#if anyone is worried about the cat whiskers: i save the ones my cat naturally sheds whenever i find them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twilights-800-cats · 3 years

Text

<< Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 10

“Stoneheart? Stoneheart, wake up!”

Stoneheart opened his eyes with a start, his claws gripping the earth. He got his bearings quickly – the sky was orange with evening, and he was in the patch of woods behind the Twoleg vet. His panic faded, his heartbeat slowing. I must have dozed off.

Wolftooth was sitting near him, whiskers twitching with amusement, with a paw raised to prod him. Stoneheart pushed himself to his paws, feeling embarrassment pricking his pelt. He licked his chest fur to soothe it.

“Tucker says Branch ought to be coming out soon,” Wolftooth meowed. He nodded to a scraggly clump of ferns near Pinewhisker and Tucker, who were chatting. “We managed to save you a sparrow – they're thin here, too, but easy enough to catch.”

Stoneheart nodded his thanks. He stretched sleep from his muscles and then padded over to the makeshift fresh-kill pile. Wolftooth was right – the sparrow was tiny compared to what flew in the forest, but that didn’t matter. Just the sight of it made Stoneheart’s stomach yowl.

He gave thanks to StarClan for the meal as he tucked in, observing the world around him while he ate. From what Purdy had said, Twolegplaces got loud near the end of the day – this one seemed to be no different. Stoneheart could see monster after monster passing by beyond the vet’s den, and he could hear that loud roar they make when awakened everywhere around him. The Twolegs must be heading home.

Stoneheart fought a sigh – would that they were heading home, too. He pushed away the bones of his meal, feeling dissatisfied. He wanted to sleep in his nest in ShadowClan camp, not under Twoleg bushes, and he wanted Rowanclaw by his side now more than ever. His dreams were so restless without his beloved by his side.

He felt hurt bloom in his chest, and he tried to stamp it down. We’ll find him; that’s why we’re here! Instead of focusing on missing his mate, Stoneheart turned his ears to catch what Pinewhisker and Tucker were talking about.

“... so, do you guys have vets?” the kittypet was asking. “You guys have to get sick out there, and I know you get into fights. Who do you go to if you don’t have a vet?”

Pinewhisker scoffed, “We don’t need Twolegs to take care of us – we've got medicine cats.”

“Medicine cats?” Tucker looked confused, but intrigued.

Pinewhisker nodded. “They collect herbs and know what they do, and they use them to heal us when we’re sick or hurt,” he explained. “They also guide the Clan with signs they receive from our warrior ancestors.”

“Oh, wow!” Tucker’s eyes widened like bright little moons. Then, he looked confused: “But you said you weren’t born a Clan cat, Pinewhisker. You don’t have warrior ancestors then, right?”

Pinewhisker shrugged. “Probably not,” he admitted, “but when I die, I’ll go to StarClan, and then I’ll be a warrior ancestor for my kits, and their kits.” He raised his head, looking proud. “The first of my line!”

Wolftooth looked his way, his eyes sparking with mischief. “You’ll be the last if you don’t give Nightwing the time of day,” he chuckled.

Pinewhisker bristled, looking offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, incredulous. “Nightwing knows how I feel about her!”

Wolftooth grinned. “Does she? Have you told her?”

Stoneheart twitched his whiskers at Pinewhisker, trying not to purr at his Clanmate’s abashed expression. Nightwing and Pinewhisker padding in circles after one another wasn’t something he’d thought he’d come back to when he left on the journey, but there it was.

“I-I think she knows!” Pinewhisker stammered back.

“You need to tell her, Pinewhisker,” Stoneheart meowed. He recalled the worried way Nightwing had begged to come with them, and how dismissive Pinewhisker had been. “Don’t lead her on by the tail. If you don’t say it, how can you know she knows?”

Pinewhisker looked like a fish, his mouth opening in closing as if gasping for air. Finally, he sagged, and meowed, “Fine - if we make it out of this place, I’ll tell her.”

“Good,” Wolftooth grunted. The big gray tom stretched out, triumphant. “And when we get to the lake, you two can have as many kits as you can handle.”

Pinewhisker’s tail bristled, and whatever response he might have made, Stoneheart missed – his heartbreak had opened anew, and he couldn’t help but wallow. He was happy for Pinewhisker and Nightwing and whatever the future might hold for them, but bitter claws gripped his shoulders.

What if he never found Rowanclaw?

Stoneheart stared down at the remains of his meal, finding that it was now a lump in his throat. If he never found Rowanclaw, if he had to leave the forest without him... would he ever feel happy again? Would his dreams keep taking him to dark, dank places? Would he succumb to his own anxieties and fears? Sometimes it felt like the hope that Rowanclaw might be out there was all that was keeping him going.

His expression must have given his thoughts away – he felt Wolftooth’s tail rest on his shoulders. “Hey,” the older warrior grunted, his breath close to Stoneheart’s ear, “it’ll be okay. We’ll find Rowanclaw.”

Stoneheart leaned into Wolftooth, feeling his limbs go weak. “What... What if StarClan wants me to leave him behind?” he whispered. Speaking such a secret fear made his tongue dry as wood.

“I don’t think that’s the case,” Wolftooth murmured back. “And you can’t think that, either.”

Stoneheart swallowed. He was aware that both Pinewhisker and Tucker were staring at him, their eyes round and, in Tucker’s case, confused. Stoneheart pulled away from Wolftooth, giving his pelt a shake. Clanmates were one thing, but Stoneheart couldn’t bring himself to look so weak in front of a kittypet - what kind of Clan cat would he be?

“I see I have visitors.”

The voice was pleasant, soft, and, above all, unfamiliar; coming as the dark of night descended upon the Twolegplace. Weak moonlight lit up the massive, powerful shoulders of a very, very large tomcat, turning his dark brown pelt to silver. He tilted his broad head, observing the four cats with calm yellow eyes that glowed like small suns.

Tucker nearly jumped out of his pelt. “Branch!” he cried. “You scared us!”

Wolftooth stepped forward. “You’re Branch?” he asked.

“I am,” Branch answered, dipping his head.

Stoneheart was stunned – this Branch dwarfed even Wolftooth, who was one of ShadowClan’s largest cats, alongside Blackfoot, who might look like a kit in comparison. How does a cat even get that big? More importantly, how had such a large cat appeared without anyone noticing him?

Stoneheart couldn’t help but lean forward and sniff. Something about Branch’s scent seemed... off. It was plain, alien, with a subtle tang that Stoneheart felt came from nowhere in nature. Perhaps that was why they hadn’t noticed him coming – this tom barely smelled like a cat at all!

Branch calmly observed the ShadowClan cats, his eyes resting on each in turn. When his eyes met Stoneheart’s, he meowed, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting; my partner had a patient who needed some extra attention.”

“Your partner?” Pinewhisker tilted his head.

“The vet,” Branch meowed, nodding back to the building behind him. He licked a paw and drew it over his ear. “We are not owner and kittypet, as you might think. We consider one another partners. You three aren’t here to talk with me about that, however.”

Branch looked at Tucker, and the kittypet stood at attention: “These cats want your help, Branch,” he explained, gesturing to the ShadowClan patrol with his tail. “They came from the marshlands, in the forest, and they’re--”

“They’re looking for someone,” Branch finished. Stoneheart felt unnerved – the big tom’s eyes had not left him. “That much seems obvious. Thank you, Tucker, for bringing them to me.”

“So, you’ll help us?” Pinewhisker guessed, looking hopeful.

Branch nodded, his eyes soft and compliant. “I am not the type to turn away someone in need – now, tell me, who are you looking for? I will help if I can.”

“My mate,” Stoneheart burst, taking a step towards Branch. His heart thudded in his ears, and he was aware of just how selfish he seemed. “Ah... there are others, too – they were all taken by the Twolegs that are destroying the forest. We can’t leave for our new home without them.”

“Tucker and Cody tell us that you’re the cat to see about finding the missing,” Wolftooth rumbled on.

Branch blinked. “Well, I don’t like to brag, but... they are correct. Come.”

The big tom brushed past, heading further into the little patch of woodland behind the vet’s den. Tucker followed without question, his tail up and his eyes bright with excitement. Wolftooth shrugged and got to his paws, heading after them.

Pinewhisker rubbed his pelt against Stoneheart’s. “What’s there to lose?” he offered, sounding encouraging.

Stoneheart nodded in agreement, his heart lifting despite the uncertainty as he followed Pinewhisker. What could this Branch cat offer that no one else could? Perhaps he was like a medicine cat himself, if something like that could exist within a Twolegplace.

This patch of woodland was small, and Branch led them to its very heart. Despite being able to see Thunderpaths and monsters and even Twolegs from where they sat, it seemed very quiet here, the sound muffled by the thin trees and scrappy bushes. Moonlight streamed down between the branches, which had already lost almost all their leaves.

Branch settled down beside the stump of what might have been a very tall oak. He curled his tail around his paws, sweeping dry leaves around him. He turned his muzzle to the sky, and took a deep breath, his whiskers trembling with concentration.

“What’s he doing?” Pinewhisker wondered.

“Ssh!” Tucker hissed, his eyes round and bright. “You’ll see!”

Stoneheart glanced warily at Wolftooth. The big gray tom looked just as concerned, and as time stretched on, Stoneheart was half tempted to prod at Branch – the brown tom seemed frozen stiff, his muzzle to the sky and his tail covered in leaves.

The night stretched on, and it seemed like an eternity before Branch lowered his muzzle.

“My apologies,” he said, sounding tired. “With the workfolk in the forest, the earth has become hard to hear.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stoneheart wondered, getting to his paws. His heart began to beat faster. “You can’t find them?”

Branch blinked, staring into Stoneheart’s eyes. “I can find them,” he said, with no uncertainty, “but I am saying that it won’t be easy.”

“Well, what can we do to help?” Wolftooth wondered. He glanced at the sky, and how the moon was a catscratch from half-full. He’d promised Russetstar that their patrol would be back before that happened, Stoneheart recalled. “We’re running out of time.”

Branch twitched his whiskers. “Tell me about those you’re looking for. That may help me find them.”

Pinewhisker worked his jaw. “Well... it’s not like we know them all personally, but... Robinwing is a WindClan cat – she's brown with blue eyes. Smells like moor grass and heather.”

“Tawnypelt is RiverClan’s deputy,” Wolftooth went on. “She’s fierce, and strong, and smells like willows and river water and fish, like all RiverClan cats. An older tortoiseshell with a scarred pelt.”

Stoneheart swallowed. “Cloudtail and Brightheart are mates, and they’re both so brave. Brightheart is missing an eye, and an ear, and Cloudtail is the best tracker in ThunderClan.” His heart stirred with memories of ThunderClan, only to ache again as he went on, “And Rowanclaw... he’s my mate. I love him so much – h-he's dark ginger, and his eyes sparkle when he purrs, and I would do anything just to see him again, a-and...”

He was conscious of the eyes on him, now, but it didn’t stop it all from tumbling out: “I just want to tell him I’m sorry for leaving him alone.” He stared into Branch’s eyes, willing him to understand, hoping that this would help. “I want to tell him that I want to have kits, and that I’m sorry for being too scared to tell him that. I want to look into his eyes again, and I want to hear his voice, even if he says he doesn’t forgive me for leaving him behind.”

Stoneheart swallowed, realizing that the lump in his throat was almost choking him. He fell to his haunches, wanting nothing more than to curl up into a ball. Being so vulnerable made him feel like his pelt had fallen off of his body. His voice was a whimper, now: “I want to tell him that... e-even if we make it to the lake... to me, it’ll mean nothing if he’s not there beside me...”

He felt Pinewhisker and Wolftooth press close to him, a gesture which normally would have pricked at his pride, but right now he wanted nothing more than the companionship of his Clanmates, especially in this strange place. Stoneheart managed to lift his head, and his eyes met Branch’s, blue to yellow.

“We can’t leave the forest without any of them,” he meowed, “but without Rowanclaw...”

“I understand,” Branch soothed. He stood up on all fours, planting his paws firmly against the earth. “I hear your love, Stoneheart, and the earth feels it. You call to your Family, and I join my voice to yours.”

Stoneheart had no idea what the strange cat meant – Branch sank down, shoving his paws into the earth as if they were the roots of a tree. The brown tom touched his nose to the soil, and again he was silent and still, but for the twitch of his ears or the sweep of his tail.

Stoneheart was conscious of every moment fading away into oblivion. Was it working? There was no way to tell, and that not knowing was making Stoneheart’s pelt crawl, as if ants had made a home in his fur.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Branch shivered from ears to tail, gasping as he lifted his head. The big cat staggered, and Tucker rushed forward to steady him, though the big tom would have crushed the kittypet if he fell.

Branch regained himself, thanking Tucker with a murmur. He looked exhausted, now, his eyes drawn and drooping, but he lifted his head and declared, “I’ve found them.”

Stoneheart got to his paws. “You did?” His heart thudded, threatening to leap out of his chest. “Truly?”

Branch nodded. “They are in the forest,” he breathed. “Something surrounds them, blocking my senses, but... I heard them crying out from within.” He looked at the Clan cats. “Their cries were weak, difficult to hear.”

“Where are they in the forest?” Wolftooth asked, stepping forward. “Could you tell?”

Branch struggled, for a moment. “The earth was broken all around them,” he said, “trampled by workfolk and their monsters. But... something remained, something nearby that resonated with the energy your Clans put into it. Rocks... rocks that formed little caves, rocks that hid secrets...”

“Snakerocks?” Stoneheart guessed.

“Yes,” Branch nodded, “a sinister place, but one that knows your Clans.”

“They’re in ThunderClan territory,” Stoneheart breathed. Wind stirred his pelt, and he looked to Wolftooth and Pinewhisker. “Snakerocks must have been one of the first places the Twolegs destroyed in ThunderClan.”

His mouth felt dry, but his limbs were charged, and Stoneheart felt as if he could leap over all of Twolegplace. He could picture Snakerocks now – that flat piece of land, barren of trees, would be a perfect place to keep the captured cats. I know where Rowanclaw is!

“But how do we get to them?” Pinewhisker wondered, eyes wide. “If the Twolegs are all over that place, then...”

“We can figure that out later,” Wolftooth grunted. “What matters is that we found them. Russetstar will know what to do from here.”

“You must take care, and act swiftly,” Branch meowed. He seemed to be regaining his strength. “If the workfolk took these cats from the forest, there isn’t much time before they’re sent to the city.”

“What will happen to them then?” Pinewhisker wondered, his eyes round.

“They’ll be given to Twolegs, or taken to the vet to be Cut and released, if no Twoleg will take them,” Tucker answered. “That’s what they usually do to the cats they catch.”

Wolftooth bristled. “Then there’s no time to waste,” he growled. “Tucker, can you take us back to the forest? We need to get to our leader with this information immediately.”

Tucker blinked. He looked dazzled by these events. “I... yes, I think I can,” he meowed. “We’ll need to leave now, though, if you’re in a hurry!”

Wolftooth seemed all right with that. He turned and nodded to Branch, meowing, “Thank you for your help.”

“It’s no problem,” Branch meowed. He dipped his head formally. “It’s my purpose to help others. The earth speaks, and I listen.”

Tucker raised his tail, and Wolftooth and Pinewhisker clustered around the kittypet. Stoneheart got to his paws to join them, only to find that Branch had put his massive body between him and is Clanmates.

“Good luck on your Great Wander,” he meowed evenly, his eyes pale and sparkling. “We may not see one another again, but through the earth we are connected.”

Stoneheart blinked at the tom, confused. He had no idea what Branch meant, or what strange powers he possessed, but he felt the sentiment. He meowed, “Thank you,” before pushing past the big brown tom and heading after Wolftooth and Pinewhisker.

“Family is forever!” Branch called after them. “And Family is always wherever you are!”

Dawn had broken by the time that Stoneheart, Wolftooth, and Pinewhisker had to stay good-bye to Tucker. The kittypet had been beside himself with sorrow, especially knowing that he would never see the Clan cats again – but the farewells had to be brief, and Stoneheart sent a prayer to StarClan, thanking them for Tucker’s help.

He found himself leading the way across the open marshes, Wolftooth and Pinewhisker streaming behind him. There was no need to speak – there was no time. Tiredness and hunger were forgotten in their flight. The Twoleg monsters had already roared to life in ShadowClan territory, and the sight of the smoke they belched, so close to ShadowClan’s camp, put speed to their paws.

Ultimately, though, when they arrived at the crest of a hill that overlooked the ShadowClan camp from a distance, they saw that they were too late.

The monsters were devouring the very heart of ShadowClan.

#tb au #tb dawn

4 notes · View notes

signs-of-the-moon · 3 years

Text

Moon Rise: Chapter 41

Warning: this chapter features depictions of an illness that may be considered similar to Covid-19, and could potentially upset those effected by it. Reader discretion is advised

"Stay still, Thornkit," Swiftcloud instructed the little tabby tom, holding a bundle of herbs up to his muzzle. The concoction was coated in honey, a clever technique used to disguise the taste of medicine. Swiftcloud had learned this trick over the past several days, along with many other skills required of her as a medicine cat's assistant.

"Now open wide." The patched molly shoveled the mixture into Thornkit's mouth, helping him shut his jaws before he could spit anything out. The little tom swallowed the herbs, shivering as they slid down his throat.

"Eww, gross!" He hacked. Swiftcloud chuckled softly.

"I tried to cover it as best as I could. Honey can only do so much," she remarked as she licked her paw clean of the sticky substance. "Mistyleaf said these herbs should help settle you cough. Hopefully soothe the pain in your chest too. You should get some rest now. I'll come check up on you later, alright?"

"Thank you, Swiftcloud," Thornkit mewed, tucking his paws beneath him inside his nest. Swiftcloud tipped her head to him, turning tail and walking out of the elder's's den. She gave a sigh as she emerged, glancing up at the sky above.

Today was a nice day. Too bad nobody could enjoy it. Most of the clan was sick. Almost everyone Swiftcloud cared about. Hardly any cat was healing, even with all the different poultices and mixtures the medicine cats created. The only cats who'd managed to recovered from being sick were Goldensong and Rabbitstorm. Both cats had been infected with whitecough. But it only took some hawkweed and tansy for Goldensong to be back on her paws, thanks to her body's previous experiences with the illness. But Rabbitstorm was another case. He'd never had whitecough before, not even so much as a sniffle. According to Mistyleaf, his body shouldn't have been able to rid itself of sickness so quickly. Snowfrost regarded it as a miracle.

"He's a very lucky tom," she'd said after discharging Rabbitstorm from his sick leave. "He was blessed with a strong immune system. He was able to fight off that whitecough all on his own. Though having medicine cats as kin doesn't hurt either." She smiled briefly, but it quickly turned into a frown. It was as if she had hated the words she'd spoken.

It's very strange that of all cats, Rabbitstorm is the only one to recover so far "naturally". I wonder if Snowfrost had a part to play in that? Swiftcloud pondered as she started moving on to her next destination. During an herb packing lesson, she recalled the medicine cat mentioning the remains of her catmint supply. She was saving them for someone who needed them most. Had she decided that cat was her nephew? Swiftcloud could only assume. If that were the case though, it was cruel. Plenty of other cats were in more dire need of some catmint right now. One of those clanmates being Swiftcloud's next patient.

The white and black patched she-cat gathered some moss from the side of the apprentice's den. She took it over to a nearby puddle, placing it down to let it to fill with water. Saturated, the moss was carried over to Tall Stone, and taken into the crack beneath to be given to the clan's sickest warrior. Whitestar lay quietly in her nest by the back of the den. Her head lifted weakly as she acknowledged her caretaker's presence. Swiftcloud dipped her head to the leader respectfully, placing the soaked moss close to her so that she may drink. She watched the leader as she struggled to take sips, resting her head on her paws when she'd had her fill.

Two days ago Whitestar had begun to show symptoms of whitecough. Today, she was barely hanging on by a hair. Her condition had rapidly developed into greencough, debilitating the leader and rendering her nest ridden. The only cat allowed to visit her was Swiftcloud. She was too contagious for anyone else to come near. Not even the medicine cats, who mostly had an immunity built against the disease, could see her. Swiftcloud had made it her mission to give Whitestar the best care she possibly could. Between hunting, tending to the sick, and herb lessons, Swiftcloud spent the remainder of her time in the Tall Stone. She gave Whitestar news, and tried keeping her spirits up. At this point that's all that could be done. Without catmint, the leader showed no improvement in health. Nothing else was working, no matter how hard the medicine cats tried. But Swiftcloud wasn't ready to give up. She couldn't let Grassclan's leader die.

When she could, Swiftcloud spent her time in the medicine den. There, Snowfrost would teach her about herbs and their uses. More importantly she'd show Swiftcloud the ones she'd need to treat greencough, and taught her how to mix them properly. It was tough work, and it didn't help that Snowfrost was an inpatient mentor, but Swiftcloud stuck through it. She had to, for her Grassclan's sake. For Whitestar's sake.

Often Mistyleaf was there to assist, and offered to give Swiftcloud follow up lessons when Snowfrost's teaching weren't getting through. The younger medicine cat was also in charge of showing Swiftcloud where to locate herbs-at least the ones they could still find. The two mollies bonded during this period, spending what little time they had available together. Swiftcloud cherished these moments, though she wished she could enjoy them more. Usually she was too busy worrying about the rest of her loved ones. She couldn't stop thinking about Whitestar, Shadowfang, and Tulippaw, who'd fallen ill so suddenly. But Mistyleaf understood. She was patient, sympathetic, and caring. She let Swiftcloud discuss her feelings and shared some of her own, usually cuddling with the other molly the whole time.

Swiftcloud couldn't help but smile as she thought about Mistyleaf. But a cough from Whitestar pulled her right from her daydreaming.

"How are you feeling today?" Swiftcloud stepped up to touch her nose to Whitestar's forehead.

Whitestar gave a small sigh, blinking lethargically. "Tired," she mumbled, voice scratchy. "so very very tired..."

Swiftcloud hesitated for a few heartbeats as she tried to get an accurate reading on the leader's temperature. Whitestar's forehead felt hot. She was burning a terrible fever. I'd better bring her some feverfew to help bring it down. Maybe some lavender, too, Swiftcloud decided. As she pulled back from the leader, the white and black patched molly noticed something on her face. On Whitestar's forehead, in the place Swiftcloud had just touched, there was an unusual scar. It was almost star shaped, covered over with a layer of fur, a lighter color than most of the leader's pelt. Swiftcloud wondered why she'd never noticed it before, but then again she'd rarely been able to get so close to the siamese she-cat until now. Was the scar the mark of a leader? She wondered.

"Swiftcloud," Whitestar croaked as the young molly drew back further. "You must help," she was practically begging.

"Of course Whitestar," Swiftcloud responded softly. She assumed the leader was referring to her pain, wanting to be relieved of her illness. "I'll do whatever it takes to make you better."

Whitestar shook her head and let out a exasperated sigh. "The snow...the snow, it will destroy us. The Land's Star is in danger. Act quickly. You must make us stronger."

Swiftcloud looked on at the leader as she spoke, unable to understand her words. Was she referring to the dangers of Leafbare? Perhaps she feared greencough would wipe out the clans. Most likely, Whitestar was needlessly rambling. Snowfrost had mentioned cats could say strange things when they were feverish. Swiftcloud chalked Whitestar's message up to be just that.

"I'll be right back, I'm going to fetch some herbs, and more water for you to drink," Swiftcloud promised, turning around.

Whitestar wheezed slightly, her head sinking into her nest. Swiftcloud glanced over at the leader over her shoulder, noticing the shallow rise and fall of her chest begin to slow then still. Whitestar let out one final sigh and became completely motionless. Panic shot through Swiftcloud like a bolt of lightning. She turned once more and rushed to the leader's side, pressing an ear to her flank.

"No no no no no no!" She repeated to herself, unable to pick up on any breathing. Swiftcloud moved and put her head against Whitestar's chest, listening intently for the sound of a heartbeat. But the her chest remainded silent. Whitestar was dead.

"No!" Swiftcloud wailed, tears pooling in her eyes. She took a few paces back, hanging her head in defeat. Her body shook violently, blood roaring loudly in her ears. "Starclan, what is Grassclan going to do without their leader..? H..how am I going to tell Chicorynose that her sister is dead? That she's leader now..? That-"

Suddenly movement caught Swiftcloud's attention. From Whitestar's nest. The leader slowly began to stir, her head lifting to look at the hysterical she-cat across from her. She seemed puzzled.

"Swiftcloud..?" Whitestar mewed. "Why are you crying?"

"W..Whitestar!" Swiftcloud practically threw herself at the leader, covering her with frantic licks. "You're alright!! You're alive! But..but wait. How..?"

The siamese she-cat gave a big stretch, sitting up in her nest. She lifted a paw to lick and straighten her whiskers, blinking her eyes groggily. It was as if the leader had just woken up from a nap.

"Be calm, Swiftcloud. It would seem I've just lost one of my lives. Thankfully, though, I have a few to spare. I'd be on my way to the Twilight Passage otherwise."

"Lives..? You have more?" Swiftcloud stared at her leader, completely dumbfounded. She was sure Whitestar had been dead. Her scent had started to change and everything. But now the leader was alive, and appeared well. There was no trace of the greencough left in her. Not in her voice, or dulling her eyes. She didn't even smell sick anymore.

"As leader, I was granted nine lives by Starclan," Whitestar began to explain. "This gift is given to all true clan leaders. It is so that we may be able to protect and serve our clans for many years. A good leader will use their lives to sacrifice themselves in order to save the life of a clanmate. Although, it comes in handy when one falls ill as well."

Swiftcloud was stunned. "Nine lives..? I thought that was a myth! A tale the elders told to make leaders seem more powerful."

"On the contrary. The stories are quite true. You've just witnessed it, after all."

"So...how many live do you have left? Eight?"

"Three." Whitestar sighed. "Only three... I've been around for quite a while, Swiftcloud. And things are not always so safe or so peaceful in our territory. But each life I've given has been for a good cause. I'd give up all the others if it meant protecting this clan. Never forget that." Whitestar rose to her paws. "I must make a request though. Typically, a leader's lives are supposed to remain a secret. Only the medicine cats and Code Keeper are allowed to know how many I have left. But I trust you, Swiftcloud. I hope that you will keep this secret as well."

"Of course, Whitestar. I won't tell a soul," Swiftcloud promised, dipping her head.

"Thank you. I have no doubts in you. You're a good cat. And a very hard worker. Now, your job here is complete. I thank you for taking such good care of me. But there are others who stil require your assistance. I am well again, though still in need of some rest. I'll be fine on my own."

"Are you sure?" Swiftcloud asked, a little worried.

"Yes. Now run along. I'm sure we'll see each other when it's time to eat. For now, I plan on taking a nap."

Swiftcloud felt relieved as she emerged from Tall Stone, accomplishment warming her chest. Another cat was well again, albeit from untraditional means. But at least it was another weight off her shoulders. Now Swiftcloud could invest more times in cats like Shadowfang and Tulippaw.

Swiftcloud scented cats coming through the bramble tunnel, deciding to turn to greet them. Through the barrier Snowfrost and Mistyleaf appeared. The older of the two seemed bored, while Mistyleaf appeared distraught. They must have just returned from another herb scouting mission.

Snowfrost waved off the medicine cat apprentice, padding off to be by herself in the medicine den. Mistyleaf stayed behind to approached Swiftcloud. She touched noses with the other molly, forcing a smile.

"You look happy," she commented.

"Whitestar's recovered from greencough," Swiftcloud announced.

"Did she?" Mistyleaf seemed surprised. "What combination of herbs finally worked?"

"None, but..." Though she wanted to explain, Swiftcloud was hesitant. She knew the clan's healers were aware of Whitestar's lives, but she'd promised not to tell anyone about what she'd seen. If Whitestar wanted anyone else to know she'd died, she would tell them herself.

"I think I understand," Mistyleaf piped suddenly. "Goldensong said that may be the only way she could be cured. Its a bittersweet resolution to the problem. Though some leaders aren't even lucky enough to recover after something like that. I'm glad Whitestar is ok, though. At least that's one good thing to come from today."

Swiftcloud tilted her head, sitting. "What do you mean? You haven't had any luck finding catmint?"

"Not at all..." Mistyleaf lowered her head, eyes darkening with sadness. She seemed to be resisting the urge to cry. Swiftcloud wondered if it was from frustration, or depression.

"It's hopeless... We've searched everywhere. There's no catmint left in the whole Land's Star. We even looked along the Twolegplace border; and still, nothing!" Mistyleaf fretted, ears folding back. "We'd have to look beyond the territories to even have a chance of finding anything now... Starclan, I hope Newleaf comes soon."

Swiftcloud watched her friend as she despaired. A feeling of guilt made her stomach twist.

Deep down, Swiftcloud knew she was to blame for all of this. If it hadn't been for her suggestion to visit Treeclan a moon and a half ago, no cat would have fallen ill. Greencough wouldn't have had a chance to spread between the clans. And so many cats would still be alive. Swiftcloud knew she had to make this right. Someway, somehow, she would find a solution. Something better than acting as a medicine cat's assistant. Lost, deep in contemplation, an idea became unconvered. Swiftcloud perked up immediately, hope welling in her chest.

"Mistyleaf. You just came up with a brilliant idea!" Swiftcloud jumped to her paws, surprising the other molly. "I can take you-! To Twolegplace, I mean. If catmint grows at the edges of the territory, then there's bound to be some within it, too. Deep inside, beyond the border."

Mistyleaf's ears pricked slightly. "But it's dangerous to go to Twolegplace. What if we get lost? And Whitestar surely won't be pleased that we've gone there. Isn't that technically breaking the Warrior Code..?"

"We won't get lost," Swiftcloud assured. "I grew up there, remember? I still remember my way around. And it isn't against the Code. We aren't taking from Twolegs, just from the plants on their land. A land beyond our laws. Besides, it's not like we're leaving to become kittypets or anything."

"I don't know, Swiftcloud..." Mistyleaf sounded apprehensive. She shrank in place; a sign that she was not so eager to get up and explore the unknown. Even if it was for the greater good.

"Cats are dying, Mistyleaf. We need those herbs, and we don't have much time. This is our last hope," Swiftcloud stressed, looking at her friend; this beautiful cat that she was so fond of. The only cat that she cared about that hadn't become a victim of the sickness she'd unknowingly helped bring home.

But Mistyleaf avoid her gaze, unsure. Her fearscent was unmistakable. Swiftcloud knew that Mistyleaf was a stickler for the rules. She was strong, but still shy deep down. She wouldn't speak up to say no to the idea.

"I'm going to go find that catmint for you. Whether or not you tag along is your decision."

Mistyleaf bristled, her gaze snapping onto the patched she-cat in front of her. Mistyleaf and Swiftcloud stared at each other for a few tense moments. But a harsh cough finally drew their attention away. It came from the elder's den, deep and raspy. Swiftcloud's heart sank. That was Shadowfang, no doubt about it, and it sounded as if his greencough was getting worse. The recent memory of Whitestar dying popped into Swiftcloud's mind suddenly. The way her body stilled, the quietness of her chest, the reek of death. Swiftcloud's imagination quickly twisted the vision of the leader and replaced it with her mate. The thought of Shadowfang winding up that way was more than she could bare.

Swiftcloud quickly tunred on her paws, ready to dash to the bramble tunnel and out of camp. She couldn't wait anymore. She couldn't sit here and do nothing while her mate was on the verge of dying. She didn't have another heartbeat to spare for Mistyleaf to make a decision. Action needed to be taken now. Swiftcloud shot one last glance over her shoulder at the silver she-cat before trotting away.

"Wait." Swiftcloud paused at the voice's command, looking over her shoulder once more. Mistyleaf stood, sweeping her tail nervously as she walked over to the other she-cat's side. "I'm going with you. It'll be easier to bring back more if there's two of us."

Swiftcloud smiled gratefully at her friend, nuzzling her cheek against hers. Together, the two she-cats headed for the exit.

"Oh, Swiftcloud!" Chicorynose meowed as they passed. Mistyleaf kept walking while Swiftcloud paused to speak with the deputy, wiggling her nubby tail slightly. Rabbitstorm was there as well, looking much better than he had before. He seemed to be strong again, ready to serve his clan in this time of need.

"I'm glad to see you're up and about," Chicorynose remarked, raising her tail. "I'd like you to lead a hunting patrol to Rabbit Gorge and see what you can find. Rabbitstorm's already offered to join."

"I'm sorry, I'd love to, but... there's something more important I have to take care of."

Chicorynose looked shocked, narrowing her eyes in slight annoyance. "More important than feeding your clan?"

Swiftcloud swallowed back a lump in her throat, willing the guilt away that threatened to take hold of her. "Yes. I'm going to Twolegplace to-"

"Twolegplace?! Oh, Swiftcloud, you aren't-"

"Listen," Swiftcloud hissed impatiently, stopping the deputy from interrupting her. Her eyes widened in surprise at herself. "I..I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. It's-it's just- Mistyleaf and I have to go there. The medicine cats need catmint to heal the sick. But we think the only place left to find it is in Twolegplace. So...yes. This is more important than hunting for the clan. But we'll be back soon. I promise."

Chicorynose swished her tail thoughtfully, eyeing her old apprentice for a heartbeat. "Well then," she murmured, "in that case, I'd better come with you."

"What..?"

"You'll need an extra cat to bring more catmint back. Plus having another warrior with you would be safer. You never know what danger may be lurking in this harsh time of Leaf-bare."

"But what about the clan?" Swiftcloud wondered.

"I'll ask Tigerfang to take over in my absence. Grassclan will be in good paws while we're away, I can assure. And when we return they'll be even better off."

"Hold on," Rabbitstorm interjected. "Am I supposed to just stand here and listen to you mollies plan this crazy expedition and not do anything? I'm not letting you go off with my sister to who knows where. If Mistyleaf is going, then so am I."

"We need you to stay here, Rabbitstorm," Chicorynose insisted.

"I'm needed with my kin. Frostfeather, Jaybird and the kits are all sick now. I can't let anything happen to Mistyleaf as well. And if I can do anything to help the rest of my family, then I will. Forgive me, but I'm coming, with or without your permission."

Chicorynose sighed. "Fine. Let me go talk to Tigerfang and Whitestar, before any other cats decide to jump on this catmint patrol." Without another word the deputy turned, disappearing into Tall Stone. A couple moments later she reemerged, bounding over to the bramble barrier. "C'mon slow-slugs, no time to waste."

Swiftcloud brightened at the deputy's remark, smiling and racing after her with Rabbitstorm right behind. Mistyleaf was waiting for them by the camp's entrance, slipping through the tunnel and leading the way down the hill. While racing across the meadow, Swiftcloud sped past, taking the lead. She knew exactly which ways to go, and had a pretty good idea of what gardens to check out first. Starclan, please let there be catmint waiting for us in Twolegplace.

Swiftcloud took her patrol back to her old territory; the neighborhood where she grew up. Her intent was to find one of her old friends if it were possible. Hopefully someone like Gem, or a cat with lot of connections. A cat like...

"Max!" Swiftcloud trilled, bounding ahead towards a Twoleg fence, hidden behind a shrub. Max-the wildest looking cat she'd ever met-was on the other side, sunbathing in a dry spot beneath a tree in the yard. Swiftcloud slipped through a hole in the fence, walking towards her friend. It was now that she noticed a second cat beside him. This cat looked just as wild as Max did, if not a little more. Her ears were large and rounded at the tips rather than pointed, her nose wide. The cat's tail seemed half the length of a normal cat's, but not a nub like Swiftcloud's. And their limbs were long, powerful looking. The most striking feature on the cat was her white coat, spotted with pale gray dots. Swiftcloud figured this cat was the same breed as Max, and probably had the same pelt condition as Rosebloom.

"Swiftpaw?" Max perked up as he noticed his old friend in his yard. He stood, giving his pelt a good shake. "It's been moons! How have you been? Looks like you've gotten taller. Although you're looking thinner than you were in the spring."

"It's complicated. Uh, but I was made a warrior in Leaf-fall! My name is Swiftcloud now. Shadowpaw's been named Shadowfang," Swiftcloud responded with a half smile.

"No kidding? Well congrats. So, what brings you to my garden? I see you've brought some friends. Though it doesn't seem like Shadowfang is with them."

"Those are my clanmates Rabbitstorm, Mistyleaf, and Chicorynose. We're here looking for catmint."

"Catmint?"

"Catnip," Mistyleaf chimed as she bounded over to stand by Swiftcloud. The others soon followed. "I think you kittypets know the herb as catnip."

"Ooh. Well, you won't find that here I'm afraid. Actually, I don't think any of the gardens in our neighborhood have it. But Ruby might know where to find some."

"Who's Ruby?" Rabbitstorm asked.

"That'd be me," meowed the wild looking white she-cat, standing up. Swiftcloud's clanmates bristled at the sight of her. "My mate is correct. I do know a place where catnip grows. A neighbor of mine has it back where I live. Luckily, my neighborhood is just around the corner. I could take you there if you'd like."

"Please. We need those herbs to heal the sick of our clan. The sooner we can get some, the better," Swiftcloud decided to explain. If she made things more urgent, then maybe they would be able to find the catmint quickly.

"In that case, we'd better hurry," Max decided.

#warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #wc ocs #wcs #Signs of the Moon: Moon Rise #Moon Rise #chapter 41 #another upload in the spirit of the holiday!

1 note · View note

webbypaws · 4 years

Note

who are your cats favourite cats? (basically like, your ocs top five or three cats!)

Roachwhisker

funny thing is he started off as kind of a shy cat, especially in his early apprentice-ship but really tried branching out as he grew older! His next goal is to befriend a gruff cat

Stormcloud/Wigeonfur/Thrushfur—these cats were his parental figures growing up and really helped him get past his anxiety toward the other NettleClan cats! He still comes to them with his problems or even just to talk nowadays. Stormcloud particularly, Roachwhisker enjoys sunning with.

Rushheart—his best buddy! He adores Rushheart, enjoys being able to babble to someone that he knows won’t make fun of him and will listen to him. He admittedly has a tiny crush on him, but knows that Rushheart probably has his eye on better cats if at all. Their nightmare (or otherwise!) cuddle sessions make him feel so safe.

Squirrelwhisker—his savior. Roachwhisker idolizes him and even has a tiny crush on him ever since the tabby saved his life from a fox! He’s not so secretly glad he got the name -whisker to match. He thinks Squirrelwhisker is the bravest ever but doesn’t hang out with him as much as he’d like to because he doesn’t feel cool enough.

Featherpaw/Ruddypaw/Ashpaw—his den mates growing up! He was never super close to them, but always felt a sort of camaraderie for these younger cats in kind of an older brother sort of way. He keeps an eye out for them when he can and even as a young warrior tries to help them out with their chores.

Pricklepaw—he really likes his friend! They haven’t spoken much but Roachwhisker has never receive presents from anyone and for that Pricklepaw holds a special place in his heart. Roachwhisker thinks about him from time to time, when he looks at his skull collection (which he now keeps in a secret hollowed out area in a tree in camp) and sometimes when he’s eating meals.

Firefly

she’s a lot more introverted than I originally planned, but with al of the things that have happened in her life (so far) I feel like that’s a fair development. Also I must note, she doesn’t feel particularly close to the adults in her life at the moment because of recent developments and her finding out her true parentage; Firefly is very sore that they’ve all been keeping things from her and has started internalizing an unhealthy habit of not taking what they’re saying with a grain of rice

NOTE: 4 & 5 she’s NOT close to yet but... maybe someday.

Butterfly—through it all, for better or worse her sister has been her rock. Firefly adores her sister and is positive that no matter what happens, she’ll always have her. She’s ashamed of things she’s done in the past, and worries what Butterfly thinks of her at times though, and that keeps her awake at night.

Feather Mist—the first cat other than her sister to show a lot of genuine interest in her. Firefly loves that Feather Mist at least seems to genuinely enjoy talking and playing with her. (CURRENT EMOTIONS: she’s been meaning to ask her if she’s always Known Firefly’s parentage and never told her. It’s itching at her mind but.. she doesn’t know if she’ll ever ask. She’s not sure she wants to.)

Tiger Breeze—her not quite mom. She has a special place in her heart for Tiger Breeze, because even though she doesn’t idolize her like Butterfly does, and doesn’t much play with Tiger Breeze, they have the type of parent-child relationship where Firefly just inherently knows that Tiger Breeze loves (or, at least, cares about) her. She appreciates that. (CURRENT FEELINGS: shes positive that Tiger Breeze has known her parentage from the start; how couldn’t she? She’s their aunt after all. She can’t say she’s surprised, although she is very disappointed about it.)

Patchlings/Kinkkits—she’s not particularly close to them at the moment, but I can see her becoming very close to them once they’re older (like tweens/teens in cat age). She does have a slightly closer spot in her heart for her little cousins than the other litter.

Fading Echo—she’s very hurt. It’s a festering wound right now but someday it will be a healthy scar and she’ll be able to move forward from this.

Pollenkit

My little man is outgoing and meets (read: targets) lots of cats but I just haven’t canonically rped him a lot lately!

NOTE: 4 & 5 he’s not close to YET but. Soon.

Fig—his mama. He loves and cares very deeply for her and wants to see her happy and healthy or else. At the bottom of the No-Bully list because he knows she’s tough.

Twigkit—even if he doesn’t personally understand his brother’s more quiet and shy nature, he knows that he’ll do anything to keep him safe and protected as well, because he just wants him happy. At the very top of the No-Bully list. Pollenkit will attack anyone for teasing.

Stormcloud—he really really enjoys being around Stormcloud. Not only because he smells nice and is plump and soft to bounce on, but also because he is always ready to play. Third on the No-Bully list because there’s no way a cat with such a sweet face and plush belly can defend themself right?

Applekit—he has to admit it, annoyed at her as he might be most of the time, he finds her amusing. One day she’ll be his best friend and part of him already knows that. Not on the No-Bully list at all because he knows she can fend off any bullies on her own.

Swankit and Rabbitkit—hasn’t interacted with them much/at all, but doesn’t care much for them. He’ll probably be closer to them when they’re actually denmates aka apprentices. Rabbitkit is on the No-Bully list at number two by default because she’s soft like Twigkit and also his brother’s best friend.

#this was rly fun and i put a lot of thought into it!!#roachwhisker #firefly #pollenkit #ask meme

4 notes · View notes

colitisandme · 5 years

Text

It’s no coincidence that ‘stressed’ is ‘desserts’ spelt backwards. That’s what I typically dived towards when I was stressed or sad. Desserts equaled gluttonous happiness. Whenever I was anxious, I ripped into packets, tubs and cake shaped items with joy and frenzy. Desserts and stress were my bed fellows. They were brilliant friends, hogging all the blankets under the duvet of my life, leaving me cold, plump, hyperactive, covered in sugar and shivering, with no cover on me, cursing the fact I didn’t wear fluffy socks to bed. my mind would whirl away like a washing machine. And so, cold and shivering with my hair on end, looking like a deranged Womble, I would end up seeking something sweet to eat. Instantly after the first mouthful, my hair would become less wild, my thoughts would be less chaotic and I would sink into a pile of sugary blissfulness. So when I had to give up sugar, I was, well stressed irronically.

Stress and worry have followed me around my whole life, from when I was in Primary school right up until present day. It has become such a huge part of my existence, I didn’t feel right unless I was worrying about something or constantly going over things in my brain. Not just tangible thoughts. Nope. My worries consisted about serious things that are going on in the world, my finances, my families happiness, the house, husband wellbeing, friends, have I upset anyone? Am I being a good wife? To other thoughts and worries like; Have I locked the door? Have I turned off the tap? To really helpful thoughts and worries like; ‘I am pretty sure I heard a crunch under my foot when I put out the rubbish? ... Why didn’t I turn the light on? Oh my god was that a snail? What if his family are waiting for him to come home. What if, because he never appears, the mum snail becomes an alcoholic, becomes hooked on nettle wine, and the children forgo their education to look after her. Eventually they leave because she’s just too much to handle, and so, alone and drunk, she sings songs about her lost love, while hiccuping and wailing in a nettle wine stupor ... And it will be all my fault.’ So round and round my thoughts and worries went, until I felt like a hamster on a wheel, running and running and going nowhere. I didn’t vocalise these worries. They were all internal. I just couldn’t switch off.

I beat myself up for anything that goes wrong. Nobody need punish me, I do a great job of that myself. Once when I was very young, I decided that the cat simply had too many whiskers that she didn’t need. Even at aged 5, I reasoned I was doing her a favour and she was probably absolutely fed up with having an even number of whiskers on each side. I was sure that if she could speak she would beg me to reduce her grooming time, as she was taking simply ages to preen her whiskers, tell me stories about when she would get laughed at by all the other cats for having rediculous symmetrically numbered and placed whiskers, and longed to remove herself from mediocrity and boredom. Well I certainly didn’t want her to be a laughing stock. Happy to oblige.... *snip* (I probably should have stopped when the cat tried to scrabble away from me, eyes wide with fright as I confidently strode over to her, gleefully, with arms outstretched looking like Edward Scissor Hands, but never the less I was convinced I was doing her a favour.)

I came downstairs clutching a traumatised, angry cat in one hand, and a pair of scissors and newly trimmed whiskers in another. I proudly showed off the new look to my parents. They were not as open to the new aerodynamic moggy as I had hoped, and freaked. I immediately lost it. I sobbed. I apologised over and over to the cat, I tried glueing her whiskers back on, I stroked her, cuddled her, I was convinced I had ruined her life. I was inconsolable. I spent many days after that setting up a makeshift counselling clinic for my cat, where I would stroke her and make sure she knew what a beautiful cat she was and I told her I was sorry that was going to be lob-sided, and struggle getting in to tiny gaps, and try and make up for what I did by taking extra special care of her. My parents didn’t chastise me, because nothing they could do could make me feel any worse than I did. Even at age 5, I worried a lot.

So you can imagine that as adulthood embraced me, just how easily worrying had become a part of me. As natural as breathing. Stressing about everything became normal. Overthinking was critical to my daily life. I lived each day on high alert, in case I needed to jump into action and fix whatever needed fixing, just like I tried to do with the cats whiskers. I am at my best in a crisis, and god knows I have had many to deal with in my life. I love being Superwoman. I love saving the day. But being in this hyper-alert state was not fun and certainly not healthy.

I became ill after a BIG burnout. I had been playing Superwoman for too long. I had been living on the edge for months, I was always stressed, I wasn’t sleeping, I was in pain, I was withdrawing, I was experiencing horrendous brain fog which was really sodding useful as I had just started an incredibly stressful job, where I would drill myself to be perfect and chastise myself for processing information incorrectly. On top of this I was dealing with a managerie of outside issues. Very quickly and surprisingly, (to me as everyone closest to me would describe me as the strongest person they knew,) my health and mental health imploded like a double whammy firework. I did not know it was coming, but oh my god when it did, I was floored. I had never been so ill. I was scared. I knew that I could not continue doing what I was doing. I needed to change my behaviours. I needed to spring clean my brain. I couldn’t turn to sweet treats anymore to relieve that anxiety because cake or sugar would make my bum explode. I needed to find another less ‘caboom, fire in the hole type way’ to manage my anxieties and stress.

IBD forces me to think purely in the present because I have to spend a huge amount of energy simply functioning. I have to stay in the moment. If I worry or think further past a day/ week it becomes impossible, as I am never sure what one day will look like from the other. Stress hugely exacerbates my IBD symptoms. I learnt this very quickly. The more I worried about why the hell my body was being so unco-operative, the worse my body felt and the more angry it got. And with IBD there is a lot to stress over. Finances, health, stigma of having an invisible illness, work, isolation, diet, questions over future plans etc. It’s a big thing to deal with. It’s enormous. So I worried and got worse and worried and got worse. And so eventually, feeling like I had been kicked by a horse, totally hungry, weak, prone to explode, sugar deprived and looking like a bum with eyes, with my wonderful Mum’s encouragement and support, I came across meditation and mindfulness.

Meditation and mindfulness have helped me manage my stress. After phone calls chasing mental health appointments, referrals and cursing the incompetence of Drs, mental health professionals and admin teams, I turn to mindfulness and meditation as a way of calming my mind. It has taught me to accept things, the way they are during the moment because that may change in the next moment, And be in the moment with it. For example, the pain I get with IBD can feel like your belly is being sawn in half. It feels like a group of can can dancers, jig about on my groin, back and stomach wearing high heels, and using exquisite timing and excellent rhythm, stomp on my intestines, causing me to chew my fist in distress. If I use mindfulness and meditation during painful episodes like this (sometimes whilst crossing my eyes, grinding my teeth and chewing the carpet) it helps me not to fight the pain, but to breathe through it and accept it in the present. When I am anxious, Meditation takes my mind away to another focus in a gentle way, and if my mind wonders off like a hyperactive butterfly, it gently brings it back again. It’s not easy. Sometimes it definitely does not work, but sometimes it does. I have learnt to focus on my breathing, I have trained my brain to change each thought. From a time where the thoughts on a day to day basis felt like they were running around my brain on fire, screaming fire engine noises, wearing a bucket on their head, careering into other thoughts who fanned the flames with a manual citing ‘50 ways to put out a fire’ and can’t work the hose, to a calmer place. One where my thoughts can pick flowers, float in a babbling brook, frolic with fluffy animals and where the fire extinguisher is readily available. Because IBD has forced me to strip everything back in my life, there is no room for extreme stress. No room for high anxiety, because it just hurts me. Physically and mentally. Where as before, I would keep my worries to myself because I didn’t like bothering people with them, now I talk about them, accept the things I cannot change, appreciate things in the moment and change the things I can change. So strangely in that way, IBD has probably saved my life. It’s very strange how things work. I am the most ill I have ever been and should be the most stressed I have ever been, but I can’t be, because that would make me even more ill. Don’t get me wrong it’s still a battle. But I try. I try to appreciate every moment. I appreciate every mouthful of food, and take ages eating it, where as before I would thoughtlessly shovel it in.

I start each day with a mantra and meditation, and even though sometimes Its not effective, I can honestly say that practicing Mindfullness and meditation, are the best stress relievers and stress deterrence I have ever had. They are also the best dessert substitute I have ever had, because meditation doesn’t make my jeans bulge, make me act like an over excited toddler at a birthday party or attract an enthusiastic colony of ants who desire to lick my sugary face. So if like me you are a natural worrier, I urge you to not get so stressed out, you end up gnawing on yourself like an Octopus and try it. Doing a little a day may just take the edge off and sometimes just doing that will help deal with things a little more positively. And when we are living with a long term chronic disease like IBD, being positive, even in the face of a huge challenge like this, is everything.

1 note · View note

damijon-supersons · 6 years

Text

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” - a Damijon fic

Author’s Notes: Hi guys! I hope you enjoy this somewhat angsty fic that suddenly popped into my mind one day. This also coincides with the DamiJon week 2018 makeup week, so I’m putting this under Day 4: Confessions...or rather...the lack thereof...

This is also my what if reaction to the various rumors that with Bendis coming over to write Superman, unsavory things might happen to our best boy...even the threat of him being scrapped...

Summary: Jon always asked Damian that one question whenever he wanted to ask for something. As the boys got closer, Damian’s answer kept changing...except he never managed to say the only answer that actually mattered.

Okay, hope you have fun :D

“Hey, Damian, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Jon asked timidly. He turned to look at his best friend with his bright blue eyes, his lips trembled, and his face was almost that of a child that knew he was due for a scolding.

The question rang like a haunting echo in Damian’s mind. There was a mixture of hope, sadness, hesitation, and fear, all enveloped in a high-pitched boyish voice. There was a smile there, one that you could only hear. It was a shy smile that was piercingly honest and sincere.

“Why do you sound like you’re about to beg?” Damian groaned in reply.

It was simple questions like these that he could never answer simply. He could’ve said ‘yes’, because that was what his heart said. ‘Yes’ a thousand times over. But his heart was but an infant given a picture of its mother—it can only gurgle out affection because it hadn’t yet learned how to speak. His voice tried its best to sound tired, but there was that slight pause, the barest hint of preparation, that made it obvious the disinterest was a lie—just another wall that Damian had put up on instinct, and one of the many he’d yet to cast away in front of his closest friend.

“I’ve got a favor to ask…” Jon began. The favor was as simple as it was impractical. Jon had accidentally broken his parents’ curfew while super-heroing on his own. While this wasn’t that much of a big deal, this time it was because he’d broken it by about twelve hours.

“Long story,” Jon offered. “There was this tentacle guy, and I had to act like I was the engine and rudder of the refugees’ boat and my phone got wet, and that’s when the eagle man came…”

He wanted Damian to be with him as he faced his parents and explained, as a sort of moral support and witness to Jon’s sincerity. Jon had hoped that Damian’s presence would temper his extremely worried parents, and that they’d punish him a lot less. After all….Clark Kent and Lois Lane were too polite to utterly devastate their son in front of his friend, right?

Damian rolled his eyes. It was a stupid plan, and it was also pointless. He knew that his presence wouldn’t stop Superman from super-grounding his son, and an angry Lois was too dangerous for even Damian to handle. But he’d do it anyway. He’d never admit it, not even to himself, but he wanted to help Jon. Mostly because it made his head feel light, his mouth dry, and his spine all tingly to know that Jon needed his help—needed him.

That night, Damian went with Jon, and instead of being backup, argued with Clark that Jon went alone because of his advice, because he’d taught Jon to follow so and so lead and such. Clark thanked Damian for the explanation, judged both of them culpable, and both the boys’ dads had grounded them that night.

***

“Hey, Damian, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Jon asked excitedly. His hands were at his chest and balled into expectant fists as though grabbing onto an invisible lifeline, and his feet were hovering several inches above the floor, his legs folded as if he was getting ready to leap for joy.

The question hung like one half of a solemn vow. The silence after the words was a pregnant moment where every second was an answer unto itself. There was hope in the boy’s voice, pulsing, shining, and you could almost hear the vibrant colors in his face—shocking blue in his eyes and perfect white in his teeth.

“I mean, you’re practically the only person I talk to on a daily basis,” Damian replied as casually as he could. It still wasn’t the ‘yes’ that he’d meant to say, though his level of aloofness wasn’t as bad as before, and was really a force of habit more than anything else. Jon could tell—if it were anyone else, Damian would never be so comfortable with the way he talked, the way he walked, and the way he breathed as if he could worry about nothing at all. Damian flashed Jon a smirk as they walked out of the school grounds, and that was all the answer Jon needed.

“Hold on!” Jon said enthusiastically as he dragged Damian by the hand.

“H-hey!” Damian protested, but only half-heartedly, as both of them ran, their bags making dull thuds on their legs with every step. Jon’s fingers were firmly entwined with his own with no signs of letting go. Jon’s hand was warm, but it was a familiar, almost comforting sensation. Damian almost admitted to himself that he liked it.

Once they were suitably alone, Jon wrapped Damian in a hug.

“Wha—Jon!” Damian gasped, breathless and surprised. His instinct was to push off, act cold, react the way people knew he’d act. But he was frozen even as the younger boy’s warmth seeped into him, and his heart beat wildly and irregularly.

Of course, with his super-senses, Jon knew the effect he had on Damian. He allowed himself a satisfied grin. “Okay, now, really hold on.” He tightened his grip on Damian, one hand on his hip and the other supporting his back.

Before Damian could do anything other than gasp again, Jon kicked off the ground and zoomed skyward. The only evidence of their departure was a faint ring of displaced dirt that marked where they’d stood.

In a matter of minutes, the pair arrived in Hamilton County in the Kents’ old farm. Damian was quite familiar with this place, because he’d visited and slept over here with Jon more times than he could count. That, and Jon loved taking Damian here whenever they’d needed some relaxing place to talk and think.

Jon set Damian down on the roots of his favorite oak tree, its old and gnarled roots bulging up from the soil like natural benches. Damian’s hair, which was usually pristinely spiked in his usual style, had transformed into a windswept mess that covered Damian’s forehead. He sullenly blew a mouthful of air at his bangs, but it just flopped uselessly back down and tickled his skin.

“Okay, take your coat off,” Jon said excitedly, still hovering a few inches off the ground.

“Why? What’s this all about?” Damian asked, thoroughly confused.

Jon threw his own school coat to the grass as he adamantly insisted, “C’mon, Dami!”

“Tt, fine…” Damian sighed as he did as he was ordered. Of course, the reluctance was just another reflex. He could never refuse Jon, especially when the boy’s face was so bright and earnest like it was right then.

“Okay, now take your shoes and socks off!” Jon directed as he did the same.

Damian didn’t bother to complain—he’d just do it either way. He tugged his leathers off and kicked them to the side, joined by Jon’s own shoes and socks.

“So, what exactly do you have planned that could possibly need us to be barefoot in the countryside, where all manner of dirt, insects, and pathogens can get lodged under our toenails?” Damian asked finally.

Jon stuck his tongue out as if to say ‘gotta deal with it, Damian!’ It was so utterly childish, and yet so perfectly aligned with who Jon was—a boisterous, giddy, happy boy—that Damian couldn’t help but shake his head and smile.

“You’ll love it, I promise!” Jon declared gleefully. “Now, be back in a sec!” He sped off to the distant horizon in a blur.

It actually took him six seconds. When Jon returned, Damian’s eyes were locked onto the thing Jon held carefully in his arms. His pupils dilated and his mouth hung open in wonder and affection. Jon had brought the cutest calico kitten he’d ever seen, its coat a mixture of white, brown, black and olive. Its snout was a rosy pink hue, framed by long white whiskers. Damian instinctively reached out, but Jon playfully hovered out of his reach.

“Nya!” the kitten squeaked as it flailed its tiny little limbs under Jon’s grip.

“Kathy found it alone one day and decided to take it in,” Jon explained as he lightly scratched the kitten’s head, making it yawn adorably. “We can play with him whenever we’re here. I’m sure you’ll love him!”

Damian wordlessly got up and reached for the kitten again, but Jon hovered out of his reach again, obviously teasing from the looks of his mischievous grin. He landed gently on the ground, his bare feet trampling the grass with a faint rustling sound—it gave Damian the mental image of lush, green growth, a cool breeze, and cloudless skies. Incidentally, that described almost all of Hamilton County.

“Nu uh, Damian,” Jon mock scolded. “If you wanna pet Mister Cat, you gotta catch me first!”

And even before Damian could reply that ‘Mister Cat’ was an incredibly stupid name, Jon took off running, giggling all the way with Mister Cat raised above his head as if the kitten was training to fly.

Damian sprinted after Jon, and he was grateful the latter didn’t use his super speed. Despite his reservations, he couldn’t help but smile. He ran after Jon without a care in the world. He ran after the kitten. No, he ran after Jon. No, he was running for the heck of it. There was no one to catch, no one to fight. There wasn’t a villain to chase or a city to save. There was just the sun shining on the greenery and making it sparkle, the silky sensation of the green grass sliding in between his toes and tickling his soles, the cool refreshing breeze that ruffled his ruined hair, and Jon’s euphoric, almost melodic laughter. It was all so infectious that Damian started laughing too.

For once in his life, Damian felt a degree of freedom he’d never thought he’d ever wanted. Right then, he wasn’t Robin, and Jon wasn’t Superboy. They weren’t crimefighters—they weren’t heroes. They were just two boys running and playing across the green grassy plains of Hamilton County.

Was this what every day was like for Jon back then? Damian asked himself. Jon had once asked him if he ever wanted to just go outside and play. It seemed like such an absurd question back then, and Jon had asked it over the phone while Damian was in the middle of brawling with criminals. Playing was for children…and truth be told, Damian had never been a child, had never learned how to be one. And all at once he realized that this was the point of it all. Jon was teaching Damian how it is to be a child. It was pointless, it was irrational, but Damian didn’t care. He liked it.

Damian Wayne, by nature, does not indulge in frivolous endeavors such as aimlessly running across grassy plains. But then, Damian thought, he didn’t need to be that Damian Wayne all the time. At least whenever he was with Jon, he could smile like no one was watching, laugh like the world was deaf, and be someone else entirely—with Jon, he could be a child.

At some point, he’d caught up to Jon, and the two sweaty boys fell on top of each other on the ground. Their bodies were cushioned by the tall grass, and it was almost like they were lying in a bed of green leaves and soft earth. Mister Cat elected to skip after a flittering blue butterfly, and he was largely free to do as he pleased as the two boys stared into each other’s eyes. Damian and Jon pulled each other close and shared emotions, moments, and experiences of such intimacy that it was quite fortunate the field was out of the way of any unwanted witnesses.

Mister Cat gave up on chasing the butterfly, and instead curled up underneath the pile of clothing that the boys had discarded as they continued their own silent playtime hidden among the tall green grass.

***

“Hey, Damian, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Jon asked solemnly. There was a sad smile on his face, the kind that foreshadowed an inevitable future that promised nothing bright. His hands were still and lifeless on his lap, but his eyes were focused on Damian, studying his friend intently and anticipating the older boy’s reaction.

They were sitting at the edge of a random apartment building in Metropolis, their legs dangling over the precipice of a thirty-storey drop. The lights of the city’s nightlife glowed beneath them and cast a wan palette of whites and yellows to the sky’s deep indigo. The weekend traffic skittered as tiny balls of red, orange and beige. A cacophony of sound and noise thrummed in the atmosphere—a few blocks away, a mother was yelling at her son for not taking out the garbage, somewhere below were two cats arguing about whatever cats like to argue about, off in central street a digital billboard of Vicky Vale droned about the new perfume she’d been endorsing, and off in the distance, a passenger jet cut across the clouds with a booming roar.

Damian tensed up. His fists instinctively balled into fists, as if he expected a fight. He’d always react that way when he was anxious, when he sensed danger. His senses were rarely mistaken, and through Jon’s resigned look, a sense of foreboding came over him. They’d just finished their patrol for that night, and he couldn’t shake off the feeling that Jon was more subdued than usual. Jon liked to have fun during their patrols. Tonight, he was thoughtful. Oh, he still smiled, he still laughed, but there was a tinge of longing, of regret, a bittersweet joy. Jon very much acted like he was savoring every second as if he’d never get to do this again.

“You sound like you want that in writing,” Damian teased as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Again, it wasn’t the overwhelming ‘yes’ that he’d have wanted to give, but simplicity never came easy for him. Making matters worse was that the ‘yes’ had mutated into something bigger, something more. No, they weren’t friends…not anymore. Not to Damian. They were definitely something greater, something better…something that Damian was at a loss to describe.

“Maybe I’d like that, for once,” Jon replied with a smirk.

Damian lightly punched his shoulder. Jon punched him back. They both grinned at each other—a grin that tried to say so much but lacked the words to make it tangible.

“So, I assume this is another favor that’s bound to get us both in trouble,” Damian began, but he knew in his heart that from Jon’s expression, it was a graver matter than that.

Jon shook his head. “No, but I guess you could call it a favor. I just…want you to promise that you’ll take care of yourself. And well…I hope you remember me.”

“What…?” Damian blinked in bewilderment at Jon.

“I said, remember me,” Jon repeated with a wistful look on his face. He added a tune that was all too familiar to Damian. “Though I have to travel far…”

“Don’t you dare sing it!” Damian barked. It was from a recent Disney movie that Jon had begged him to go watch, and it was the last movie they’d seen together. The song was a message of a heartfelt farewell, longing, and separation. Jon was saying goodbye.

“Jon, what are you on about?” Damian asked again, this time not bothering to hide his worry. His brows were furrowed and knit together and his frown turned his lips into a severe, thin line.

“You heard about the last battle my dad had?” Jon said as he stared at his jeans. His bony knees poked out of the intentionally ripped holes. He absent-mindedly began pulling and twisting at a loose strand of blue denim.

“Yeah, but I thought your dad won and just needed rest?” Damian had heard about Superman’s battle with an alien invader that had disturbed central Washington D.C. No one knew much about it other than that it posed a threat to the safety of the population. Superman had engaged the mysterious alien, which apparently had the power to bend the man of steel’s mind and perception of reality. Superman had been dazed as if hit by a powerful invisible cannon of pure force. But just as mysteriously and unexpectedly as it had come, the mind-bending intruder had disappeared. Damian, like the rest of the world, assumed that Superman had won.

“Dad didn’t win,” Jon said, the pain evident behind his calm. “Whatever that thing was, it just came to mess with him, and then left. Dad is…Dad’s changed. He’s acting like he’s from another time—an older time. He doesn’t even recognize my mom…or me.”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Jon.” Damian had no trouble being sincere this time. He knew all too well what it felt like to have his father exist but live a different life not knowing his children ever existed. He put a comforting arm around Jon’s shoulders, and Jon gladly leaned into it. Damian wished he could hold Jon in his arms until the hurt in his voice went away.

“There’s a way,” Jon said after a while, but his hesitation mounted. “The fortress of solitude said that there might be a way to get my dad back to normal…but it’ll be risky.”

“What way? Damian asked warily. “And at what cost?”

“Mom and I have to go away for a while to search for the cure,” Jon explained morosely. “Part of the thing’s power is that we have to be the ones to get it, so that dad will remember us again.”

“And the catch?” Damian asked, steeling his gut for the inevitable dreadful answer.

“I don’t know where it is exactly. I think it could be in space, or maybe even another dimension. And also…I don’t know how long I’ll be away. Could be a few weeks…or a few years.”

“Oh,” Damian said simply. The air seemed to leave his lungs all at once, and his stomach felt like it dropped to the street hundreds of feet below. The city’s sounds suddenly became muted as if Damian was hearing them from a thousand miles away. All the color in the lights faded to a garish gray.

Jon sensed the drastic shift in Damian’s emotions. It was all he could to weave his fingers in between Damian’s and hold his hand. “Damian, this is what I wanted to ask you today. I’m going away, maybe for a long while. I need to know that even without me around, you’ll be okay, that you’ll take care of yourself and just keep on being the friend I know and…” Jon gulped as if his breath hitched on the next word he was about to say. “The…the friend I care about.”

“Do you know what you’re supposed to do?” Damian asked, as though he was pleading Jon wouldn’t and that he’d need more time to plan things. He’d stay so that he could plan. He would need months for planning. Maybe years. Jon would stay. He had to.

“Aside from leaving and seeing where the fortress portal leads us, I don’t know. I’ll do what I have to.” Jon replied, but there was a stoic resolution in his voice. Then to Damian, he asked more gently, “How about you, what are you gonna do in the meantime?”

“What I have to,” Damian repeated in what seemed like an admission of defeat.

Jon wrapped Damian in a quick hug, and he was glad that Damian didn’t resist—he didn’t even click his tongue in disapproval. “You’ll be okay,” he said confidently. “I know you will!”

“I sometimes wish I knew as much as you did,” Damian replied dryly.

“C’mon, don’t be so glum, Damian. It’s not like I’m not breaking up with you!” Jon teased playfully. But then suddenly his eyes went wide with embarrassment when he saw Damian’s appalled look. “Oh man, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to imply anything—we’re not like together or—I’m really sorry—“

“—Don’t be,” Damian cut him off gently. He tightened his grip on Jon’s hand. The pair of them stayed like that, sitting on top of an apartment ceiling and quietly holding hands for what seemed like hours, even though it was really just a few minutes. Neither of them broke the silence. Jon had said goodbye after that, and flew off into the night. Thunder had just begun to rumble and line the murky purple clouds overhead.

It was so stupid, Damian thought, that even after everything that he and Jon had done together, everything they’d done for each other and everything they’d done to each other, they had only been just friends. Or rather…there was a tacit agreement that they were only just that, because Damian had never said otherwise. He’d always wanted to, but he never did. He’d never be able to. It was the last he saw of Jonathan Samuel Kent.

As the days passed, and as his cape grew longer and darker, and his head started bearing the weight of the cowl, a single thought had haunted Damian in his every idle moment. It was always the face of the sunny, cheerful boy that he could’ve had if only he’d just said something. Anything. He’d have given up all the fortune his father had passed down to him if it meant that he could hear Jon ask that question one more time, that one question, that always rang in his ears.

“Hey, Damian, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

Because now, Damian was ready to answer with all the words he’d ever wanted to say, words that took years to ever reach his lips.

“Yes, I am. And …I love you. Dear gods, I love you.”

#damijon #DamiJonWeek2018 #Damian Wayne #Jon Kent #jonathan kent #fic #fanfic #jonathan samuel kent #robin #superboy #super sons #angst #maybe

429 notes · View notes

jasleh · 6 years

Text

Suddenly, Horns

(or, Reasons Why Experimenting On Yourself Is A Bad Idea)

(Jericho and screenshot edits by @cyranoix )

Jarexx held the bottle containing his newly completed potion in his hand, swirling it gently as he contemplated it. Behind him, Sunstone twitched in his sleep on the rug. The potion was a new invention. Recent events had made him aware of the fact that not all threats to his life involved poison. And not all of those other threats could simply be shot. An image of Zura standing over him, hand crackling with dark energy, flashed through his mind and he shuddered, banishing the thought as quickly as possible. He was weak, and so very breakable.

He had taken inspiration from pluto - a drug that temporarily increased strength and turned skin hard like iron. The substance had come into use after he had… left the business, so he had picked up a sample on the black market to reverse engineer. He wanted the strength enhancement, but not the skin hardening. Not that such a thing wasn’t a valuable effect, but it would not work well for a permanent enhancement. Instead, he had aimed for something that would strengthen his bones instead, making them much harder to break. He judged that with his reflexes - which had almost certainly been enhanced when he was a young child, although he did not know for sure - increased strength and enhanced bone structure would likely make for a decent defense if needed.

It had taken a good deal of calculation, and a few rather esoteric ingredients, but he was fairly certain that the liquid in the vial would do what he intended it to do. It would not be suitable for wider use, even if he hadn’t intended to keep it to himself. One ingredient in particular would have rather… unfortunate effects on anyone of Ishgardian descent, but as a lalafell that was hardly something he needed to worry about. However, now he once again faced his perennial problem when it came to new potions. Lack of test subjects. No matter how solid he believed his theory was, the only way to find out what the mixture actually did was to drink it… and hope that it didn’t do something terrible. Like kill him.

Now, if he was his cousin Zazalika… well, first off he wouldn’t have spent so much time carefully crafting the theory first, but that aside - he would have just pulled some poor sod off the street and force fed the potion to him… and then tried to break his bones. He was not Zazalika, however. Jarexx had never tested a potion on another person, save only when he was working on his hangover cure. And that had been only because he wanted to test it first on natural hangovers, not the alchemy-initiated ones he had been dealing with at the time. Hungover people, however, made for singularly willing test subjects. Still, he hadn’t spent all these nights and evenings working on this thing just to stare at it. Jarexx pried out the stopper, took a deep breath and let it out slowly to settle his nerves, and then drank it.

Almost immediately, a wave of pain hit him. He gasped, and the vial slipped from his hand as he fell to his knees, hands rising up to his head as though he could push the pain back. Fortunately, the bottle bounced rather than shattering, likely due to the short distance it had to fall, but he was in no state to observe it. All his focus was on the pain in his head. Beneath his hands, he felt bumps form. Sharp bumps. Oh gods what have I done to myself? He cried out as his elbow was jarred - a worried nuzzle from Sunny.

“Get back!” It was more a gasp than a yell, but the coeurl backed off obediently, making a worried whining noise. Jarexx didn’t hear it. The bumps were still growing, and the pain with them. He cried out again as the sharp points burst through the thin skin on his scalp and between his fingers. Blood began to flow, dripping down the sides of his face. Oh gods oh gods oh gods. Panic and lightheadedness intertwined and he fought both back as best he could. Blood. That was blood. He needed… he needed something to staunch it with. Cloth. Something. He stumbled to his feet, moving almost blindly towards where he kept his towels. His stomach lurched as he reached to pull one out. His hand was covered in blood. He grabbed the top towel and brought it up to his head before falling once more to his knees. The bumps - the horns - had continued to grow, and he had to wrap the towel around them.

Pressing the towel to the wounds, he tried to slow his breathing. Pull it together Jare, this isn’t the first time you’ve been hurt. It isn’t even the worst you’ve been hurt. Besides, head wounds always bleed a lot, don’t they? It’s probably not as bad as it looks. That was, of course, setting aside the fact that he seemed to now have horns. The dragon blood. Had to have been the dragon blood that did it. Jarexx wanted very badly to find a mirror, but he was still lightheaded, and almost certainly still bleeding. He needed help. At least it felt like they had stopped growing, or maybe just slowed down.

Jarexx shifted the towel around carefully, until he could more or less keep the towel in place with one hand, then pushed himself to his feet once more. With shaky steps, he moved over to where he had left his linkpearl. He put it in his ear, then promptly sat down on the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest. He tapped the pearl to open up a channel, then returned his hand to the towel.

“Jericho?” His voice trembled, but he couldn’t help it. Jarexx stared across the room, looking blankly at the splatters of blood on his floor, and at the worried coeurl that watched him. “I… fuck. I need help. Can you come to my apartment?” It was still early evening, surely the man would still be awake. I just pray that he’s better about keeping his linkpearl close than I am.

The voice echoed distantly across the aether streams and resonated the pearl belonging to Jericho Brandt. He was sitting in his dim chambers, two books across his broad thighs and a journal he’d been scribbling in open on a table next to him. A topaz carbuncle sat statuesque just beyond it. The carbuncle was half the size of an adventurers’ and fit comfortably in the space while eschewing a gentle glow that did more to illuminate the man’s texts than the sputtering candle next to it. Of the two orange elongations on its head that which gave the suggestion of ears, one twitched as the disembodied voice from the linkpearl vocalized Jericho’s name. The aether-creature blinked through a distant stare as Jericho turned to look at it. Its small jaw fell open an inch and his linkpearl rolled from the back of its engineered throat to rest at the front of its lower jaw, stopped by a small row of toothlike protrusions. It wasn’t unlike an eerie candy dispenser in this fashion. Jericho reached over and took the pearl from the carbuncle, applying it to his ear just in time to hear Jarexx’s desperate request.

His thick brow creased in business-like concern but something further gnawed at him; the lalafell wasn’t one to ask for help, even his simpler ministrations were denied in the past. “You’ve not told me where you reside,” Jericho began, his voice very practiced to stay calm in emergencies. “Jarexx?”

Oh thank the Twelve, an answer. Jarexx gave the address, a flat in the Mists. His voice still shook, but the relief in it was clear. “I… I’m pretty light-headed, but I should be able to get up to let you in. I think.” If he hurried, anyway. Jarexx considered the door and decided he should probably try to move closer to it once he was done with the linkpearl. It would be wisest to just… unlock it in case he passed out before the half-elezen arrived, but even now his paranoia wouldn’t allow that.

Jericho fumbled his books out of his lap as he stood. His small carbuncle leapt from the table and waddled quickly over to where his medical supplies were. It chirped at him, an alarm to let him know where his things were. He walked over to the bag and lifted it up as the creature hitched itself onto the man’s shoulders.

“Jarexx, listen to me, do not let yourself sleep. You need to let me in. I swear if I have to break that door down, you will be the one paying for it.”

Jericho threatened the lalafell in a stern tone as if he was a parent with a troublesome teen. He stood clear of his own furnishings and evoked aetherial transportation, warping himself from his home in Gridania to the small aetheryte set up at Toise’s HQ in Limsa’s housing quarters. Once apparated and whole, the carbuncle bounded from its master’s broad shoulders and immediately grew in size. The half-highlander hitched himself onto the creature, now large and strong enough to carry him. They bolted off toward the address given. Once there, Jericho banged the door with the heel of a strong fist.

Once Jarexx heard the link close, he called to Sunny. The coeurl came over quickly, and he fended off the worried nudges with one hand. “Easy boy. I just need your help to get over to the door.” The coeurl backed off slightly, and Jarexx muttered an apology as he grabbed onto the base of one thick whisker to pull himself up. The cat didn’t complain, but pulled his head back more to help pull Jarexx to his feet. Keeping a steadying hand against the coeurl’s shoulder, the two made their way over next to the door. Jarexx directed Sunny to lie down, then sat down against him and brought his knees up again, waiting for Jericho to arrive. It occurred to him as he waited that, given the nature of towels, he probably could have picked a better item to try to stop the bleeding. Too late now though.

He didn’t have to wait long. When he heard the knock he called out, “I hear you, give me a minute.” He pushed himself once more to his feet and unlocked and opened the door. He was not looking forward to explaining this, but more than anything, he just wanted his torn scalp healed… or at the very least properly bandaged.

The face that greeted Jericho was one that could have belonged to a dead man. The medic's spearmint eyes grew wide at the bloody, pale visage that was hastily wrapped in equally bloody clothes. He didn't question it beyond an initial, audible gasp and then hastily made his way inside, careful to respect Sunny's space especially when his master was so hurt.

Jericho set down his tools and open his bag. His carbuncle uncurled from his shoulder and loafed next to the bag, ready for orders. The man pulled out a well-used book and a few vials. When he lifted himself away from the bag the glowing carbuncle bounded into it and nosed out the bandages.

"Find a comfortable seat, this is going to sting," Jericho ordered.

“It already fucking stings,” Jarexx muttered. He hadn’t seen the alarmed expression, but the gasp had been less than reassuring. He didn’t bother moving to one of his chairs, he just let his knees collapse under him and sat where he was. Besides, the floor already had blood on it. The chairs didn’t.

Sunny was watching Jericho with some suspicion, but stayed where he was. Jarexx waved a hand in the coeurl’s direction, reinforcing the command. Then, he let his other hand drop from the makeshift bandage. The towel began to unwind, but didn’t fall off - the horns and blood both keeping it partially in place.

Jericho donned a pair of clean gloves and carefully knelt himself down, too aware of his own poor balance combined with the slippery floor. He reached out for the towel when he realized there were two protrusions sticking out from the lalafell's head at a strange angle. His jaw went slack a bit, his thoughts immediately going to the fact that something was impaling his patient. It started to become difficult not to question this situation. The man sucked in a breath and began to gently unwind the towel while his carbuncle pattered up to drop off the bandages. The creature was perfect to carry his sanitary tools, having no actual contact with anything but clean aether.

As he lifted the towel free he realized from the breakage in the skin that nothing had impaled his small friend but was, in fact, jutting from the lalafell's skull. He made a face, swearing he saw bone beneath the painfully stretched and broken skin. It was minor compared to the gore he'd witnessed on battlefields prior but it had been a while and he had been able to push such things out of his mind.

Jericho flicked a hand over the worn journal next to him. The pages flipped open like a breeze had caught its cover. The book turned itself to a specific glyph and he lifted an aetherial copy of the drawing from the paper, letting it hover and materialize for a moment between his palm and the yellowing pages. He turned the palm over and the glyph, hovering inches from it, obeyed and followed his movement. He brought it to Jarexx's head and the oozing wound began to scab. Jericho studied the lalafell's face as he did this, his expression stern and calculating.

Jarexx winced and hissed in a breath as the cloth was pulled away from the wounds. He nearly gasped as the aether finally reduced the pain and his eyes finally opened enough to get a good look at Jericho’s face. He didn’t much like the expression there. He kept his mouth shut at first, staring back defiantly… but then the scabs began to itch, and he spoke in an effort to distract himself from it. Scratching would not be helpful right now.

“This isn’t what I was intending to do, I will have you know.” He was still a little unclear on what exactly he had done, if he was being honest.

"So you did not intend to grow a pair of..." he stopped and studied for a moment with the word 'voidsent' on the tip of his tongue but he was uncertain that was the term he wanted to use. He produced a clean cloth and soaked it with a clear, strong smelling liquid from one of his vials. It would be easily recognizable as a wound cleaning agent, the type to cause just enough of a sting as to punish the wounded for their carelessness but not cause further agony. Jericho was uncertain if he should apply magics to this sort of thing... perhaps if he started out slow. As he cleaned the area he pushed matted hair out of the way and he snorted a laugh, his recollection of creatures coming back to him, "Ah, they look of catoblepas horns. What have you been playing in?"

“I don’t know what they look like,” Jarexx muttered grumpily. “Ow! Fuck that hurts.” He didn’t fight it though, instead curling his hands into fists at his sides and squeezing his eyes shut. “The dragon’s blood must have - ow! - had an unexpected - godsdamnit do you have to be that rough? - unexpected interaction with one of the other ingredients. There was catoblepas eye in there too.” Gods he needed a fucking mirror. Not that all the blood would help him get an accurate idea of just what had happened to his head.

Jericho paused in his ministrations and glanced down at the dramatic lalafell. He rolled his eyes and put the cloth down. He knew this twerp was stouter than perhaps he even realized. Jarexx wasn't the punching bag that their cohort Cyranoix was but he had seen the man take a lightning strike straight through his veins and still have the fury to breath.

The field medic made a noncommittal noise and raised his palms to either side of Jarexx's temple. "Fine. If you won't stomach practical medicine then we shall try aetherial mending. Pray, do report to me if you begin to feel an unwanted reaction." He warned in a less than comforting, robotic tone. He palms began to produce heat, then light, then radiating beams of energy which dusted crystalline sparks into the air. Jericho was a practiced healer even if he didn't have the stamina of other, more naturally gifted adventurers. He'd press the healing aether harder as he examined Jarexx's reaction both on his face and the surface of his forehead.

“Man’s allowed to complain when he’s hurt,” Jarexx muttered. Even so, he didn’t argue. He’d been hoping for magical healing in the first place. He couldn’t help making a slight gasp as the aether flowed into him, and the scabs began to turn to fresh scar tissue, the jagged edges of skin smoothing and adapting to the new obstructions. The pink scars seemed rather more red and irritated at the points where they came in contact with the horns, as though the skin wasn’t sure how to interface with them. Even so, there did not seem to be any adverse reaction to the flow of aether. For the most part, the horns seemed… well, rather like they belonged there.

Jericho observed the changes and deemed it fine to keep going for as long as he felt necessary. The small, citrine carbuncle sat next to him as if to play his nurse. When the magics finally faded he put his hands down and took a deep breath. A smirk appeared on his face, "You might have to throw out any collection of hats that you have acquired." He glanced about the room for a mirror.

Jarexx raised a cautious hand up to his head, feeling around the new additions to his skull. He grimaced at the sticky blood. Still sore too. “Ugh.” He felt further up, exploring the length of one horn. No, there would be no hiding these. “Good thing I’ve never been much of a one for hats,” he said. Had they been much smaller, he likely would have become a hat person, but it seemed he was just going to have to live with them… or saw them off. And after the pain of them growing in, that second option didn’t sound at all appealing. He certainly couldn’t think of a way to make a potion that would get rid of them. It would make him uncomfortably recognizable, but that was no longer quite the concern that it had once been for him. Fortunately.

Jericho stood up and brought the items he was using with him. The carbuncle leapt up to his shoulders, its near weightlessness having no bearing on his unsteady feet. "Care to tell me what you were planning on doing if not spontaneously growing horns?" He asked with an ever-present smirk as he returned the objects to his kit. He was becoming far too amused by how much dirt he was able to accumulate on one soul.

Jarexx scowled up at the man in a distinctly ungrateful manner. He opened his mouth to say it was none of his damn business, but then considered just how much blackmail Jericho had on him. Even so, he answered begrudgingly, and as vaguely as possible. “It was supposed to be an enhancement. Not the first one I’ve made, but…” he gestured vaguely at the horns, “This was an unexpected side-effect.” His previous venture into such things had been an unqualified success, with no side-effects to speak of. This time… he wasn’t even sure if it had done what it was supposed to. He’d lost too much blood to be in any fit state to test his strength, and he wasn’t about to try breaking his own bones.

Perhaps being vague and choosing those words was not the wisest decision in seriousness as Jericho's smirk was suddenly partnered with a snort to contain his laughter. "An enhancement, huh?" He cleared his throat. "Ah, but I suppose men have done more desperate things." He lifted his medical kit. "How are you feeling? Lightheadedness abated?”

“A strength enhancement,” Jarexx snapped, glaring at Jericho. He was unable to keep his mouth shut after such an insinuation. “You’ve seen how fast I can move when I have to, yes? My memory? The fact that I can take a gun blast right by my ear without flinching or losing my hearing? You think I came by those things naturally?” Of those three, only the ear enhancement was one that he was completely sure of, given that he had done that one to himself. Even so, he was almost certain the other two had been things done to him. In his rush to defend himself, the inquiry about his condition went largely unnoticed.

Jericho raised a palm in a peace offering, "Of course, of course." He was not bothering to cover his amusement, however. His bedside manner always left his patients feeling rather neglected but he never failed to get a straight answer when he wanted one. "And your head?" He repeated.

Jarexx continued to glare for several more moments, as though to emphasize his point, but he did finally answer the question. “I’m not exactly in a hurry to stand up again,” he said dryly. His gaze shifted from Jericho to look around his small apartment. “Ugh, what a mess.” Blood had splattered on the floor over by the alchemy furnace and the dropped bottle, and he spotted a few bloody hand prints, including a few on Sunstone. Not to mention the blood-soaked towel on the floor next to him. He noted to his disgust that some had even made it onto the rug.

As Jericho removed the freshly reddened gloves from his hands he joined Jarexx in a gaze around the room. "You should tend to it before those stains become an eyesore. If you're hale enough, I shall leave you to do so as I'm still quite exhausted from picking up after your last relationship with chaos."

Jarexx returned his scowl to Jericho. “That was organized chaos,” he said almost accusingly. “And I had hoped that it would be left alone unless I didn’t come back. And yes, I can clean it myself.” He would have to clean himself first, or he’d just make it worse. Gods, he must look like a horror show. He really hoped he could get the blood out of his jacket. He liked this jacket, and gods knew he wouldn’t be able to get another one. He got to his feet, still grumbling under his breath, and stumbled a bit once fully upright. He put a hand to his head. “Gah, too much blood,” he muttered. As he did, he noted with disgust that he’d left yet more bloody hand prints on the floor when he pushed himself to his feet.

Jericho's smirk softened. The way the two exchanged verbal blows one wouldn't even think that he'd have come running like he did. Clearly the lalafell was feeling more himself, however, even if he did have a little bit extra on the top. The half-elezen shook his head in surrender and put his hand on the door to leave, "Perhaps I can beg you to take it easy, or at least indulge in a glass of juice after I depart." His doctor's orders never got very far with this one but he tried anyway. He raised his hand in a humble farewell.

Jarexx grunted something non-committal, and his eyes drifted over to the booze stash on the table by the door. Probably the closest thing to juice that he had, but Twelve knew he could use a fucking drink. Definitely not what Jericho had intended, however. “Sure, whatever,” he muttered, still holding his head, then looked up one more time at the taller man. “And uh… thanks.” Remarkably, it only sounded slightly begrudging.

#FFxiv #lalafell #FF!Jarexx #blood #I do apologize to people for whom the cut does not work #but I'm very proud of this #and I think Henry did an amazing job on the screenshot edits

9 notes · View notes

monstabaebae · 7 years

Text

Masks and Onesies

Requested by anon: ”Hi there!!! Maybe could you do a night skin care routine with your boyfriend Kihyun! Like two dorks with face masks and ugly pjs! Thanks for sharing your writing! Lots of love <3!” Thank you for the request, anon! I hope you enjoy it, this was so much fun to write! :D

Characters: Kihyun x You (OC) Genre: Ultra Fluff with some suggestive jokes Summary: When you and your boyfriend Kihyun have a “skincare night.” Plot: Skincare time with your boyfriend, Kihyun. Word Count: 2.2k words.

“Kihyun, do you really need all of this stuff?” You huffed, lugging three large shopping bags in your arms. It was nearly 8 pm, and the two of you had been shopping since the late afternoon. You were exhausted and far from ready for the commute home.

Kihyun looked down at you, a strand pf his raven black hair falling to frame his cheeks perfectly. “Yes, we do, baby. Do you know why?”

You sighed. You knew where this was going. “Why, Kihyun?”

He suddenly stopped walking altogether, nearly knocking over some people behind the two of you, as he grinned. His teeth were a bright white and his eyes curled into crescents as he winked at you. “Because beauty likes mine needs work.”

“So, you’re naturally ugly?” You teased, biting back a smile.

He raised an eyebrow, shrugging with a smirk. “Say what you want. I’m the sexiest man you know, expressed by the way you scream my- “

“So, what does toner do?” You quickly cut him off as you peered into one of the bags, trying to hide your blush as he chuckled beside you.

You and Kihyun had been dating over a year. Despite him always being busy in the group he was in, he always made time for you whenever he could. He liked to send you cute texts during tours, send you cute bears for whenever you got lonely at night, and bring you lots of face masks from all over the world to try at home.

Because he liked to buy you several types of wash off and cotton masks, eventually, you needed to buy more. Hence, why the two of you had been out all day. He needed to get more of his products, while you, did your best to learn the wonders of skincare.

He had taken you all over Myungdong, one of the skincare capitals of South Korea. He took you into every skincare store, mask shop and cosmetic storefront to find only the “best” products for the two of you.

It was worth it, because the two of you walked home with over 6 bags of skincare, from over ten different brands.

Walking into your apartment, you set the bags down a little too roughly, earning a chide from your boyfriend. “Yah, yah! Be careful, baby! Those are precious!”

“You talk about them like they’re your children.” You grumbled, placing all the bags onto the living room table. You made sure nothing spilled or broke, humming as Kihyun took off his shoes near the door.

“I mean, they are, in a way. They’re what make my skin clear. And as a singer, my face is everything. Without my clear skin, I’ll get attacked by beauty gurus.” He shivered, taking off his jacket with a pout. The sight of him pouting made you smile. He could be so cute sometimes.

“Ki.” You called, walking over to take his face in your hands. His eyes were wide at the sudden contact, but he soon looked at you tenderly. “Fans love you because you’re you, not because of the amount of pimples on your skin. Wonho’s skin can get really bad, so you’re fine.”

“Thanks for comparing me to another man.” Kihyun rolled his eyes playfully, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Thank you for your words, love. I’m so lucky to have you.”

You sat down on the couch and watched as Kihyun went through the bags, organizing the products inside. He placed certain lines of products into one bag, while masks and other products were divided into smaller bags.

“Wonho and Minhyuk are so lucky I bought them these products. They cost a ton…” Kihyun muttered, but his eyes were soft as he set all of the products for his members near his suitcase in the kitchen. He was set to leave in a few days, and he wanted to relax, but he always thought about his group’s well-being.

Peeking into the bags, you hummed. “Ki, which bag is yours?”

He glanced up briefly, passing you his bag. “This one.”

You nearly choked as you peeked inside. Full bottles of toners, serums, lotions, creams, and washes filled the bag, as well as small bags of samples. You couldn’t imagine anyone using all of these.

“Want to try some products with me?” He suddenly asked, his eyes focused on yours as his lips curved into small smile.

You hesitated. Sure, you knew about skincare and how it was supposed to benefit your skin, but you usually just washed your face and went about your day. You knew how much skincare meant to your boyfriend, and since you had been curious about it, you nodded.

“I’d love to.” You smiled.

His smile grew, nearly blinding you from it’s beauty. “R-Really? Awesome! Go get washed up and changed. We can try stuff together.”

With a laugh, you went to the bedroom to grab some clothes. Feeling cozy, you grabbed your favorite cat onesie from your dresser and walked to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Once you were done, you placed your wet hair into a bun pat dried your face. Once you were in your onesie, you walked out into the living room, only to laugh as you took in the sight before you.

Kihyun sat on the couch, dressed in a black and white hamster onesie, equipped with small eyes, cute nose and whiskers. His face grew bright red at your laughter, quickly glaring at you. “Don’t judge me. It’s comfortable.”

“Aigoo, I would never make fun of you, Kihyunnie!” You cooed, hopping on the couch beside you as you pinched his cheeks.

He growled playfully at your action, moving to clean his face with some face wipes. “Aish, you drive me crazy.”

“In the best way.” You gave him a quick kiss on his neck, staring at him as he removed the makeup along the planes of his face. The wipes left his skin glowing, revealing the beauty that is Yoo Kihyun from under the layers of products.

He finished with a sigh, only for you to gasp as you saw the wipe. It was covered in foundation, black eyeliner and slight oil. “All of that was on your face?”

“That’s why I care about my skin so much. You never know what kind of gunk can be in your skin at the end of the day.” He hummed, tossing the wipe into the nearby trashcan. He grabbed the bag of product and looked at you, his professional voice on. “I’m going to teach you the way to properly take care of your skin.”

“I just wanna do masks.” You pouted, kicking your feet with big eyes. You were genuinely curious, but you wanted to just do masks after such a long day.

He deflated slightly, having been more than excited to share his lifestyle with you. But he smiled, pulling out a box of cotton pads and a large bottle. “Okay. Masks it is. Are you ready?”

You nodded, full attention on him as he held up the bottle for you to see. “This is a toner. This is one of the most important steps. You use this to open and clean your pores, as well as even out the oil levels in your skin. This is what makes sure your skin is purified before putting anything else on it.” He placed some on a cotton pad and handed it to you. It smelled like herbs.

He continued. “This particular one is green tea, which is good for sensitive skin and more acne prone skin. When using a mask, you rub this on your face to get the pores open and clean. Go ahead and try it.”

You nodded, taking the cotton pad and wiping it on your face. You took in the gentle scent, gasping as you felt the liquid cool your skin and leave it refreshed. “Oooh…” You mused, patting it in lightly.

He smiled, placing some on his face as well, patting his skin with a bit more force than you had. “Spread some to your neck as well.” He instructed, chuckling as you got some in your hair. “How do you feel?”

“Good, so far.” You smiled.

“Good. Usually you’d put on your essence, emulsion, creams and eye creams after the toner,” He paused as he saw your confused expression. “But we can save that stuff for another day. Ready for the masks?”

You nodded, looking into the mask bag with a blush. There were so many masks to choose from. Some were fruit-based, others were herbal, while others were clay, animal-faced masks and even sleeping masks. You had no idea what to choose.

Glancing at your boyfriend’s gentle expression, you coughed shyly. “Can you help me choose one? I’m not sure what’s best for my skin.”

“Of course, baby.” He peeked into the bag, leaning in close to look at the options. You looked over his profile, wondering how anyone could call this man ugly in any way.

“This one!” He smiled brightly, pulling out a blue mask in the shape of a sheep. He waved it in front of your face with a smirk. “Cause my little baby is the lamb to my big, bad wolf.”

You feel your cheeks burn in embarrassment, taking the mask with a fast remark. “There’s nothing big or bad about you.”

His eyebrows raised and he slowly dragged his tongue over his lips. “Oh really? You weren’t saying that last night.”

“Here’s a mask for you, dirty old man.” You pulled out a face mask, a mask in the shape of a pug. “You could do something about those wrinkles.”

He gasped, touching his face with big eyes. “Take that back! I don’t have wrinkles!”

“You sure about that?” You grinned, waving the mask in his face.

He bites his lips, clearly worried about his image. “Gimme that.” He grumbled, ripping the packaging off and placing the pug-colored mask onto his face.

You had to resist taking a picture of the sight, holding back a laugh as you tore open the packaging to your mask. Cooing at the blue-sheep design on your mask, you leaned back against the couch cushion, letting the damp cloth cover your face. It felt really nice.

“How long do we keep these on for?” You asked, your words slightly slurred from the mask placement on your cheeks.

“10-20 minutes. Relax and enjoy” He hummed. He wrapped an arm around you, letting your head rest on his shoulder as silence filled the room.

You easily relaxed into his embrace, feeling nothing but calm as slow minutes passed. You wondered if he did this when he was on tour. Would the other members do the masks with him? Would he practice a new song while he let the mask soothe his skin after a long day? Would he imagine you doing masks with him, like you were doing now?

You glanced up at him, his eyes closed and his face serene as he breathed. You always respected his career choice, but moments like these, made you want to curl into his chest and never leave.

“Ki?” You whispered, not wanting to disturb him. He could’ve been taking a nap, for all you knew.

“Hmm?” He responded, not opening his eyes.

You hesitated, hugging his arm tight with closed eyes. “I’ve missed you…”

You felt a pair of warm hands cup your neck, and a pair of soft lips meet yours. The kiss was gentle, but filled with passion and longing. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you melted into the warmth and bundle of happiness that was your boyfriend.

He pulled away, giving your lips soft kisses as he whispered. “I miss you every moment of every day. I know this lifestyle isn’t easy for you, but you have my heart and soul. My love belongs to you, I won’t ever take it for granted and I will always put you first.”

You opened your eyes, trying to hold back a smile as you realized the mask was still on his face. “So cheesy, Mr. Pug.”

“Cheesy, but true, Miss Lamb.” He laughed, tugging at your lower lip with his teeth. “Do you really think I have wrinkles?”

“Of course not. But even if you did, you’re the most beautiful man in the world to me.” You smiled, knowing he loved you despite your teasing.

“Even more than Shownu?” Kihyun pestered, nuzzling into your neck.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” You grinned, laughing as his eyes grew wide. “I’m kidding, babe! You’re my one and only!”

Kihyun pouted, pulling off the mask with a sigh. You blushed as his skin practically glowed. “I think I’m gonna need more of these wrinkle masks, since you keep staring at my group mates.”

“Babe!” You laughed, only to squeal as he inched towards you. “Yah!”

“I’m gonna make sure none of my group mates catch your eye. Your beauty is mine, Little Lamb.” Trying not to vomit from his teasing, you pulled off the mask and ran to your bedroom with a squeal, his steps following right behind you.

You and Kihyun may be separated at times due to work, but with moments like these, you’d never be alone.

Especially with so much toner, and countless masks, to keep you busy.

#monsta x fanfic #monsta x imagines #kihyun #kihyun fic #monsta x kihyun #fluff #monstabaebae #monsta x #skincare for days #kikyun fluff

92 notes · View notes

theotherbackgrounder · 7 years

Note

Can you summarize the Class of Classics, please?

Story One:

Students are in the Castleteria, talking about how excited they are about their parents coming for the reunion, these students are:Raven, Apple, Maddie, Darling, Cerise, Dexter, Daring and Melody. Some are really excited, but others like Dexter and Darling are nervous.

That night Raven and Apple talk about their thoughts and opinions regarding what their mothers were like in highschool and they get the the idea of visting the yearbook orchid.

Using a spell to get into the orchid, Raven and Apple starts searching for their mother’s books. But as every book they find the corresponding student disappears (Raven’s spell states “All I desire is for this gate (Book) to open and let us in!”), Everyone that disappears is of course part of the list I gave, all save Daring…They theorize that it may be because that Daring already understands his father, but may be more along the line that since each book is connected to their parent/child bonds, as Daring is The Beast, he isn’t a generic charming like his father (my theory of course)

Raven and Apple grabs the pied piper book again and they disappear into the book.

Story Two: Pied Piper

Raven and Apple soon find themselves in a void of nothingness, only to find Kitty and Melody there as well. The void begins to fill out and they see a young man, Pied Piper. Raven tries to interact but realizes they can’t (Apple: I guess this is a Show-Don’t-Tell sort of scenario.)

Pied Piper is looking through the intruments figuring what he wants to play when an old man with a horn appears (His style is very much older pied piper, I believe this is his father, Melody’s grandfather)

Pied chooses a flute and rats come out and surrond him (Apple: Well, I think they’re adorable.) The rats won’t leave him alone and so he asks Charming and Goldilocks to help as he wants to ask out Rose Red. Goldilocks suggests asking Cheshire Cat.

Cheshire Cat agrees but only if Pied agrees for one favor. Pied says “Okay. That’s fine with me. I always repay my debts” and with that Chshire went “Boo!” and all the rats ran away (Raven: That’s all it took?/Kitty: What? It worked didn’t it?)

Meldoy has a bad feeling about this…

The Next Day:

Cheshire Cat appears and gives Pied a near heart attack. Cheshire has appeared for that “favor” from yester day.

“I want to name your first child!”

“Go, Mom!”

Pied was surprised, thinking it was going to be something about doing homework for her (”Nope. That’s what I want.”) Pied agrees to it, saying it won’t be for a long time, but sure. Cheshire says she is going to choose the weirdest, bestest, most wonderlandian name of all time.

“Maybe (mom)’ll pick Brillig!”

“I want your child to be named Frumious! or Gree! or Manxome!”

Melody is afraid, she is thinking that Melody isn’t her real name. Pied is nervous and Cheshire asks if one in particular speaks to him.

Before Pied can answer, Cheshire laughs and just says she is just pulling his whiskers! (Melody lets out a sigh of relief). Cheshire mentions that if she would name Pied’s kid, she would pick something like Melody. She always loved names that ends in “Y.”

“Melody! I like that! I like that a lot!”

Raven, Apple, Melody, and Kitty all smile saying that Melody has Cheshire to thank for her name.

“I do love my name.”

“And your dad does, too!”

“I guess we are in sync after all!”

and with that, Melody and Kitty disappears and things get mad.

Story Three: Mad Hatter!

Now we are here with Maddie, Apple, and Raven and another story unfolds.

It’s a boring day in the castle-teria and no one is really feeling it. Mad Hatter has the best idea and turnes everything mad and woder-riffic. Milton storms in and asks for Mad to come to his office.

Milton gets onto Mad for being “disruptive” and Mad Hatter says no one is happy unless there is a big of chaos. Milton appreciates it and asks if he could tone it down a bit, Mad says he will be true to his nature but he’ll put a mouse hat onthe bandersnatch’s wig…er… i’ll try my best. Even mentions his one day of school in wonderland.

Mad asks why not consider a more wonderlandian way of doing things. Milton says he will take it under advisment, but just asks at least a day’s notice if he plans on throwning another tea party.

“I think I can manage.” and then proceeds to let Milton know about another tea party he plans for the next week. A bit of organized chaos if you will..

Maddie and Apple both fade and Raven is alone.

Story Four: Red Riding Hood

Cerise appears with Raven and it is there time together. Apple appears back in the orchiad, but can’t move (“Oh for crying out wolf!”)

The Story begins and Cerise and Raven sees Little Red Riding Hood eating lucnh (”Wow, my grandparents are right - I really do look like mom!”)

Big Badwolf appears and starts showing off, standing ontop of a chair on it’s hind legs and beats his chest - and almost instantly the legs break and falls. Students laughs and Big takes a bow.

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll be here all week!” he looks at Red with a grin, she rolls her eyes in irritation and returns to sandwhich (Sad Badwolf face #1)

Later back in class, an assignment starts and students have to partner up. These are the groups. Groups have to create their own “Tall Tales!”

Cheshire + PiedCharming + GoldieBadwolf + Red R. HoodCinderella + Sleeping BeautyBeast + Blue Fairy

Sadly, none of the characters in the room seem to stick out on which one would be the last four, if anyone was wanting to know.

Big is excited, but Red is nervous (Sad Badwolf face #2)

At the library Red and Big meets up and Big makes a joke about all the books that Red carried to their table. Red gets onto him and tells him to be serious as this project is 50% of their grade. Big says he wants a good grade as well and if she is so worried, than she needs to remember that a “fairy-fail” on this assignment will ruin his reputation as a performer. Red sighs

“So…do you have any ideas?”

“I’m so glad you asked. One idea I have is to do a play about a giant who grows to be taller than all the other giants he knows. Or maybe it could be about a princess who comes up with all these hexcellent ideas aof how she can spend her time locked away in a tower. Or I have this other idea…”

“Both of those sound interesting! What abou-”

“Oh, there are more ideas where those came from! I have another oidea about a troll-”

But Bad Wolf stops her and tells her one i idea at a time, Red blushes slightly and apologieses for getting carried away. Badwolf says that it was cool she had alot of ideas and that he wished he had that problem. He mentions that he knows that most don’t take him seriously and he thinks it’s neat that Red got so excited about thronework.

Red frowns and tries to comfort him, saying that the trick with the chair was pretty neat.

“You mean until chair broke and I fell head over tail?”

and they both laugh.

Badwolf says his ending there wasn’t the best, but Red said it was great he bounced back…And sometimes you have to be spontaneous (Forshadowing for night of the red rocket? *wink wink, nudge nudge*

Raven: Awwwww…Cerise, your parents are so cute.

Red asks Badwolf about his ideas for their assignment. Bad wolf says he is bad with words and only get this across through actions, Red says that perhaps that was something she could help with

They both smile.

So they practice together and pass their assignment. both look at one another and looks away, both blushing.

Cerise thanks Raven for letting her see this before she fades away and Apple Returns in her place, missing Badwolf.

and soon Dexter and Darling appears.

Story Five: King Charming

All four appear on a bookball field and trying to figure out where Prince charming is, but no matter how hard they look they can’t find him

“Charming Go Long!” the coach throws the book ball and the young man chases it, but trips literally over nothing and hits the ground missing the book.

“I can’t believe that’s dad.”

“Well, did he tell you that he was a hexcellent bookball player?”

“Now that you mention it, He didn’t… I guess I assumed he must’ve been at it because of the way he talks about it with Daring.”

Turns out that Charming isn’t good with chemistry either as he blows up the science room. We also find out Charming was crushing on Goldilocks bad.

Defeated, he heads off to have lunch with micheal jackson Pinocchio

“It could be worse, Charming. At least you didn’t throw up.”

Pinoccho tells Charming to not torture himself over it and just ask her out.

“What if I ask her out and she says no?” Dexter glances over at Raven. Pinocchio continues pushing until Milton gives an announcement. There is a pig in the back ground…so Three pig’s father and or one of their uncles.

Apparently Goldilocks says that Little Bo Peep and Sleeping Beauty aren’t going to be able to turn in their articles for the school paper and if anyone’s got the inclination to help her with the layout and the editing…

And just like the man Charming is, Pinocchio calls out that Charming himself would do it. Goldilocks agrees.

“You can thank me later,” Pinocchio winks at Charming.

Shenanigans happen at the newspaper room and Charming asks Goldilocks to the Spellebration Formal and they have awonderful time. Goldilocks kisses him on the cheeks and Charming blushes. (”Awwwwwwwwwww!!)

Darling and Dexter both feels like they understand their father just a little bit better now, and that even though he makes everything look so easy but he wasn’t always like that.

Dexter and Darling fade and Raven and Apple were able to find the Evil Queen year book

Story Six: Snow White and Evil Queen

The teacher asks a question and Snow White gets it correct.

“Exactly right, Snow! Well done.” It’s nice to see that someone is paying attention.” She says eyeing Evil Queen and her platinum blond hair. Here, fans only the theory of “Apple and Raven switched at birth” as here we now know that indeed Evil had platinum Blond hair.

Next thing we see is that Evil Queen causes everything around the room to fly around,

Milton Grimm gets onto Evil queen for disrupting class (seriously, you could get away with murder in this world I bet). Milton Grimm asks her why she doesn’t apply herself more, her grades are maginal at best.

“I already know everything I need to know. This place is just where I need to bide my time until I can cut loose and start evilling it up properly after I graduate!”

Apple: I see where you got your boldness from!

and Evil Storms out of Grimm’s office.

Later Evil finds Snow White staring at a dragonsport poster.

“Snow white? Playing dragon sport? That’s a laugh! She is too afraid to try out!” Then she had an evil plan.

At the library in the section for “Future Villains only” Evil finds herself a book for her evil prank, and laughs evilly…and then nearly chokes on her gum.

Then we cut to activity sign up (here we see a female white rabbit. Perhaps the March Hare?) Snow White is looking at all the activity booths but Evil comes up and uses her spell. Snow is possessed and signs her name on the Dragonsport sign-up sheet. Everyone gasps.

Later goldilocks talks to evil going on about how the school is buzzing about Snow trying out dragonsport! and what I love is that she just up and tells Goldilocks about her entire plan and how the spell will wear off just right before her performance.

Snow goes to the dragon games, what is neat is that the lady incharge of the try out has the same hair style as Dragongames Raven. Anow is first and heads for her dragon and Evil can’t wait to see snow just ruin her life. and just as snow gets on her dragon, the spell breaks and she is overcome with fear, but of course she tries to fight it and gets on. and the dragon takes off.

It was a success. as she lands the audience cheers. And Evil Grumbles to herself as Goldie tries to comfort her.

The story comes to a close as Apple and Raven returns to the orchid. Raven offers that she teleports them back to their room. Apple smiles as she closes the year book.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ve had enough magic for one night. Let’s walk”

and the two of them walk back to the school together arm-in-arm.

Chapter Seven: Reunion

Class of Classics reunion night has arrived and students are with their parents.

Cerise asks red that they just blow the activities off and just spend time together

Melody tells Pied she wants to record some of his music and mix it with some of her beats.

Dexter wants to talk to his father about a girl he likes…Darling wants to run some stuff by him.

Apple wants Snow to tell her a bit of dragon sports (This story is probably placed right there between Evil Queen being re-sealed in the mirror and the ending of Dragon Games when the arena is reopened)

Maddie wants Mad to give her some party tips.

Raven tells Evil Queen that she knows that she is the reason Snow joined dragon sport!

“That reminds me, I must impress upon you the importance of really thinking through your spells.There’s nothing worse than an evil spell that doesn’t work out the way you intended.”

“Okay, mom. But I’m not going to let you forget you did something good once, even if you won’t admit it. Maybe there is a little bit of you in me, ever after all.”

#ever after high #raven queen #apple white #cerise hood #maddie hatter #melody piper

48 notes · View notes

jukebarks · 7 years

Note

1-50!!

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you? lmao yeah i guess

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you? 3

3. The person you would never want to meet? uhmm whoever sent this ask and made me answer all these. jkjk

4. What is your favorite word? already ddi this one

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be? willow! theyre so pretty

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought? i need to shower

7. What shirt are you wearing? a dungeons and dragons one

8. What do you label yourself as? super gay artist and furry

9. Bright room or dark room? dark

10. What were you doing at midnight last night? drawing furry porn (no rly)

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far? 18

12. Who told you they loved you last? my dad

13. Your worst enemy? pen pressure

14. What is your current desktop picture? already answered

15. Do you like someone? ya

16. The last song you listened to? inside my dreams by lil hank

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? trump or nick spencer. maybe foxler

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? every nazi

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do? nobody and no

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional) ermm idk my eyes ???? i have nice calves

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do? fuck around as an Actual Guy i guess

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it? im very good at skill cranes

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? already answered

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal. uhhm. those panera italian sandwiches??

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it? save it! lmao

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go? to whatever the next furcon is at honestly

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? svedka vodka, my favorite

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? only furries bitch, nah prolly only gay people sjdkfgl

29. What is your favorite expletive? piss

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? my stuffed tiger ive had since i was a bebe

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? that one fight with my mom and my brother

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world! hmm uh hm??? probably one of the big foriegn ceramics places i guess???

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? my cat i lost when i was little named whiskers, idk if i could stomach bringing back a person

34. What was your last dream about? warrior cats, party city and yoga

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]? artist!

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? ye a few times

37. Have you ever built a snowman? yes! very tiny tho

38. What is the color of your socks? black usuallly

39. What type of music do you like? anything really, mostly right now its edm and alternative stuff

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets? sunsets

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? vanilla or peanut butter!

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer) nah

43. Do you have any scars? oh yeah a whole bunch

44. What do you want to be when you graduate? a artist on my own

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? more into shape

46. Are you reliable? id think so yeah

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be? aready answered

48. Do you hold grudges? not for long

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create? dogs and gators because yes

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? uhh jeez, i really dunno theres been a lot but i dont remember shit

3 notes · View notes

jordandrawings · 7 years

Text

65 Questions You Aren't Used To

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

Jordan: I doubt everyone’s existence

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

Jordan: I’d say 3, My mind thinks of weird things in the dark and I see things that aren’t there.

3. The person you would never want to meet?

Jordan: I’d never want to meet anyone who loves them self so much it’s all they can talk about, they always make sure that their make-up is ok and that they’re looking “Perfect”. Trust me, I put up with this every day in school

4. What is your favourite word?

Jordan: i don’t know... uh... consent?

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?

Jordan: I’d say a Sakura tree.

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

Jordan: Nothing, I was to busy listening to music.

7. What shirt are you wearing?

Jordan: A Dan and Phil “Cat whiskers come from within” T-shirt.

8. What do you label yourself as?

Jordan: A fan-girl... I guess.

9. Bright room or dark room?

Jordan: Surprisingly, my room is bright

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

Jordan: Sleep.

11. Favourite age you’ve been so far?

Jordan: I haven’t really enjoyed any age of mine just yet, so I’ll just say when I was 1... I guess, Cause I can’t remember anything from that age.

12. Who told you they loved you last?

Jordan: My dad.

13. Your worst enemy?

Jordan: Nearly everyone I know in school.

14. What is your current desktop picture?

Jordan: An 8-bit Sakura tree.

15. Do you like someone?

Jordab: Kinda... I guess, online.

16. The last song you listened to?

Jordan: The Milo Murphy’s law theme song.

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

Jordan: My irl friend’s bitchy friend who always tells me to shut up.

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

Jordan: As I just said... My irl friend’s bitchy friend who always tells me to shut up.

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?

Jordan: I’d have @pyroisswag. I’d just tell her to get some sweets, give her the money and when she gets back we just watch cartoons and Dan and Phil for the rest of the day.

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)

Jordan: Walking 2 miles.

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?

Jordan: I’d look like myself except with shorter hair, no boobs and deeper voice. And I’d just live my life as normal.

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

Jordan: I can turn one eye in with out moving the other.

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?

Jordan: Self confidence.

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.

Jordan: A ham sandwich, I’m very plain when It comes to sandwiches.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?

Jordan: Online :3

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?

Jordan: Tokyo!!

Jordan: I’d say: “Could you give it to someone else, give it to Rick Sanchez for all I care”.

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?

Jordan: No one annoy me or anyone else I love. :3

29. What is your favourite expletive?

Jordan: I don’t have one

Jordan: The doll my dad gave to me when I was a baby.

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

Jordan: I wouldn’t tell people in school about my youtube channel back in 2012.

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!

Jordan: America, I can visit most of my friends!

Jordan: Edd Gould, He died to young

34. What was your last dream about?

Jordan: I think it was about Wander over yonder, I can’t remember my dreams when I wake up but I remember seeing a little chibi Lord Hater in my dream... That’s it.

35. Are you a good person?

Jordan: I can be when I’m not angry, sad or sleepy

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?

Jordan: 3 times, when ever I’d break my arm or leg. I broke my arm twice and my leg once, ON FUCKING SOFT PLAY!!

37. Have you ever built a snowman?

Jordan: I have, I’ve even built some in my neighbours yards.

38. What is the colour of your socks?

Jordan: Black and Grey.

39. What type of music do you like?

Jordan: I like Electro swing, modern and old stuff, Basically anything that is catchy.

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

Jordan: I’m a sucker for Sunsets

41. What is your favourite milkshake flavor?

Jordan: Strawberry and Vanilla.

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)

Jordan: I don’t support any, I hate foot ball and any sport ever created excpet for swimming and ice skating.

43. Do you have any scars?

Jordan: I don’t think I do.

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?

Jordan: I’m stuck between a voice actor, an animator, a character designer or a story boarder.

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Jordan: My weight.

46. Are you reliable?

Jordan: I can be sometimes.

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?

Jordan: Will I ever become what I want to be.

48. Do you hold grudges?

Jordan: Yeah. Again the principle at my school for being an ass-hole to my dad.

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?

Jordan: A shibi inu and a panda.

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

Jordan: Talking about Sausage Party with my friends and what are dark fantasies are about

51. Are you a good liar?

Jordan: My facial expression makes it terrible but I disguise my voice.

52. How long could you go without talking?

Jordan: I don’t know, Never timed myself.

53. What has been you worst haircut/style?

Jordan: I don’t think I’ve ever had a bad hair style I didn’t like. I’ve had the same hair style ever since I was young

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?

Jordan: I have, It turned out ok.

55. Can you do any accents other than your own?

Jordan: I can, Too much to list because I’m tired.

56. What do you like on your toast?

Jordan: Butter, just butter.

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?

Jordan: Me as a star Nomad.

58. What would be you dream car?

Jordan: My dad’s car, it’s so cool!!

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.

Jordan: I sing in the shower often, I once even sang a Steven Universe Medley in the shower.

60. Do you believe in aliens?

Jordan: Yes.

61. Do you often read your horoscope?

Jordan: I don’t think I ever have read a horoscope

62. What is your favourite letter of the alphabet?

Jordan: I don’t know... Um... Y? I guess. Cause Why?

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?

Jordan: Dragons

64. What do you think about babies?

Jordan: They’re so adorable!!!!

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.

*65. OK, how about, If you could meet someone famous, who would it be?

Jordan: Jack McBrayer, He’s basically the sweetest man on earth with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen!!

I tag: @pyroisswag and @hollywoodholly

1 note · View note

ilsa-makes-things · 7 years

Text

The excellent @silverstarkindred asked, “Any tips for making a dress I can fight in comfortably and still look hella cute while I skewer those demons on the battlefield?”

Thanks for the quesiton! Looking hella cute AND skewering demons happen to be causes near to my heart. I fought in dresses for years, and I still rock a lot of twirly skirts and clearly girl-gendered garb. While there’s a good bit involved in making comfortable, functional, feminine fighting garb, let’s start with fighting in dresses.

Firstly, is it even possible to fight in a long dress?

Heck. Yes.

Don’t let the haters tell you otherwise: fighting in dresses is perfectly easy if you have the right dress and know how to wear it. I fight in Dagorhir, a full-contact battlegame, and dressing like a girl has never stopped me from hitting as hard. I went hunting for bounty hunters (yup, that’s right) last Ragnarok wearing the above dress, and I rocked it.

So, what do you want in a fighting dress?

#1. A skirt without a slit.

You’ve probably read all about fantasy heroines “slitting their skirts so they can be more mobile,” but whenever I try that, my skirt gets MORE cumbersome. It’s partly personal opinion, and you might have better luck, but the two halves of the skirt always twine around my legs and trip me up. I do not recommend! Open-sided/slit skirts also have an inherent weakness: if anyone steps on one half of your skirt, there’s a good chance that slit will rip further up the seam.

If you can’t lunge around in your skirt without slitting it, it’s too narrow. A normal skirt/dress that’s closed on all sides, but wide at the hem, will be fine— seriously!

#2. A generous hemline.

If you’re worried about mobility, pick something with a wiiiiiiide hem. If we were talking modern fashion, we would call this silhouette “fit and flare” or “A-line.” A long Bocksten-style tunic gown with wide gores would be a good choice: just use this tutorial, but lengthen it to hit at ankle-level. Another option is Stellaria’s lace-up apron dress, which can be worn over a shorter tunic. The ample hem, rather than being cumbersome, will just give you tons of room to move your legs in. All that worry about ripping out the crotch of your pants just vanishes when you’re wearing a big ol’ skirt. How narrow is too narrow? You’ll probably trip yourself up if your ankle-to-floor length skirt has a circumference of less than 90”. There is a limit to how wide you should go, depending on what pattern you use (200” of skirt on a Bocksten-style tunic-gown can get a bit droopy, especially if you use heavy fabric, while you can fit a LOT more length into a pleated or gored skirt), but it’s always better to have a skirt that’s too wide than too narrow.

I fight in this rainbow skirt, which has something like a seventeen yard hem. It has pockets to hold snacks and sidearms.

You’ll want the fullness to start at your waist, so you’ll be able to move freely at the hips. If you’re using a pattern that uses gores (triangles of extra fabric to expand your skirt), have them start at your natural waist. If you put them too low, you won’t have enough fullness at your upper legs to move comfortably.

If you want to experiment with hem width and gore height, try making a mock-up to wear to in-game, non-fighting events, like feasts or for nightlife. If it’s uncomfortable to wear when you’re just walking down Merchant’s Row, it will be worse to fight in.

A too-narrow skirt can often be saved by adding extra gores (triangles of fabric). If you don’t have enough of the original fabric, you can pick a fun, contrasting color for your gores, like with this dress.

#3. A fabric that’s got enough body to hang AWAY from your body.

A fabric that’s too light can be clingy, and when we’re fighting, we want our dress to be heavy (or, if not heavy, stiff) enough that it will hang AWAY from our body, lest it tangle up our legs. Medium-weight linen, tightly-woven cotton, most wool suitings, and anything described as “bottomweight” can all be work. I mostly wear this 5.3 oz linen. For Stellaria-style apron-dresses, a heavier 7 oz linen, Walmart’s surprisingly nice cotton duck or JoAnn’s bombproof duck canvas will all work beautifully.

This ancient-- from 2009!-- apron dress was made from JoAnn’s duck cloth, which is a beautiful weight for an over-dress.

Remember that you don’t have to wear a whole extra dress underneath overgowns like Stellaria’s apron dress or surcoats: if your top layer is long enough, you can wear a shorter tunic or shirt underneath. In the photo above, the beige under-lay is just a tunic, not a long underdress.

#4. A dress/skirt that doesn’t quite cover your feet.

I find that I can usually get away with ankle-length dresses. Any longer, and they interfere with my footwork-- or worse, soak up water or mud and slow me down. The red coteharide at the top is a bit too long for a normal fighting gown: I can make it work, but if I really need to book it, I’ll need to physically lift my skirts.

Shortening a dress is always easier than lengthening one, though, so make your dress nice and long and have a helper pin up your hem before you finalize it. Can you lunge, squat, and run in a dress that length, or does it need to be shorter?

Once you’ve got a suitable dress, you’ll need to learn to fight in it. There is a bit of a learning curve, but if you keep these few things in mind, you’ll be fine. :)

How do you fight in a dress?

#1. Practice not stepping on your own hem.

This is the major thing new lady-fighters complain about when they try to fight in a dress: if you play a battlegame that involves going to your knees when your legs are disabled, you’ll end up kneeling on your own dress, and when you try to stand up to respawn, you’ll step on your own hem and faceplant.

There’s no magic bullet: just practice and stay aware of where your skirts are. Try wearing your longer skirts to practice, first, before you break them out at a big battle. Learn to take a knee in such a way that you don’t end up kneeling on your own hem.

I got killed by Olos, but at least I didn’t trip on my own clothes when I got back up! Your skirts have advantages, too. Some ladies say that their skirts become sort of like a cat’s whiskers: extensions of their body that provide feedback about their environment. They also make it harder for an opponent to strike at your legs— if your skirt is wide enough, they won’t know where your legs are in all that fabric!

#2. Grab something to wear underneath your dress.

Rather than flashing your undies when you get knocked down, I highly recommend wearing something— whether it’s historically-correct linen braies and wool hose or a pair of bike shorts— under your dress. If you’re prone to chafing, this will help, too. If it’s cold enough out, leggings will keep you warm AND prevent wardrobe malfunctions, though the fleece-lined/sweater-ish kind DO pick up lots of grit and dead leaves. I usually wear tall socks and bicycle shorts, which overlap to keep most of my skin covered. That means I’m less exposed to poison ivy and thorns in the woods and ticks in the fields.

#3. Pick your battles.

If the fighting field is absolutely soaked or churned up with mud, you might consider fighting in a shorter tunic and trousers that day. Cotton and linen soak up water and become heavy when wet, and carrying that extra weight around can slow you down. The heavier/wetter your skirts are, the more they’ll cling to you, too. Ick.

The one exception is wool, which can absorb a lot more water before it looks or feels wet. At Badon Hill in 2009, it poured buckets all weekend. I skipped my linen undergown and wore a soft wool gown under a wool apron dress, and I was constantly being accosted by people demanding “how are you still dry?!”

When it’s wet and cold, chose wool. Photo by my beloved Fiaren. Wool is more of a pain to wash, though, so if the field is really muddy (as it was at Pentwyvern’s Harvest Feast back in 2010, shown), it might be a day for a tunic and trousers. I spent a week trying to clean the muck out of this dress, which was filthy up to the thigh. I should have listened to my own advice: this maroon dress was originally a feast gown, so it was long enough to wick up allllll the wet and mud on the ground. Uuugh.

Photo by Sarah Franklin, 2011. But then again, I’ve fought through bramble-y forests wearing this embroidered dress, which started life as feast garb, too. (I need to constantly make new feast garb, since my old stuff somehow becomes fighting clothes. I can’t have nice things.) Sometimes looking cute wins out, even if it means having to clean and mend your garb later!

Photo by Yuie Brightflame. And there you have it, lady-follk. Would you ever consider doing battle in a dress or skirt? It’s a fun way to expand your costuming options! UP NEXT: How do you alter the standard tunic to better fit a female figure?

#garb #larp #dagorhir #belegarth #tutorial #amtgard #sca #swordfighting #costuming #ladies who larp #female fighter #this is missing some pics because tumblr hates me #sorry #i tried

35 notes · View notes