#a cat could also do because nine lives perhaps?
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If it helps you out I always saw the shear angst potential in a kid variation of Tilly (until the dog army came in of course) and I don't know why I liked the concept of Tilly being forced into a world where it is almost impossible for any joy.
So I always saw Tilly as someone who wore combat boots that had a feather falling VI to stop her from dying the same way as her first one. Other than the boots, she mostly wore simple over sized clothes that Pearl gave her and bandages all over her body. I have no idea if this helps at all, but this is what I saw
(btw if i ever draw more of Tilly or Froggy without Pearl, I'll be doing it on main i dont wanna clog up this blog lol if you have more questions for them please direct them over there as well haha)
I like the idea of feather falling VI and i did play with the idea of her possibly being somewhat disabled in the legs, but I also am not sure if I want to keep this AU contained in the Life series world or even in the Minecraft world.
Sorry if I'm understanding wrong but what I'm getting from this is the idea that Pearl took care of human!Tilly, while in this AU Tilly is very much older than Pearl and Pearl is also. animal. currently just wolf but I'm considering shapeshifter possibilities. However, this does give me ideas, perhaps Tilly was once taken care of by a red witch? ey?
My thoughts for this AU is that it's not a roleswap or like a retelling of the events of DL of some sort, but really just an alternate separate universe from DL. Some parallel events may occur although im not sure how yet, and the main reason for this is because of Pearl's wolf army, where Tilly is the mother of them all and i really. cannot imagine human!Tilly less than like 50 years of age
(oh yeah also. just because of personal preference haha id rather not dress them in like modern clothes i like my historical/traditional/medieval clothing lol)
#not a doodle#mod morph#now that froggy is also on the table#this AU story bits will be determined by how she plays into LmL#this is like your usual mcyt zombie apocalypse au or something haha#same characters ish different setting ish different story ish#but a whole lot of references to the original story#oh yeah also so about shapeshifter pearl#this came from the idea of that ask where like pearl is a creecher#and i was thinking of like#the concept of the life series but as a creature#first thought i had was a lamb like a sacrifical lamb yknow#because death n stuff with the life series#how ironic its called the life series when everyone eventually dies#a cat could also do because nine lives perhaps?#six too many lives tho lol
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hi!! I know you said soul exchanges weren't necessary for requests, but I'm more than willing to give mine up for this one because it's a universe I adore
superhero!ateez meeting reader. who or what the reader is? entirely up to you 👀👀👀 (the possibilities are endless omg)
((also plz I've been binging all of your writing because it's just so amazing. the cute stuff just gives me lil butterflies and the fuzzies))
yELLS you’re the sweetest actually 🫶🏻 trying to balance all of my stuff & writing, but hopefully what I have out isn’t the last of the butterflies 🦋 & fuzzies I’ll be giving you 🥰 also this is such a good AU idea??? OMG not me spending forever thinking about their powers 🫣 tried not to just drop them directly into famous heroes’ roles… but Yunho HAD to be spiderman & I will not apologize 😤😝 also, I’d be down to do a part 2 for sure hehe
Warnings: some gun/minor violence/death references, some blood, suggestive comment(s), some pain/peril for Reader, long post lol
Meeting Superhero!Ateez
Hongjoong
Magic was not something to be tarried with. It was not a substance one could bend to their will, it was an art and a fickle one at that.
No one understood that better than a person who wasn’t meant to have it in the first place. He hadn’t been tricked into selling his soul, lost himself in some foolish, evil deal, no. Oh, no.
He’d gone and died.
It had felt just like blacking out when he’d been hit, coming to like the collision was barely beyond a concussion. But the world wasn’t the world when Hongjoong awoke.
There was no sun, no plants, only twisted, dead roots, and the people passing by him little more than glowing wraiths, some looking more human than others. His first reaction was to hold his hands before his eyes, exhaling in relief at the sight of their flesh. Except it felt like his ribcage had shrunk; he was unable to get as much air in or out as usual, every fight for air shallowed.
“What’s happening? Where am I?”
“This is the Underworld,” a low voice replied from behind him, sending him shooting up to his feet and turning to face its owner.
A woman perhaps twice his age, one draped in loose black veils falling around the tight shadowy raiment she wore. Her hair like emerald flame wreathing an expression of dark curiosity, like Hongjoong were a bug she hadn’t decided if she was annoyed by.
He was confused, but not afraid. “Well, I want out. There was so much I was in the middle of out there. I can’t lose it all in some accident. I can barely breathe down here!”
The woman chuckled deeply. “Getting sent back is no simple task. We do not idly accept mistakes.”
“Isn’t there something I can do?” Hongjoong urged, stepping forward and gazing into the woman’s blazing green eyes.
“You will never be fully living again. To return is to become a conduit of the Underworld.”
“Will I be a ghost?”
“No, but your humanity will never fully be restored. Death’s connection is inescapable. A part of you will forever be tied to us. Is this what you wish?”
Hongjoong had a career up there. Friends who weren’t ghosts. A hard drive full of projects. A distinct lack of green flame littering the ground. Music. Fashion. Whatever life he could have. Breath in his lungs. The words escaped his shallow chest so quickly he barely realized he’d spoken them. “Yes, it is.”
The deal was sealed willingly and the Underworld faded away, the final sight in Hongjoong’s eyes those points of green burning into his soul.
~
Nothing seemed different when breath rushed fully back into his heaving lungs or when he crawled from the wreckage of his car. His feet still hit solid ground as he walked back to his apartment under the night sky.
And the next day when he was yanked into an alley by two dark figures, his heart sure beat. And when they, speaking of him being the one they were sent for, raised knives, surely it was a one-way ticket out of his second life. Maybe he’d be like a cat, get nine…
All of the stress, every endorphin pumped through Hongjoong’s newly-reanimated body, dropped from him like sweat and arced out as green flame.
The cloaked assailants recoiled at the flame, cursed as glowing forms rose from it. Two of them little more than skeletons, one of them much more humanoid. More like the wraiths Hongjoong saw. More like the Emerald Lady herself. He couldn't help recoiling himself, glancing down again at his hands in disbelief. That was of his making?
The duo of skeletons lashed out first, parrying dagger with sword. You sealed the deal, slamming the butt of your polearm down upon the concrete and sending cracks erupting across the charcoal grey. Beneath their staggered feet, a fissure opened up, sending the men plummeting to some unknown doom.
And with that, you turned to Hongjoong, head cocked with interest. "You're going to be hunted from now on."
He took a deep breath, balled his hands into fists. "What did she do to me?"
"Why do you think she let you go so easily? You're the next Crane."
Tempting was it to look away from the burning glow of your eyes, so similar to the ones who bore him half-escape. Hongjoong wasn't the sort to give in, though. "What does that mean?"
"You were never meant to come to the Underworld, even witness it. Whatever your memories tell you, that was no ordinary accident you were in."
Seonghwa
When you first saw him, sparks flew. Literally.
You’d been focused on the mission at hand, hovering above what you hoped was the main jet for infiltration when a burst of the most beautiful glittering energy sparked before you, wavering like the Aurora Borealis at the edges as it struck open the adjacent craft. It was enough to shake you from the crosshairs haze of disabling anything, stealing your gaze over to the sweeping flight of a black-haired man in a dashing caped suit of violet and silver.
Stories of such a man had reached your ears. “You’re the one they call Cosmos, aren’t you?” You called, mirroring the smile that rose to his lips.
He nodded. “And you must be Depth Charge.”
“I will have you know that that was not my first choice,” you replied as you sent a pulse echoing through the jet’s steel, “or my choice at all. It barely makes sense. I go up, not down.”
Cosmos chuckled at that. His eyes sparkled like the stars in his little energy burst trick, giving him an air of innocence despite his trim figure, the way he sailed through the sky in that l roguish suit. Maybe this was going to be a fun fight after all.
He swerved narrowly past a barrage of jet-fire. “Maybe we should talk when we’re not, you know, attempting to prevent the theft of confidential technology?”
"You're no fun," you mock-scoffed, smirking and boosting yourself to the next jet with a pulse of energy.
"And you're not the one getting shot at!" He fired back, blasting more crackling, star-studded energy at the next barrage before ducking below the shrapnel.
"Yeah, yeah, just come back me up, I see our guy," you urged him, crawling to the top of the jet and focusing the waves you felt into a bladelike space.
The hole had just been cut open when Cosmos swooped in next to you. He was somehow taller than you'd pictured once you saw him up close, serious expression completely changing his bearing. You studied his profile for a few seconds before sliding in through your entry hole legs first. Boots hitting hard floor with a wince-inducing jolt up your ankles, you readied another sonic blade and crept closer to the cockpit. Some shuffling at your back told you Cosmos followed close behind.
Two goons rose from their seats at the sight of you, landing a couple of punches to both of you and even managing to knock you over before you sent their inertia right back at them, slamming them against the wall as you held your surely-bruised jaw. For all his spark, Cosmos held his own in hand-to-hand combat. Well, relatively speaking. He ended up knocking his opponent out with a surprising roundhouse kick. You smiled again, giving a shake of your head.
"What?"
"Extra," you chuckled.
"I'll take that as a compliment," he replied, extending an arm to the cockpit door, "would you like to do the honors?"
"Thank you, my good man," you humored him, peeling open the door to meet with a faceful of gun barrels.
"I would stay back if I were you," the head thief remarked. Geez, was the guy reading an old movie script?
"I would stand down, actually, unless you'd like to sail through a hole torn in space," Cosmos told him, standing firm.
Your jaw dropped as you turned to face him. "You can do that?"
He gave you an urgent look.
"Sorry."
"You wouldn't risk letting this device go any more than I would," your enemy sneered, tugging his tie into place.
"I wouldn't have to. That's kind of the thing with being able to manipulate gravity. And yes, I can do that."
With that, he raised a hand and the jet flipped upside down. No, wait, you flipped upside down, drifting into the air against your own volition and flailing fecklessly for a few flaps before firing off a balancing pulse. The case drifted loosely in the air, into the hands of one of the gunners, and then right back out as Cosmos summoned it forth. The men opened fire instantly, bullets drifting slowly into air filling with faint whisps of smoke. Both of you banked hard left to dodge the fire, grunting as you hit the wall hard, but Cosmos stood firm again, offering you his hand. Taking it, you felt yourself hurtling through the air, a familiar sensation as speed returned, then the harsh blasts of wind upon leaving the hull.
"Sorry I stole your target," he told you as he drifted and you blasted away, gazes turning from the final jet's descent.
"Stole it?" You snorted, giving him a smile. "I believe that's called helping me. I'm not exactly in this for the brownie button."
"Oh, yeah, what was it again? For fun, right?"
"Something like that," you agreed.
"By the way, if we're going to be working together, we better know each other's names. Real names. My name is Seonghwa." And there were those stars again, lighting up his dark eyes in a manner far too on the nose for his hero name.
Heart fluttering, you gave him your name.
Yunho
Fortunate. That’s how many people described living in a city with a guardian. Hopeful, like if they were to get into trouble, that very man could, in the most literal sense, swoop in and rescue them. It was like magic how he appeared at the scene of wrongdoings- it only added to the feeling that he could see all that occurred through the hustle and bustle of the proverbial concrete jungle.
For Yunho, it was a lot of pressure. Phrases like the man, the myth, the legend hit a little too close to home. What if he were to let someone down? What if one day the mask got yanked off and all everyone saw was a fresh college graduate semi-desperately searching for a job to apply his major to? He didn’t always feel like a hero, just like a man doing his best to help out.
A man with wishes and dreams like any other. Oftentimes that wish was simply for life to be normal again. Like, he had been granted this amazing opportunity and yet it still fell like a burden across his heart sometimes. Especially when he looked at you.
You were his next door neighbor, the occupant of the apartment adjacent to his. Some days you both would be out on your balconies at the same time just staring out at city lights with your favorite drink in hand and you’d glance across the way and smile at each other. Start a little conversation. What do you think those people across the way are doing? Man, you wouldn’t believe this customer at work today. Whatcha got there, the usual?
It dawned on Yunho sometimes in some poetic delusion that you two took and occupied identical spaces, yet they would be wholly unknown to the other. Made reflections of someone still learned. It made him want to clean his apartment, frankly.
It put things into perspective about his powers, too. One time his spidey sense went off and he told you to step back, only for a bird poo to land exactly where your head would have been. As a jest you’d called him your hero, but the jolt that sent through his heart was anything but funny. Fuel, that’s what it was. Motivation to be the man, the myth, the legend, even in the smallest way.
~
The sense rang through his body, slid down his spine, mere seconds before the cry for help. Yunho would have recognized that voice anywhere.
As he launched a web out and swung closer to the sound, his heart pounded. It had never been anyone he knew before. It wasn’t supposed to be someone he knew. But it was you. Sailing between buildings, he stuck to the top of the nearest one, gazing down at the man before you and narrowing his eyes at his wild gestures. Without warning, though, he was grabbing you, pinning you to the wall and reaching a hand-
Thwip! A hand that was pinned to his side before it could even reach a weapon, touch you again. Swinging out from his viewpoint corner, Yunho slammed into the creep with his feet, kicking him off of you. In retaliation, he landed a punch with his good hand.
“What is this,” Yunho lowered his voice lest you recognize it as your neighbor’s, “‘I can take you with one hand tied behind my back’?”
Before the man could reply Yunho tied him down again, not wanting to stoop any closer to his level of brutality.
“I think I’ll have a word with the police on you. Heard they were investigating a bunch of abductions. It’s about time they got some practice in.”
Footsteps rang out as you ran to his side. “Spiderman! Thank you! I had no idea if anyone would hear me, but I should have known!”
“Hear you? I could feel you,” he replied, “well, er, that is, I… I have this, you know, danger sense and I-”
“Hey, it’s ok. I get it,” you said, wrapping your arms around him in a quick side hug, “I know you’re nothing like that guy. Your partner’s lucky to have a guy like you.”
“Well,” Yunho’s voice lowered even more as your eyes peered into his masked ones, as if you could see him, “I don’t actually have one. No one’s really into, uh, yeah.”
“Well, then, can I do this?” With two fingers, you motioned near the edge of his mask, sliding up its corner.
Yunho inhaled, eyes widening beneath their white affects. “Sure.”
Your fingers felt cool when they brushed the edges of his skin, staying true to their word as they peeled up the tiniest section of his mask. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. It took everything in Yunho not to giggle then and there.
“Thank you again,” you breathed as you leaned back.
“No problem,” Yunho replied, “need a walk back home?”
You put a hand on your hip. “Since when does Spiderman walk?”
Chuckling, he shrugged. “Thought offering a swing might scare you.”
You smiled. “I’d be down.”
“Alright, then, hold on tight and name the address.”
Yeosang
It was just another day on the streets of Seoul. The day's bustle had taken its toll on the sidewalk, crowding the strip with bodies and voices. All Yeosang wanted was to get out of there. No sooner had that thought occurred, though, was he reflexively granted that wish: one of the multitudinous passersby careened sideways into him, and in his startlement he’d disappeared entirely.
Cursing internally, he searched for witnesses, sighing with relief at the simple alley he’d unthinkingly sent himself to. Premature relief, for as he turned to leave said alley, there you were standing as if frozen in a bend over a trash can, eyes wide as saucers. He felt his own eyes reflexively widen, resisting every impulse to disappear again and leave you just wondering if you’d gone crazy, never to see him again in a city that large.
A smile spread across your face. “That was awesome! Dude, you just teleported!”
“No, I didn’t,” he deadpanned, taking a few steps toward the alley opening.
“Ok, gaslighter.”
Yeosang stopped dead in his tracks, turned to fix an eye upon you again, sighed. “You understand what a big secret you just witnessed?”
Straightening, you shot him a finger gun. “So you did teleport?”
“Yes, I did. I know how this works,” Yeosang answered, “what will it take for you to keep quiet?”
“Are you a superhero?” You asked, skipping over a scattering of alley trash to move to his side.
“I-” Yeosang sighed. Most days he felt more cursed than heroic. Burdened with secrecy and threats to all who stood for differences, deviations of any kind. But a mutation like his? Inherently greater safety than most challengers to Seoul folk. Dodging the proverbial bullet. He’d managed to teleport a woman who jumped off a building and have a conversation with her. Weeks later. She saw him again, said she considered him her hero. Humbling to say the least. After the long pause, he swallowed. “I try.”
“That’s so cool! What you need is a sidekick.”
“I’m not exactly spiderman,” he replied sheepishly.
Your eyes darted briefly away, then back to his. “Home base?”
“I mean, I live somewhere already, but-”
“No, no,” you cut him off, waving a hand, “I mean like a secret hideout where you can conduct your operations and keep your research with your…administrative assistant.”
“Ok,” Yeosang chuckled, “that’s a pretty clever workaround for ‘sidekick’. But you have to realize people like me aren’t exactly caped crusaders. It’s not an organized thing, I don’t have a danger sense, I just…help where I can.”
At that, you nodded, eager expression finally sobering a bit. “I know. I had a friend whose family attacked him over his powers. He barely made it out of there. I don’t even know where he is now. I guess I just want a better face for you guys. Maybe I just want to make a hero.”
Oh. Yeosang was not expecting that. His eyes widened, softened, blinked. “It’s a nice thought, but maybe let’s start small.” A part of him couldn’t believe he was even implying an agreement, but he’d been alone for so long. Alone wanting to believe someday the world would change.
“Like some cameras? A red-string sort of situation on local crime? Bullet dodge training?”
“I, uh, I think I’ve got the last one covered,” Yeosang replied, putting his hands in his pockets and finally shuffling toward the alley horizon, squinting as he crossed the sun’s threshold.
“You’ve been in a shootout?” You gasped, following him with a hand out over your wide eyes.
“Shh,” he hushed you, glancing back and forth at the thankfully empty street, “I told you! I try to help where I can. Even if it means making myself a target. I’m much harder to hit than the usual robbery victim.”
“This is so cool. What’s your name, by the way?”
“Yeosang.”
You gave him your name, glanced back at him from the peripheries of his vision. “They ever give you a nickname?”
“They usually just say I’m like trying to hit a ghost.”
“Ghost,” you murmured, “that could work.”
“Maybe it could,” Yeosang murmured back, smiling faintly into your wide grin, “maybe.”
San
Most of the other workers thought you were too young. You looked more the age of the test subjects, they said, despite you denying any presence of the mutagens. All you wanted was to understand them, just like anybody else. After all, harnessing the genetic component that allowed adaptation that fast had both amazing and terrifying implications for humanity. Implications not lost on the subjects themselves. It was for that reason that you were assigned to the one dubbed safest for beginners.
He was a young man about your age, a man with well-sculpted features and a contagious smile-on the rare occasion you got to see it. It wasn’t a happy life, after all, in a laboratory quarters, even if they did “simulate comfort”. It was a lie and everyone knew it- those were no apartments. They were cells. It was no way to live, and there you were working there and contributing to it.
Well, sort of. “Ok, I know they say no pins in the walls, but I keep hearing how the guy who likes to give himself bear claws has practically scratched the entire things off his room, so seems a bit hypocritical. I got your old Day6 poster,” you told your subject, holding up a few pushpins in one hand and his poster in the other.
“Aren’t you going to get in trouble?” San asked, grin emphasizing his charming dimples.
“If they fire me, they lose the latest honors geneticist, so I don’t think they want to risk it over a poster.”
“Good point,” he conceded, accepting your gift and crossing the room to pin it on the wall nearest his bed one corner at a time.
His motions were careful, calculated- far less erratic than many of the other subjects’. Subjects. You kept using that word. Dehumanizing. Was that the end goal?
“Alright, what do you think?”
San’s voice cut through your thoughts, directing your attention to the band now displayed upon his wall. One small addition and the room had that much more personality. That much more San.
You smiled. “I like it.”
He nodded toward all the guys in the picture. “Who’s your favorite?”
“I dunno,” you mused, pointing, “that one’s pretty handsome.”
“Young K? Oh, everyone tells me I look like him,” San grins.
“No, they don’t!” You tease. “You would’ve just said that about anyone I called handsome!”
“Maybe,” he shrugged, “gotta have some fun before my daily blood sample, huh?”
Smiling sadly, you just nodded, stepping back to take up your syringe tray from where you’d set it on his bookshelf.
~
Shrill warnings echoed throughout every corner of the alternately dimming and brightening laboratory, lights flashing their own alarm as your feet struck the smooth, institutional stained concrete. There’d been a containment breach, an immediate interruption to your protein synthesis as battle stations rang.
Restrain. That was the order. As if you could do anything against a guy with bear claws or venomous barbs or someone with the agility of a cheetah. That was why your company wanted the source so badly- super soldiers and all that. Always soldiers. Never curing wounds. Never jellyfish immortality. None of the subjects had thought of that one, either, as far as you knew, but then you’d yet to witness anyone using the mutagen’s power.
What could you do? There was a taser in your pocket, a small standard-issue you’d received in case of this very unlikely scenario. Restrain was about the only chance you had, but the thought of running into the breach barely crossed your mind amidst the chaos of scrambling compatriots and banging doors as the mass escape began.
All you could think of was reaching Quarters 314. San’s room. It was insane, it was stupid, it was the absolute irrevocable death of your career there- but then again, so would all the subjects escaping be.
If a bunch of the most powerful mutants you housed were escaping already, you wanted San to have freedom. Every cent you had, you’d bet that he could walk back out onto the streets and never hurt a single soul. That’s why they gave him to you in the first place- he was complacent. Kind.
304. The moment the door entered the haze of your vision, you slammed your key card on the lock sensor pad and tumbled in.
San was hunched near the doorway. “What’s going on, did someone get hurt?”
“They’re escaping. All the strongest ones,” pausing for a heartbeat, you reconsidered your words, thought about how every man and woman in the building had the same skills, “well, all the fighters. Come on.”
His eyes, shining as ever, widened. “Are we evacuating?”
“No,” you shook your head, grabbing his hand, “you’re leaving.”
“I don’t understand.”
“This might be your one chance to get back out there and live. I’ve been coming in here every day for weeks. You don’t deserve to live in a cell. As badly as I wanna know how you work, this isn’t a life for anyone. Do you want out?” You asked, tone firm despite your frantic heart, searching his eyes.
San nodded. “Ok. Thank you. I can get us out.”
You frowned. “Us?”
“If this is all on the cameras you stick everywhere, they won’t be your biggest fans anymore.”
“Good point. Are you going to…” You trailed off, unsure how to broach the subject.
He hummed in response, those soft eyes you’d seen every day hardening like never before and that sharp jaw setting. He squared…braced himself.
“You don’t like doing it, do you?” The question came out of your mouth before it had fully entered your brain, but to your relief he didn’t look annoyed.
“Depends on what it is. You haven’t seen it, have you?”
You shook your head.
“Well, sorry this is your first time,” San said, and with that, his shoulders squared again, his head falling as if struck down.
Subconsciously, you reached out hands at his pained expression, but what could you do? It was all inside him.
At least at first. Soon, the slick fabric of his moisture-wicking regulation top was splitting, bursts of blood spraying as new bone and tissue arose, tendrils that solidified into sharp flesh-toned blades before bursting into feathers. Tears fell from San’s eyes as he shakily rose back to his feet. He’d just grown wings.
And as if all that blood and tissue and the sheer amount of development occurring over mere seconds was little more than a strenuous workout, he wiped his brow with his left hand and extended his right.
“Alright, let’s get out of here.”
Mingi
Sometimes he wondered why he was chosen.
What it was about him that another race from a different planet would think he had what it took to bear and protect one of their greatest treasures? He’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe the right place. The demand had been simple- keep it safe until others arrive for it.
The crash had happened when he was home, a sound so deafening it was like the world was ending. Shaking as he was, Mingi had run outside into the rush of the night wind, out along the smoke trail in the woods to see if whatever catastrophe had had survivors, if victims. And survivors there were- ones a bit odd-looking. Almost human save for the violet hue of their skin, the pointed tips of their ears, the vertical slits of eyelids revealed when the woman’s visor fell from across her eyes. Their skin felt different, too, as Mingi pulled them from beneath crushed metal and fire, firm and with smoothness gently interrupted by texture he could only describe as like small scales.
They didn’t look happy with him, but still accepted his help stumbling between trees and back into his home. They understood bandages, accepted beds. Swore Mingi to secrecy even as they thanked him days later. Be it technology or some uncanny occasion, they could speak to him. They could understand.
The mission they’d set out on was one of guardianship; the relic, something of myth, needed new housing and a new bearer.
“The one worthy will be selected,” the man told him in his deep, faintly accented hiss of a voice.
It was an imposition, sure. But how often did aliens land near one’s property guarding a weapon of legend? Mingi’s whole week had felt like a dream, and until he woke up the least he could do was deepen its lucidity.
“Can I see it?” He asked, peering up earnestly into their snakelike eyes from above the intricately carven and paneled box of steel with the most incredible iridescent shine he’d ever seen. Its contents had to be even more beautiful, right?
They watched, glanced down at the way his hands hovered reverently, stared back into his eyes.
“You are not of deceitful mind,” the woman replied.
“It is not out of depth that he welcomed strangers into his home,” the man shot back.
“No, it was out of kindness,” the woman insisted, waving a hand over the box, “as a reward, you may look upon the Heart of Steel.”
Gingerly, she traced some of the lines that Mingi had barely noticed with the tips of her long fingers, reaching beneath the bottom and holding her hands there until the top of the box simply floated a foot or two above the remainder, held by some microcosm gravity that drew a breath of awe from Mingi. Reflexively his fingers stretched toward the contents of the box, a smooth metal teardrop shape crafted from that same resplendent material.
Heat radiated from its small surface the moment he moved closer, sending him drawing back, but like a magnet it shot after him and into his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing at both of the beings who still hadn’t offered him names, “I swear I’m not doing this!”
“No,” the woman shook her head, snake-eyes wide, “you are being chosen.”
~
“And you expect me to believe this why?” You asked him, brow arched.
“Because,” Mingi put up his hands in defense, eyes scanning your form, “I didn’t even want to touch it! Why would I steal this thing I know nothing about?”
“Delskvlln was right. Not a deep thinker,” you commented.
“See? I know him! They ended up telling me their names! His wife was…er…Syssmerlyss? I am so sorry if I’m not pronouncing it correctly.”
“Well, the accent needs work, but I suppose Syssmerlyss was right- you have a certain kindness about you.” You took two steps closer to him, half-tapping, half-pushing him on the shoulder twice in a gesture that probably didn’t fully translate. “Come on, then, we have training to do.”
“Well,” he scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly, “sometimes the suit doesn't cooperate, but I think I’m starting to get pretty good with the gravity swords.”
“It gave you the swords?”
“Heh, uh…yeah?”
Wooyoung
It was hard sometimes, using such abilities for good. Had he so chosen, Jung Wooyoung could have become a world leader, a dictator even. But that thought terrified him. The pressure sounded unbearable. No fun, either, not that former friends hadn’t tried to convince him countless times to use his gifts for that, too. He preferred the traditional methods of seduction, were he to desire employing any at all.
Accessing minds was Wooyoung’s least favorite skill, in fact. Seeing and hearing thoughts was crushing, uncomfortable, an unfair dominance. Bouncing twice as high as a person should be able to with a force field, though? Making things levitate out of people’s hands? Bee’s knees.
He'd been a rogue in the city, just a wanderer who did what he could to help others when he wasn’t working. Flinging the gun out of an armed robber’s hand, blocking bullets with force fields, even fighting back when he had to.
They just didn’t learn. He couldn’t help scoffing a bit and teasing them when they fired at him.
“Now, gentleman, isn’t this a bit insulting?” He’d ask, casually flipping a hand as the bullets ricocheted and buried themselves harmlessly into walls. “And besides, I don’t want to hurt you. I just think this doesn’t belong to you.”
Cue him summoning the stolen money or goods right from their indignant hands and, eventually, back to the rightful owner. After convincing them all to stand still with their hands in the air, of course.
There had just begun whispers of his presence, trepidation at the prospect of an illegal smuggle or a robbery for the first time, a name for him emerging when he faced the first true opposition.
“So, you’re the Vigilante everyone’s talking about, are you?”
“Is that what they call me?” Wooyoung shot back.
“Guess you aren’t in it for the fame,” you snickered, stepping further from the shadows of the doorway, a tube-shaped device Wooyoung didn’t recognize in your hand.
“What do you want with me?” He asked, glancing at it and crossing his arms.
“Ideally, you to get out of the way,” you replied, flicking something on the device and sending it unfolding with large cracks, climbing up your forearm like a mechanical caterpillar and glowing at the tip once your hand was completely enveloped.
“Out of the way of wh-” He didn’t have time to complete his sentence before a bolt of energy arced his way, his instincts barely kicking in in time for him to launch away from it.
Putting up a force field, he stood his ground, staring at you with new interest. “You’re part of the weapons racket, aren’t you?”
“A plus, genius,” you replied, smug satisfaction glinting in your eyes, “the city isn’t going to need you much longer.”
“You’re right,” he said, “because I’m about to kick your ass.”
Another bolt of purple energy came at him, shattering the faint glow of his field. Wooyoung’s jaw dropped, but he quickly righted it as he moved closer. It felt like his whole body clenched as his energy focused on peeling the device off. You winced in pain and jumped back as the gun fired an erratic shot that rained chunks of ceiling down behind Wooyoung’s back, sending a little lightning strike of guilt across his heart, but he kept at it, sending each piece yanked off to your side to fortify the restraints he was making. You struggled, panting and tugging as he worked, kicking aside his work and scrambling toward a panel on the wall. With each button you pressed, Wooyoung slid your feet out from under you, but in the end he heard the dreaded activation beep. The look you turned and shot him was a mix of defiance and resignation that shook him to his core and froze him to the spot. He didn’t even stop you as you ran away, just slid the nearest couple pieces of your contraption towards himself, grabbed them, and made his own flight out before the place blew.
Shielding himself from the heat and sound, he knelt and examined the scraps. Luck was on his side, it seemed; he’d gotten the chunk bearing manufacturer and serial number info. For the first time in his life, Wooyoung wasn’t going to just deflect and run- he was going to chase you down.
Jongho
It was cloudy. It was almost always cloudy. Not exactly ideal conditions for your lot, but what were you going to do? Couldn't exactly bottle sunshine, as they said.
Not that they weren't probably trying. Scientists had gone positively psycho in your city, the hottest trend being harnessing the elements. Success rate? You, at least. It wasn't supposed to be you. Maybe not anyone, for that matter, but the spores ended up in your body regardless. You'd heard that they were supposed to be used or they'd take over, but the call to do so was strong regardless.
Trees planted on the sidewalk suddenly bloomed and flourished. Green sprouted in odd hosts within the concrete jungle. Flowers out of sidewalks and the like. Anything to combat what the rest of humanity was doing, right?
That was all it had been until someone saw you. An older man, betrayingly grandfatherly, began a mild conversation that quickly deepened, progressed to him requesting your help in an investigation on the very place that exposed you to their research.
"Why me? I barely spent any time there. I wasn't the test subject, it was an accident!" Never had you realized you were afraid to return until it was asked of you. The infection was hell until it stuck, pain all over your body like you'd never known, violent reactions as your body writhed and tried again and again to reject the foreign invasion.
Then poof, there you were as the city's chlorophyll ninja.
"Because you have been inside. You've visited once, why not again? They'll never suspect a thing, and if they do, you're armed with something much greater than what I got."
"Oh," you raised a brow, "so this is personal?"
"It's beyond that," the main replied quickly, gaze darting from yours, "but yes. I'm getting older. This sort of mission is getting more difficult. But more than anything they would recognize me in a heartbeat, and I didn't exactly quit on good terms."
"I'm not in this fight. I didn't ask for any of this," you repeated, "and now you want me to go in there blind and alone? Maybe I don't want to be your recon pawn."
The old man waved a hand, the one that wasn't gloved. "You wouldn't be alone, poor dear. You think you're the only escaped lab rat? I used to think I was." Grabbing the hem of his pant leg, he pulled it up to reveal a very elaborate cybernetic prosthesis. "Both are different. But no, I've kept tabs on the place for a long time. Found another much like you."
With that, he motioned to the doorway with his free hand. Guess you could figure out why the other was covered. As your gaze traced the man's one organic limb, your eyes fell to the doorway, where a young man about your age stepped out.
His appearance was pretty innocuous. His hair was short and dark, his expression stony but his features kind. His broad shoulders were draped with a long coat that swayed near the base of his boots, and beneath that he wore a dark turtleneck and jeans.
"How do you do, Neo?" You quipped as your eyes scanned his form.
To your great surprise, that 'mission go' look on his face melted rapidly into a wide grin, a chuckle. Guy had a nice smile.
"It's Jongho. That was good, though." He nodded down toward you. "Was the green intentional?"
You yourself glanced down at your outfit, and you'd be darned. You were wearing green. Apparently this Jongho fellow knew more about you than you did of him. You were surprised he didn't comment on the potted plant necklace you'd gotten from Etsy- the one you'd nicknamed 'ammo'.
"No, but I guess fate has a sense of humor. Do you have beef with FTR Labs too?"
Jongho nodded. "They have my brother."
At that, your heart dropped. Just by the man's tone of voice you could tell he was trying to be brave, but he didn't want to go back to FTR any more than you did. Want, no. Need? Yes. Maybe the old man was right- maybe they were taking their experiments too far. You hadn't even seen what they'd done to Jongho yet. If it had been a fight for his body, too, let alone his brother's.
"Alright," you nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets, "I'll go with you. Do you have a plan?"
"Of course. My main goal is to disrupt their comms first."
"Classic. How do you propose we do that?"
"I figured a little lightning would do the trick."
"Excuse me?"
Wordlessly, Jongho stared at you, his eyes almost glazing over as gusts of wind rolled through the room and clouds drifted over his head, spattering his black-clad shoulders with tiny droplets of rain. Electricity arced between two of the clouds, light flashing like tiny, branched white roots as it traveled down his cheek, through his arm and into his hand as if illuminating his very veins. Harnessing the elements.
Nothing could have stopped your jaw from dropping, but as you righted yourself, you couldn't help smiling with a strange rush of anticipation. "Hey, if you're the one that's been keeping it so cloudy these days, can you at least rain a little on my friends?" And with that, you let ammo grow out, engulfing your upper body with the comforting hug of leafy vines.
"Kids," the old man shook his head, "always showing off."
#ateez#ateez imagines#ateez reactions#ateez x reader#ateez scenarios#hongjoong#seonghwa#yunho#yeosang#san#mingi#wooyoung#jongho#ateez x gender neutral reader#gender neutral reader#superhero AU#ask#oblivimin#requested#hope you like this 😘
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not sure if anybody has asked you this before 🥲 but who do you think will be the protags of arc 9, and what are you looking forward for the plot to be about?
I don’t believe anyone has!
I have some theories
After Wind I suspect we will see Leafkit of WindClan as a protagonist. We are long overdue a WindClan protagonist now so it would be very surprising to me if we didn’t get one. I say Leafkit because she got focus in the last book but failing her, any of the kits honestly. I feel like it would be beneficial to have WindClan reintroduced to us through young eyes since we haven’t had a POV in there chronologically since Crowfeather’s Trial I believe. And we know it won’t be Whistlepaw thanks to that recent article on the official site.
As for the others (assuming there will be three) I suspect the clans they will be from will be RiverClan and ThunderClan. At this point ThunderClan is a required tradition, and I think it would be beneficial to have eyes inside RiverClan to see the aftermath of ASC.
So for ThunderClan I hope the protagonist would be either a SpotStem kit (which I think is the most likely option) or one of the warriors like Eaglewing or Honeyfur which have just never done anything in their lives so we can get to know them and their generation better.
As for RiverClan, either one of Splashtail’s new baby siblings, having to deal with the awful legacy their older brother is undoubtedly going to leave behind for them. Or a RiverClan warrior struggling to deal with everything they have recently gone through, and perhaps even dissatisfied with the new leadership. Because let’s face it whoever RiverClan is going to have as a leader is going to have a drawback. Frostpaw? Young as hell. Icewing? Stood by Tigerstar when almost none of RiverClan did, and because of her history in ShadowClan as an exile there could be doubts as to whether she would ever actually oppose ShadowClan if needed. Mothwing? Former atheist. Duskfur? Quite old, which is something Icewing and Mothwing also has going against them, would RiverClan cats want another cat on the edge of retirement given nine lives like Mistystar was? Bee? He’s an outsider.
I think either route with RiverClan could be very interesting. Or even both at once if the Splashtail sibling is as politically minded as their brother lol
In terms of what I’m looking forward to about the plot? I am praying for Brightheart relevancy, even if it means her imminent demise. I feel that she may be the most likely candidate to be that old friend from the first arc the website teased, she has gotten a whole bunch of merch lately, I don’t see why they wouldn’t capitalise on her more in the books before her death.
Also I always love meeting the new protagonists, I get very excited about that. I also would love to see how our asc protagonists are getting on after the dust hopefully settles.
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YOUR WRITING IS OUT OF THIS WORLD!!! My god, I am in LOVE!!!! with these beautiful little snippets you give us. Like, feral, on my hands and knees BARKING. That horny jail compilation is everything to me. <333
If it interests you, could you do one of my favorite tropes of all time? Following their defeat, villain is put under house arrest at the hero's place (perhaps because the hero is the only one strong enough to stop them again if need be), and the villain is of course incredibly upset, but the hero is just delighted because they secretly (or not so secretly, that's even better) have a big crush on the villain and just adores them. Maybe the villain tries to escape multiple times and is promptly foiled every time.
I don't see this one in writing nearly enough, and would just be fucking delighted to see your take on this.
“I always thought you were my greatest enemy,” the villain mumbled. “But I guess failure eventually takes the first prize home.”
The hero stared at them from across the table, their mouth dry. The villain’s hair was a bit too pretty today.
“Isn’t that what makes us human? Failure?”
“Failure,” the villain said sharply, “makes us weak. In nature, you die when you make mistakes. And when you’re human, it’s designated as natural. Mistakes may be natural but failure kills the cat.”
“I think you mean curiosity—”
“Same difference,” they hissed.
Nature metaphor. God, the villain could be so cute. They were passionate. They were so passionate when it came to metaphors and great speeches and philosophy.
They were a pessimist, obviously. And still, when they were brooding or ranting, the hero couldn’t stop them.
Not that they wanted it.
“Failure keeps me away from perfection. It’s heinous.”
“I think you’re perfect,” the hero said. They didn’t even think about the words until the villain looked up. “Uh— there are a lot of things you’re good at, I mean! Like scheming and plotting…”
The hero felt their own cheeks flush with heat as they tried to make sense of what they’d said.
“I don’t like failure.”
“It’s just UNO.” The hero looked at the cards on the table and then at the villain. “It’s just a silly card game.”
“I lost,” the villain said.
“You won the other nine rounds.”
“And I lost this one.” The villain sighed and rubbed their hand over their face while they hugged the pillow in their lap with their other arm. The tea on the table was cold. Untouched. “I don’t like losing.”
The hero thought “living” with them would make it easier for the villain. The official substantiation was that the villain was too powerful to be controlled by a prison. So, the hero had suggested to take care of them.
And now they were playing UNO in their living room and the villain wasn’t happy about losing.
“I still can’t believe it,” the villain whispered. “I lost to you.”
“This isn’t about UNO, is it?” the hero asked. The villain fidgeted with their fingers and the hero could see that the villain’s habit of scratching their own skin open had returned.
Their fingers were bleeding. Not much. But enough to be noticed. The hero was surprised that the game had distracted them for long enough to not notice it.
“…I don’t know what I’m feeling. It’s all confusing. I’m angry. And I’m sad. But I’m also relieved,” the villain admitted. “It’s over.”
They looked up and their gorgeous eyes found the hero’s without hesitation.
“You won. After all those years. You defeated me. I guess I’m lucky. Others die before they can get punished for their crimes.”
“Hey,” the hero tried, softer this time. They stood up and let themselves sink into their couch next to the villain. “I know you feel like you have no purpose right now. I know you feel like a failure. But there are other things to fight for. You had your questionable morals…but now you have the opportunity to start anew.”
They didn’t think as they took the villain’s hands in theirs, thus forcing them to look at them.
“I guess all the guilt is coming up, too. I just want you to know that you’re not a bad person. What you did wasn’t okay. And you have to live with the consequences. Just don’t forget that life goes on. It always does. You still have the chance to turn everything around.”
The villain did that adorable thing they always did when they were thinking. Forming their lips into a straight line, biting on them gently.
“You saved me countless times,” the hero said. “You’re not bad. You’re not lost. You just need to come back out of that sad cave you built around yourself.”
“You’re nice. Why are you nice?” the villain asked, their hands still in the hero’s.
“I, uh…” The hero could feel how their little heart was about to explode. “I see a lot of potential and I don’t want it to go to waste. You’d be great at the agency.”
Liar. The hero was such a liar. The villain didn’t need to know that, though.
“You think so?” the villain asked and somewhere in their voice was something close to hope.
“I know so,” the hero said which brought the sweetest smile onto the villain’s face. It made the hero’s heart flutter so much it hurt.
“Thank you. This is only about UNO, though.”
Both knew that the villain was lying.
#writing snippet#heroxvillain prompt#heroxvillain snippet#heroes and villains#hero#villain#hero x villain#heroxvillain#an answer for an ask#request
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Butterflies - Ch3 - Lies of P/Alice Madness Returns
Relationship: P/Alice Liddell
Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53898544/chapters/136426825
Previous | Next | First
Summary: “But why go looking for other realities, when there’s no guarantee you’ll pass through to them?”
“Because it’s an experiment, and I jolly well won’t learn anything more about all this unless I try,” Alice replied.
Having figured out how to slip in and out of Wonderland entirely, Alice Liddell sets off on a journey to find more realities around her own. When she follows a blue butterfly to Hotel Krat, she meets P. The more time they spend together, the more they feel as though there’s someone else out there, just like them.
Chapter Three: In Which Alice Explores Hotel Krat, and P Teases a Cat
Alice had half-expected to wake up in her usual reality. In an unfamiliar city, along the coast that France and Italy shared. A small part of her almost hoped it, so she wouldn't have to face P again. It was awful enough to embarrass oneself once, but truly dreadful to do it twice – and no doubt, she would do it twice. Most of her, though, wanted to stay. Krat was mysterious and beautiful. It was like Wonderland. She felt more at home here than she did in London.
After she woke, Polendina appeared at her door, as if by magic, and asked if he might run her a bath. As her hair was still crusted with sea salt, Alice accepted gracefully. She was really starting to warm to the puppet.
She sunk into the hot water, and revelled in the feeling. It wasn't often, even in her new position, that she came by a hot bath. It was truly a heavenly thing. As she lay in the bubbles, her mind wandered. She hoped the ship was alright. Hopefully it had weathered the storm, and they'd been able to find port, somewhere. She truly hoped Peter was alright. Was he worrying about her?
If only it was possible to send letters through different realities, then she could let him know she was alive. Hopefully, he wouldn’t worry too much. After all, Alice was like a cat – she had nine lives.
By the time Alice washed and towelled her hair, she found her dress also clean and dried. Perhaps Polendina truly was magic.
It all made her feel much more herself. And when she felt more herself, she had the courage to go downstairs, and face the other hotel guests. It was just as scary as facing a slew of monsters.
Polendina led her to Lady Antonia, the owner, first. She was delighted when Alice curtseyed to her. (Her only frame of reference was meeting a queen.) She called her a charming young lady.
"So, where do you come from, and where are you going?" she asked, and sounded genuinely curious.
"I come from London," Alice replied. "I don't truly have a destination. It was a happy accident I found myself in Krat. But if it's alright, I'd like to stay a while, and help the city."
Lady Antonia looked less jolly, then. She nodded, thoughtfully, and took a long breath. She was sick. Alice could see that. It wasn't the wheelchair, but the drip behind her. It was the healing scars she was hiding behind her hat.
"A very noble goal, my dear." She rested her cheek on her frail fingers. "Though, if I'm truthful, I'm not sure if there's any way to truly save this city. It’s much too far gone."
"I've heard that before," Alice replied. She thought about Wonderland, and that infernal train ruining everything it touched. "I believe there's always hope."
It earnt her a smile. Lady Antonia called her a good girl, again, before she began coughing. Alice thought it wise to withdraw – the exchange had clearly exhausted her.
She met Lorenzini Venigni next, who flirted with her like a doting uncle. She could tell he was just flattering her, that he wasn't truly interested in her romantically. It made it easy to raise her eyebrows and seem unaffected. It wasn't like P calling her beautiful, with his earnestness and too-blue eyes.
Besides, Venigni seemed most interested in talking about himself. He was a very rich entrepaneur, he was glad to tell her, and made it sound like he'd built the city from scratch, with his own two hands. He spoke about the trams, and his factory - and how rich it had made him. Alice realised, then, how tired she was. Her mind wandered as Venigni's lilting voice continued, and she was sure she was falling asleep standing up.
She caught Sophia's eye, from where she stood at the stargazer. Sophia smiled, softly, and looked amused. It was strange, Alice thought, that no one else seemed to see her. No one else seemed to know her.
Alice was about to ask if Venigni knew, but then, of course, she met Geppetto. He steamrolled into Venigni's workstation, rattling off a list of parts that he required. For P, she realised, and it was still strange to think of him as a puppet.
When Geppetto spotted Alice, he stopped short.
It woke her up. This was the man P called Father – though the truth was, this was his creator. He'd explained the rules of the Grand Covenant, and the first was to obey the creator. And P wasn't bound to any of it, but when he spoke about his father, his voice had softened even more. Alice wondered if he’d needed to be bound.
This man was not particularly impressive, she thought. He was taller than Alice, but not P. Had flyaway grey hair and a tidy beard. Had a monocle pressed under one brow, and clever, grey eyes.
"This ravishing beauty is Alice." Venigni gestured to her. "Our midnight visitor."
"I really am sorry to intrude," Alice said. She held out her hand. "Alice Liddell. P mentioned you, last night."
"P?" Geppetto did take her hand, and shook it in the ordinary way. "Yes, of course, my son."
P, who'd said that no one actually called him P. That seemed to include his father. Was it better or worse he only knew him as his son? He said it with a certain warmth that Alice wanted to believe it was good. Though she wondered where the name P came – had he chosen it himself?
"Though, I must confess—” Geppetto’s voice was light, but she heard the tenseness under it. “I told him to be careful who he invites here."
"He didn't invite me," Alice said. She'd learnt enough not to explain about blue butterflies leading her here. "I found myself shipwrecked, and I made it here myself."
She'd tucked her blade into the waistband of her dress, and she noticed his eyes glance to it. Noticed the look of surprise on his face, that a girl had made it through his city of puppets, and couldn’t help smiling a little.
Geppetto smiled. "I see you can handle yourself."
He was smiling, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. In fact, there was something familiar about him. The kind of familiar that Alice did not want to think about.
"I assure you I mean no harm," Alice continued.
"Of course not. You seem a nice girl."
"A lovely girl," Venigni added, grinning at her. She raised an eyebrow back. "But it's not just puppets you have to watch out for, out there."
"That's right. Forgive my being suspicious. There are still stalkers on the streets, and half of them are ready to stab each other for a meal."
"Stalkers?"
Geppetto blinked at her. Alice pressed her hands together, behind her back, and tried to look innocent. She knew that the more she showed she didn't know, the stranger she seemed. P understood that she'd arrived here by magic. No one else would believe it.
"You have travelled far to Krat, haven't you?"
"You could say that," Alice replied. Geppetto expected more. He wanted more. He watched her with the air of a man who usually got his way on these things.
She wouldn't give it to him. That was her answer. She'd said it confidently and she watched him back. Polite, but not offering anything any explanation.
"You were saying about stalkers?"
It irritated him. She saw his eye twitch, but Geppetto was too polite a man to argue with her. He, and Venigni, explained the roving gangs who were the leftover guards of the city. Just as bad as the real gangs. None of them could be trusted.
"And yet, my son seems to trust anyone he comes across."
He'd invited one of them back, and he hadn't yet taken off his dog mask. Nothing inherently wrong with that, but nothing trustworthy, either. P had talked to more survivors, and said that they seemed good people, though they'd sold him a ripped guidebook at a ridiculous price. He hadn’t even been angry.
Alice thought it was a wonderful thing, to be able to trust like that. She didn't trust anyone. And the more she spoke to Geppetto, with his even, calculated words and his probing gaze, the less she trusted him, as well.
"I'll make sure to be careful," Alice said.
"Forgive me. A father worries."
Alice wouldn't know, she realised. She had not seen her father for more than a decade. There were fond memories, of course, but there were so old they might as well have been a fairytale. She nodded, clenching her fingers more tightly behind her back.
Venigni found the parts Geppetto wanted, presumably to fix up P. A worried father, and yet he wanted to make sure P was an effective weapon, Alice mused.
She hoped she was wrong about him.
She really hoped.
*
P hadn't known what on earth to do with Alice.
He was used to people, puppets, monsters, trying to kill him first. It was rarer that they didn't. Even rarer that he could see their face. It was easier when they were wearing a mask; they were foxes or cats and he could focus on their words instead of their faces. There was just a voice to read, instead of a voice and an expression.
Of course, no one wore a mask at the hotel. But he knew them, knew them well now, and - it was different. None of them had mentioned Sophia, or the butterflies. He adored Sophia, but it was easy to be around her. She was soft, and quiet, and explained things gently to him. He was happy to sit and listen to records next to her.
It was different, with this girl. Not least because he'd been expecting to spend the night roaming the streets, fighting puppets. He hadn't expected to be sitting across from a girl his own age and thinking - feeling - that he’d met someone like himself. Even though she was human, and he was a puppet. Even though she came from somewhere far away from Krat. But there was - something. Something he knew. It had been that something that made him struggle to talk to her, and he couldn’t place why.
P sat in one of the many spare hotel rooms to pass the rest of the night. The dawn painted the sky outside like a painting. He teased Spring with a scraggly ribbon he'd found between the sofa cushions – the only other one awake.
Everyone was asleep, including Alice. She'd excused herself not long after he'd called her beautiful. She'd stayed just long enough to finish the second half of her scone.
P didn't sleep. He rested, but he couldn't dream, like humans.
Spring pounced on the ribbon, batting it with her tiny paws.
"Do you think I upset her?" he asked.
Gemini chirped, and his light glowed brighter. "You're still thinking about Alice, are you?"
He frowned. It sounded like Gemini was teasing him. But, he admitted to himself, it was better than thinking about the alternative; better than thinking about monsters, and the king of puppets, and his father. His father, who he had the sneaking suspicion was harbouring secrets from him. He trusted his father. He wanted to keep trusting his father.
P sat back, tugging the ribbon from Spring's grip. She miaowed at him.
"You were no help," he said to Gemini.
"Excuse you, I was plenty help!"
"You kept - interrupting." P flicked the ribbon decidedly. "With those rules."
"Look, pal, those rules are called manners. They're meant to tell you what to say and do to keep a polite conversation. Especially when you're too blinded by beauty to be sensible."
P's frown turned into a scowl. He flicked the ribbon close to Gemini's lantern dangling the end. Spring darted after it. The cat came dangerously close to knocking Gemini askew. He cried out, and fell silent.
For a few seconds.
"It's true," he said, sulkily.
P didn't reply. He let the ribbon slip from his fingers. Spring immediately latched onto it, chasing it under the sofa. She rolled on her back, her mouth very pink as she bit at the ribbon. He watched - pretended to be completely absorbed.
Alice Liddell was very pretty. Different to Sophia - Sophia was graceful and ephemeral and beautiful - where Alice was sharp and decided. She'd looked like a doll; her skin pale, and smooth, and her hair a dark wave over her shoulders. But it was her eyes: those green eyes that were as bright as a cat's. They were outlined with black, so they stood out all the more. The black was slightly smudged, from her trip in the sea. Actually, her hair was quite ruffled and there were shingles sticking to the bright fabric of her dress. But that made her more pretty. It made her look human.
Yet, she'd looked horrified when she'd realised what he was. Only for a moment, but he saw it. And she'd looked just as horrified when he'd called her beautiful. She was scared of him, because he was a puppet.
But - then she'd said he was handsome, and wasn't teasing or cloying. It had been genuine.
It had made something inside him tick in a way it hadn't before, leaving the whole thing complicated, and confusing. He didn't like confusing. And he definitely didn't know how to behave like a ‘gentleman.’
The morning, very slowly, arrived. He heard the distant thudding of footsteps through the corridors, and the faint flutter of Vegnini's voice. The hotel was waking up.
Gemini told him to help Alice make her introductions. P was sure she'd want to be with humans, her own kind, and that she wouldn’t really want to see him again. But Gemini was persistent, and hard to ignore for long. So he pulled himself up, and stepped into the hallway. He listened. There were voices. Eugenie laughed.
"You're not scared of a girl, are you, pal?" Gemini asked.
P sighed. He knew switching the lantern off wouldn't keep Gemini quiet. The best way was to prove him wrong. So, he set off in the direction of the voices.
Alice stood in Eugenie's workshop. She looked so much more at ease than she had the previous night. She leant on the counter, listening to Eugenie explaining about daggers.
She was smiling. Not the wry smile she'd given P the previous night, but a real smile.
Eugenie spotted him first. She broke off from her rattle about balancing blades.
"Oh, have you already met?" She pushed up her glasses, waving at P in greeting.
P nodded. He glanced at Alice, and saw her bite her lip as she looked back. Her arms were behind her back.
"This, here, is our greatest hope," Eugenie continued, gesturing to P. "And my bedtime customer. I've produced some of my best work for him. Why don't you show Miss Liddell your arm?"
P paused. He felt very aware of his legion arm – a gift from his father – and how it was decidedly not as human as the rest of him. How it was dangerous, especially for humans.
But Eugenie gestured for him to come over, grinning.
"I'd like to." Alice stepped forward. "If that's alright."
P nodded. He met them at the desk, and lay the hand of his legion arm on the surface. Eugenie explained it all to Alice, speaking quickly and excitedly, and she nodded like she was listening, but she looked distant. A strand of dark hair fell forward from behind her ear. P wondered what it would be like to brush it back. Wondered how she would look at him, if he did.
Then her fingers grazed his. Very lightly. Just touching the delicate, fragile joints. He couldn't feel touch on that side, but he saw it. His metal fingers twitched of their own accord, in response to the touch.
Her green eyes looked up at him. "And you like it, too?"
"It's serviceable," he replied. Then realised that wasn't what she asked. In truth, he hadn't thought much about it. It was his arm, and it served a purpose. It didn’t matter if he liked it – he needed it.
He caught the look Eugenie gave Alice, as though she had said something interesting. Something she also hasn't thought of. But then she continued, "And you should see Miss Liddell's blade!"
It rested on the desk too. A large knife. The same knife she’d been carrying the night before.
"May I?" His hand hovered over it. He heard Gemini give an approving chirp at his manners. Were there manners, for looking at a lady’s dagger?
"Be my guest."
So, P lifted it. The handle was wooden, and intricately carved. There were more engravings on the silver blade itself. When he shifted the blade, the light caught them. Vines and flowers. It was a wonder they hadn't been chipped away in battle.
He swiped it through the air. It was light; so light that the blade practically sung.
Alice watched.
He met her green gaze. Said, steadily, "It's not beautiful."
Eugenie gave an outraged squeak, but a slow smile spread across Alice's face.
"You're lying," she said.
P nodded. He fought against his own smile, and suspected he was losing the battle. (That was happening more and more often, these days. He didn't understand how it could be possible – how he could feel anything at all, when he was a puppet.)
"You're too good at lying," Eugenie half-scolded him. "I can never tell when you're telling the truth."
That was good, P thought. He tried to tell good lies – lies that didn't hurt. That only worked if the person he was lying to couldn’t tell. He ducked his head, like he was ashamed, and offered the handle of the knife to Alice.
She took it, and slipped it into the sash at her waist. The blade suited her. A pretty blade for a pretty girl, though he didn’t want to embarrass her again by saying it.
"And what about yours?" She gestured to the sword at his side.
He was aware of Eugenie watching the both of them intently, and it made him self-conscious. Why was she smiling, like this was particularly amusing? P drew his sword; his fencing blade; and offered it to her.
Alice rested it on her palms, before slipping a hand into the hilt. She didn't swing it; there wasn't room too, but she did take its weight for a moment. She made it catch the light, so it seemed like a ribbon of silver.
“It’s beautiful.”
"Perhaps you two should spar!" Eugenie said. There was a glint in her eye, and she had a hand on her hip. P wasn’t sure what all that meant. He expected Alice to protest – like she did about the chair at dinner – but instead she tilted her head to one side. It made her hair fall from her shoulder. The movement was beautiful. Just as beautiful, he thought, as his own blade.
"Would you like to?" she asked. "Before you go back onto the streets?"
She was smiling at him. Properly. He liked her smiling at him, like that.
P nodded.
#turnupswrites#lies of p#alice madness returns#american mcgees alice#crossover ship#fanfiction#crossover#lies of p pinocchio#lies of p p#alice liddell#best way to follow is my writing tag#or on ao3#or shout at me and ill put next and previous chapter links on the tumblr text posts
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Decided to make my own LOZ Linkverse AU! Let's call it Chained Timelines for now
Bios Below!
Traveler (The Legend of Zelda NES, Battle of Mirage Castle, The Adventure of Link)
Grew up homeless after losing his parents at a young age
Now lives in Rauru Town, in a house paid for by the Princess
Sopping wet cat /pos
Generally quiet and reserved
Also very modest, to the point of having very little self-confidence
If you ask him, he'll say it's a miracle he made it out of his adventures alive
Wilderness survival expert of the group
His semi-advanced combat ability is due to suffering frequent monster attacks
Somehow really proficient in magic
The only Link with two Zeldas; he’s best friends and adventure partners with one, and the other one has a crush on him that he does not reciprocate
Legend (A Link to the Past, Link's Awakening)
Grew up near Hyrule Castle, raised by his Uncle
Returned home after Awakening to take a break from adventure
Puts on a tough face, but has a lot of depression and anxiety to deal with
Destroying an entire civilization will do that to you
Often tries to severely downplay how he's feeling (it doesn't work)
Is frankly very tired of being “the hero”
A reliable warrior all the same, and will go to any length to defend what he truly cares about
Not looking for love, too many bad memories of his last crush
Great work friends with his Zelda, but nothing more
Sometimes turns into a rabbit, and hates it so much
Arts mistook him for his Gramps at first
Time (Ocarina of Time, Majora's Mask)
Grew up in the Lost Woods as a Kokiri
Now lives as a wanderer, searching for Navi and protecting the weak
Trauma baby :(
One of the most experienced Links despite looking to be around 10 years old
Wiser and more mature than people 5 times his age
A bit of a no-nonsense warrior, his emotions hardened by trauma
Very blunt and brutally honest
The “leader” of the group
He does not like when people treat him like a kid
Looks fondly on his descendants, proud that his legacy could inspire future generations
Not super close with his Zelda, but their relationship has grown in recent years when Zelda started having prophetic dreams of the future timeline
Helps his Zelda as they struggle with their gender identity
Has a crush on Malon, but won't admit it
Oddly one of the better therapists out of the group, despite (or perhaps because of) his own trauma
Fairies are one of the only things that can cheer him up
Does he sleep, like ever???
Essence (Oracle of Seasons, Oracle of Ages)
Grew up in the capital of a Hyrule well connected to other kingdoms
Returned home to finish his schooling
A bit of a world traveler, has souvenirs from five different kingdoms
Is something of a trickster underdog, pretty good at preparing plans on the fly
Has way too much self-confidence for his own good
“Oh, they'll be fine! After all, I'm going with them!”
Sometimes charges recklessly into combat and gets himself hurt
Often annoys his Zelda, but they do love each other romantically
Has a lot of rings that all have different magic spells
Can identify the exact type of any tree seed given to him
Can play nine different instruments
Has three animal mounts and none of them are horses
Four (Four Swords)
Grew up alone on the outskirts of Hyrule, raising himself
Still lives on Hyrule's outskirts, but sometimes ventures into Castle Town
Once a petty thief, he's the definition of a lone wolf
Well, he has learned to play nice with others after being forced to work with his alternate selves, but still isn't a great people person
Has a sarcastic streak, will tell people off to their faces
Eventually fell into favor with Princess Zelda, who pardoned his thievery in exchange for his help investigating the Temple of the Four Sword
But he's still not exactly friends with his Zelda
His four copies are now his headspace partners
Not exactly greedy, but isn't likely to take a price at face value
Wind (The Wind Waker, Phantom Hourglass)
Grew up on Outset Island, leading a quiet life with his Grandma and sister Aryll
Now lives on what will later be New Hyrule, building the kingdom with Tetra
Overconfident, much?
Adventurous, thrill-seeking, energetic, and always down for a scrap
The pirates were not a good influence on him
But in spite of everything, he retains a positive attitude
Very, very expressive; you'll always know exactly how he's feeling
An outdoor kid to the point that being in sterile conditions makes him physically uncomfortable
Loves his sister very much; she was the first person he brought to New Hyrule with him
Despite his wanderlust, he's actually rather terrible at navigation
Not very fashion-conscious
Knows the absolute least about technology out of any of the Links
Romantically involved with Tetra, but you wouldn't even know it from how they interact, neither of them are into the mushy stuff
Despite the initial shock, classifies “barrel launching” as his favorite pirate thrill
Light (Four Swords Adventures)
Grew up in Castle Town, raised to be a Royal Knight of Hyrule by his father
Still lives in that same Castle Town
Compared to Four, he has a lot of experience working in large crowds
In fact, he suffers from crippling separation anxiety, and spent his entire journey freaking out about how Zelda “left him”
(Has been friends with his Zelda since childhood)
Aside from that, he's generally pretty calm and reasonable
Not exactly a pessimist, but is fully aware of how things can go wrong
“Okay, I think I have a plan.”
Creates his own techniques that compensate for his lack of physical strength
(Most of these techniques require at least one other person present)
Doesn't like to hoard items, usually only keeping a few on hand
Once nearly killed his own father
Mini (The Minish Cap)
Grew up near Castle Town, raised by his grandpa Smith
Still lives in his family home
Baby! Blorbo! Scrimbly Bimbly! :D
The cutest, most wholesome kid you'll ever meet
Goofy, cracks jokes, and always keeps a positive attitude
The youngest of the group, and he gets treated as such; not that he cares
Despite his young age, he knows a fair bit about weapons due to growing up under the care of a blacksmith
Never thought he'd have to actually use his grandfather's weapons, though…
Most of his formal training comes from the Blademaster Brothers
The most wholesome platonic friendship with Zelda ever!!!
Is the only Link who can speak with the Minish, and frequently talks to them
Loves nature, and will bring absolute hell upon those who destroy it
For some reason, he rolls everywhere
His preferred unit of measurement is “mes tall”
Twilight (Twilight Princess)
Grew up in the isolated Ordon Village, raised as part of its community
Left Hyrule in search of adventure, but comes back to visit Ordon Village often
Your stereotypical farmer boy, tough as a Dodongo and not afraid to get his hands dirty
Quite mature, and emotionally distant at times, but with a heart of gold
“Fear is for the weak.” Meanwhile Lanayru's history lesson be like
Second only to Traveler in terms of wilderness survival, and unparalleled in hunting
Often speaks to animals, and loves caring for them
However, he respects the nature of the food chain, and will hunt wild animals to feed himself and the people he cares about
(Will never kill a domesticated animal)
Has the greatest physical strength of the entire group
“I'm down to wrestle! Should I hold back my strength this time?”
Barely knows his Zelda, they are not very friendly
Big brother instincts ahoy!
Has a special charm to change into a wolf, describes this form as his “spirit animal”
Not a mushy guy, even with people he genuinely loves
Acts as a mentor to Wild
Spirit (Spirit Tracks)
Grew up in Aboda Village, raised by the elderly pirate Niko
Moved into Castle Town to work as a Royal Engineer
Energetic, loud-mouthed, and a total nerd
Tends to go on lengthy tangents when the conversation interests him
In his spare time, he will spend hours reading technical manuals
If there's a problem relating to technology, call this guy
Loves trains in particular, and has spent a lot of time learning how they work
The youngest royal engineer New Hyrule has ever seen
An expert navigator, give him a map and he's like a damn GPS
Has next to no weapon skills, his only proficiency is in the Boomerang
Most of what he knows about sword fighting, he learned on the fly
Absolutely enamored with Zelda, but is too flustered to do more than a simple hug
Doesn't understand much about magic
Sky (Skyward Sword)
Grew up in Skyloft, living in the Knights Academy from a young age
Left home to establish the Kingdom of Hyrule on the Surface with Zelda
Kind and understanding, he's the go-to guy if you need a favor done
The resident team therapist for the Links
Is actually rather brilliant, but is the laziest of all the Links
He sleeps in constantly, it even irritates fellow heavy sleepers
Has a bit of a sarcastic streak, but generally only around close friends
Will help whoever he meets that doesn't try to kill him, he simply enjoys helping people
But if you make him mad, oh boy, pick a god and pray, they won't save you
When he gets going, he gets going, and it's almost impossible to pry him from his mission
Absolutely adores his Zelda in a romantic way, and will do anything for her
Feels some amount of guilt for shackling his descendents with the hero curse
Enjoys woodcarving
Arts (A Link Between Worlds, Triforce Heroes)
Grew up in a home near Hyrule Castle, working for and living under the Blacksmith
Now lives in Hytopia as an assistant to Madame Couture
A dork of the highest caliber
Flamboyant and confident, never afraid to strut his stuff
Magnetic personality, tends to befriend everyone he meets
Beneath his pseudo-narcissism lies a genuine heart of gold
Weapons are fine and all, but his true passion is fashion!
Owns around 50 outfits, many of which he helped make
Doesn't give two hecks about his gender presentation
“No, no, no! You call this a color palette?!”
Friendly with his Zelda, she goes to Hytopia often just to visit him
Surprisingly strong, can carry the weight of two other people his weight
Still has the other Triforce Heroes on his contact list
Wild (Breath of the Wild, Age of Calamity, Tears of the Kingdom)
Grew up in Hateno Village, became a knight at the request of his late father
Now lives in a custom ordered home outside Tarrey Town
Absolute gremlin :3
Prior to the Calamity, Link was a stoic knight who vowed to never show his true feelings for the safety of his loved ones
Now, having forgotten those vows, he's unabashedly himself
Loudmouthed, chaotic, destructive, and hedonistic, he lives life for his own pleasure
Will cook up the most scatterbrained schemes ever, and will often get himself hurt trying to show off
When Wild shows up, expect disaster
He does still have a kind heart and will help people, just in his own way
Curious almost to a fault; can get distracted easily
A great swordsman and archer, but can't seem to keep a weapon intact for more than a week; not that he cares what weapon he ends up using
Is a stellar cook, but often doesn't bother being fancy, because he will eat anything
(He once ate an actual rock steak; and liked it)
With Ultrahand, he became a technician to rival Spirit, although his creations are often less practical than Spirit's
Romantically involved with his Zelda (sorry Sidon)
Enjoys screwing with the Koroks for reasons I'm not sure even he understands
Has a personal motorcycle, the Master Cycle Zero
Unafraid to wear women's clothes, or even nothing but his undies
Warrior (Hyrule Warriors)
Grew up in Castle Town, living and training among the knights
Still lives in Castle Town, dutifully guarding the Royal Family
A pretty serious guy, outwardly fairly stoic
He does have his habits, though; especially his flair for the dramatic
Pulls off elaborate sword techniques and then refuses to acknowledge them
Is proficient in at least 5 different weapon types
The best combatant of the group, bar none
Has a bit of a narcissistic streak, though he's working on fixing that
In the past, he'd rush in guns blazing into a battle and ride off his talent and luck, but he's come to understand the importance of a good plan
Not that he could come up with a plan to save his life
Knew a few other Links personally even before (insert timeline fusing event here)
Selectively mute, often has Proxi act as his voice
Friendly with his Zelda, they're a class A platonic power couple
Has absolutely zero interest in romance, and is completely clueless about the requisite concepts like marriage or sexual attraction
Is utterly terrified of Great Fairies, too many bad memories
His scarf was a gift from Impa, no touchy!
Rhythm (Cadence of Hyrule)
Lives alone in the forest, far from any major settlements
Still lives in that same home
Cynical and bitter, rarely cracking a smile
His friendships outside of the other Links are few and far in between
Was cursed from birth; whenever he hears any kind of rhythm, he'll only be able to move to its beat, impeding his life
He hates music because of this curse, and will go out of his way to avoid it
But the curse spreading to all of Hyrule for a few hours softened his temper just a bit, and made it easier for him to accept his cursed movement
Essentially, he learned to somewhat embrace his curse rather than avoid it
Weapons combat is his autistic special interest, and he has something for any occasion
“You think I haven't planned for this?”
Enjoys the company of his Zelda, she's the only thing that can lighten his mood
Fully expects to one day have to fight the other Links
Oddball (The Faces of Evil, The Wand of Gamelon)
Grew up in Hyrule Castle during an era of peace
Still lives in the town as a knight of Hyrule's Royal Family
An absolute dork who loves adventure
Happy-go-lucky and energetic, never sitting still for too long
Gets bored very easily, and if there's no adventure, he'll often make one
Most likely to crack a joke at a gravesite
Has a massive appetite, once ate an entire Octorok
Arrogance is his downfall; he thinks himself invincible, and it's gotten him in serious trouble more than once
Not very intelligent, often bombing simple puzzles
But when it matters most, he can cut the jokes and fight until the bitter end
A bit of a hopeless romantic with his Zelda
Valiant (TV Series, Valiant Comics)
Grew up in Calatia, before leaving home in search of adventure
Now lives in Hyrule's North Palace as the defender of the Triforce
Sarcastic and brutally honest, can often come off as rude even when he doesn't mean to
Over the years, he's become more mature than his reputation would belie
He didn't care much for being a royal defender at first, finding it boring compared to his old life of roaming the world and hunting monsters
But it was made worthwhile by his relationship with the Princess Zelda
Despite often coming off as a hopeless romantic, he and Zelda do genuinely love each other, and would likely die for each other
He can be lazy at times, sometimes ditching missions when he doesn't feel like it
He can be arrogant, and not take threats seriously at times
But through and through, he is an incorruptible soul and would do anything to protect Hyrule and Catalia
Scholar (Zelda's Adventure)
Grew up near the Hyrule/Tolemac border, raised by an elderly author
Now lives deeper in Hyrule for his combat training
Shy and reserved, rarely heard in a crowd
“Sorry, you probably don't want to hear my opinion…”
Underneath his anxious tendencies is a kind soul who just wants to help people
The only Link to never have any real combat experience; is being trained by Zelda
Is a massive bookworm
Has the most general knowledge of any of the Links
Has some magic experience, but is hardly proficient at it
Massive inferiority complex around the other Links
Looks up to his Zelda as his hero
Mystery (The Crystal Trap, The Shadow Prince)
Grew up in a simple home in Hyrule, training to become a knight
Now lives in central Hyrule as a royal knight
Brave, playful, and extremely outgoing
He can make friends with nearly anyone, and often does
Not very bright, and is very inclined to follow his gut
Which often means he'll do things nobody wanted him to do
Is a bit of a prankster, and gets a kick out of annoying people, especially Zelda
Naturally curious, but would rather learn through experience than through reading
The most skilled archer of the Links
Friends with his Zelda, they go on adventures together sometimes
Is somehow the only one who can decode number-letter code
Knows a bit of sign language, but not enough to carry a conversation
Won't accept a ring as a present from anybody, doesn't elaborate why
#the legend of zelda#legend of zelda#links meet au#linkverse#don't tag as linked universe#link to the past#link's awakening#ocarina of time#majoras mask#oracle of ages#oracle of seasons#four swords#wind waker#four swords adventures#minish cap#twilight princess#spirit tracks#skyward sword#a link between worlds#triforce heroes#breath of the wild#age of calamity#tears of the kingdom#hyrule warriors#cadence of hyrule#zelda cdi#zelda cartoon#zelda's adventure#zelda gamebooks
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Sharing some headcannons for Jenny from 2022 Rise. Roar. Revolt. Or RRR.
Mainly so they stop pestering me to be heard.
What if Scott and Cathy are Jenny's only parental figures and that's why she came to India? Perhaps she is an orphan or poor relation. When Bheem is asking about her house, her tone is sad when she tells him it's big but not really a home.
In regards to Malli and why Jenny didn't try to free the girl, I have a theory. Cathy seems like the type who would lie to Jenny and tell her that Malli is an orphaned Indian whom they care for. Jenny is trusting of her aunt, no doubt. And wouldn't question this as truth.
Jenny reminds me of Harry Goodsir from AMC's The Terror. Harry Goodsir did not understand the cruelty the other English men showed to the Inuit people they encountered. This was because Harry had lived an isolated life in England. I believe the same can be said for Jenny. She's not seen colonization or English militant cruelty to the Indians. She also has no prejudice, like Harry, whether it's because it was never enforced in her childhood like it never was for me, or if she simply chooses to not be prejudice because it is wrong. Regardless, this causes an inward confliction.
Imagine that you're told by your aunt and uncle that you are obligated to watch the flogging of the man you have feelings for. Then you're watching your only aunt who has been your only source of motherly affection get angry that there isn't enough blood on the floor. Then proceed to get a cat o' nine out with gleeful delight for the officer to use.
When Jenny is crying at Bheem's flogging, it seems so little at first. Then I thought about how britians are told not to show emotions, stiff upper lip and all of that. And especially why would she show her grief and pain to the two people she thought were good, kind, and just. And just now she sees what they're really like. I'd say this was a lot to take in.
I personally don't feel that she blames Ram for being the one that flogged Bheem. I feel that Jenny would be too conflicted about what her Aunt and Uncle are doing to Bheem to think about Ram being the one inflicting the punishment. I feel as though she only sees Ram as another Indian man rising up in the ranks as he sees fit.(but this could be my love for Ram and not wanting Jenny to blame him).
I know that we didn't have time in the film to fully show Jenny's emotional/psychological conflict. But she most likely risked her life to give Bheem the map to the prison. How he even was able to signal her for help shows that she was on constant vigil to help him with whatever she could. The way she says "Be careful." Sounds so sad and separated. Stiff upper lip and all of that...
I'm sure I'll think of other stuff later, or someone else bring stuff to the table.
Anyways, thanks to whoever read this.
@ronaldofandom I thought to tag you in this post! Tag whoever you know who also likes Jenny!
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@headstrongblake said: “you know when blake went away…octavia was something else. had an answer or argument for every word that come out of my mouth,” nick chuckled sadly, “i used to wish for just one hour, hell, even ten minutes that’d she just be quiet. still. now i’d do anything for her to yell at me…for her to just open her eyes.” / nick & hunter, post shooting :’)))
hunter wasn't a religious person, he didn't believe in any god and saw things far too scientifically but he entered the church even though he felt as though he was a fish out of water here, that he didn't quite belong. perhaps he came just to feel the hope that those praying felt, that because he couldn't justify asking a higher power for help, it didn't mean others shouldn't nor that it wouldn't possibly help him feel the hope that was sometimes desperately radiating off the others. or perhaps he simply came because he knew nicklas frequented here every so often, that with what happened to octavia he had a hunch that the man might be here.
and he was. there was no mass at the moment, it was late enough into the evening that there were few people sprinkled about, nick being one of them in one of the many empty pews. hunter was silent as he moved to sit beside him, offering a softened gaze in greeting at the look of shock he recieved. he hoped that he hadn't intruded or crossed a boundary with the man but he had had a chance to speak with just about everyone but nicklas since the shooting. and after a long moment of silence, nick finally spoke.
sapphire eyes stayed low as he reached out to hold one of the scripture bibles that was sprinkled about, a small smile tracing his features as nick spoke about how wily and troublesome octavia had been those first couple years. it amused him mostly because it reminded him of himself and ryan, they always had to have the last word, and it was always some smart remark. but octavia wasn't nick's blood related sibling, he had taken her in as a promise to bellamy. while he was sure nick couldn't see it at the time, hunter knew that those two would grow close, that they acted like true siblings more than he and ryan did anymore and a soft amused breath escaped him as nick chuckled.
it was a sad sound and as his voice seemed to falter, hunter turned towards him, offering a hand to his shoulder. "she's going to be okay, nick," he assured in a quiet but firm voice. "you and i both know that that girl is a fighter -- you know more than most," he added, referencing what nick had shared with him. he was quiet a moment as his gaze left nick to look ahead, up at the altar. he squeezed nick's shoulder gently before returning it to his lap. "ryan always tells me that octavia is like a cat with nine lives," he murmured. "she has had to deal with far more than anyone should at her age," though he knew most of them had all dealt with their own pain an demons, "but, i believe she has made it through with the help of you. of all of you."
hunter glanced sideways, his monotone voice a low sound that seemed to fit right in the church. "i believe as long as she has you all, she will pull through," he gave a small nod at that, "and, well, she has made it through the most critical hours..." which was something that they could all hold onto as good news. that it wasn't a belief, or hope, but a fact, even if it was also a fact that the group of them supporting her, loved her.
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Dappleddusk could not believe her eyes.
Oatstar had taken flight into the forest, leaving her behind with the watching eyes of her anxious and uneasy clan upon her. She had barely become his temporary deputy, and already was the burden of guiding their clan thrust upon her--even if only for a moment. Or so she hoped.
"Mother?"
Beewatcher brought herself close, her expression knitted into a tense look of concern.
"Return to your duties!" called Dappleddusk in a loud yowl to the clan, her gray tail flagging high. "Oatstar will return soon. We need to refocus on preparing the fresh-kill pile and lining the nursery."
With a flick of her tail, she turned, and caught the attention of some of the apprentices peering out from their den.
"Splinterwatcher." The sandy-toned tortie lifted her head from the crowd. "You and your apprentice go and gather moss for the nursery. I want three other volunteers to go with them."
The apprentice in question, Lavenderpaw, perked up, and came bounding over to her mentor the moment Splinterwatcher's tail signaled to her. Both she-cats were diligent and did not gossip or complain--making them good to head the group that was to gather moss. Their volunteers stepped up in the form of Heatherpaw and his mentor, Robinbone, and Butterflyfur, the mediator passing a look over to Suntuft and Brightstorm, but neither looked in her direction.
"Lotussight, please make a hunting patrol. I trust your choices on hunting grounds."
The gray-speckled she-cat bowed her head, and Dappleddusk watched as she stepped away and selected her hunters. She was one of their finest, and also knew well who among them was similarly talented.
"The rest of you, please focus on fortifying the camp walls, and preparing your dens. It is only the beginning of leafbare so it remains gentle still, but it will not last."
With a flick of her tail, she signaled it was time to disperse, and with only some begrudging members, the clan separated to their tasks.
"Are you going after Oatstar?"
Dappleddusk shook her head, looking to Beewatcher.
"Not yet. Let me know if anything comes up, okay?"
With a knowing look, Beewatcher nodded, and watched as her mother went to the medicine cats' den.
"Eagleburn?"
"I heard it all."
Curled up in his mossy nest, Eagleburn lifted his head. Dappleddusk found herself mildly annoyed at his knowing tone, but swallowed it down as she approached.
"And you heard that Oatstar ran?"
"I'm not surprised he did."
Licking a paw and swiping it over his ear, Eagleburn flicked his tail.
"He hasn't made a single decision since Darkstar died. It's been me."
Dappleddusk felt her blood cool.
"Why are you admitting this?"
Even unseeing, his eyes cut deep into her as they locked upon the sound of her voice.
"Because you and I both know that he's going to sink this clan, Dappleddusk."
And he was not wrong. She knew in her heart that Oatstar would be nothing but a detriment to the clan without a guiding paw, and still did she wonder--how did he get his lives? Would StarClan award such a cowardly cat with their divine blessing?
"I've been helping him because I care about him as a friend, and for this clan, but it can't go on much longer."
"And what are you implying?"
"That leafbare will be that much harder under Oatstar's leadership."
Dappleddusk flattened her ears. But what other choice did they have? Unless Oatstar willingly retired himself, they would be condemned to having to guide him until all of his nine lives were spent.
"Keeping me here won't bring Bayspots back," Eagleburn continued. "Everything I've ever done has been for DawnClan. Do you think I would take away a perfectly good warrior from this clan?"
Dappleddusk was silent, unable--or perhaps unwilling--to answer.
Letting her sit in silence, Eagleburn laid his head down, shutting his eyes.
Unable to find the words, Dappleddusk, after a second more of simply standing there, staring at the deputy, she turned away, padding out of the den.
She needed to find Oatstar.
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I am keeping the dog. Vet said he was healthy but had a lot of fleas so she gave him a bath and some of his first vaccines, now he smells really nice! He likes to climb the bed to sleep and honestly I never thought I would be sleeping with an animal like this. You said your favorite anons, besides the fun ones, were the ones where I talk about myself; so I will tell you about me.
When I was a little boy, I could not have pets. Pets were not allowed not because my mother was evil but because she was not stable and barely could take care of me, so taking care of a pet was something she was not able to do.
But, I once had a cat called "Totoro" like my fav Studio Ghibli movie at the time, I believe I was around nine years old or so. One day, I came back from school, and my mom told me she got rid of him. She told me that she gave it back to the lady that found him and that she was going to take care of him properly. Totoro was with me for about a week but I cried for more than two weeks when he left.
I kept his collar with me, I put it on my teddy bear and a couple of years later I started to wear it as a bracelet. This was, perhaps, around 2008 but I still have it with me. I live in a nice house and I despise old things but I still have it with me. Totoro is probably dead by now, if I am honest with you, but I still remember him clearly like it was yesterday.
Yesterday was Mother's Day and I also remembered my mom and the things she used to like... but I think that is a story for another day, don't you think?
I will name the puppy Eddie. The vet said he is going to be a big boy, so I will also buy him a collar with his name on it and maybe some spikes.
I hope you have a great morning! Adrian and you looked absolutely amazing on those pictures. Chef kiss.
–Love, 🦴.
aww i'm happy to hear that! :3 i love having my dog sleep next to me, i miss it a lot sometimes
that's an understandable reasoning from your mom, i wasn't allowed pets until i was about 10 years old, which was when we got our dog who still lives with my mom. totoro sounds adorable! love the ghibli film! it's sad you had to give him away :( i would've been heartbroken as well. i'm sure he was well taken care of and lived a happy life though! and i'll be happy to hear more stories anytime! it's so cute you're naming the puppy after me :3 i love spiked collars too so we match!
and thank you! i hope your day's great too, blondie <3
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Second day of showcasing all the favorite fics you guys sent us. Here’s another bunch.
PART 2:
Dirty Laundry by vipjuly [Explicit, 28k words]
Perhaps intelligence comes with its own dose of insanity.
Dr. Castiel James Novak is a leading name in the mental health community. When Dean Winchester, self-proclaimed Golden Gardens killer, lies down on his couch for the first time, Castiel feels it.
Dean Winchester is exactly who he says he is.
Castiel Novak is exactly who Dean makes him out to be.
Don't by tricia_16 [Explicit, 97k words]
After nine days of radio silence from both Jack and Cas, Cas returns to the bunker without Jack but with black fur, four paws, a tail, and an obvious preference for Dean's company. With no idea how to turn Cas back or how he got turned into a cat in the first place, Dean has to learn to live with Cas quite literally underfoot all the damn time. Nobody could have guessed that having his best friend in cat form would end up being the catalyst for a huge shift in their relationship, but looking back, he's pretty sure it all started with an annoyingly stubborn ball of fur...
Four Letter Word For Intercourse by bendingsignpost [Explicit, 194k words]
As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties.
What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right?
(It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.)
Fragments by FieryAngel [Explicit, 40k words]
Dean Winchester works with fragments, pieces of cut glass that he uses to create shining, translucent works of art. When he is commissioned to work on a large piece for a local church, he enlists the help of Castiel Novak, a third year art student who is eager to create and find his place in the world.
As the artists spend a summer living together and creating art out of fragments, will they come together to learn that they are two parts of a larger whole themselves?
Galveston by lunarriviera [Explicit, 56k words]
It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him.
“I shoot guns. I beat up monsters. I fix cars, Cas.”
“I guess I should have done something worse to yours than hide the distributor cap, then.”
Gas-N-Sip 'verse by zation [Explicit, 48k words]
Dean is a kinda lovesick teenager and Cas is an oblivious Gas-N-Sip employee. Or, The one where Dean can’t keep his trap shut (which might not be such a bad thing).
Green Corners by rustling_pages [Teen, 72k words]
After the death of his son, there is nothing left for Dean other than his garden market. His days are tough, the nights are tougher, but at least there's a reason to get up in the morning. And with the new boom on do-it-yourself garden magic, his business is going okay.
Amidst the passing of time, there is only one thing that distracts him from functioning like a normal human being: Diagonally across the street, in the display window of that traditional Herb and Potion shop, plants are dying in masses.
Storming in to confront the owner goes differently than he imagined, though. Castiel Novak may be the kind of guy who wears old-fashioned mage robes and keeps his shop in sweltering heat, but he's also a talented herbalist, the kindest soul Dean has ever met, and utterly beautiful.
Not that Dean is ready for anything other than friendship.
(Not that Cas doesn’t get sick a bit too often.)
He Wouldn't Be Gone by turningthepages [Mature, 10k words]
Dean knew Cas left him the night before he was going to propose because Cas didn't want to marry him. He knew by the way that Cas went completely MIA that Dean hadn't been the best partner he could have been. And now he was about to see Cas, nearly a year after their breakup at a wedding nonetheless. It hurt like hell but Dean was going to get through the night... probably with the help of alcohol.
Maybe if Dean would have been better during their relationship Cas wouldn't be gone.
[part 1] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5]
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Hi :) If I may -
🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis
🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love
🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now
🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises?
🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here (feel free to skip this one if you haven't got time/opportunity - or, well, you know you can skip any anyway)
🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it
<3
Okay I lied I'm answering this NOW because I just had to buy bread and face The Horrors of going into a shop and I need something nice to do bc I'm exhausted...
Describe your latest wip with five emojis
I'm taking this to mean the latest I started dfhgjf I have kinda seven WIPs rn... So, here we go:
🦎🪞💧🖼️🌈
I sure hope I get time to finish ALL my wips very soon! (I have four big uni assignments to do until the 15th, but afterwards I am FREE for like... a little bit at least)
recommend an author or fanfic you love
Okay I'm actually going to do two here, seeing as one is a shameless plug of my friend's fic...
Go read Righting Reflex by the asker please, it is a wonderful fic about the Thirteenth Doctor and her fam, and a cat that mysteriously shows up. Perhaps there is more to the cat (who seems very insistent on getting Yaz and the Doctor to spend more time together) than meets the eye...
And another would be Communication is the basis of a healthy relationship by casualscribbler who I'd also consider a friend (actually everyone who loves Jenny and Vastra is automatically my friend I don't make the rules). It's a beautiful fic about Jenny and Vastra and them growing closer together. Said author has also some other brilliant works, some of which are rather on the angsty side (and made me cry a lot fhdjgskfdg), but I love them dearly.
name three good things going on in your life right now
Uhhhh, okay. So, one, I finally got to meet with a therapist about my chronic pain and she gave me addresses to a few places for stuff I got going on (I cried a lot but some of that crying really just needed to get out)
I passed an exam I worried about a lot, andddddd three, I kinda fell into a hyperfixation on the PGSM 2003 live action series and am LIVING bc nine years ago my parents claimed Sailor Moon would just be a short phase and now it's STILL THERE >:D
Do you like or dislike surprises?
Generally definitely dislike, I'm autistic and like things to be fairly predictable because I don't know how to spontaneously react to a lot of stuff. (I like to surprise other people who DO like surprises tho)
Add 50 words to your current wip and add the paragraph here
Since I, as mentioned, kinda have like seven wips and it is this asker, I'm going to write a paragraph for Turn Loose the Mermaids XD It won't give much away since we're still in the "introducing Jenny and Vastra's ragtag crew" phase.
“They are really sweet,” Bill said outside, beaming at Jenny and Vastra. “Joining your crew seems like the best decision of my recent life so far.”
Jenny wasn’t yet quite used to thinking of the crew as hers, and she blushed a little. “We’re happy to have you.”
“It is… a family for those who have none,” Vastra mused, absentmindedly stroking a lock of Jenny’s brown hair out of her face. “To provide comfort and companionship.”
I hope you like itttt!
Link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it
Could be a funny idiot about this and link the art I commissioned myself, but... Let's not :P
So here's absolutely gorgeous Paternoster Gang (and Bloomsbury Bunch) art by @simpingforwomen24-7
LIKE LOOK AT THEIR LIL HAPPY FACES I LOVE THEM SMMMMM!
Anyway, this was fun!! Thank you so much for the ask!
#ask game#writers ask game#madame vastra#jenny flint#jenny and vastra#the paternoster gang#doctor who
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black alert:
ethan’s started on the energy drinks :(
lily sees him “have you slept?” he ignores her “i know i’m still the pariah of the department and it’s none of my business, but you have to stop beating yourself up about olivia. mistakes happen, believe me i know. why don’t you go and see mrs beauchamp? perhaps she could spare you for the day” “what and let everyone down?” “you are exhausted. staff welfare is just as important as patient welfare” 🥺🥺🥺 i guess she’s realised how she treated alicia was wrong then? presumably it was ethan calling her out on it that woke her up
ooh it’s lofty’s interview and henrik’s there lining up his pens
ethan actually does go and speak to connie but she’s on the phone and when she gets off she says that st james’ have declared a black alert and it’s only a matter of time before they start diverting (wow that never happens! /s) so he feels like he can’t ask to go home and instead says to let him know what he can do to help :(
zoe’s back! she went to visit nick jordan
cal says good morning to ethan only to get a blunt reply😢
ah a guy asks ethan if he works there and then hands him a letter about his suicidal thoughts :(
connie interrupts them talking in the relatives room and says she needs a word with ethan outside and then asks him what he’s doing
“i have a patient who has expressed suicidal thoughts” “you’re a registrar not a psychiatrist” bit of an odd way to phrase what she means seeing as you can be a psychiatry registrar??
he says he owes the guy a level of care and connie interrupts him like “what’s this really about?” lmaoo nothing gets past connie😭
when ethan goes back in the guy says he’ll go and that he should never have come there but ethan’s like no you did exactly the right thing and tells him that if he goes to reception and gets booked in then they can properly help him. he says he will but then just leaves instead. no prizes for guessing whether he’s gonna end up dead by the end of the episode😕
also this guy is played by the guy who played renfield in young dracula lol
ethan’s treating an elderly woman who’s only a few hours from death but first she was in the corridor then the only bed available was in cubicles and all the wards are full and he goes to admin, slams the file he’s carrying down and start ranting about it :(((
then henrik appears and tells them all st james’ have closed their doors😬
now ethan’s opening another energy drink (his third of the day possibly?) and louise is trying to deal with some guy with a sore ankle who’s demanding to be treated but refuses to be triaged first and ethan goes over to help and at first he’s being polite but the guy says he called an ambulance ethan starts having a go at him and cal and charlie have to calm him down :(
charlie says he’s got a mate who’s a therapist (ben harding presumably) and suggests to cal that they both go and see him but cal says he hasn’t told him because look at him and the last thing they need is some therapist getting involved “you can’t fix everyone so just stop trying!”
louise manages to get the difficult patient back to reception but he then starts filming everything saying he’s going to put it online to show what the nhs has become and lofty tries to help louise but the guy just pushes him backwards and he goes through the glass panel😬
connie suggests to hanssen that they set up a triage/field hospital outside and lofty volunteers to run it. go lofty!
dixie saying to iain “you could’ve died” and he replies “nah, cat with nine lives me” and she goes “jeff used to say that” :(((((
jess has dropped the complaint but they’re still going ahead with the investigation but she asks dixie out for a drink. dixie turns her down
ethan’s treating an rtc patient and connie wants to stop because she has a hematoma her heart or something like that but ethan suggests they do a clamshell thoracotomy. connie says that not something she wants to do here and he says but it’ll give her a chance and if they don’t she’s dead. just you wait connie he’ll be doing them in the back of ambulances next
lily checks over the difficult guy from before and says he has the common cold💀 he still refuses to leave though talking about how he pays his taxes and louise has a go at him and lily goes “you just got owned”
connie talks ethan through it and they manage to get a faint pulse and she’s like “you may very well just have saved that woman’s life, dr hardy. you’re a credit to this department, don’t forget that” 🥺🥺🥺
aw rita’s impressed with how well lofty’s doing running the tent
aw the difficult guy gives louise an envelope with an apology note and a lot of money in for the infuser, which puts the girls way ahead of the boys
they managed to get the elderly woman into hdc and ethan cries as she dies😢
ooh i was thinking i feel like this woman who’s playing the friend of the elderly lady has been on before because i recognise and i just realised she was the patient ethan treated on his first day!!
cal texts ethan “we need to talk…” not ominous at all😭
jess and dixie kiss but dixie says she can’t do this
so ethan goes looking for cal but first finds lily in the small resus looking at her dead patient who’s covered with a sheet. she says he had a fight with a bus and was basically doa :(
“look, earlier you said you were the pariah of the department” “am i not?” “not to me” yayyy they’re friends again!!
then he’s just about to call cal when he notices the dead patient’s hand is slightly uncovered and he recognises the ring, he pulls back the sheet and it’s the suicidal guy from before😢😢😢😢
the worst part is i’m not sure whether he threw himself in front of the bus on purpose, because we saw him get out pills in his car but then he seems to bottle it and runs off so it’s entirely possible that the bus wasn’t a suicide attempt. or maybe it was who knows.
rita tells lofty he got the job and he goes and hugs dylan🥺
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Just curious, but do you have any headcanons one what the Cat’s deal could be and what she is/where her oddities come from? While her comment about not having had a vacation in 150 years does seem like it could suggest that denizens are immortal or at least long lived in general, I just can’t help puzzle over answers like this from Owen that make sure to point out she is an exception rather than the norm:
Add in her shuttle and implicitly the number tracker that Simon probably got from her that holds a design aesthetic different from anything we’ve yet seen on the train, and it really paints quite a mystery surrounding her. Though not her relationship with Frank, that we already know about lol. What are your thoughts on her?
OHOHO mAn, my knowledge on the cat is super limited because I struggled with deciphering what were theories and what was facts we'd learned in canon (and... my hyperfixation lies pretty heavily with book two and begrudgingly with book four, which only have minor cat appearances).
I'll explain what my original thought process was and how im going to have to edit it now, since I think there could still be a connection.
Before I'd assumed she was one of the 'original denizen'. Perhaps when the train first started, One had not considered how hard of a life it would be for a denizen to live forever and to always be saying goodbye. And after so long being alive, obviously you figured your way around and made a way for yourself.
Some cars seem to 'reset' so to speak, once a passenger has been through. (Or I assumed they did, given some of the examples we see.) Like Tulip after leaving the Straight Up Italy car- how should the next passenger learn their lesson and help the rose woman if not because the car resets? (ofc we see her wandering around in book 2 so that's false)
I didn't think every car would reset, Tuba talks of the loss of her children- and I figured it was a balance. Some denizen's live their whole lives repeating one moment because they remember nothing else. And some live full lives, because there are some things you can only offer to another once you've experienced them (not empty platitudes). And then there would be the Originals, denizens who lived since the start of the train, or at least, from very early on. Having lived so long, knowing so much, it's a kind of help that could only be found on the train.
I'd also figured that, if that wasn't the case, it was just that Samantha had 'nine lives', and lived them out consecutively, likely retaining her memories since she appears very much the same as she reoccurs in the background.
But there aren't any denizens like the cat. At least none that we're alluded to.
Alternatively, I think it'd be interesting for the cat to be tied to One in the sense that Amelia is. One likely let Amelia help because he wanted to better understand his purpose in helping the passengers. And what better way to understand empathy then through a pet?
Maybe she wasn't doing what a pet did, but how would One know? He obviously had many flaws in how he worked and what the train did, I think it'd be interesting for the cat to be an earlier attempt at connecting with the trains reason for existing. Likely one that went wrong.
#infinity train#Infinity train book 1#yellow's theories#Im always stumped on the cat but#Theres no way she made her technology on her own#I think itd make sense if she swindled it from One as he attempted to understand her and human emotions#Which would explain why she doesnt just help One back to the front without Amelia knowing#I wrote half of this immediately and thr other half juat now and both times i have been on the verge of sleep LDKFNF#ask
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Fallen stars au:
I hadn’t even thought about them going to vet, thinking he lost more than one life during that but yeah after what he’s been through he definitely needed one. Yeah man got fixed. (Though can I say that Fire would absolutely adopt any lost kits he found, he’s such a dad in my head)
I also have the thought of they just narrowly avoid Fire being given away during the whole ordeal.
I could see Fire in his still pretty damaged state to want to give the leader position up, he’s tired, he won, he’s still recovering physically and mentally but the cats who fought alongside him him say no, they want him, they chose him, they’re sorry it took all of this to understand and that he’s good enough. I just want Fire to be told he’s good enough and be given apologies.
Maybe some shatter of faith in the stars. Maybe.
Jeez I can see Fire being even more pissed when he deals with reforming Skyclan.
Firestar absolutely losing his collective shit when his daughters go missing. (The sundown patrol needed a medic and it was stupid they didn’t have one, yeets Leafpaw).
Trueee!! I think the biggest conflict that Firestar has is, with an exception of his closest friends, no one else really stands up for him. No one steps in when Tigerstar goes for another life, no one tries to go after him or even tries to back him up when Tigerstar assumes control. He's left to wonder, was it because they're so bound by Clan law or...was it because they never saw a former kittypet as their true leader anyways? In the end, he's left feeling as if he's failed every cat who's lives were taken by Tigerstar.
Back in TigerClan, of course no one in ThunderClan is happy about what's happened but they're also unsure what to do. Tigerstar has the three other Clans under his control and Firestar, in the eyes of everyone, was beaten in a fair duel. Cinderpelt and Longtail work quietly to sow the seeds of rebellion but it doesn't help that perhaps some of the Clanmates they trust have begun to see Tigerstar's point of view.
in the doodles i did for this, i intentionally gave Firestar a more faded leader mark to represent StarClan's dwindling absence in him (with only a handful remaining). I think Scourge would give him some unintentional support in this regard, he's a leader without nine lives and still intentionally puts himself at risk to defend those part of his colony.
I do love the idea of Scourge being very fond of his nieces and when Firestar asks for his help in finding them, sends as many cats as he can across the twolegplace to help find them. The two half-brothers are probably a wreck when Squilf and Leaf go (which big agree, they really did need a medic!!)
#fallen stars au#deer rambles#SO many possibilities with how things change#i really do like the idea of bloodclan becoming an ally in the end#maybe they trade with them?#fresh forest food that they can spare for blankets toys and accessories
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For the dead warrior thing, how's about the non-ThunderClan dead meddies from arc 1? Mudfur, Barkface, and Runningnose.
(And on the note of fleshing out StarClan-as-deities, I'm curious, do you think Clan cats would pray to specific cats for divine intervention or to StarClan as a whole? If the former, who would the cats get in contact with for, say, good luck in romance or help conceiving a litter?)
a) Mudfur
Mudfur joined StarClan at the worst possible time, and spent his first few years agonizing over the fact he couldn't get in touch with Mothwing. Once he could rest assured that Willowpaw could receive the visions for her, he was so done with stress and responsibility that he turned down several prestigious positions around StarClan.
He would have made excellent signs, he could have been excellent at crafting newborn spirits, and he would have been able to blow the clouds away with a mighty breath. Instead, he likes to nap in the dappled starshine, and spend time with his beloved mate and kits.
He's ready to fade now, actually, he's made his peace with his life and would like to move on; but he wants to be the last to go. Since Leopardstar is so venerated, he won't fade for a very long time.
b) Barkface
Barkface is a natural at dreamweaving. Like a spider, he can lace together memories, wishes, and desires, and gently unravel them into the minds of sleeping cats. Of course he's called on for very important prophetic dreams, but more than anything, he loves to grace the minds of elders with images of their glory days.
He lived a long life, and he's been reunited with many lost friends in StarClan. He also loves what he does, so it will be generations before Barkface decides that he'd like to pass on.
c) Runningnose
(in my rewrite, runningnose is actually a very different person and also a dark forest cat, so this one's for the canon Runningnose fans out there!)
Runningnose is still trying to find his peace. He went through a lot in life and had to make a lot of hard choices, he was even a cat who went through a trial (though it was unanimous in the end that he was worthy of StarClan). He joined StarClan as a weary spirit.
He was pretty quiet at first, not having the willpower to do very much, but with the help of his friends he's found a place in growing herbs. They don't make him sneeze anymore, and he defies a StarClan stereotype that Medicine Cats are usually bad at floramancy.
This is because he's patient and humble, he won't resort to pointlessly chasing away clouds and making perfect weather. He will gladly lay, wait, and coax the smallest stem through the thickest snowbank, as long as he knows it will help at least one clanmate through leafbare.
When Littlecloud joined him, it was like he suddenly had a burst of great energy. He's still not the vibrant soul he was in youth, but he has all the time in the world to regain his spark.
d) Do the clan cats worship individual spirits, or StarClan as a whole?
Answered below the cut
I hadn't considered it before, but, sometimes yes. Overall, StarClan is a shifting clan, full of cats who are relevant to the living. Cats fade away when they're ready to rest, so bothering a random spirit would be fruitless or perhaps even rude. Generally, if the cats are praying, it's to StarClan as a whole.
There are exceptions of course. Leopardstar will pride herself as an avatar of battle and gladly bestow favor if she's contacted. Firestar will show up if you so much as think about him too hard. But sometimes, a cat will pray to a direct ancestor, or a friend will "lend" one of theirs.
"My grandmew had NINE kittens, if you ask her she'll totally help you have a litter!"
"My grandpaw's brother died at sunningrocks, dragged down TWO RiverClan warriors with him! He'll help me claw their ears off tomorrow!"
"Remember the wisdom of Tallstar the wanderer, who visited many lands and guided his clan across them. Pray to him tonight, and he will protect you on your journey to the mountain."
#Starclan keeps its godlike aspects AU#Mudfur#Runningnose#Barkface#warrior cats#Clan Culture#Bonefall Rewrite
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