offer her, and she will have him killed. Cazador is familiary with how male drow are treated, and he has no desire to see it firsthand.*

"He would be pretty, if he was cleaned up a bit..." the matron says, "Perhaps I shall keep him for a time."

She is smiling in a serene manner that reminds him of Vellioth. Her white hair flows in waves, there is a soft sort of threat in her pale blue eyes, not unlike the way his Master looks at him.

Finally, she touches him. Her hand comes up and brushes his hair back behind his ear, gently trails over his jaw and throat, and then draws back to strike him across the face. His head snaps to the side, but he does not react. No, Cazador knows better. He is familiar with this game, too. One of Vellioth's favourites.

The rules are simple: Don't react. No matter what she does, he will be silent - though he doens't have a choice there - he will be a blank slate. If he cracked too quickly, Vellioth's punishment would be infinitely worse because he was weak. He would be punished for speaking out of turn if he begged, though thankfully, Vellioth's compulsion prevents him from making a sound now.

Cazador has had plenty of practise being a blank slate, so when the matron orders her slaves to undress him, and she herself begins to unwrap her dress, he remains still and docile. Fighting would only make it worse.

.

*I am changing this to him being familiar with how male drow are treated because Vellioth sent him to the Underdark for a time to serve another drow matron he knew - and I am toying with the idea of it being the same drow matron who held Halsin captive but I am as yet undecided on that - so he has already seen how male drow are treated firsthand, which really only adds to the abject horror of the whole situation for him, because he knows exactly what is coming and he knows that presently, there is virtually nothing he can do to escape it. It's this or Vellioth, and I think he believes that this is going to be a little bit less horrific than whatever Vellioth has in store.

I also want to add to this because I hadn't really put much thought into Cazador's weird thing about hair before I wrote it so I think his reactions to her touching his hair could be a lot more interesting.

[olsenmyolsen]

Content

Part 1 of On The Inside With Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: ~1.2K

masterlist

Y/N POV

"You just don't get it, Y/N. I'm tired. I am tired of coming home every single day and pretending to love you."

And just like that, I shoot up from my nightmare. Is it still a nightmare if you don't have dreams anymore, and the hell actually happened? I look myself over, and yep me, and my oversized white t-shirt are covered in sweat. I reach over, unplug my phone and look at the time 6:16 am. Greeaaaaat. I groan in frustration and shovel myself out of bed. I don't bother showering because what's the point of it all? Nothing says content like living with depression.

By the time I throw on my flannel, jeans, white vans, and make it out of my studio apartment, it's already 6:45. Just in time to rush to the train.

I don't mind the ride into the city. I keep to myself, so no one usually bothers me plus, you make it easier when you have the entire phone and airpod set going on, and it's New York, so people know how to handle themselves.

Right now, I'm trying to keep up to date on whatever news Twitter News thinks I'll enjoy. As I scroll down the feed, I spot something of interest. An article titled:

MCU STAR ELIZABETH OLSEN SPOTTED LEAVING SET OF THE DOCTOR STRANGE SEQUEL CRYING AND YELLING AT...

"Max lives for this kind of stuff." I awkwardly state out loud.

I wasted no time and sent it to my best friend and co-worker, Max. As I continue scrolling and scrolling, I find myself struggling to stay awake. So I close out of Twitter, open Spotify, and play my angsty/pop 2000s hits playlist. Nothing like Gives You Hell by The All American Rejects to start your morning.

Thirty minutes of songs later, a stop at Penn Station, and a ten-minute walk, I've finally made it to my place of work. Working in a coffee shop isn't for everyone, but it calls to me even on my days off; I find myself here... Like today.

As I enter our small coffee shop, I notice how it is filled to the brim. Is this normal? No. But days like these make the cash tips worthwhile, especially when Max is busting her ass on bar. Her red hair tied up into two buns with the coffee-stained graphic tee combo is always one of my favorite looks.

Max spots me as I shimmy my way to the employees-only section and playfully rolls her eyes. I reach down, grab my tips from the previous days of work and shove the amount, however much it is, into my pocket.  Max walks by me to throw some pitchers into the back.

"It's been nonstop."  Max tells me.

"How fun!" I cheerfully respond, earning a disgusted look from Mad Max.

"Excuse me! Sorry-Sorry Excu-. I just have to make my way! Please-sorry!" The plead from a struggling customer catches our attention.  Max walks back to the front to continue on drinks as that one customer squeezes her way to the register. To Alec.

Alec is one of our newer employees, and he's not bad, but I can tell this type of day is stressing him out.

Customer

Before Alec can even greet or remind the customer that there is a whole system of ordering called 'waiting in line,' she speaks. Now it's a little hard to hear over the people, music, and espresso machine, but I do manage to catch what she says:

"Hi, I'm really sorry, but I placed a pick-up order yesterday for checks watch twenty minutes ago, and I can't afford to wait any longer. So if I could just pay for it, pick it up, and go, that would be very helpful."She smiles, but I can tell she's not messing around. I look from her to Alec, and oh no, he's a deer in headlights. Max notices and looks back at me. I nod and head over.

Alec seems to get the message and backs up as I creep my way onto the register.

"Hey, so I understand you have an order with us?" I state, putting on my best face as I pull out a binder of call-ahead to-go orders. "Do you remember what the order or the name on the order was?"

"Yes. The order name was Liz." She proudly says. Though I can't see her eyes, I feel like I'm being looked all over.

I shuffle through our orders, and sure enough, three down, Liz. "Okay, order for Liz. 6 94oz coffee boxes, two boxes of a dozen croissants..." The more I read the order, the bigger my eyes get. I can't believe this! "And lastly, one vegan chocolate chip cookie." Liz gets a big toothy grin at the vegan cookie bit. "Anything else?"

Liz doesn't immediately respond and is smiling, caught in her own world.

"Liz?" I lean in.

"Huh? No, thank you!" She quickly responds as if embarrassed.

"Alright, well, slide your card when ready." I say in a less than enthused manner. I look to the other two around me. Max mouths 'what the fuck' as Alec, bless his soul, is trying his hardest to grab everything for this order. Man, this dude is really trying to impress this Liz chick.

I hear the chirp of the receipt printing. I tear it out and hand it over to Liz. "If you could just sign it at the bottom and no pressure to leave a tip, but it doesn't kill to be nice."

"Couldn't agree more." Liz says as she grabs a pen and marks on the paper. I'm too busy watching Alec struggle that by the time I turn back, Liz is gone. And the customer behind her is not a happy one.

Even though I shouldn't have, I helped with the morning rush. A part of me knows I did it because the thought of being stuck inside my house is a death sentence, and anything to take my mind off Naomi helps.

Once the dust settles, Max rushes over and gives me a huge bear hug.

"Oh my god. Thank you, thank you, thank you! You saved us today!" Max finally pulls out of the hug.

"For real, thanks, Y/N! And sorry, I kinda froze out there it's just once I saw who-"  Alec begins what I can only assume is a ridiculous apology.

"No worries, man. It happens to the best of us." As I make my way past him and onto the other side of the counter, I give him a thumbs up. He gives a shaky one back.

"Hey, did you see that article I sent you?" I ask Max.

"Oh shit, not yet. But are we still on for a movie tomorrow night? Maybe I can finally get you to watch the MCU?" Max holds her hands up as if she's praying.

"The MC - Who?" I sarcastically ask.

"The MCU!- Oh, you're fucking with me. Very funny, Y/N!"

"Always am!" I give Max a cheeky smile before plopping myself down at my favorite table. Oatmilk Latte in hand.

Part 2

[astralnymphh]

idk for what it's worth, i absolutely love how you're able to use "fancy" descriptive words of all kinds—it gives your work a unique and recognizable touch, while also being so interesting and gorgeously written. maybe that's because i read constantly so am used to "wordier" content, but it's your style and that's wonderful!!

there's two distinct sides to this coin— some people understand and enjoy it, while others understand and can draw attention to the fact that it can be gibberish, even if in the moment it makes sense in my head, that doesn't mean it will a couple hours later. of course, I will never give up being "wordy" as it has built the foundation of my writing style, I just have to put some actual structure in between. prioritizing creativity over intellect is so important, but that can get misinterpreted/misrepresented in a way that mistakes the constant use of big booty terms for being creative. the best pieces are the ones that use simple terms naturally/as the backbone and use bigger words tastefully/cleverly at a minimum. that's my takeaway. actually, I've always thought that I just forget my own mottos 😭

either way, as long as you've enjoyed it, I find the time spent worthwhile, so thank you for telling me. nothing to dwell on. just something to grow from!

[2hoothoots]

First of all, congrats on destroying the BIG TOP! So to speak. (I'd ask if you could give it to me but they haven't invented that technology yet). Secondly, since you asked for Asks, what got you so into Norma as a character? I wanna compare and contrast. :V

hahaha THANK YOU! some day modern medicine will unlock the secret to equivalent exchange… some day

anyway, great ask because i Always have stuff to say about Norma. putting it under the cut for length (although to be fair, if you don’t want to see lengthy impassioned essays about Norma i’m not really sure why you’re following me in the first place)

first of all: i unapologetically like women who kinda suck. listen, okay, listen, i absolutely understand that the line between “fun to dislike” and “just obnoxious” is different for everyone but Norma falls entirely on the fun side for me. from her very first appearance, she’s so unnecessarily petty and snarky and competitive with this ten-year-old she literally just met, and i can’t lie i just find it incredibly entertaining. and also, y’know, i think she sucks but in a way that’s ultimately harmless and also so believable. she’s not a terrible person, she’s just a shitty teenager. i’m a Norma apologist, not in the “she did nothing wrong <3” way but the “yeah she’s mean but that’s what’s interesting about her” way. give me more female characters who are complicated and unlikable and make bad decisions!

secondly: she’s a shitty obnoxious know-it-all teenager, and boy, do i relate! maybe part of this is filling in the gaps and part of it is projection, but i look at her and i see someone with the compulsive need to “win” every conversation and prove they’re the smartest person in the room; someone who clings to their model student status because deep down they’re afraid it’s the only worthwhile trait they have, the single thing that makes them anything more than a useless waste of space with no friends and no redeeming qualities. characters who are jerks or bullies are really interesting to dive into for me, because there’s always something underneath that. Norma’s combination of annoying pretentiousness and deep insecurity is really compelling to me, and a lot of it is because i see my younger self in her. i feel like i really grok her as a character, and because of that i find her interesting to explore and write for!

thirdly, the big thing that drew me to her the same as it did the other interns was, ironically, their lack of screentime. PN2 has one too many ensemble casts, and individual development for some of the characters feels rushed, and i am first in line saying i wish we’d gotten more intern content. but what we did get was just enough to pull me in and hook me on the characters. the game left me wanting more, and honestly that’s what drove me to write so much fic of the intern cast in the first few months after release. they were so charming and felt so underutilised and i was desperate for more from them – and at the same time, because they had fairly little screentime they made a great starting point to develop further with headcanons and filling in the blanks and just turning them over in my head and imagining what could have been. what really gets my creative juices flowing is taking something from canon and building on it with my own stuff (which is also why i’ve gotten so invested in the future AU!), and the interns all have such strong concepts and starting points while also giving a lot of freedom to develop them and flex my own creative muscles.

like, i was thinking about why i never really got into the psychic 7 in the same way, and i think it does just come down to them being more fleshed-out characters in comparison. which feels so funny to say, haha – i love the old people’s club, they’re great, but i never latched onto them like i did the interns, and i think it’s because they don’t have the same fill-in-the-blanks potential. we get to learn about their backstories in pretty great detail, we get to explore 6/7 of their minds, and they all feel very succinctly developed but in a way that ties a bow pretty neatly on most of their characters. we learn so much less about any of the interns in comparison, but those unanswered questions just end up tickling my creative brain that much more. there’s a theory that people engage in transformative fanwork to give them the kind of engagement they didn’t get from the canon, and i think that’s definitely true here! maybe there’s an alternative universe out there where we got way more intern content and i never ended up writing any fics with them in, hahaha

[smolvenger]

(Not) Alone On Christmas (Bucky x Trans! Masc! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: Buckys about to spend a holiday by himself. You run to him with a proposition: you need a fake boyfriend for Christmas Day. But don't worry, it's all gonna be fake hahaha...unless?...

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of drinking and of children, Reader's family not using the right pronouns but Bucky corrects them. Fake Dating.

A/N: Hi there, @riley-writes!!! Tis I!!! Your secret Satna for @startrekkingaroundasgard's Holiday Fic Exchange! Just want to say, thanks to @riley-writes for helping me out bc I am not a trans person and for the HUGE help in getting the details right! Also thanks to @jamesbuckybarns for all the ideas about this fic, many of which made it to this final draft! I hope y'all like it! Here is a link to the song featured in the fic

COMMENTS, REBLOGS, AND ASKS ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED!!!

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My Etsy Shop for Comfort Character Letters and Playlists

My Ao3

BUCKY’S POV

“No, you earned the chance to have Christmas in Paris!” Bucky insisted.

Sam laughed at the other end of the line.

“It’s been Sarah’s dream to see Paris since she was a kid and why shouldn’t the boys go too? They were hopping up and down when they got the news. So…are you sure you won’t mind me traveling?”

Bucky shook his head, the phone hot against his ear.

“You should go, Sam…when was the last time you had a genuine break? You’ve been saving all our asses for months!” he replied.

“Guess you’re right. The shield’s heavy in more ways than one…” Sam admitted.

Bucky began to pace around his apartment. He then glanced out at the window. It was freezing cold and grey, but no snow. And Christmas was in about a week!

“Go spend Christmas in Paris with your family Sam, you earned it.”

“And you’ll be okay? No more of that Hydra or Winter Soldier crap, alright? Nothing, I repeat, nothing that will make me fly back there?!? This is my vacation we’re talking about!” Sam asked.

“It will all be fine!”

“Please, I don’t want to babysit any more Super Soldiers!”

“But I’m your best one!”

“You have a point. And for once the wizards and aliens have stopped and…I wouldn’t mind having an actual French croissant…”

“Go spend Christmas in France and don’t feel the need to babysit us…” Bucky insisted.

“Thanks Buck.”

“Thanks Sam.”

“I’ll get you a souvenir…”

“Get me French Wine and we’ll call it a deal.”

“Alright, man. Deal- I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay, bye.”

He hung up the phone. He was glad Sam could go but it meant…the holidays alone. Truly, truly alone. Not that Bucky minded solitude or didn’t find worthwhile moments when he was by himself.

It just hit different on a holiday like Christmas.

He gave out a sigh. He should mention this to his therapist.

He remembered the old Christmases in Brooklyn. Steve’s mom would bake him a small version of his favorite pie. You could hear people’s Christmas records sometimes as you walked by apartments. He and Steve would pelt each other with snowballs. They’d walk around New York admiring beautiful decorations and hot chocolate was worth an extra penny to spend on for the warmth around your hands.

He looked down on his own…Well…both of his hands at the time.

As he slid down to the couch to turn on the tv, he heard a desperate knock at the door. Fear hit his stomach and he slowly walked, metal arm ready, to see who it was. He opened the door and poked his head through, just to check. Then his muscles relaxed and he swung it wide open.

It wasn’t an enemy. Not at all. It was Y/N.

But he was not looking chipper as usual, but desperate.

Reader’s POV

“You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend!?” Bucky cried, hands on his hips

“Yes! Please!” you begged, sitting on the couch.

 The Hallmark Christmas movie that was turned out was drowned away to the more interesting, real drama between you both. You even folded your arms and looked up at him, like a puppy.

“All because your relatives are trying to set you up with some other guy?” Bucky tried to recall.

“Yes! Bobby! He’s the actual worst! So damn annoying. I hear his voice and lose brain cells, and not in a good way. He won’t even say my pronouns. Refer to the dead ones. Like he’s in love with the dead me and not the me me!  And he’s going to be there all day at Christmas at my family’s house! I just know he’s going to ask me out in front of everyone!  Please, Bucky- I’ll pay you if you need!” you said, reaching in your pocket to get your wallet.

“No, it’s just…it’ll feel a bit weird…”

“Not as weird as shoving this guy who’s going to be there and force me to date him?!? No sir- I’d rather it be you there! Besides, if you were there-Bobby would stay away. He’ll respect you. He and everyone else will think I am taken! It’s just for Christmas, I swear!” you insisted, shaking your head.

You saw him smile. You didn’t want to admit it, but Bucky had the most handsome smile you had ever seen. You clasped your hands together on your lap and bounced your leg as he paced, awaiting his response.

“Alright. I’ll do it. Sam’s gone- might as well spend the holiday with you.”

You let out a sigh of relief and a hundred thank you Bucky and you’re the best friend ever, Bucky.

In a flurry of baking and shopping and movie re-watching and carol blasting, Christmas Day and the big Family gathering arrived.

BUCKY'S POV

He initially didn’t know if he wanted to accept.

But which was better: another holiday watching the newer movies and ones he had seen tons of times before and hearing the same songs about togetherness while alone…or having company? And above all, in Y/N’s presence…

Bucky was a lonely man. That was, until he met you. But you had a whole family, and he did not. Maybe he could turn away but seeing as how you were about to wrap your knuckles on the door on a bitter cold Christmas afternoon, it was too late.

Here he was, awkwardly standing at the door holding macaroni and cheese- the warmth still radiating to where he felt it in one hand and under his chin. How would they react? As you were hugging your cousins and parents and aunts and uncles, he was still eyeing everything carefully as if it was a battlefield of it’s own.

As he gingerly stepped in, he found himself ducking and looking around, maybe to make himself smaller, less of a target. Eyes immediately turned to him.

“Guys, this is my boyfriend- James Barnes! But you can call him Bucky!” you introduced with a grand sweep of your arms and a cheesy, circus-performer sized smile.

“Oh, Y/N! You finally have a boyfriend! Wonderful!” your mom cheered.

Bucky nodded his head with a shy smile as “hellos” were exchanged. Once he put the macaroni on the kitchen counter- already the building was warm from all the cooking- and shook every hand he could, he went to the corner coat rack.

He took off his coat and then carefully put his gloves in his pocket. Once his gloves were off, the little children of the family looked at the undeniably metal arm. They gathered in wide eyed curiosity at it.

“What’s that? Why is it metal?” one little boy asked.

You had just gotten a drink to await the lunch and were sipping at it while watching.

“I, uh, had an accident and I lost it. So, I got it replaced,” he answered.

It was technically the truth after all. They didn’t need to know the details about Hydra.

“Can I touch it?” one little girl asked, her brown eyes getting bigger.

“Sure…”

She poked it, feeling how cold and solid it felt to her fingers.

“Wooooaaahhhh!”

“Can I touch it? Can I??” they all asked like meercats sticking their noses up in the air.

They followed him as he went to the kitchen to get his plate of appetizers and then plopped onto the couch. Out of the corner of his eyes were more of the younger kids. Their parents brought them their activity books, knowing that there would be a lot of “grown up” talking when it wasn’t present time. One bold little girl crawled up to him.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“You can call me Bucky…” he said gently.

Her eye went to the inevitable- his arm.

“Bucky- your arm is so cool!? Can I put stickers on it!” she asked.

You nearly snorted out your drink, putting a hand to your mouth to keep from laughing. She ran over, picked up her activity books, and returned.

“Uh…yeah, sure.” He replied.

Other kids ran up with their activity books and sticker pages insisting the same. Before long, his whole arm was surrounded by strawberries, cats, big eyed Disney cartoons, dinosaurs, and glittery planets (one of the kids was going through a space phase). One boy laughed a little, but they all admired him.

The first little girl said, “it makes your arm even prettier!”

Pretty? Huh…he never thought of it that way…

“Thank you- what do you think, Y/N?” Bucky asked, turning to you.

You smiled at it.

“It does make your arm look pretty, Bucky!” you confirmed with a nod of your head.

READER’s POV

Oh gah, there was something different about the way he was looking at you- what were you to do? Why did it make you feel those things? No- nonononono. You had to focus. You had to survive this day. Your stomach was grumbling and the cheese and crackers you stuffed in your mouth were digested already. How long until the meal and presents so you could make the quickest exit out?

The doorbell rang and you felt your cup shake in your hands.

“Come in, Bobby!” your mom greeted cheerfully.

Dang it, why can’t it just be family and not his stupid face? You cursed silently.

There was a sudden swing of the door and Bobby was there, the guy your parents wanted you to be with. Ugh, Bobby may be an engineer with money and an apparent obsession with a version of you, but he looked and acted the exact opposite of your type. And the fact your parents wouldn’t stop singing his praises even though Bobby quietly engaged your fight or flight response immediately.

“Hey there! What’s up! Merry…” Bobby’s stupid, obnoxious voice was cut off at the sight of a certain handsome, well-built man with short dark hair and a metal arm.

“And who exactly are you?” Bobby asked with fake politeness.

You stood up, downing the rest of your drink, and smiling wickedly.

“Oh, you haven’t met my boyfriend yet!” you exclaimed, putting an emphasis on the last word.

Bobby’s lips tightened. You walked forward to Bucky.

“Here is the best boyfriend in the world- Bucky Barnes!”

You threw your arms around him and gave him a peck on the cheek and Bucky smiled. Just enough for Bobby to nod in frustrated respect and defeated acknowledgement.

“I brought green bean casserole…” he said, lifting the red dish with tinfoil over the cover.

“Oh, good! Take it to the kitchen!” Bucky insisted, gesturing there.

Bobby stomped away. He only stayed twenty minutes to drink a soda, drop off two lumpy Christmas presents, and chat around. He then said he had a bad stomachache and left.  Bucky looked at you and you gave him a small wink. From behind, you gave him a small high five.

BUCKY’S POV

Since that asshole had left, you were practically glowing. You were smiling- huh, what a smile. Bucky thought. It made his stomach flutter when you smiled. And you were laughing too among your cousins. Not that fake laugh to flatter someone’s bland joke. No, this was real, happy, belly laughter. Your laughter, your voice. It had been in his head. Bucky spent Christmas Eve secretly counting down the hours until this. Yes, it was a test and charade. But it meant…he could spend more time with you.

What was this? Obsession? Lonleiness? Or maybe…maybe it was…

“Hey Bucky!” your dad called out.

Then your dad approached Bucky as he shook away the thoughts from his head, back to Planet Earth. The dad placed a hand on his shoulder and began to speak.

“You know…when the time comes for Y/N’s birthday or if you stick around for next Christmas…could you help me find a right Christmas gift for her?”

“Him” Bucky corrected.

He sighed and shook his head but then took in another inhale.

“I mean, a gift for him.”

Bucky shrugged. “Of course!”

Suddenly, there was aloud, shrill beep from the kitchen timer. He heard your mothers voice ring out just like the Church bells would in Brooklyn on that snowy, holiday morning.

“Dinner’s ready! Wash your hands and get plates, everyone!”

READER’S POV

There was a lack of ham on your plate. Ham was your favorite thing to eat on Christmas and apparently it was everyone else’s. When you finally reached it, there wasn’t that many left. But your parents knew there would be a multitude and so a second ham was placed in the oven to bake. After eating your pitiful slice and enjoying some side dishes, you could get some more.

“Is there anything I could do for you?” your aunt Lydia asked.

She was standing up and eyeing everyone else’s plates.

“Oh yeah- I got my fill of Mac and Cheese, but I’d like some of the ham, please,” you asked.

There was the sound of the mixer like a power drill and then it paused.

“What?” You heard your mom from the kitchen. Her apron was splattered with the cookie batter she was mixing.

Aunt Lydia went over to the corner, the threshold of dining room and kitchen, cupping her mouth.

“Hey! Y/N just said she wants some ham!!”

Your lips went tight, and you placed both hands on your green plastic cup, face lowering down. Your shoulders bunched up to your ears. You wished you were a tortoise and had a shell to vanish inside.

Bucky stood up and walked to the aunt, hands in his pocket.

You perked your head out of your cup. Bucky gave a quiet, angry look. Maybe the Winter Soldier was never truly gone after all, you thought.

“He wants some ham,” he corrected her.

“HE wants some ham,” your aunt repeated with a little sigh.

“Thank you, there you go!” Bucky said, even giving a little bow.

He walked over to you.

“Thank you, you see, it’s so awkward and I hate it…” you whispered.

“Anytime.”

“She always makes me feel like less of a man…” you confessed into his ear.

He took your hand with his own flesh one and squeezed it.

“Listen, you are a man. No one can take that, okay? I don’t see some faker in front of me- I see a real, genuine man. So why can’t you see that in yourself too?” he whispered.

“Okay…” you whispered back.

When you realized eyes were on you both again, but blinking in ignorance of what was said, you gave Bucky another peck on the cheek and returned to your seats.

You finally got your ham helping. All was going smoothly even when it was time for dessert.

“Dear, would you like some cheesecake?” Bucky asked loud enough for any relative to hear.

“Sure thing, love!” you answered with a practiced smile.

Once he gathered a plate with cheesecake on it, as well as a plate for you, everyone’s head at the table was turned towards the two of you. The other twenty side conversations were dropped.

“Oh, so you’re the Prince Charming, eh?” an uncle asked.

In the back, one could hear your mom turning on the Christmas Playlist but adjusting the volume so it wouldn’t overpower any conversations.

“Yes, I am!” he said plainly.

“How did you two meet?” your father asked.

“Uh…it was…” Bucky began, he squinted his eyes and scratched the back of his head.

“We met at a bar. Bucky’s good friend is Captain America right now and there was a segment on him on the tv. So, I bought him a drink and asked him more and then next thing I knew, we were dating!” you piped in quickly.

That was all true. It was nerve wracking how Bucky would take your new gender and new identity. Especially concerning the truth of what time period he actually came from. But you had struck gold. He managed to let you talk and explain it, and always referred to you as who you were.

Maybe he would really be like that if we were really dat-

The thought made you pause before you could swallow your bite.

No, no, noononononono! You thought. Get that thought out of your head now Y/N! You got to focus! You got to make it through to the end!

“So you really know Captain America!?” an aunt asked excitedly.

“Both of them. Don’t want to talk about the middle one. Long story short, John Walker wasn’t a good guy.” Bucky explained.

“But that’s so cool! Both Steve Rogers and now Sam! What are they like?” a cousin asked.

You scooped up some of the caramel drizzle on your plate with the edge of your fork.

“They’re both the bravest men I know,” Bucky answered.

“And how did you meet Steve?”

He froze a little, his forkful of cheesecake still down on his plate, yet to be eaten. Bucky’s face became paler, and his jaw hung in mid-air.

“Uh-“

“Brooklyn, wasn’t it?! You were in Brooklyn when you met him!” you said quickly.

Again, not a lie. Just certain details had to be censored.

“Yes, I was in Brooklyn when I met Steve!” Bucky agreed, playing along.

“You’re so lucky, always wanted to see New York City! Just must pick the right time when it isn’t being attacked by something…” another cousin sighed.

Then the Playlist switched to some instrumental. It began dreamily with some bells playing a twinkly tune. And then a jazzy melody was picked up by some horns and a female singer. Bucky perked up.

“Hey! That’s ‘Santa, Bring My Mommy Back To Me!’” he commented excitedly.

“Really, you know that one?” your mom asked.

“Yeah, I remember I heard it when it first came-“

Your eyes went big, and you whipped your head, dipping into a fake cough to interrupt it. Then you turned to him with a stiff, forced smile as a warning. Bucky stopped himself from blowing his cover.

“You heard the record, right?” you corrected.

“Uh yeah, my mom bought a record and would play it at Christmas,” he confirmed.

If there was a dime for every half-lie you told at desert, you were on your way to becoming rich.

“My Bucky here loves all the oldies. Just like his parents did. It’s so relaxing to listen to!” you boasted, patting his back.

“Well, I like some oldies too! They bring such a nice, classy feeling to every event!” your mom agreed.

You let out a steady exhale through your nose. Bucky bit into his cheesecake.

BUCKY’S POV:

“Can we pleeeeease open our presents now!!!!” one kid begged, hopping up and down in his chair.

“Oh, alright! C’mon everyone- let’s open some presents!” your dad invited, throwing his arms up.

The kids cheered and ran over there. Adults cleared their plates and followed them right after. There was much violent delight in kids squealing and ripping open papers. Even that innocent greed flashed in the eyes of all the adults. Present by present under the tree was passed around and opened. Some to enthusiasm, some with just a polite smile. You and Bucky sat on the couch, holding hands when you weren’t opening a gift.

Your parents then reached and got a red and white box with a bow under the tree.

“Here Bucky…we don’t know you well yet, so it was hard to pick a gift but…we hope you like it!” your dad wished.

Bucky blinked and then opened the gift. How long had it been since he had an actual gift given to him? As he opened the little green bag and looked inside, he saw it was a bunch of new socks his size, a wad of cash, and a little bag full of homemade cookies.

“We know it’s not much, but-“

He waved his hand, shaking his head.

“No, it’s not! It’s perfect! Thank you!”

Your parents both smiled warmly at him.

It struck him. This was just as comfortable as he could be with Sam and his family. He felt safe. Very safe. Too safe in fact.

Once you let go to hand out your gifts to your family, you realized Bucky felt incredibly warm he felt, head to toe. You were a foot away, but he already missed you.

READER’S POV:

Goodbyes were said, empty dishes and presents collected and stuffed into the car, and as you turned the key, you drove back to your place. Once you both walked inside and set all the stuff down, you let out a big sigh and laugh.

“Holy shit, that was something! But I could use some hot chocolate after that- want some, Bucky?” you offered.

“Of course,” he replied.

 You poured milk into a stove and turned it on to medium.

“They’re nice, but your Aunt Lydia is…something else” he commented.

“You can say she’s a bitch, Buck.” You confessed.

“Alright- she’s a bitch!” he said with a shrug.

That did make you laugh. Despite his sad past, so much about him made you…just smile and laugh. Naturally.

You returned with two steaming mugs and turned on a Holiday movie you liked and could watch while it was still the season (only six more hours to go!).

“Well, thought I would need this earlier- let’s not waste it,” Bucky said,

He reached into the pocket of his pants and got out a mini size bottle of vodka, dumping it into his mug. Apparently, you could take the Super Soldier from Russia, but you couldn’t take Russia from the Super Soldier.

Both of you clinked your mugs and took the first drink.

“Wait a minute…Bucky! Your arm!” you pointed and let out a laugh.

As Bucky looked down, he realized that he had forgotten that the stickers were still on there. As the movie played on and your laughter cooled down, you peeled it off of him, one by one, and tossed them aside.

“By the way…Y/N, are you doing anything on New Year’s?” he asked.

“Eve or day?” you asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied.

You put a hand around the handle and another on the mug to feel the warmth.

“New Year’s Eve, my family usually throws a party…” you answered.

“Then let’s go! We can fake this again- it’s not too bad! It’s kind of fun, this danger of being caught. We’ll survive it!” he suggested.

You shook your head.

“No, no not really!”

“Why?” Bucky asked.

“It’s not that you’re a good fake date- it’s that…I…I’m busy…” you told him.

He took a larger drink of it. His face was turning a bit pink from the warmth. The movie blared on as a familiar carol was being played in its score.

“Oh…what do you have?” he asked.

You set your mug down and rubbed your hands together slowly.

“It’s…it’s uh…I’ve been planning this for months and I finally got the money to…I’m getting top surgery New Year’s Day,” you confessed.

“WHAT? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I wasn’t sure it goes through! And a million things can go wrong in the surgery and I didn’t want to make anyone too unrealistically hopeful- least of all myself! And I have a right not to tell you every last bit about my life!” you protested.

It’s not like we’re dating or anything…yet why did that thought make you sad?

“So yeah- super occupied! And I gotta get ready for life after, it’s gonna be tough…

“Oh, I just thought…

‘Thought what?”

“Thought you’d need a fake date again,”

You shook your head.

“No, not really…not any other upcoming things I can think of. But I’ll let you know..”

“Alright by me” he said, taking a bug gulp of his spiked hot chocolate.

Something was boiling, bursting inside him. He set the hot chocolate down.

“I need to go outside…”

“You can, Buck,” you replied.

Buck, Buck- Buck. Buck! His name getting shorter, smaller...cuter. As if James was too much and now Bucky was too much. Making it smaller, smaller-smaller to where he could only be held and embraced not as a lion but as a kitten. It was too much for him to bear. He stormed outside.

You sat there. Your stomach churning. He wasn’t a smoker. And your apartment didn’t feel stuffy at all. No, something was up- you put on your coat and followed him out.

Right as you opened the door, you noticed that it was dark now. Outside, there was a steadfast snow. No gusts were blasting it into your face, it was gentle. A lot, but gentle. You saw that Bucky had walked outside enough to where you could see his footsteps and saw the top of his head was covered in snowflakes.

“Bucky…Bucky, please!” you called out.

He turned to you, his face was red but his eyes were soft.

“What…what is it…”

You wanted to hear him say it.

“I…I feel…”

“What do you feel?”

“Mad!”

“Why mad, what have I done?”

“Nothing! No! I guess-just…I’m frustrated, that’s all.”

“Why…what’s making your frustrated?”

You felt as if the floor would give out from beneath you. He walked closer to you, blinking a little. He brushed the snowflakes from your hair.

No, it couldn’t be…were you being too hopeful…

“Do you know what about your surgery makes me frustrated? The fact that you hid it from me? IT’s not that you hid it at all…it’s just it means so much to you. That I’m not…not special enough that…you can’t even trust me with it…”

He paused, swallowing.

“I don’t want to sit on the sides as you go  through this- I want to be there with you!”

Your breath was knocked out of you. You felt the snow fall on your head, the arms of your coat, your eyelashes, like small, gentle kisses from the sky. Yet you didn’t dare let your eyes leave his.

“Why? Is it because…because…” your voice trailed off, getting quieter and quieter.

“It’s because…I want to be a part of your life, Y/N. I want to be there for you, for all the moments…that’s why…that’s why I asked about your family…that’s why I agreed to pretend to be with you, why I wanted to do it again…”

“Because you really do want to be my boyfriend?” you asked.

He was still, his eyes still blinking.

“I…uh…uhm…yes. Yes, I do.”

You opened your hand, offering it. With both- flesh and metal- he took yours.

“Then…let’s be boyfriends. For real.”

“Okay…”

“But one thing you gotta do- my arms are gonna hurt like a bitch after this top surgery. You’ll have to take me to the hospital and help me out once I get out. It’s four weeks of recovery and it’s intense. Do you promise?”

“Absolutely, babe.”

“I like hearing you call me that.”

“I like saying it.”

You leaned in to kiss each other right as another draft of snow fell on your heads.

[mfenvs3000f23]

Small actions, big outcomes! Environment as a frequent classroom topic!

Describe your personal ethic as you develop as a nature interpreter. What beliefs do you bring? What responsibilities do you have? What approaches are most suitable for you as an individual?

This is my final blog post and you likely do not know who I am, but if you are interested, I invite you to delve into Madeline Fantin’s interpretive ethics, values, and ideas for the future.

To start, what beliefs do I bring? I am a wildlife biology and conservation student; therefore, the vast majority of my courses have looked through a scientific lens (western science that is). Perhaps the reason I chose my program is due to possibly my most core belief, that individuals have the power and influence necessary to make a real difference. This is why I became a vegetarian even though my entirely Italian family thinks I’m bonkers, I think one person cutting their carbon emissions is a worthwhile effort. Are billionaires flying their private jets around for unsatisfactory reasons and investing in all kinds of large corporations who dump pollution directly into our environment? Yes of course, and don’t get me wrong, I think part of the fight towards a healthy planet is holding the extremely wealthy accountable. Perhaps they are hoping we will put all the blame on ourselves so that we ignore their insurmountable consumption. However, we are consumers too and where possible, we can choose where to put our money and how to live our lives to a certain extent. I believe that however small, the average citizen’s fight against climate change is valuable and necessary. In conversations I have had with the people in my life, I have learned that many people become unmotivated by the “all or nothing” mindset. For example, I frequently hear people say that they “could never go without meat all the time.” So don’t! Have meatless Mondays! Have meatless weekends! Go pescatarian! Go meatless biweekly! There are unlimited combinations of schedules that could provide a more reasonable expectation. The effort doesn’t need to be “perfect” to be worth something. This can be applied to many environmental actions. In most places in Ontario, it wouldn’t be reasonable to ask people to use public transport or bike as a main form of transportation. Most cities don’t have great public transport, and most people live a long, long bike ride away from their place of work. However just because you cannot bike to work doesn’t mean you can’t ever trade the car for your bike. Maybe there’s a friend you often visit just on the other side of the neighborhood, and maybe you usually drive to them, but when the weather is ideal and if you are able, the bike could work! Many “imperfect” actions are better than no action at all I promise!!!! There is no shame in not being the perfect environmentalist all the time, it is near impossible in the society we have created.

I also believe that there is something to be gained from spending time in nature, for anyone. Whether that is a chance to gather thoughts, get some exercise, some vitamin D, you name it. I don’t think it needs to be picturesque either. Sometimes connecting with nature looks like sitting on the curb outside your east campus townhouse because the sun has reappeared after some days of gloom. Sometimes you will have the energy to head to the arboretum, but when you don’t, taking a sunny break on the curb is better than skipping the outdoors all together. Again, it doesn’t have to be all or nothing.

I believe it is never too late to get started! Everyone, no matter the age or circumstance, should feel like they have a place in the world of nature interpretation and the outdoors. Having not grown up in an outdoor adventure family doesn’t mean you can’t have any outdoor adventures! On that point, outdoor adventures are whatever you make them. They need not be a costly trip to the other side of the continent. Someone with the right mindset could gain more from an hour by the local creek, than someone with the wrong mindset on their trip to Mount Kilimanjaro.

What responsibilities do I have? Well, there are the obvious ones such as to deliver the program I have advertised, inform guests about risk, manage and prevent dangers, present accurate information, check my bias and privilege, to be fun and engaging, and for guests to leave feeling like they have benefitted in some way. Other more specific responsibilities I believe depend on the approach…

So what approaches are the most suitable for me? Well, it is my goal to get into teaching in high school classrooms. This is not the type of environment we have spent the last few months discussing, but nonetheless I think there is a ton of relevant overlap. Nature interpretation could take place in the classroom, or the school yard. There may also be opportunity for class trips where students could be exposed to new ways of learning or new environments.

When relevant to the content, I would aim to stimulate interest and conversation about the environment and environmental issues happening around the world, as they relate to us in Canada and otherwise. I probably plan on living in Canada, and therefore will need to create programs suitable for all 4 seasons. This could mean the same topic modified with each passing season, different topics in each season, or a combination. I am excited to take advantage of the variance each season brings. I think many topics in the high school curriculum could benefit from an environmental lense, and I would look to make connections throughout where possible.

 I would look to encourage active learning and participation through mediums the students may be interested in, just like we talked about all the different mediums of nature interpretation. If I’m teaching grade 9 or 10 science, then this class is still required of them, and many may only be there by necessity. They might not want to be there or have particular interest in the content, which is ok, and I would need to navigate how to still make sure they get what they are meant to, even if they never develop excitement about it.

To revisit responsibilities, as a teacher I must provide a classroom environment conducive to learning, where everyone feels comfortable, valued, and that students look forward to attending each day.

For my final blog post outro (☹), I will say that climate doomism is very contagious and easy to get wrapped up in. I think one of the most important things we can do as nature interpreters is spark hope for change. You never know who is looking to you when they are feeling discouraged about the state of the world, and how you can provide them motivation to keep fighting the good fight!

[the-many-soul-speaks]

CEDARCLAN: Moon 2

Nothing interesting happened this moon…

⇢ Alderstar & Faithspore - Suspicious pawprints; rogue. 1 - 1 = 1.  Cat 1 is plotting to kill Cat 2; the plot was discovered. MANGLED TAIL (Faithspore)

Faithspore has always been a troubled one. Alderstar often feels older than him, despite the moons between them, his vicious childishness making him good with kits, but less popular with adults. She had asked, once in her youth, what had made him turn so angry— there had been no answer for that but his name. Faith; the only remaining kit, left in StarClan’s paws. 

It hadn’t seem like a terribly good excuse, but Alderstar was not one to judge. 

Until, at least, it came to be a problem. She’d thought, after Stumpymoth had approached her with the tale of the lost kittypet, that it was about time to address things. She is not Patchoulistar. She’d said as much, her best response to the young tom, and felt the fact of it weigh heavy between them. 

The softest breath of air, and Alderstar turns, catching Faithspore’s outstretched claws and batting them aside. “I am not Patchoulistar. Whether you like it or not.” The wild look remains in the tom’s eyes, and Alderstar leaps, pinning him even as he struggles. “I will not follow his legacy, and neither will I make his mistakes. I will not condemn you, Faithspore,” her eyes flash, “but neither will I tolerate your attempts on my lives.” 

A hiss is his answer, and Alderstar’s paw presses harder. Faithspore writhes, and then falls still, glaring up at his leader. “I know you are a good warrior, Faithspore.” His lips peel back from his teeth. “What makes you so sure of that? You hardly know me.” “And with that attitude, no one ever will. I’m giving you a chance, Faithspore. To prove yourself.” Her eyes narrow, face drawing closer. “So make it worthwhile. For both of us. For your daughter.” She releases the tom, and he rises slowly, eyeing up the black she-cat. Then, quick as a snake, he lunges again. Even quicker, Alderstar parries, darting along his flank and seizing his tail in her mouth. Enough. The tom’s shriek cuts the open air, and she lets him yank it free, the snap she hears between her teeth reverberating in her head. 

Cowed, Faithspore huddles with his broken tail curled under him. “Let that be a lesson,” Alderstar tells him, chest heaving, and once more turns her back on him. 

This time, there is no breath of air as she leaves. 

--✧--

⇢ Peakdapple, Pondfern, & Oakpaw - Dog chasing a cat. 4 - 3 = 1. Apprentice has seen something a warrior didn’t want anyone to know. CLAW WOUND (Oakpaw)

Oakpaw shudders. He knew enough about Faithspore’s legacy, from Heatherbubble, but he’d never thought— He just hadn’t expected— He hadn’t even really meant to follow, and what he’d seen—

Backing away, his rear paw hits a twig, snapping like a boom of thunder and snapping Faithspore’s eyes to him. 

“Please—” 

But Faithspore is already on him, claws lashing. Oakpaw shivers, cowering beneath the tom’s paws, but no death blow comes. “Keep,” Faithspore hisses, “quiet. This is between me and Alderstar.” His piercing blue eyes narrow. “Understand?”

Oakpaw nodds fervently. 

“Good.” 

And with that, Faithspore whisks away, leaving Oakpaw quite glad that all he has to show for it are a few claw marks in his pelt.

——

Of course he can’t stay quiet. He shivers all the way home, all the way back to his den. Forgoing the herbalist, certain that his scratches will only serve to betray him. When Pondfern pokes her head in, he’s curled in a ball, back to the den entrance. 

“Hey, I saw you come in. Everything alright?” The concern in her voice is warm, cheerful, and Oakpaw only shivers harder. 

“Yeah. M’fine.”

“Want me to get Heatherbubble to look at ya? I can get some herbs, if it’s a stomach ache.” 

He shakes his head, and then realizes she can’t see it. “No…” A pause, and then, in a tiny voice, he mews, “Can you get Peakdapple for me?”

“Sure?” He can hear puzzlement in Pondfern’s voice, but she doesn’t press, backing out, her pawsteps pitter-pattering away. When she returns, he can hear Peakdapple’s even voice with her. 

“Oakpaw. Is everything alright?”

He knows it will only get him in trouble. That it could even endanger his life, the sting of Faithspore’s claws still stinging his hide. But when he looks up, Peakdapple’s eyes are gentle, reliable, as if to say, you don’t have to tell me anything.

He tells her everything.

--✧--

⇢ Heatherbubble & Stumpymoth - Message from StarClan. 2 - 3 = 1. The medicine cat has received a message from StarClan that requires drastic action.

In her many moons, Heatherbubble has seen more carnage and tragedy than she would ever have asked for. Watching the rise of Patchoulistar alone had brought her nightmares— Not all of them from StarClan. 

But through the seasons, she has come to believe that things happened for a reason. Not all of them good reasons, but reasons nonetheless. StarClan certainly held no paw in Patchoulistar’s reign, but it brought them where they are now, with the young and brave Alderstar as leader. Oh, she can still see that final battle in her mind’s eye now, the terror of it all…

Heatherbubble sighs. No, this one was not good news. This omen is just as bad as they come, and it’s a shame to have it happen so early on in Alderstar’s leadership. 

“Something wrong, Heatherbubble?” A voice chirps from the entrance. Stumpymoth, his words muffled slightly by the herbs he carries, enters and sets his bundle down. “Starling for your thoughts?”

Heatherbubble laughs, though to her own ears it sounds almost sad. “No, not this time, dear. I need you to do me a favor instead.”

His head tilts. “Sure, Heatherbubble, anything you need.” “I need you to fetch me Alderstar. And tell her it is of the… utmost importance.”

“I need you to fetch me Alderstar. And tell her it is of the… utmost importance.”