Amassment of batter and Zacharie drawings. Last one is a piece for Tzalmavet's OFF fangames Two Days and Fo(u)r !

Nya ichi ni San nya arigato!

konig x cat hybrid! reader

(For some reason this peaked my interest I don’t really know much about this so I’m sorry if I did something wrong!!)

Warnings: age regression diapers

“My sweet Katzchen”konig cooed picking you up from your crib

“put me down daddy!”you whined trying to get out his hold digging your claws in his arm slightly he just chuckled shaking his head

“Come on now baby it’s bath time!”he said carrying you to the bath room

“No no!!”you pleaded as he started to take off your clothes

“Yes yes”he said setting you in the warm water causing you to try to jump out but he quickly grabbed you

“Come on love after this daddy will make you cake pops!”He said and you lightened up a bit as he poured water on your head careful not to get to much in your ears

“Why do I have to take baths?”you cried out as the water was rubbed on your body as he washed you

“Because you need to be clean and healthy”he said happily as he rubbed your cheek then started to pour water on you

“All doone!!”he said after a few minutes standing you up and wrapping a warm friend Sanrio towel around you pulling up the hood

“Can I have cake pops now?”you asked as he set you on the sink counter bringing out some lotion

“Hold on a minute honey”he said as he started to rub your feet pressing on your paw pads gently causing you to giggle

“You know when I first saw you at the shelter all I could think about was how precious you were even as I was looking at the others!”he said blushing rubbing your legs

“Really?”you asked smiling as he nodded moving up to your body

“I always knew you were special”he said lowly as he kissed your forehead picking you up taking your to your bedroom laying you down on your race track carpet

“Look I got you Minnie Mouse diapers!!”he said showing you them as you smiled at them your tail swishing around happily

“Can I help you make the cake pops?”you asked as he put baby powered on you

“Yes of course!”he said putting the diaper on and putting a shirt and shorts on you and you sighed happily

“Alright now let’s go”he said as you gathered some toys and a blanket and went downstairs

“Chocolate or red velvet?”he asked

“Both!”you said practically bouncing off the walls

“Alright then…but you can only eat a few of each remember what happened last time?”he said as you two started to mix the ingredients

“Yes daddy!”you said cringing remembering when you threw up dozens of times after eating to much candy and cookies

“Good katzchan”he said brining put the pans after you two were done mixing the batter pouring them in the pans as you stared with hazy eyes

“Now we have to let then bake them cool!”konig said and you nodded

“Want some apple slices watermelon juice?”he asked as you thought for a moment

“Chocolate!”You said as he shook his head

“Liebling no”he said sternly and you pouted dragging your feet to the living room and flopping on the couch

“Oh cheer up honey how about….I’ll let you eat 4 of each cake pops?”He suggested and you nodded sitting up as he patted your head

“Ok!!”you said as he turned on the tv and put on SpongeBob and you laid in his lap curled up

“I love you daddy”you said shyly staring into his eyes as he blushed madly

“I love you even more!”he said rubbing your back as you guys watched SpongeBob Konig occasionally just watching you instead

I lowkey want to make more just with different characters cause I really liked this lemme know!!

The Killing of One Eye

Okay lads, here's the truth of the spoiler thread rumors.

River Ripple enjoyed the exhilaration of battle and wishes he could have done more of it, until guilt hits him.

He still laments the death of any cat, though accepts that it "had to happen."

River Ripple successfully drives off One Eye's instant martians:

Exhilaration pulsed beneath his pelt as the rogues fled across the hillside, past the heather, past the gorse, away from the mountain cats’ land, leaving a trail of fur in their wake. Mouse-hearts! How had One Eye thought he could win with such mangy cowards as allies? Night pulled up as the rogues disappeared over a rise. River Ripple slowed and stopped. Her pelt was bristling with excitement. “Did you see them run?” River Ripple purred with joy. “It was easier than chasing crows from dead prey.” His heart was pounding. His paws fizzed. “I wish they’d put up more of a fight!”“You enjoyed it.” Night sounded surprised. River Ripple stared back at her. He had enjoyed it.He even felt disappointed the battle was over. Guilt roiled in his belly. But I love peace, right? His fur pricked self-consciously. Am I more like a mountain cat than I thought? -Chapter 15

I'll leave it to the Riverstar Enjoyers to make what they will out of this, if it's a twist they enjoy on the character or not. I think it's potentially an interesting idea, but I personally am not a fan.

I don't like how much it smells like the general "guilt of self-defense" that cats experience constantly in this arc. Though it's fitting of River Ripple to immediately step back from that and self-reflect on how he feels about the fact that violence feels good, I think I'm generally too disappointed with the other changes in the book to enjoy this.

On looking down at One Eye's body;

He felt no satisfaction at his death. It had to happen. He stared grimly at the rogue’s battered body. He would have killed more cats if he’d lived. Clear Sky was lying on the grass beyond them, bloodied but still breathing. “We did it!” Hollow padded happily to River Ripple’s side. “We fought like mountain cats.” Croak sounded proud. “Yes.” River Ripple looked at them, remembering his own exhilaration. “But we must remember that a cat has died today.” “He was more like a fox than a cat,” Hollow muttered. “A cat has died,” River Ripple mewed again. He was not going to celebrate any death. -Chap 15

So, at the very least, River Ripple's not happy about murder. The spoiler thread rumors were wrong about him being satisfied here.

And that is how the chapter closes out. On River Ripple considering this about himself, that today he'd moved a little closer to Tall Shadow's ideology, as established earlier in the book.

And yet he knew something inside him had changed. He’d stood with the mountain cats to protect his group. As much as he loved peace, he’d chosen war: today he’d accepted that survival must be fought for. -End of chapter 15

i melted when I saw your blanket and pillow! Those are a great touch in any house! 😂✨💚 I have a mouse pad with Alan Rickman as Severus and it is already old and battered but I couldn't keep it away and not use it to preserve it. I needed to see him as much as I could💚

Hihi! That’s the exact reason, why I have my very own Severus-Room in my house…

Since I’m struggling with ME/CFS, I’m always in my dark room (since more than one goddamn year now)…so I’ve dedicated my room to Severus. He’s at my side (mentally) since I’ve fallen for him (head over heels) more than 20 years ago, when I’ve read the books for the first time.

His resilience and his brilliance were always inspiring to me. And now, even my kids are “greeting” him, when they’re coming to my room. My youngest daughter (she’s 5 years old) calls him “Sebus”. 😅

Here are some small spots in my room… 🖤🥹

WIP WEDNESDAY

Thank you so much to @greypetrel , @heniareth and @badartxd for tagging me for today! I loved seeing the things you had to share. 🥰

I unfortunately haven't had much time to work on fanfic the last week or so for reasons I'll probably be summing up in another post later today. That being said this section does have a part I already shared for heads up, seven up the other day so I hope you find folks don't mind a little repetition. I alao haven't had a chance to pretty this up any, so forgive any fumblings.

Here we go - time to strip the Antivan! 😈 (Knife play cw)

"Whatever I desire, is it?" she asked with a sharp huff, sending notes of honey and sweet apricot wafting beneath his nose. No doubt the taste of it in her mouth would be heavenly. “You willing to prove that claim, Crow?” Oh yes. Yes, he most certainly was.  “I am your man without reservation,” he said, enthusiasm hidden carefully away beneath a sombre nod. “Whatever I must say or do to convince you of this, you need only command it.”  “Fine then.”  She shoved him away in one swift motion, fist vanishing from his tunic as he drew back to his full height. The rug and padding beneath it muffled her steps as she began to slowly pace her way around him, eyes roaming over him with the same leisurely calm of a housecat circling a battered mouse. On her second pass she raised a hand to drag along the lines of his chest, fingers catching up the linen as they trailed a languishing path into the dip of his collarbone, down across chest and ribs and hooking around his hip only to slip away at the center of his back. On her third she appeared before him with steel in hand, a slim, elegant blade he recognized as the one she had taken to carrying in the hem of her glove after his suggestion. Its metal was warm with the heat from her skin, his eyes fluttering shut as she caressed the flattened side along the curve of his jaw.  “Don’t move.” Her voice was a roll of distant thunder, brimming in quiet power and the promise of destruction if he did not heed her warning. The blade turned in her hand, its edge rasping the faintest touch over his throat and threatening to drag an undignified groan out of him along with it. “Wouldn’t want to stain that pretty neck in blood just yet.” There would be no testing of this particular order. Zevran held himself still as the walls around them, the warm amber sheen of his eyes swiftly fading into hungry black. She drew the blade further along the column of his throat, only pausing when its point caught against the first tie of his tunic and pulled it taut.  “Can’t have this getting in the way, can we?”

One by one the knife cut a path through each of the ties, freeing its collar to fall even further away over the curve of his shoulder. Her free hand grasped at its hem and he felt his jaw grow tight, chest fighting to keep a shallow, even pace in his breath as the blade tore through the front of his shirt to leave him bare chested and draped in tatters. 

...I almost forgot tags laksla ok how about: @shivunin , @melisusthewee , @wild-houseplant , @siriskulksnerding , @mocha-writes , @asaara-writes and YOU ♥️

Longstar AU — Chapter Five

    “SWIFTPAW—“ Longtail's mew cracked as he yelped, rushing toward his apprentice, battered and bloodied. Brightpaw lay beside him, looking practically the same, covered in blood and lifeless. “C'mon, Swiftpaw, you can’t…”

    “Longtail,” Whitestorm nudged his shoulder, Longtail's breathing heavy. “Let’s get them back to camp and checked out by Cinderpath before we make any conclusions. And quickly.” He glanced over his shoulder at Fireheart, who nodded.

    He grabbed Swiftpaw by his scruff, sliding the small black and white apprentice onto his back. His pelt was torn apart, and his front leg twisted to the left. He shook his head, padding forward toward ThunderClan camp. Whitestorm and Fireheart did the same with Brightpaw, following him back to camp.

    Ignoring all gazing cats, he made a beeline for the medicine den. Cinderpath stirred inside, messing with her herbs. At the sight of Longtail's shadow, she glanced at him.

    “Longtail? What is—“

    “Swiftpaw and Brightpaw,” He hurriedly mewed. “They were attacked by.. something and they’ve both been hurt really bad.”

    “Put him down in a nest,” Cinderpath meowed calmly, gesturing toward a mossy nest. Longtail slid the apprentice off his back into the nest. Soon, Fireheart and Whitestorm appeared, doing the same with Brightpaw. “.. Oh. Wow. Alright, clear out. I need my space to work, go and clean yourselves up.” Cinderpath crowded the three tom's out of the den.

    “C'mon,” Whitestorm nudged Longtail. “Let’s go get cleaned up in the river.”

    “You two go along,” Fireheart meowed. “I'll be fine.”

    “If you say so,” Whitestorm dipped his head respectfully, herding Longtail out of the camp.

    His head was racing like a frightened mouse, trying to escape the claws of its predator. What if Swiftpaw died? His first apprentice, and he couldn’t even handle keeping him safe. Maybe he wasn’t as trustworthy as he thought he could be, if he couldn’t even handle one small cat.

    Longtail and Whitestorm reached the river, wading softly into the warm water and gentle rippling waves.

    “Whitestorm?” Longtail said softly, glancing at the older white tom. “.. Am I a bad warrior?”

    “Hm?” Whitestorm gazed at him, “Where’s that coming from?”

    “No cat seems to trust me,” He shook his head softly. “Especially not Fireheart. I’m loyal to ThunderClan. Well, I think I am. But a-am I? I was friends with a traitor..”

    “Longtail,” Whitestorm mewed firmly. “You're talking like you have bees in your brain, and I know you don’t,” His whiskers twitched. “Your a smart, loyal cat. You trusted someone you shouldn’t have, but we all did. We all trusted Tigerstar.”

    “But I let my apprentice get hurt, and possibly die,” Longtail hissed the words with pain to his mew. “If I had pushed for him to be a warrior, and kept a better eye on him maybe he wouldn’t be hurt. And neither would Brightpaw.”

    “That isn’t your fault,” Whitestorm narrowed his yellow eyes. “He made that decision on his own. You’ve been pushing for him to get a warrior name, as well as the other apprentices, you did what you could. My aunt is.. not well, and not thinking right. You did what you could, Longtail.”

    “.. Thank you, Whitestorm.” Longtail murmured, gazing up at the large white tom.

    “Your welcome, Longtail. You're my clan mate, after all.” He smiled softly. “Now, finish cleaning up and we'll get back to camp and rest, okay?”

    Longtail dipped fully into the water, swiftly sliding out and shaking out his fur. Whitestorm did the same, and the two padded back to camp, slipping back into the warriors den.

     “Cinderpath..?” Longtail poked his head into the den, “Can I come in..?”

     “Yes, Longtail,” Cinderpath mewed unenthusiastically, “You can come in.”

     Slowly, he padded inside, gazing at the back of the den. Cinderpath flicked her tail.

     “.. Are they awake?” He questioned, flattening his ears.

     “No, but alive and breathing steadily,” She turned her blue gaze on Longtail, “They'll be fine.”

    “.. Will they be able to become warriors?”

    “Yes,” She gave a gentle nod. “If they were going to allow me to become a warrior with my leg, they'll definitely be able to. And if they aren’t allowed, Bluestar and Fireheart will be hearing from me. Brightpaw is my little sister, and Swiftpaw is still my kin.”

    “.. Thank you,” Longtail murmured.

    Cinderpath rested her tail on his shoulder, “Of course,” She mewed, pressing her nose to his cheek. “Now, stop clogging up my den so I can do my work, okay?”

    Longtail twitched his whiskers, “Okay, okay.” He backed up out of the den, being greeted with Fireheart behind him.

    “How are they?” Fireheart questioned.

    “Alive,” He replied coarsely.

    “That’s good,” He mewed with a sigh. “I was just about to visit.”

    “Alright,” He glanced away. “.. I’m gonna just.. go find Mousefur.” Longtail mumbled, padding around the ThunderClan deputy.

    He approached the small, dusky brown she-cat, flopping down beside her. Mousefur glanced at him, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

    “What’s your problem, huh?” She meowed questioningly. “In fact, you’ve seemed super down lately.”

    “I’m just tired of everything,” Longtail mumbled, resting his head on his paws. “I just wanna feel like I’m a normal part of the clan again.”

    “What? You are,” Mousefur cocked her head.

    “But I’m not,” Longtail took in a deep breath. “Nobody trusts me anymore. Even if they say they do, and it’s the same with Darkears. Though, they have a reason to not trust him.” He glared at the dark tabby tom across the way, “Fireheart is always suspicious of me. He basically said so.”

    “Sometimes I think he has bees in his brain,” Mousefur shrugged. “Going behind his leaders back to arrange a meeting with another leader, telling them our secrets.”

    “I agree,” Longtail twitched his ears. “At least I have you to talk to. If I didn’t I would have gone crazy by now.” He looked at the she-cat with a smile.

    “Same to you,” Mousefur returned his smile.

    “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather beneath the High Rock for a clan meeting.”

    Longtail turned, seeing Bluestar atop of the high rock again. The meetings were becoming weirdly frequent; maybe she was getting better. He thought ThunderClan could get better, that they weregetting better.

    But that was probably just wishful thinking, wasn’t it?

<< Chapter 30 || Chapter 31 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 31

“Shadepool, hurry up! We don’t have all night to wait!”

“S-Sorry!”

Shadepool worked her way across the old cedar, moving as quickly as she dared. Though most of ThunderClan – and RiverClan and ShadowClan, by the smells of things – had already made their way across, proving that the new bridge was safe, Shadepool couldn’t help but want to linger, even if it meant upsetting those waiting behind her.

Ashfoot died beneath this tree, she thought dismally, picking her way through the old, brittle branches. Once, they had held tight to cones and needles; but now, severed from the earth and battered by three whole blizzards since it’s falling, the old gray branches were barren. Now, beneath all that, hidden beneath a layer of snow, was the smallest tuft of gray fur...

Shadepool reached the end, finally, and leaped down. Brightheart landed just behind her, sighing, muttering about young cats these days as she trotted off, nose to the ground.

Not wanting to be in any cat’s way, Shadepool edged away from the end of the old cedar. She took in the island as best as she could – it was a small, forested piece of land cut off from the rest of the lake territories by a narrow channel of water, too deep to simply wade but shallow enough to swim across, if one was RiverClan and it weren’t leafbare.

Once it was thought unusable; now, the four Clans had agreed that it would be the new site of their Gatherings, after the old cedar fell and made a bridge across. Every cat decided that it was the will of StarClan, that they wanted the Clans to go back to normal after the unrest in WindClan.

If that was the case, StarClan chose well, Shadepool thought soberly. She had seen Fourtrees a few times in the old forest, but the island felt private, safe, and, most importantly, neutral – something the Clans desperately needed.

She pushed through a ring of dead ferns and into a large, shallow clearing free of trees or bushes, as if StarClan themselves had cleared them a suitable place to Gather. Everything on the island seemed to lead to this spot, and a great old oak tree stood tall and proud in the very center, its roots thick and stable and its big, low branches leafless. The clearing was full of snow, though the cats were very quickly stamping it down as they padded to and fro and explored.

Already, it seemed like the deputies Tawnypelt and Blackfoot had decided the roots of the oak to be a suitable spot for them to sit. Shadepool spotted Mothwing and Littlecloud clearing a space for the medicine cats a few paces away, near an old stone caught up by the oak’s roots. Brackenfur limped over to join them.

Shadepool knew she was expected to do the same, but she just couldn’t, not yet. Without WindClan here, the Gathering couldn’t start anyway, and the island was so new, so full of wonder...

She could feel her brother exploring it, Mistyfoot by his side. Through him, Shadepool felt as if she could see every inch of the island, even if she stood alone and unmoving at its center. She felt Nightfrost’s surprise as he found out how cold the lakewater was, Shadepool’s nose chilling over in response.

Using a paw, she rubbed warmth back into her muzzle. Mouse-brain! she thought stubbornly. Always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, even in the dead of leafbare! If he caught a chill, she would have words with him!

She thought about joining her littermate as he walked around the lake, but the presence of Mistyfoot made it difficult for Shadepool to justify. The last thing she wanted to do was intrude, especially where she felt unwelcomed.

“No WindClan?” asked Sootfur as he sat down beside Sorreltail, his sister, and the Tribe she-cat-turned-ThunderClan-warrior, Sun.  

“Not a scent of them,” Sorreltail answered. She flicked some snow off her shoulder. “Even on the way here! It’s like they haven’t bothered to walk around their own territory for a quarter moon.”

Sun was nodding along. “I worry about them,” she mewed. She looked unbothered by the cold, but her expression was concerned. “I hope everything is all right...”

Shadepool flicked an ear, glancing at the old cedar for any signs of new movement. She, too, hoped that WindClan was alright, though for more than just the obvious reasons. With each blink, she hoped to see one specific body crossing the old cedar, though she wondered if he could even stomach it, after what he had seen it do.

Crowflight...  

Her heart ached, and then whirled with a freezing storm of excitement and worry. The knowledge that he loved her as much as she loved him... it was almost enough to sweep away the creeping fears about breaking not just one code, but two – not only were cross-Clan relationships frowned upon, but medicine cats were absolutely forbidden to have mates.

She glanced over at Brackenfur, who was chatting with Littlecloud. So far, it seemed her mentor hadn’t picked up on Shadepool’s feelings for the WindClan tom, or knew that he reciprocated. Shadepool’s heart thudded in her chest at the thought of Brackenfur finding out.

What would he do?

The full moon arced high in the night sky, and finally it seemed as if the other Clans were unwilling to wait for WindClan. Tinystar, Russetstar, and Leopardstar clambered up the old oak, each finding one of the low-hanging branches to sit upon. From so high up, their eyes looked like pairs of stars caught in the tree’s spindly fingers.

“Cats of all Clans, gather close!” yowled Leopardstar. As the eldest leader, she had the right to speak before the others: “The first Gathering upon the island will commence!”

“What about WindClan?” asked Falcontail. He was sitting with his Clanmates on the other side of the clearing. “They’ve not yet arrived!”

Shadepool felt a flash of fury that Falcontail, of all cats, was concerned. You were leading the rebels from the other Clans that tried to tear WindClan apart – what do you care for their well-being?

She guessed that the only reason he was allowed at this Gathering at all was because he was Leopardstar’s son, a fact that seemed to justify a lot of his aggressive behavior. Mothwing, at least, seemed to think so.

“He’s right,” meowed Stoneheart. He sat beside his mate, Rowanclaw, and his friend, Pinewhisker, among the rest of ShadowClan. “We shouldn’t start without them. Especially not the first Gathering!”

Shadepool knew that Rowanclaw hadn’t participated in the battle, but she couldn’t recall whether she’d seen Pinewhisker among the ShadowClan cats Falcontail had convinced to join him. Stoneheart had had little issue teaching his own Clanmates a lesson, but Shadepool trusted he wouldn’t associate with Pinewhisker if he had been on the wrong side.

“I agreed,” Tinystar meowed regretfully, staring down at the Clans below with his ice-blue eyes. His dark body made him seem like a shadow clinging to the oak branch. “But we’re running out of moonlight, and it’s the dead of leafbare...”

Shadepool imagined her father had made a passionate argument to the others – Onewhisker, the cat to be WindClan’s new leader, was his dear friend. He no doubt wanted to be the first to hail him properly at not just his first Gathering, but the four Clan’s first Gathering on the island.

“If WindClan desires to make us wait out in the cold,” Russetstar meowed severely, “they’ll have to pay us in sheep’s wool. It isn’t worth catching greencough for any Clan!”

Leopardstar nodded in agreement. “They’re free to arrive at any time,” she mused. Twisting her tail to gather everyone close, she meowed, “In the meantime – we thank StarClan, and Ashfoot, for this island, and the path we’ve been given. May we Gather here in peace for seasons to come, guarded by her spirit.”

Every cat in the clearing went silent, each one dipping their heads in honor of Ashfoot. Shadepool sighed, her heart aching. Ashfoot was the former deputy of WindClan, and Crowflight’s mother – she had died saving both Onewhisker and Mudclaw from the falling cedar, and her body still lay buried beneath it: a grim and permanent reminder of the four Clan's first major battle beside the lake.

As heads popped back up, Shadepool used the opportunity to scurry over to the other medicine cats. She slotted in beside Mothwing, ignoring the disappointed look for her lateness from Brackenfur.

Shadepool smoothed her pelt and asked Mothwing, voice low, “What’d I miss?”

“Not much,” Mothwing whispered back. “Just a bunch of herb talk...”

“RiverClan has very little news to share,” Leopardstar meowed. Her voice carried well from the old oak tree. “Our Clan is recovering well from the battle, though Blackclaw still suffers from a persistent cough.”

“He nearly died,” Mothwing gasped, sounding sorrowful. She touched her nose to Shadepool’s ear. “Thanks so much for the spare tansy. It really did help.”

“It’s no problem,” Shadepool purred. “That’s what medicine cats do!” Though she hadn’t wanted to help Blackclaw of all cats – he had helped Falcontail arrange the rebellion with Mudclaw - ThunderClan territory was the only one that hadn’t lost all its herbs to the first blizzards. Regardless of how much Blackclaw had tried to help make WindClan suffer, Shadepool knew she could not be responsible for a cat’s death if it were preventable.  

Tinystar had taken up the mantle to speak, now. “Our warriors are also recovering well from the battle – not only that, but Sun has earned her full status as a warrior of ThunderClan!”

“Sun! Sun!” though cats raised their voices in congratulations, more than a few looked baffled that Sun had not chosen a warrior’s name, mostly from the other Clans. Some even dared to look angry.

Tinystar was anticipating it: “Sun abstained from taking a warrior name in order to preserve her heritage as a Tribe cat. I saw no issue with this, and StarClan did not strike her down during her vigil, as it was one of the few nights free of snow. I took that as sign enough that Sun was in the right. Her name remains, until such a time as she asks for it to change.”

That seemed to settle the Clans, but she spotted Cedarheart of ShadowClan grumble something into his mate, Finchsong’s ear. Finchsong rolled her eyes and continued chatting in pawspeak with Snowstep. Shadepool couldn’t quite make out what they were talking about, but she guessed it had to do with their kits, who had become friends on the Great Journey. Larchkit, at least, was always asking about visiting ShadowClan.

Russetstar was beginning her announcements, but Shadepool glanced at the old cedar. Were WindClan really not going to be here in time? Her heart filled with dread. What could that mean?

Before she could speculate further, she saw a shape flickering at the end of the cedar – a cat so white they seemed to glow. Shadepool, excited, moved to nudge Mothwing – but when she blinked, the white cat was gone, instead replaced with the wiry, moonlit shapes of WindClan.

Russetstar cut off her announcement. “Finally!” she meowed. “WindClan has arrived!”

“Took you long enough,” Leopardstar drawled. She curled her lip. “Did you think we’d wait all night... Hm?”

The dappled leader’s ears pricked, her expression changing. Slowly, as the WindClan cats moved through the crowd, Shadepool became aware that every cat around her seemed on some level shocked and stunned. She felt surprise coming off of Nightfrost in waves that tickled her pelt, and Shadepool craned her neck to try and see what the fuss was about – from this spot, she couldn’t see deep into the crowd where the WindClan cats were walking.

Is Crowflight here? Did he come? Her heart thudded in her ears. She thought she saw the curve of his ears...

A dark shape leaped up the old oak and crossed onto one of the branches. From his place, Tinystar lifted his spine and hissed, “What is the meaning of this?!”

"I am taking my place,” Mudclaw responded, his voice a low growl. “What does it look like, Tinystar?” He was struggling to settle properly on the branch he’d chosen, wrestling with a leg that was clearly still injured from the cedar’s fall.  

“Where is Onewhisker?” demanded Tinystar.

Shadepool saw her father’s claws slide out. Murmurs of worry clouded the air, and Shadepool felt Nightfrost’s heartbeat accelerate her own. If Mudclaw was standing up with the other leaders, then that meant...

“I am WindClan’s leader,” Mudclaw drawled on. “I am Mudstar, by the virtue of StarClan.”

The clearing erupted into chaos.

“How can this be?” Leopardstar demanded, her eyes flying wide. The fur along her spine lifted. “After all you’ve done, surely StarClan would have denied you!”

“They did not,” rattled Ryewhisper. The skinny medicine cat had finally made his way over to Shadepool and the others, and he settled a tail-length away, as if trying to avoid any questioning. His face was lit by the moon as he looked up at Leopardstar. “I sat at his ceremony. Mudstar is leader of WindClan.”

What?! Shadepool searched the crowd for Barkface, for another confirmation of this absurdity, but realized that the old brown tom was nowhere to be found.

Mudstar nodded, thanking Ryewhisper for his support. “And Crowflight is my deputy,” he announced.

WHAT?!

This sent the Clans into even more of an uproar.

“He’s had no apprentice!” snarled Cedarheart.

Dustpelt agreed, howling, “You’ve slaughtered the warrior code!”

“He’s a kit!” screeched Brackenflight of RiverClan. Shadepool spotted the gleam of claws. “How dare you insult us all like this!?”

Shadepool looked away and saw him then, the lean, gray-black shape of the cat she loved, crouched down next to Tawnypelt and Blackfoot, both of whom looked just as shocked as everyone else to see him there. His dark blue gaze was fixed on the crowd - he didn't dare look Shadepool's way with all these eyes on him now, all these criticisms being thrown - but she saw his ear flick in her direction and knew that he felt her gaze.

“Do you see StarClan objecting?” Mudstar demanded, raising his voice to a yowl and glaring down at his detractors. His teeth gleamed in the dark. His entire body was bristling. “Do you?!”

Stubbornly, the sky remained clear. The full moon shone down on the clearing, cold and pale and silent. Mudstar's words seemed to quiet the entire group, though not a single cat looked as if they were about to sleep well tonight once they returned home. More than one older warrior glared at Crowflight and Mudstar, now, and Shadepool saw claws gleaming in the slush.

Shadepool shivered and remembered her dream of the moorland splitting in two – she thought they had averted that disaster when they’d won the battle and Mudstar had given up; had they only paved the way for it to become reality?

“You still haven’t answered me,” hissed Tinystar. He drew forward on his branch, his claws flashing in the moonlight as he glared icicles at Mudstar. Teeth bared, he demanded, “What happened to Onewhisker?!”

Mudstar glowered at Tinystar. The entire clearing held its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“Onewhisker is dead.”

Sit Back Now, Let Me Tell You A Tale Where Justice Does Not Prevail About An Ill-Fated Life, So Very Full Of Strife Where Two Wrongs Do Not Make A Right

So

When I Was Born I Did Surely Scorn My Proud Parents Name Then Their Lives Went Down The Drain Drove Them Insane My Birth Was A Curse I Bit The Nurse Oh, But I Love The Worst

I Deserve To Be Slowly Submersed Dried Out Then Laid In A Hearse

When I Was Two I Poured Super Glue Into My Fathers Hair As He Sat Unaware In His Arm Chair Much To His Dismay Had To Cut It All Away Oh, But It Felt Great

I Deserve To Be Cut And Filleted Then Tossed About In Disarray Until The Pieces Melt Away

I Am Not A Bad Man Even Though I Do Bad Things Very Bad Things Such Horrible Things But It's Not Quite What It Seems Not Quite What He Seems Not Quite What I Seem Ah, Hell It's Exactly What It Seems

When I Was Four I'd Wait By The Door With A Knife In My Hand And A Most Devious Plan It Would Be Quite Grand As The Mail Fell Through The Slot The Sharp Edge He Got Oh, But I Like The Thought

I Deserve To Be Tied In A Knot Broken Bones And Blood Clots

When I Was Six I Used To Trick The Next Door Neighbors Son In The Woods We Would Run Time For Fun Hide And Seek Has A Cost He Would Be Forever Lost Oh, But I Love To Scoff

I Deveserve To Have My Head Lopped Off Hidden And Covered In Moss Until This Memory's Forgot

I Am Not A Bad Man Even Though I Do Bad Things Very Bad Things Such Horrible Things But It's Not Quite What It Seems Not Quite What He Seems Not Quite What I Seem Ah, Hell It's Exactly What It Seems

When I Was Eight I Used To Hate The Color Of My House So As Quite As A Mouse I Burned It Down To The Ground When No One Was Around Oh, But I Love The Sound

I Deserve To Be Quickly Put Down Rotting Six Feet Underground

When I Was Ten I Used To Pretend To Drown In The Sea Till They Come And Rescue Me Then Preceed To Laugh In Their Face Such A Disgrace Oh, But I Love The Taste

I Deserve To Have My Brains Displaced All Over The Fireplace Until This Life Has Been Erased

I Am Not A Bad Man Even Though I Do Bad Things Very Bad Things Such Horrible Things But It's Not Quite What It Seems Not Quite What He Seems Not Quite What I Seem Ah, Hell It's Exactly What It Seems

When I Was Twelve I Used To Delve Into Evil Schemes Just To Illicit Screams Boost My Self Esteem Pushed My Sister Down A Well She Just Fell Oh, But I Love To Dwell

I Deserve To The Roast Deep Down In Hell When No One Can Hear Me Yell

When I Was Fourteen

Nothing Much Happened

Well, There Was That One Time

I Am Not A Bad Man Even Though I Do Bad Things Very Bad Things Such Horrible Things But It's Not Quite What It Seems Not Quite What He Seems Not Quite What I Seem Ah, Hell It's Exactly What It Seems

When I Was Sixteen Life Was Frightening My Brother Was Quiet Dull So With Laughter In My Skull Pushed Him In A Hole Then Buried Him Alive He Barely Survived Oh, But I Love The Cries

I Deserve To Be Battered And Fried In An Electric Chair That's Set On High

Now That I'm Eighteen I Still Hate Things From This Padded Cell I Call My Home No Friends, No Phone No Life To Call My Own

Here I Will Lie Until The Very Day I Die Until My Blood Begins To Dry And I Return To The Darkness From Whence I Came

So

I Am Not A Bad Man Even Though I Do Bad Things Very Bad Things Such Horrible Things But It's Not Quite What It Seems

Not Quite What I Seem Ah, Hell I'm Exactly What I Seem

😳😳 a nee whei marriage fraud au with a twist, one of the first scenes (kind of. well. yeah. but also kind of) 

very much a wip this is very much going to be a long one shot

“So, what do you think George?” Dream asked, the combined quality of a phone speaker and the hit and miss face time quality distorting his voice, but still mostly intelligible.

“They’re…” George paused. The two rings layed on the palm of Dream’s hand, one bigger than the other. Both silver, slim and simple. No stones or gimmicks to them. They were quite different from his parents’ ones, theirs gold and decorated, his mum’s with three whole shiny rocks, diamonds. At least George thought so. Last time he had seen it was in a small blak box, on the bottom of a living room drawer, years ago. “..rings.” he finished. There wasn’t much more to say. 

He could almost hear the roll of Dream’s eyes in the scoff. “They’re wedding bands, dumbass.”

“I know that. But wedding bands are basically rings. Just… re-usable.”

Dream snorted out an amused sound then. “Re-usable rings? As opposed to what, George? Disposable rings?”

It was George’s turn to roll his eyes. “You know what I mean, Dream.”

“Oh, do I now?” Dream’s voice grew into a teasing note, the chuckle still hiding behind the words.

“Yes.” George answered flatly, refusing to react, although a smile playing on his face, too. “It’s like the difference between sticker tattoos and normal tattoos. So these are like ink rings, instead of sticker rings.”

“You’re so-” Dream’s words were interrupted by his laughter. The camera was directed to the desk then, George being able to see a corner of the mouse pad. “Sticker rings? Really, George?”

His name sounded… cosy. That’s the only way he could have described it spoken from Dream’s mouth. As if it belonged there. As if in that moment no other word fit his vocal cords more comfortably. As if it was Dream’s favourite word to say.

George swallowed heavily, trying to keep any similar thoughts from popping up again. He hated it. When Dream’s tone made him feel as if his name was the sweetest candy Dream has ever tasted, all George could taste was sour.

“Yeah.” he cleared his throat. “And the ones you have are the real deal. The real deal ink rings.”

“So, permanent rings? Is that what you mean?”

The wedding bands were back in frame.

“I guess.” The last time he looked in the drawer in his mother’s house, the box was gone. “I still like ink rings better.”

“Okay, George.” There it was again. His name, like a piece of belgian chocolate melting on Dream’s tongue. “You still haven’t answered the question. What do you think of the- the ink rings.”

“I can’t even see them that well, Dream. Facetime's camera is shit! It’s like, four by four pixels, three quarter fps, deep fried, double battered-”

“Oh my-” Dream interrupted his monologue, mirth still somehow woven with the irritation. “You are so fucking annoying. Okay, wait.” the camera cut off then, even as the call continued. A few seconds later, an image arrived in his inbox. “There. Full professional quality, full resolution, just for you.”

George clicked on the message. The two silver rings were lying on the desk this time, not Dream’s hand. The silver colour popped out even more like this. George zoomed in. Nice, simple and plain-

He frowned.

“No fucking way”

On the other side of the call Dream burst out into a full on, uncensored, Dream-kettle-wheeze. Barely even able to catch his breath, trying to start a sentence over and over again.

“You’re fucking impossible.” George shook his head even though his friend couldn’t see him. Which was definitely a positive, considering that there was no way he could have hidden his own grin, even behind the sleeve of his oversized hoodie. “You did not fucking to that.”

“I did!” Dream choked out, high pitched and forced out through deep wheezes of laughter.

George zoomed in on the picture again.

And it was still there, inside of both of the rings, clear as day, engraved in fancy cursive letters.

DNF is real

BAS-B - Call of Duty: Modern Warfare III - Domination - No Commentary Game: CALL OF DUTY MODERN WARFARE III Mode: DOMINATION Map: WASTELAND Platform: XBOX SERIES X Keyboard: RAZER HUNTSMAN MINI Mouse: RAZER BASILISK V3 Mouse Sensitivity: 3 Primary Weapon Type: BATTLE RIFLE Primary Weapon: BAS-B Blueprint: N/A Muzzle: N/A Underbarrel: N/A Barrel: BRUEN VENOM LONG BARREL Ammunition: N/A Laser: N/A Magazine: 30 ROUND MAG Optic: KR V4 1X RISER Rear Grip: STT88 GRIP Stock: RAVAGE-CS Conversion Kit: N/A Camo Category: NEAPOLITAN Camo: FAIRWAY Gun Screen: N/A Charm: GILBERT Large Decal: SPLIT ENDS Sticker 1: YOU IN? Sticker 2: N/A Sticker 3: N/A Secondary Weapon Type: HANDGUN Secondary Weapon: COR-45 Blueprint: N/A Muzzle: N/A Underbarrel: N/A Barrel: N/A Ammunition: N/A Laser: N/A Magazine: 18 ROUND MAG Trigger Action: N/A Optic: N/A Rear Grip: N/A Stock: N/A Camo Category: CUTE CRITTERS Camo: COILED Charm: BATTER UP Large Decal: SLEEPLESS WAKE Sticker 1: N/A Sticker 2: INQUISITORIAL SEAL Vest: ENGINEER VEST Tactical: SCATTER MINE Field Upgrade: COMM SCRAMBLER Gloves: QUICK-GRIP GLOVES Boots: LIGHTWEIGHT BOOTS Gear 1: TAC MASK Gear 2: EOD PADDING Streak Type: SCORESTREAK Scorestreak 1: UAV (500) Scorestreak 2: CRUISE MISSILE (750) Scorestreak 3: OVERWATCH HELO (1000) Operator Type: KORTAC Operator: WARDEN Operator Skin: NEMESIS WARDEN Finishing Move: LIGHTS OUT Calling Card: WHAT LURKS WITHIN Emblem: FOR THE EMPEROR

On the first day back, there was great commotion. Hands offered, hair stroked; Nano was ushered from the train, and into a home, until the day broke and he was permitted to crawl in bed. He remembered none of it, though he would be told later that he met Zip and Tag, Mr. and Mrs. Cache, even Mouse and Pad. Two by two the Caches came, and Nano wondered what that meant for Link. If she was stuck with him now. 

They shouldn’t have let him crawl beneath the covers, though. Shouldn’t have let him lower the blinds, turn off the light, lie down. Because it was too much like a grave. Too much like nothing. In the darkness, strange things took shape. For the rest of his life, he would stay there – decaying, fusing to the bed linens, watching these apparitions dance across the walls. 

And for a time, he was granted this reprieve, this living death. 

Tag came by on the third day with an invitation. A game night, or some other thing families did together when their home was whole and full of love. Nano wouldn’t find out. He didn’t accept – didn’t acknowledge Tag at all. Just blinked, eyes glossy, watching the shadows on the wall. The next day, more Caches were at his door, letting themselves in, setting things up. Food in the fridge, a handful of personal items from a box the group home had sent, a stack of fresh linens. And like vampires, once they were permitted in, they came and went without warning. Disappearing, appearing. Day, night. Nano watched their shadows on the wall. Watched them grow bigger and smaller. Listened to their footfall and felt their touch and told himself this was a kindness most undeserved. They were caring for a corpse. They were watching him rot.

He didn’t remember eating anything, but he was never hungry, and sometimes he’d come to while accepting a spoonful, fed like a child. Like a sick kid, instead of the grotesque beast he was. But no one pressured him up. No one demanded he vocalize, or even turn his gaze toward them. They were patient, and that made it worse – that they had watched him in that arena and still cared for him, rehabilitated him like a stray, damaged mutt. 

There were no words for sixty-eight days. It wasn’t that he was without commentary, or that he was injured, or that his internal narration had run dry. Nano had heard the Tower staff whisper in the days after his return. They’d had to explain it to Link – and in front of him, like he was stupid. Like he was unable to understand what was going on. Psychogenic mutism, they’d called it. With no apparent physical cause. Even withdrawn, nearly unresponsive on an infirmary bed, Nano had managed a terrible, wheezing noise. A laugh. Because that was funny, wasn’t it? That was a fucking joke? No apparent physical cause. If he’d been able to, he would have told them fuck off.

On the sixty-eighth day, Nano was sitting in the Cache’s kitchen, stirring some kind of batter in a bowl as instructed. Link’s dad was talking, his voice a soothing white noise against the backdrop of other chatter – Link and Tag bickering upstairs, Zip taunting Mouse in the other room. He was rambling, the way they all did now. Maybe they had before too, but Nano doubted it. It felt like a new habit. Like something they’d picked up to pass the time, to fill the gaps where conversation was usually had. Today, Nano was being regaled with stories of past inventions, of periods of discovery, trial, error – hilarious, terrible error – that all made Nano smile, his eyes no longer unfocused glass. 

“-- and all of this came back up because Zip and Tag were going through the garage one summer and found it. Still there, still half-melted from being fried.”

Nano laughed, a soft, closed-mouth sound. And as they worked on their separate tasks, Dad must have forgotten his new habit. That he was meant to keep talking, meant to fill the silence. Nano forgot too – that he was the cause. 

“I miss it,�� Nano murmured, folding flour into the bowl. “Inventing.”

Dad paused, glancing up, and the two stared at each other for a moment in shock. A fluke, perhaps? A figment of the mind, gone wrong? But the man recovered, turning back to his work, to kneading the dough. “What’s stopping you from getting back to it?” Another pause, for the unspoken part. That he had time now. A whole life to live – without wasting it in some factory.

But the moment had passed, and Nano fell silent again. He was smiling though, sheepishly, one shoulder tugging up in a shrug. After all, the work was important. The work must be done. But tonight, he was content with just finishing these cookies, listening to the hum of life within their home, feeling one tight coil in his chest come undone.

–

He met Cress a week before. At first, he thought she was a ghost – so pale, just…there. Not even in the Cache’s home, but in his own, like she belonged there. And because there were no words still – yet – he could only stare, puzzling her out, trying to make sense of the scene. She was rummaging, though discreetly, like maybe she was just lightly moving things on his table around. Organizing them. Tidying up. But he stood in the doorway and watched her pause, tracked her eye movements as they lingered a little too long. Reading. She was snooping, and she’d been caught. 

Nano cleared his throat, startling her, which made him certain she was less specter, and he less a fool. And she turned, smiling with such warmth, such confidence, that he doubted what he had just seen. Or…what he thought he saw. Another shadow? “Nano,” Cress called, beckoning him into his own home. And he stepped forward, accepting her invitation. Again, into his fucking house. 

She was visiting Link, Cress explained. And while she understood he was staying with the Caches for now, there would be a time where he would transition back. “And when you do, you deserve for it to be a place worth returning to.” She was decorating, which Nano read as code for A) overstaying her welcome in District Three, B) vying for an excuse to continue parsing through his meager belongings, and C) vying for an even bigger excuse to play Barbie DreamHouse with him like he hadn’t just lost his fucking mind on national television. Or maybe because of it. Maybe this shit got her off. 

Nano didn’t know why Link and Cress were friends. 

But there wasn’t much in the house, and she seemed pleasant enough, and Nano didn’t give a shit about whatever was done. He didn’t pay attention to anything in that place anyway – except the shadows on the walls. Besides, Nano knew Conny liked her – had looked up to her, like one of her many false gods, and he wanted to understand better. To understand why. So Cress painted the walls and changed the linens and put flowers in every fucking room of the a house he – again – wasn’t even staying in. And it made him bitter to know they would just die. 

–

“I’m not giving a speech.”

Nano was pouting, petulant, cross-legged on the couch with Mouse in his lap. They’d been arguing about this for twenty minutes already; Link droning on and on about fucking obligation this and duty to future tributes that. 

“Yes, you are.” Like a record, skipping. Repeat, repeat, repeat. At this rate, they’d be here all night, both too stubborn to budge, like a pair of senseless, genius-IQ mules.

“Tell them I’m still mute, then. And braindead, while you’re at it.” 

Link blinked, buffering. He could see it – that little spinning wheel of doom turning full-speed. “I’m your mentor. I can ground you.”

“You sound like a mom.” He coughed, just to make a point, like the lingering respiratory issues from smoke inhalation were the worst of his problems. “Do you do everything they tell you to?”

“Usually.” she shrugged, before narrowing her eyes. “I’ll get my mom to ground you if you don’t.”

Nano scoffed because it wasn’t like he was going anywhere. There wasn’t anywhere to be, anything to do. His whole world – however small it had been before – could now fit in this house. He didn’t even need a second one. “If I’m grounded, does that mean I can’t leave the house?”

It didn’t.

Nano did leave the house. Against his will, on not only the behest of Link and the rest of the family, but also at the physical escort of not one, but two Peacekeepers. At least they kept a slight distance, like they were worried Nano might bite them, might snap again and summon that mutt to turn them into mincemeat. It gave him something to fantasize about on the train between districts. Something to get him through each terrible, painful, soul-sucking speech. 

And when it was over, and Nano dreamt only of bed – of decaying beneath the sheets, watching those shadows take now-familiar shape – there was still one obligation looming large in his way. A return to the Capitol, to that stupid fucking Tower to wear some stupid fucking costume and be paraded around. But he sat on the train and thought of every bullshit party line he’d been required to say on this tour, every fake sentiment to soften the slaughter, to shine and sugarcoat. And he devised a plan for this victor’s ball, a special statement all his own.

“Maybe we can do something fun while we’re in the capitol.” link suggested on the train “We have the whole day before the ball. How about the zoo?”

“That sounds nice,” Nano nodded, though he had no intention of traipsing around the Panem Zoo, looking at other creatures trapped in cages. “But there’s actually a museum I would love to go to.”

“I could go for that. I love museums.”

“Yeah,” A smile, genuine, as this scheme took hold. “Me too.”

Gourmet ranch cheats

Later on, you even may build new cars, as one of the game’s many special features allows you to construct your own personal vehicles from the parts you manage to salvage from the wrecked cars you dismantle. No matter how beat up the vehicles that are dropped off at your workshop: you’ll manage to salvage useful spare parts from even the most battered ones of the lot, which you’ll then sell to make money. The free car game Garbage Garage lets you develop your junkyard step by step and become a true car-aficionado in the process. however as it’s worldwide acknowledged the Developers of Bluehole Studio’s once were ara|a district|a region|a locality|a vicinity|a section} of the Ncsoft company which is that the main reason why the 2 corporations Ncsoft and Bluehole Studios are rivals. It ought to even be noted that Biu-Mandara or an area of it, was originally aiming to be discharged by NCsoft below the name Lineage III following the discharge of the previous game title Lineage II. additionally whereas attempting to realize expertise points you may need to require a glance into the dungeon system. the sport it’s self has it’s own currency that is named “Chronoscrolls”. within the sport you will management your character with the employment of a keyboard and mouse or a sway pad. the sport has seven categories to settle on and everybody is remarkebly totally different and distinctive. TERA may be a MMORPG that contains a ton of things to supply like questing, crafting, and player versus player action alternatively called PvP.

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5 Easy Facts About Key Notes: An Exploration of Tarot & Sound Described

The Ultimate Guide To Goodbye Yellow Brick Road: The Final Elton John

originally published: 12/26/2017 Motivation comes in lots of forms. Often even in the kind of a difficulty provided by a caring better half. Just ask, an illustrator and caricaturist from Gloucester County who developed a special line of tarot cards influenced by timeless rock musicians based upon a dare from his partner, Mary." When I first fulfilled my other half, she had an old batter deck of tarot cards," Parisi remembered.

It was for enjoyable, however I hated the artwork in it. It was lame. So, Keep Checking Back Here believed for Christmas I 'd get her a brand-new deck. Without taking a look at the whole deck at hand, I just saw it and purchased it. When I provided it to her, we took it out.

Experiencing Rush: A Listener's Companion - The Facts

This happened numerous times. She has a bunch of decks!"" I was ragging on the art work one time and she stated, 'If you're going to complain, why do not you simply make up your own tarot deck?' I said I didn't feel like drawing knights and cups and all that unless I made it cool like with Ozzy as death or something.

He pictured Lemmy as the Ace of Spades and saw Rob Halford as the chariot on a motorcycle. After drawing Halford, Lemmy, and Ozzy, Parisi looked at the styles and thought, "This is quite fuckin' cool!" He set up an Excel spreadsheet and started making a list. Parisi pictured cards for artists like Bon Scott of AC/DC, Ace Frehley, Freddie Mercury, and Keith Richards in his head.

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" And anybody into tarot would get a kick out of how the suits and magic things took on the personality of the artists." Parisi set his sights on a regional Geekfest. He determined he would have to create 2 illustrations each day in order to have the cards completed and printed in time.

In reality, he's currently on his 3rd reorder, proving that the marketplace did exist for the cards." I constantly say behind every cool idea or successful man there's a genius woman pushing him to get it done," said Parisi. "Because generally we're all procrastinators." Parisi is really anything but a procrastinator. In addition to the tarot cards, he produces terrific caricatures of artists that are available as prints or on tee shirts, mouse pads, and lug bags.

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Blueberries & Chocolate Chips

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: ~1.1k

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

Note: Happy Mother’s Day to all the baby mommas, the fur mommas, the plant mommas, and all the momma’s in between!

You woke up to the sound of giggles floating through the open door of your bedroom, and the sound instantly tugged the corner of your lips into a sleepy smile. You slipped from bed, stretching your hands over your head and chasing the grogginess away before quietly padding down the hall to the kitchen where you’d find the source of the happy giggles. 

You paused in the mouth of the hallway, leaning against the wall and taking in the sight before you. Amongst a mess of pots and pans and mixing bowls was your boyfriend and daughter, whispering and giggling and causing general mayhem in your apartment’s small kitchen. 

You had introduced Bucky to Lucy only five weeks ago, but they were already thick as thieves. 

Lucy was perched on Bucky’s hip, his metal arms holding her securely in place as he moved around the kitchen, searching the cupboards - for what, you didn’t know - and quietly asking Lucy if she wanted blueberries or chocolate chips in her pancakes.

When you had met the super soldier six months ago, you never in your wildest dream pictured the scene that was playing out in front of you. Sure, there was an instant attraction between you and Bucky when you met him in the bar that night, but you both had some very prominent baggage; you had a young daughter from a failed past relationship and more student debt than you wanted to think about, and Bucky- well, he had a lot of demons that he was working through. 

And somehow, despite the baggage, what you had thought would be a one night stand turned into the best relationship you’d ever been in, one that was full of honesty and trust and understanding (and pretty mindblowing sex, but that was neither here nor there). 

Despite some initial hesitation to introduce Bucky to Lucy after you’d decided to give a real relationship a try, you pretty quickly realized that you had absolutely nothing to worry about. Like most people that spent a decent amount of time around the four-year-old, Bucky was very quickly wrapped around her tiny finger.

He brought her a teddy bear the first time he met her, and if that hadn’t been enough, Bucky spent hours coloring pictures of Disney princesses with her while singing along to the soundtracks from Moana and Frozen while you cleaned up from dinner. You decided you loved him then and there, and Lucy seemed to feel the same, asking if ‘Bucky could come play with her again tomorrow’ that night when you tucked her in for bed.

The man was attractive as hell, funny, helped save the world a couple times (no big deal), and great with your daughter. He was the total package, right? Not to toot your own horn, but you were pretty damn proud of yourself for snagging James Buchanan Barnes.

Your silent observation of Bucky and your daughter was brought to an end when Lucy finally took notice of you. 

“Mommy!” she greeted happily, tapping Bucky on the shoulder to gain his attention to pointing to the other side of the room at you. “Mommy’s awake.”

Bucky turned to face you, a spatula in his hand. “So she is,” he noted with a smile. “We were planning to bring you breakfast in bed, doll.”

You raised your brows, pointing over your shoulder with your thumb. “I can always go back to bed,” you offered. “I don’t want to ruin your fun.”

“Nah,” Bucky said with a small wave of the spatula, as if he were shooing your suggestions away. He nodded his head towards the stools at the island. “Take a seat, doll. Watch us work our magic.”

“Your magic, huh?” You did as you were told, sitting at the counter and folding your arms in front of you on the granite surface. “And just what makes it so magical?”

“Love, Mommy!” Lucy answered excitedly. “Do you want blueberries or chocolate chips?” Her repetition of Bucky’s earlier question had you and he sharing soft smiles. “Bucky says blueberries are better, but I think chocolate chips are better.”

“Maybe Mommy can be the tie breaker,” Bucky suggested, an amused twinkle in his blue eyes. 

You raised a brow at him. “Is that right?” You feigned deep thought, drumming your fingers on your chin before grinning at the pair. “I don’t know, Lu. Maybe some coffee will help Mommy think better.” 

“Coming right up, doll,” Bucky told you before shuffling over to the coffee pot. You could hear the two whispering to one another as they prepared your coffee just how you like it, and the sight - the absolute domesticity of it - made you feel so warm and fuzzy inside and holy shit you loved this man so much. “One cup of coffee for the pretty lady.”

Lucy giggled as she pushed the mug of coffee across the counter towards you, splashes of liquid spilling from the mug from her less than careful actions. “Blueberries or chocolate chips, Mommy?” 

You hummed, considering your options. “What about blueberry and chocolate chips?”

Her big doe eyes widened in surprise. “You can do that? Bucky, I want blueberries and chocolate chips like Mommy!” He nodded his agreement, and looked at you, his eyes crinkling in amusement before the pair turned their attention back to the pancake batter to add the requested sweets and fruit.

You smiled into your coffee as Bucky and Lucy laughed at his failed attempt to make a Mickey Mouse shaped pancake. Watching him with your daughter was very, very quickly becoming your favorite past-time. Who would’ve thought that the super soldier was a big teddy bear beneath all the muscle and gruffness?

You continued to watch them with rapt attention as they worked together to make breakfast, and within ten minutes, the three of you were sat around the small table in the kitchen, enjoying your breakfast together. While blueberries and chocolate chips didn’t go together as well as you had hoped when you made the suggestion, Lucy had a bright smile on her face as she happily shoveled the syrupy pancakes into her mouth. 

It made you smile, and seeing you smile made Bucky smile.

His hand found yours under the table, his thumb tracing lazy patterns over the back of your hand. “Happy Mother’s Day, doll,” he breathed, leaning in to brush his lips against yours in a chaste kiss.

“Ew,” your daughter giggled as she watched you and Bucky. “Kissing is gross! You’re gonna get cooties, Mommy!”

Arc Three: Chapter One

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Everything was quiet. Even the rain, heavy as it was, seemed to mute itself, tiptoeing to the ground instead of boldly splashing as it had moments before. The makeshift den, a rare dry spot in the thick hedge, did not rustle its leaves as raindrops hit them. The thunder paused to listen in as Redheart, Greyleaf and Mistface stood in a triangle, equally in power, equally cornered.

“You’d better sit down,” Redheart said. “We have a lot to explain to you.”

Mistface did not sit down, but, after a long moment, he slowly and warily nodded once. “Go on, then.”

Redheart took in a slow breath and shut her eyes. When she opened them again, they were dull with weariness. “StarClan as we know it – as we think we know it – is a lie. And it’s a very successful lie that’s been going on since before the Union. It’s why I’m trying to get everyone away from the Territory.”

Something in Mistface’s mind clawed at anywhere in his thoughts it could reach, like a trapped mouse violently scrambling for freedom as a hawk approached it. “…What kinda lie?”

Greyleaf and Redheart looked at each other, wordlessly exchanging some thought. Greyleaf turned back to his brother, ears back. “A kind of lie that I don’t think you’re going to believe. StarCla-“

“Mistface!”

All three cats jumped. The rest of the world came rushing back – the rain drummed the earth again, thunder rolled overhead, and someone was rustling the hedge’s branches and leaves. Mistface turned around to be greeted with a slightly battered Laurelclaw. His white fur had patches of mud all over it, especially on his feet and belly, and he was squinting one eye a little like he’d scratched it on a branch.

“You found her,” he said. “Good. Listen, we have a serious problem. One of the patrollers is out here, and…”

He trailed off, looking back from where he’d come and shuffling his front feet nervously.

Redheart took a few steps forward, still weary, but unafraid. “What’s going on?”

Laurelclaw turned to her, mouth twitching. “Um. Someone got hurt.”

Mistface was a heartbeat from responding that they had just left the Clast settlement in the middle of a battle, and of course someone was going to be hurt, but Laurelclaw’s anxious expression silenced him. There was more to it than this.

Greyleaf suddenly jolted to life and hurried past Mistface, almost bumping into him. “How bad is it? Where are they?”

Laurelclaw didn’t answer. He just backed up through the hedge, giving the other three space to follow him. Mistface waited until Redheart and Greyleaf went after Laurelclaw before ending the train, just in case Redheart decided to run at the last moment.

They struggled through the thick brush before emerging into the open, where a golden tom was waiting for them. He was soaked through and his fur stuck in clumps of wet hair, but his back-fur managed to bristle just fine as he glared at Redheart and Greyleaf.

“I hope you’re happy,” he growled.

“I’m not.” Redheart took a step forward, clearing herself of the small party. “What happened?”

The tom’s claws dug into the mud and his tail lashed. “That fight you started got one of my friends killed.”

Mistface expected Redheart and Greyleaf to be upset and shocked. He did not expect them both to freeze in complete horror and drop their mouths open, eyes wide enough to pop out of their sockets.

“I don’t care if I have to fight all four of you,” the tom said. “You’re coming back with me whether you-“

Redheart shoved past him and broke into a sprint, Greyleaf close behind her. The tom’s anger was momentarily displaced by confusion, but he shook it off and followed the pair. Mistface and Laurelclaw took up the rear, all cats running as fast as they could.

They reached the Clast settlement, it felt, far too slowly for their speed. The yowls and screeches of battle had ceased entirely, leaving the rain and hisses of pain to occupy the tense air. Clusters of cats spotted the stone ground, some cleaning their wounds, others talking to each other worriedly under their breath. Everyone paused what they were doing to watch Redheart lead the four toms in and skid to a stop, sending ripples through the puddle she halted in.

Redheart looked around wildly. “Where’s-“

“Over here,” someone said glumly.

Mistface turned to the source of the voice. It was a large grey molly with a heavily scarred nose, bowing her head over a black cat stretched out on the stone. A red-and-white tom that Mistface remembered was called Brightblaze was pacing behind her, looking terrified.

“I didn’t mean to,” he was saying. “I really didn’t. I’m sorry, I-“

Redheart shouted wordlessly, making everyone flinch, and charged over to the body. Greyleaf stumbled to a halt beside her and began sniffing and nudging the head, almost hyperventilating.

“What have you done?!”  Redheart screamed at Brightblaze.

Brightblaze cowered, trembling. “I- it was an accident, I swear-“

Greyleaf drew a paw over the cat’s head, bristling. “Trauma-“ He sharply looked up at Brightblaze. “What did you do to her?”

A patched molly stepped forward and said quietly, “I saw it. She tackled him and he jumped backwards into a house’s wall. She hit her head and just…slumped.”

There was a strangled cry of alarm. Mistface turned to his right to see Darkpelt and Beetlefoot coming around the corner. They had been instructed to keep away from the fight, but Redheart’s return must have alerted them.

Beetlefoot looked furious, his paws slightly spread out like he was about to attack. “That’s Striderfoot!”

“Dead cat?” Darkpelt asked, and thank the stars above that she did not sound casual and snarky like she usually did.

“One of the Fleet!” Beetlefoot started forward, teeth bared, but Mistface lifted a paw, pads outward, and he stopped.

Someone whimpered behind him. He twisted his head back to see the familiar calico apprentice, Littlepaw, huddled beside her pseudo-mentor, Flyfang. Flyfang was scratched up, but she looked ready to fight again, and she stood protecting Littlepaw from the view of the body.

Laurelclaw approached them and sniffed Littlepaw over, murmuring, “Are you okay?”

Littlepaw nodded unsteadily and shivered.

Mistface faced frontwards again and watched his brother. Greyleaf had steadied his breath a little, but he was still in the midst of panic. He kept shaking Striderfoot’s shoulder and turning his head so his ear was at her mouth, searching for an exhale.

Redheart was not quite shaking with rage, but her aura emanated it enough to make everyone draw back. She had her head low as she glared at Brightblaze, and her sentence was ground out through her teeth. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to her?”

“I-“ Brightblaze swallowed thickly. “I killed her, and I’m sorry, but it was an accident-“

“You just sent her soul to StarClan!” Redheart straightened up, looming over the patched tom, hair all over her body sticking straight out. “You doomed her!”

“I…” Brightblaze faltered, still afraid but now confused. “How is…?”

Greyleaf looked up from Striderfoot and turned a furious eye on Brightblaze as well. “You don’t understand. None of you understand. That is the last place you want her to go.”

“So she got to you, too!”

Everyone’s gaze went to a small white molly – the Clast’s seer, Snowshine - pushing her way out of a clump of cats. She was less pretty than before, with her fur sagging with rain and mud, but she was still radiating outrage.

“I knew it!” she shouted. “You’ve been trying to turn everyone away from StarClan this whole time!”

Redheart met Snowshine’s stare with narrowed eyes. Her voice was steady, though not quite as calm as she probably wanted it to be. “I have. And you should have been, too.”

Snowshine made a noise like an outraged cough. Around them, cats who weren’t already watching the commotion lifted their heads and trailed off their sentences. The rain pounded away, diluting the thin blood already washing out in puddles, the only sound in the clearing.

Greyleaf’s ears were pinned to his head as his wide eyes roamed over the scattered crowd. He inhaled slowly, wobblingly, and turned his gaze to Redheart. “Now or never.”

Redheart didn’t look at him, but she nodded and slowly went around the body of Striderfoot and Greyleaf, walking until she was in the center of the clearing and easy to see. She didn’t need to make sure cats were looking at her; everyone was, and with increasing confusion and tension.

“The reason I’ve tried to take cats with me out of the Territory,” she said, “is that what we’ve been told is StarClan is nothing more than a monster. It’s been lying to us this entire time so that we stay here thinking we’re safe and have a pleasant life and afterlife ahead of us. The truth is that it aims to take us, one by one, and-“

A cry of outrage rang through the camp, coming from all sides. Cats jumped to their feet and exchanged dumbfounded stares before shouting at Redheart.

“Are you kidding?!”

“You’ve gone insane!”

“What are you talking about?! You’re not making sense!”

Redheart closed her mouth and shut her eyes, head lowered, as the shock and incredulity pummeled her words down. Greyleaf immediately stood up and went to her side, glaring balefully at everyone around them.

“You think she’s stupid enough to make this up out of nowhere?!” he barked. “She’s telling the truth!”

“Greyleaf!” Snowshine’s voice cut through the onslaught and the rest of the cats’ cries stuttered and trailed off. “How can you support this? You’re supposed to be sensible!”

Greyleaf’s back started arching and he bared his teeth at Snowshine. “Because I’ve seen it too!”

This caused the lowering volume to almost completely mute itself. Everyone looked at each other, baffled and a little troubled. Mistface felt himself almost completely freeze over as he stared at his brother. He managed to slide his eyes to the right and see Beetlefoot’s scowl twist in alarm and Darkpelt’s blind eyes narrow with focus.

Redheart lifted her head again and spoke as she slowly began to walk out of the center of camp. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but… if you want to know more…” Her tired eyes pierced through the growing dark, seeming to land on every cat at once. “If you want to know the truth, I suggest you follow me.”

Greyleaf cast a glare around, daring anyone to argue back, before catching up to Redheart, tail switching.

Mistface heard paws splashing through the water and turned to discover Darkpelt following them.

“You’re goin’?” he asked, unable to make his voice go beyond a whisper.

“We have a job to do,” Darkpelt said simply, “and I intend to see it through. I know you’re not staying.”

“I’m not,” Mistface agreed. He stepped in beside Darkpelt, silently guiding her after Redheart and Greyleaf.

Behind them, Flyfang hissed, “What are you doing?”

To Mistface’s surprise, Littlepaw hissed back, “I had a dream the other night, and it was wrong. I need answers.”

“Well, you’re not going alone,” Flyfang said firmly, and wet pawsteps were behind Mistface and Darkpelt.

“Someone stop them!” Snowshine shrieked. “You! Catch Redheart, at least!”

Laurelclaw was the one to respond sheepishly. “I- sorry, but I have to go with my crew. Beetlefoot?”

Beetlefoot’s words were delayed and strained. “If I must. We can arrest her on the way.”

Mistface looked back to see a spluttering Snowshine, claws scraping at the ground and her tail lashing. She whirled to the patrollers, who were all huddled around Striderfoot. “Someone do something!”

None of the patrollers responded. No one did, in fact. The cats backed away a little to let Redheart and the rest through.

“You-“ Snowshine spluttered before shouting at Redheart, “You wait until the leaders hear about this! Someone will catch you!”

Redheart paused and calmly turned her head just enough to meet Snowshine’s eyes. “Good luck to them.”

With that, she continued walking. Mistface didn’t bother checking Snowshine’s reaction. Instead, he and the seven other cats silently stepped into the growing night, the eyes of the Clast and their visitors on their backs.