#and she ended up making her son deputy

[bonefall]

Favorite rewritten scene from TPB? Any scenes you think would fuck if they were animated? Dont worry why im asking its not important <3

Hmmmm....

Well, BB!TPB is probably the least changed arc to begin with! Better Bones is a project that is basically trying to deliver on the themes I liked in the first 5 books; a flawed society is on the verge of birthing a great monster, a reckoning generations in the making, which can only be saved by the very outcasts their culture seeks to destroy.

So I'm not adding too much to it which isn't just building up the culture some more, adding personality to some background characters (especially mollies), or shoring up cats in ShadowClan.

I've got an old post floating around somewhere about my goals and a basic summary for each book, but here's a MASSIVE ramble about things I plan to add

The three MAJOR cool scenes in here though?

Rusty's Collar

Deerfoot's Sabotauge

Scourge's Collar

Into the Wild: Opening stuff, ThunderClan expansions, Rusty's Collar

For one, DAPPLETAIL has a much bigger role as Firepaw's first teacher. Rusty speaks Townmew; he needs to learn Clanmew.

So I might make the meeting with Graypaw earlier, or just have a bit more of a transitional period where he's "living with a paw in both worlds" before he gets named Firepaw

He also is able to see and take part in some of the Expanded Roles, while still learning Clanmew.

Frostfur is Head of Kitchen Patrol, pregnant, and overworked. Rusty likes her though, he can't always tell what she's saying but he learns she calls him the "Intense Gingerthing (affectionate)" and she's got cool scars

Tigerclaw might be Head of Hunting, or his cousin Willowpelt. Undecided yet; Willowpelt will be taking over after he becomes deputy though.

I forgor who is Construction Head at the moment, probably Mousefur. In any case it's a molly, One-eye has been retired for a long while.

Dappletail is the Educator, naturally, and she hangs out with Ravenpaw and her son Graypaw. Ravenpaw has a habit of telling tall tales.

The adult he's closest to though? Spottedleaf, the Cleric, like a big sister.

IMPORTANT: Rusty's time as a not-apprentice comes to a hard end with his battle against Longtail. Probably because he now understands enough Clanmew to know he's talking shit.

This time though, we're setting up some foreshadowing lads

Unlike other depictions of the collar removal where it's framed like the triumphant moment he enters the Clans, with a beam of sunlight revealing to Bluestar that he is the cat of great prophecy, his collar being snapped off comes with trembling fury and anxiety

He was terrified and angry in that moment! He's been bullied by Longtail, it just came to physical blows, and he was being choked by his collar digging into his throat so he couldn't breathe. When it suddenly SNAPS, he's hacking and coughing, but the whole Clan is cheering at the spectacle, it's like...

He's being told he's just proved himself. The joy of finally getting what he's really wanted, of landing a mark on his bully and being CELEBRATED for it, it starts to wash away the fear and fury.

It's sudden, like whiplash. He's trembling, he's growling, he's smiling. His stomach is rolling and he doesn't know which emotion is turning it.

Then, his collar is buried. He only sees it out of the corner of his eye, Dappletail (someone he likes) digging a little hole and dropping it in. Like getting rid of something dirty. He can't identify the emotion that prickles his heart in that moment, and to his dying day he never learns the word for it.

But it's going to be the same thing he feels, much much later, after the roar of the BloodClan battle has gone quiet and he's staring at the collar he ripped off Scourge. He spared the leader's life and caused the group to retreat... but, looking at that collar, so lovingly studded with trophies not unlike the ivory Clan cats take from boar hunts...

He realizes that it's meaningful. To Scourge. He can't go far enough to admit that his own collar meant something to him... but...

it would be wrong to just discard this. This emotion drives him to eventually approach Scourge and BloodClan again, in the Epilogue, returning the collar as a gift of goodwill and re-opening discussion about Tigerstar's Impossible Deal. These talks open up a new era of peace and trading between Chelford and the White Hart, until TNP brings it to a tragic end.

But anyway!

Ally Expansions + Deerfoot's Sabotage

In an effort to establish that the Clans have unique subcultures, and that the cats within them are unique individuals, BB!TPB needs more positive supporting cast in more than just WindClan.

GATHERINGS NOW HAVE AFTERGATHERINGS. This is like a discreet afterparty, which adult warriors can choose to attend by simply staying behind when their leadership returns home.

Fireheart regularly attends them until the moment he becomes leader.

A few of his friends in other Clans are Aftergathering regulars. Onewhisker, Mosspelt, Wetfoot.

Some others are just occasional visitors. Mistyfoot is brought along by her sis-in-law, Mosspelt, once or twice. Morningflower comes to do some trades.

(at his FIRST aftergathering he gets to meet Carpwhisker and Cinderfur. These two are noted to stop coming when the political tides harden.)

Because this is the Thistle Era, the Aftergathering is much smaller than it will be in a few generations.

They're also still careful to not leak too much information outside of their own Clans, and the ShadowClan cats are even particularly excited at Fireheart's first Aftergathering because it was difficult to regularly attend these while Brokenstar was leader.

DEERFOOT is a MUCH expanded character. Son of Lizardstripe, brother of Runningnose and Tangleburr, Deerfoot is involved in opposing both Brokenstar, and later NIGHTSTAR when he feels he's going against what Deerfoot fought so hard for.

And, most famously and most fatally, he's the head of the TigerClan Rebels.

Much as I like Ravenpaw... he's not getting his cameo at Stonefur's execution. No, I'm not going to be having the HalfClan cats rescued by Graystripe's bad feeling and also Ravenpaw is there. Freeing the prisoners was an action that came from WITHIN TigerClan.

Deerfoot is going to be beseeching Firestar for it. I haven't figured out EXACTLY how yet, but I'm thinking that it's after Darkstripe was exiled (suddenly, Tigerstar no longer has a mole in ThunderClan) and he's able to ask for Firestar's help openly and honestly, and tell him how many cats will need refuge if the plan is successful.

Being leader now, and not JUST a deputy, Firestar has to consider the way it might drag his Clan into conflict with a huge opponent... which Deerfoot assures won't happen, because his forces have a process. Using ochre and onion, they obscure themselves completely. Not a single one's been caught-- besides the ones who were picked up for the "crime" of being HalfClan.

Deerfoot is going to be killed for what he does here, saving so many lives. So he won't pay for the little trick he's going to pull.

While applying Firestar's ochre and onion, just before entering the camp to rescue the HalfClan cats (and finding they've started an execution early-- with Stonefur), Deerfoot draws back to look at his handiwork. Not a single fleck of his bright, unmistakable orange fur is peaking through his disguise.

So he clicks his tongue, "I've missed a spot." With a rub of his paw, the ochre around the ThunderClan leader's eyes is smudged. Just enough that anyone locking with those green eyes would see the fire poking out from beneath.

Later, when Firestar learns of this after Deerfoot's death... he chuckles with equal parts bitterness and admiration. Most of Deerfoot's Rebels had to go right back to living in TigerClan, and knowing Firestar was leading the battle patrol would take suspicion off them... but, knowing his old, lost ally... a bigger part of it was that Deerfoot was hoping that information would reach Tigerstar and BURN into him.

Compassionate and spiteful to the last, that Deerfoot.

Darkest Hour: BloodClan and Scourge's Collar

I think if I was going to rename the individual books, I'd call the last book of BB!TPB "The Moment of Truth."

BloodClan is keeping the way that it's not important until the last book. Aside from an offhanded mention here and there and a run-in with some peons that replace the rats that attack Bluestar, they're not relevant until the moment they're introduced.

I do want to keep how SURPRISING it was to see them suddenly roll up, keep that feeling that they're brutal, unsettling, foreign. When Tigerstar loses his shit on Scourge for not following his order and attempts to kill him, I want to keep how cold, sudden, and BRUTAL that ending was.

But... when Scourge FIRST appears on screen, he looks much different from the Iceheart he will eventually become. He begins to look less "monstrous" and more like a PERSON as Firestar realizes that they're not so different.

Scourge has no pupils at first. His eyes are solid, icy blue.

He also has no mouth when he isn't about to bite, no lip synch when he talks. Like he's just existing ominously onscreen, wind ruffling his spiky, ungroomed fur.

Before the killing of Tigerstar, it's noted that Scourge's speech is odd, and hard to understand. But, you can sort of make out his intent if you listen carefully.

Firestar recognizes that he is speaking Townmew, his own first language.

Tigerstar doesn't really respect him enough to listen, until he barks an order and Scourge tells him, "...My cats move when I command them, and not before."

Like canon, Firestar steps forward to speak with Scourge. Unlike canon, he very intentionally begins speaking Townmew.

ALSO like canon, when Firestar explains Tigerstar's crimes, that he will never honor any bargains he has made, and thus that they can't be trusted, he rolls that Nat20 and Scourge tells him that there will be no battle today as he thinks about this new information.

And, of course, Tigerstar lost his marbles about this. And also his organs

And Scourge is SEETHING. That's his LAST straw. He made a deal and he is NOT being given what he is owed, he tried to gracefully walk away only for Tigerstar to disrespect him for the last time, and he's SICK. AND. TIRED. Of backstabbing, DISHONORABLE CLAN CATS.

And YET. He remains cool. And he tells Firestar directly, "In light of this, I have changed my mind. We will be taking what we are owed. You have three days to leave, or it will come to combat."

Another big change from canon is that no Clan needs to be convinced to fight. It's a battle culture. They were ALWAYS going to win, or die in glorious combat. Running away is not an option in this era-- they believe their eternal reward is up in StarClan.

But Firestar CAN unite them, bring them together to discuss battle plans. And in this first day...

TigerClan is dismantled. Though Leopardstar tries to cling to her newfound leadership of TigerClan; both Shadow and River are clearly tense and demoralized. Anxious and snappish warriors are mulling about the camp.

and STILL, Firestar is dealing with a bunch of cats who are openly disrespecting him.

Even when he reminds them, "YOU brought him to the Forest! Tigerstar's deal was HALF our land and I could pull LionClan out at any time! I'm trying to HELP YOU"

Darkstripe in particular is still here with his little xenophobic jabs. And he is Xenophobic Jabbering.

In spite of the guilt Leopardstar feels, and the resentment that Blackfoot is starting to feel for Tigerstar and the position he's being thrust into, they're still DIFFICULT, not giving Firestar clear answers about if they're going to come talk battle strategies or not.

Firestar can't believe this.

They're really gonna do this. Say that TigerClan can take care of its own problems.

They're just gonna try and hold onto their scraps of pride and charge into battle, NO plan, because they think they're above him.

After ALL OF THIS, EVERYTHING thats happened, the times they've fought and he's won, becoming deputy, even earning the authority of a leader...

They're STILL not taking him seriously.

This prompts Firestar to end up losing it, the "I saw what you did to Stonefur" speech to Blackstar is moved here, addressed to BOTH of them.

But this time, there's even MORE victims. He lists ALL of them, plus the refugees still in his camp.

And they're gonna kill even MORE cats? What? To be the smuggest corpses in the GROUND?

OR MAYBE THE HAPPIEST LITTLE SKULLS ON THEIR STUPID HILL.

It SHUTS them up.

Leopardstar, in particular, clearly haunted by this... her own father, Mudfur, is one of those refugees. And she is staring intently at some of the bones on the hill.

Unfortunately, her remorse will not stick. Distance will make Blackstar more ashamed, but Leopardstar begins to look back with nostalgia.

But FOR NOW? It MATTERS.

Darkstripe comes in with another little comment, and she snaps at him.

Then she turns back on the Bonehill, and says the, "This belongs to a darker time" line.

Firestar also ends up visiting with Barley Sr, Jr, and Ravenpaw. Chatting about reasons why Ravenpaw still doesn't want to come back, even though Tigerstar is gone.

And about BloodClan, as Barley Senior comes from there. Bone is his mother (though due to some timeline things I'm considering her being his sister; and then Hoot and Jumper are littermates OR cousins of Junior.)

Ends up explaining a bit about the history, how it was formed because of Oakstar, the context of the descendant of Oakstar turning on Scourge like that

Plus why Barley Sr left. His time as a solver, the death of Violet Sr, the way BloodClan demands tribute to keep its cats fed.

And while BloodClan has issues... Firestar is realizing... so do the Clans.

Violence, blood feuds, war... xenophobia. He's still seething over that exchange from earlier.

Firestar's anxious over the big fight, and the people he knows he will lose. GOOD people. The battle won't discern the crackerjacks from the jackasses; people he loves will die. He HAS to win. And yet, his feelings towards Scourge feel frustratingly conflicted.

On the second day...

Finally he's getting somewhere with the other four Clans. Everyone's preparing properly, learning how to fight TOGETHER and not just as four separate entities.

But in ShadowClan, he catches POISONS. Runningnose and Blackfoot are planning to go into battle using the same tactics they used against WindClan-- things that won't kill right away, but will cause inevitable infection and kill slowly, and painfully.

And they're showing OTHERS about it, too.

And this UPSETS Firestar

But, AGAIN, he's able to talk to them. They have a point-- if BloodClan is going to use those claw-weapons, they ALSO have an unfair advantage.

Firestar, about to invent Rules of Engagement: "If they weren't going to use them though?"

That's how Firestar ended up in a british back alley. Meeting with BloodClan.

Scourge is cold and polite, as always, makes a comment about him being early.

Firestar tells him about the poisons, how he's seen them be used before, and how they will kill slowly,

Scourge is torn... at first, thinking it might be a lie, but then the shock of what might happen sets in. He asks, "and why would you warn us about this?"

"Because it's the right thing to do. We're fighting for our home and you're fighting for your promise; It should be a fair fight."

"which means you're reigning them in, then?"

Nods, "If you use the claw extenders, they're going to use an unfair advantage of their own"

As they dig deeper into the conversation, Scourge loses his patience.

"Enough. I've heard enough lies from Clan cats, forest fool. You untrustworthy lot NEVER uphold your end of the bargain, you come here to weaken us but we will not be tricked by a dishonorable foe ever again."

It's starting to hit Firestar now. Scourge... is kinda right.

He's RIGHT to be so distrustful of Clan cats. To think they're dishonorable. He's seen them all himself; liars, hypocrites, cowards, all of them allowing EVIL things to be done to innocent cats.

The pause seems to last days, but it's clear to Scourge he's thinking deeply about what he said.

When Firestar looks up he tells him, "I understand. But I am honorable."

Scourge laughs at that. The whole alley does.

But he stands firm. He will uphold HIS end. "And when you come tomorrow, you will see that I've held my people to it."

"Then you're a greater fool than I thought, weakening yourself."

"Tigerstar believed that honor made us weak," he says with defiance, "and you killed him. I buried him. Now he is dead; don't choose to keep his memory alive."

AND ON THE THIRD AND LAST DAY

When they all come to face off at Fourtrees, it is seen, most of BloodClan is not wearing their extenders.

And most of the Clan cats do not have deathberry-red claws.

There are just some. On both sides.

Scourge is not one of them. His claws are his own

Fire and Scourge step foward in the center, their armies behind them.

Scourge quietly points out the irony in a hushed tone, for what he is about to say could have offended either army;

"Two fools, alike in their dignity. Perhaps in another time we would have been Brothers-in-Honor, you and I."

Brother-in-Honor = Townmew term for someone who unites you through a shared, noble cause.

But Firestar is done. He had to say goodbye to many of his cats this morning, he doesn't know who will live and who will die. The Warriors stand behind him, proud and noble, but terrified to their core. He knows this.

This is their HOME. And he is the holy leader of ThunderClan, bearing the fragment of a star within him.

He's lost his patience, and his sympathy. When he responds, it's loud enough for both armies to hear. (Note: Ever so slightly performative)

"Last chance, Scourge! One step further, and you'll meet the full might of the Warrior Clans."

"Two fools," the little cat laments, "One far more foolish than the other!"

He screeches for BloodClan to attack, and like canon, Firestar loses track of Scourge in the torrent of angry cats

Battle otherwise goes very similar to canon. Out of left field, Darkstripe turns on Firestar with deathberry-red claws, furious and embarassed that he took Tigerstar away and prevented them all from fighting with "every advantage"

Graystripe. One-Man Firestar Defense Squad, body checks him and kills him, trembling in disbelief and immediate regret over his brother's body

Whitestorm loses his fight with Bone and falls, bleeding, to the ground

As he dies, he tells Firestar to let go of his grudges. He was wronged, he was hurt, but please don't let that stop him from making the right choice. Longtail should be deputy.

Firestar announces Longtail is his deputy right there.

The apprentices dogpile Bone in revenge, though I also wouldn't mind changing it. In any case, Bone's dead before Willowpelt can even realize her mate is gone

When he finally sees Scourge again, they grapple ferociously until the little cat breaks loose

Trying to avoid the grallocking move that ended Tigerstar in a blow and not knowing Scourge can't do that without his claw extenders, he pulls back and leaves himself wide open for a vicious transverse slash

He's split open from neck to arm, he can feel himself bleeding out

Scourge looks at him with pity but says nothing, flicking his claws like he's wicking the blood from a sword.

Game_Over.png

Firestar's vision fades into flashing stars and bursts into the silver-and-blue lights of StarClan

He sees the faces of everyone who he's lost, everyone he couldn't save. Spottedleaf who died in a raid. Stonefur whose execution came too soon. Pikepaw who refused to take refuge with his mother. That old bastard Deerfoot. Whitestorm whose blood is replaced with fresh stars.

Yellowfang comes forward, threading constellations like stitches through his gash, snipping at him to stop wriggling like a worm. Spottedleaf is also helping in a way he doesn't understand, licking his fur the wrong way and returning his lost blood like a Mi returns warmth to a cold kitten.

He smiles, filled with the wonderful sensation of a Sharing of Stars, until it hits him again that he needs to go back

Hmm.. maybe ill have it so Whitestorm had no last words and he gives them here. "Don't let the grudges of the past ruin the future. Make the choices you know are right."

Bring the theme together; he was talking about Longtail, but Firestar interprets it differently.

And when he wakes up in his body, gash aching but skillfully closed by the best healers he ever knew, he feels like they filled his veins with a lion's blood.

He grins, a mixture of humor and righteous fury. He didn't know Scourge's tricks, but he doesn't know HIS either.

Scourge has his back turned, focused on Onewhisker who's cowering in front of him. Firestar bowls into him, catching him off guard

"You! You died! I killed you!"

"I played dead."

With a second bolt of strength, Scourge tries to turn it around and they tumble, hissing and spitting, but the little cat doesn't get a second chance

He's pinned like prey, one paw holding his head and the other pulling down his shoulder, growling like an animal with its neck exposed for a brutal killing bite

Firestar lunges down and Scourge screeches, a horrible crack of teeth on bone quiets the battlefield

And then a SNAP

The sun glimmers on the bloodstained collar's fangs, one of the teeth cracked by Firestar's jaws, as he throws it behind him

Scourge's face is truly apparent to Firestar for the first time, his icy eyes wide with astonishment

Firestar recites the beautiful words that had once been made hollow by hypocrisy, "A true warrior does NOT need kill to win their battles," but he presses his paw into Scourge's pulse as a warning, "DO they?!"

He lifts his paw, and Scourge calls for BloodClan to retreat

Though the warriors are shocked at first, they saw his collar ripped off and his black fur soaked in his own blood, and understood they were losing

Just as united as any Forest Four following the command of a leader, each warrior disentangled as quickly as possible and streamed out behind their bolting leader

Some warriors ran after them to chase them out, and came back a few minutes later

And just like that, it was over. They were gone.

But, that collar is laying there, in the light of the setting sun. The inner fabric is purple, covered in a layer of red and brown from a mix of fresh and dry blood. Various teeth poke through, which he now realizes are from various predators.

Firestar gazes at it and feels Rusty's heart beating. He has that strange, indescribable feeling again.

It's... just like Clan cat hunting trophies, yes. It's a valuable, meaningful object to Scourge. It's a spoil of war made of spoils of war. That's why it's stirring his chest, surely. There's something... deeper to this item. It shouldn't be discarded; this item needs to be kept safe.

Or, perhaps, returned.

From there, the epilogue is gravy. When Firestar arrives in the alley again, this time flanked by several cats, Scourge is still recovering from his many injuries. He feels like he's been seeing Firestar's face too often-- and then the collar is gently placed on the ground.

Just like Firestar expected, there's an energy that washes over the gathered cats, and even the unreadable Scourge now seems awestruck by the gesture. The collar was something greater than just a collar; though Firestar couldn't remember if he had ever been told what a BloodClan collar represented.

Speaking, again, in Townmew, he explains that Tigerstar made Scourge an Impossible Deal, which the treacherous tyrant never meant to honor in the first place. But he is dead. BloodClan cannot have the territory and the Clan cats have won it fairly-- but what CAN we do for you? What were you seeking?

The answer was so simple that it was almost sickening. That they'd come to blows, and cats had died, over something that could have been worked out so easily. BloodClan had plenty of food from the humans' excess and hunting in the wilderness was not a skill they ever had anyway. What they wanted was materials.

Wood. Flowers and herbs. A chance to walk along the hiking trail and see the giant trees. Maybe the occasional piece of prey they didn't have access to in the town, like squirrels and frogs.

So, for a while. There was peace in the Forest, bringing the Tiger Era to a definitive close and beginning the fruitful, but short-lived Fire Era.

So! Them's the major changes. Take your pick of the scene you think is coolest, personally I've got a thing for Firestar ripping off Scourge's collar.

[warrior-cats-rewritten]

Honestly, I feel sorry for firestar… if he still trained brambleclaw, he had such high hopes of him, tried his best and everything and bramble still turn out like that?

It gets to a point where "I'm not mad, just disappointed" stops describing it.

"Actually... I am mad. I'm glad you're not a serial killer, but that's a really low bar, and you still acted like this."

He already has so much on his plate with Starclan, having to work to reform everything. He missed his own sister's death just because he was busy speaking to older Starclan cats who wanted to damn his daughters.

Then to look down and see his former apprentice, his ex-deputy who he finally put trust in after everything, having put him into the Deputy position specifically to keep an eye on him, and he goes and mistreats his grandchildren like THIS?

"Juniperkit, buddy, why don't you go ask Nanny (Sandstorm) to play hide and seek with you? Papa needs to do something..."

He sits by the Starpool, watching as Bramblestar snarls at his beloved granddaughter, a cat he raised until he tossed her aside like rotten meat when she didn't have enough of his blood for his liking. He insults his own child, Dandeliontuft, the molly who only ever wanted the love of her father who couldn't bear looking at her.

Firestar watches, embers burning at his paws, flickering through the air as a dark cloud gathers within Starclan. His body is rigid, muscles tensed, tail lashing back and forth as he watches the leader of Thunderclan greedily cling to his remaining lives, refusing to give them up to his rightfully ascending deputy. Firestar's body shakes with rage, and his breath comes in heavy shudders as Bramblestar snaps at Sparkpelt and Jayfeather, making himself bigger as he curses at his daughter and his former son, blaming his long faded father for their doubt in him. Blaming them for his behavior.

But Tigerstar was a murderer. He never hurt his children. Firestar remembers Tigerclaw standing outside of the nursery, looking exhausted as he waited for Spottedleaf to finish giving his tiny daughter Lynxkit her medicine. Cuddling with Goldenflower afterwards in the cramped den...

Tigerclaw was a monster, but not that kind. There are many kinds.

Bramblestar lift a massive paw, claws extended, towards Squirrelflight, who backs away in fear from the threat that, while never meant to be followed through, spoke enough volumes. His eyes flash amber in the bright autumn sun. Fire blazes in Firestar's body. Bramblestar will not hurt his daughter, not ever again.

The next flash is blinding, and suddenly, Firestar feels drained. He looks back over the Starpool... What was that? Was that him? He wanted to send a sign, what happened?

He looks at Brambleclaw's body, cats around him stood still in shock, most of their fur now on end.

"Starclan has spoken..." Hollyleaf remarks in a voice that only barely shakes, steeling herself. "They've made their opinion clear."

The Starpool goes gray again, blocking out the sight of them once more. It's been doing that a lot lately...

Suddenly, Juniperkit bumps into Firestar's back leg, snapping him out of his thoughts. He hadn't realized he'd jumped up in anger.

"Papaaa! I can't find Nanny anywhere! She hid too good."

Firestar's fur settles. "Oh no, silly Nanny." He purrs softly. "Let's go find her together."

He walks off with his little grandson into the beautiful forest. He has a meeting with Thunderstar and Lightning Tail tomorrow, and Juniperkit will go play with his uncle Swiftpaw, or perhaps his cousin Flametail will show him around a new place in Star-Shadowclan's land...

Around the Starpool, the ground is scorched black. The grass smolders where Firestar stood, the embers slowly fading off and drifting into nothing.

A lone spirit lingers, and fades off, unwelcome.

[honestsycrets]

HELLO, HELLO! Okay, so this drabble prompt/idea is kinda sorta in the vein of Querido (I only think about Old Western Miguel now I cannot help it pls forgive me head empty only man and hörse), so pls skip if you're not inspired or in the mood for more in this genre!

Still, I offer you this: Sheriff Miguel.

He's someone all the women have their eyes on, and he'd have his eyes on them, too, if he were younger. But he has a baby girl to worry about, a runaway wife to forget, and a town to keep an eye on, especially when a woman from the big city pays the little down a visit.

He meets her when he loses Gabriella in the market's crowd, only to find her tugging on a fine dress belonging to a fine woman.

(P.S. reading your writing has inspired me to get back into writing my own reader insert stuff 💖 really love your work, keep it up!!)

bumblebee | sheriff!miguel x dressmaker!reader

❛ pairing | sheriff-singleparent!miguel o'hara x dressmaker!reader

❛ type | extended drabble, not-explicit, wc: 2600ish

❛ summary | miguel loses his daughter-- and finds a part of himself he thought was long past dead.

❛ tags | self-edited, querido au, f!reader, sheriff!miguel, dressmaker!reader, implied parental abandonment, some mention of thievery, widowed!reader, mostly fluff, some mention of death, spanish not translated.

❛ sy's notes | i intended this to be a drabble but... it's quite a bit longer. anon, i hope you end up writing to your heart's content.

Miguel ain’t the kinda man women really need. He’s the kinda man they think they want. A big man with a big name, sure, but he’s saddled with what their fathers colloquially call baggage. A little three-year-old girl with ambitions of rolling on out of this little town by rolling on out of his fingertips. 

“Oye, Gwen,” he catches the arm of his deputy. She’s out on the town just as he was, making rounds about the grassy plain where the market was booming. With too few stalls, the marketgoers visit full wooden wagons chock-full of goods. This year, there were new boxes of small circular chocolates. Once every year, his quiet little town became a bustling fuck fest with foreigners running a muck of it all. As sheriff, he just had to deal with it. 

“What’s it, sheriff?” she asks. “Something wrong?” 

“You seen my littlin anywhere? Swore she was right here.”

This is his penance for fooling around with the hearts of pretty women: chasing him his own little girl and minding the crowd. His long, slicked-back hair was all kinds of out of place, whirling over his wrinkled forehead. He shoves a strand of grey hair back in place out of his dark eyes and scans his little town. She could’ve slipped into any creaky old building that wasn't locked up or hitched a ride on a wagon she didn’t belong on. Or, alternatively…

“Miguel! Rio saw her by the sweets.” Former Sherriff Morales tells him, standing by his son’s stall of sweet roasted corn. Ordinarily, he’d give it a begrudging visit. Miguel whirls around on his muddy leather boots, throwing him a nod of thanks with Gwen short on his tail. 

“Sounds promisin’,” she says. “Could be searchin’ for Lyla or Peter.” 

“Thank you for the help, Sheriff,” he grumbled, shoving his way past a sea of cream, brown, and black dresses. Gwen could spider her way through the groups of people with her comparatively slender frame. As a consequence of Miguel’s hulking frame, he’s markedly slower in his search.

“Ain’t here either,” Gwen hops back to his side. “You sure she wandered off?” 

"She had to."

The alternative was… well, he didn't want to think about it. Out of his periphery, he caught the glimmer of polished metal. He spots his daughter’s peachy dress, bundled up with a fat white bow complete with a bell. He put the thing on thinking that, ideally, his little girl would jingle up some hell of noise if she got lost. Some good that bell did. 

“You lost mi amor?” 

Lost. The word stands out to him first, all dressed up in a sugar cube of a voice. His Gabriella tugs on a stranger’s long gown, eyes pricked with tears streaming down her cheeks. Of all the people-- she couldn’t just pick on someone she knew? Head to Rio’s hostel, find Deputy Gwen stalking around, or even Hobie’s bum ass strumming a tune on the old stage. No, she’s with a strange woman. 

“Now don’t you cry,” you dab away the stray tears with an embroidered handkerchief. “I’ll find you home.” 

You’re not from here because you’re all done up like a buttercup in spring when the women here only broke out color for church. Corset sucking in the finest assets, a buttercream bustle underneath that buttercup yellow skirt. Hair up in a waterfall of curls and covered by a small slouched hat of flowers. You held a parasol for the evening sun, keeping it off your tanned skin. 

“There,” Miguel set his hands on his hips, catching his head in a shake. Gwen leans over on the ball of her feet and stares straight down the barrel of a path. 

“My my,” she says. “Ain’t she a looker. Why are you-- You look good, Miguel.” 

She’s caught on his frantic fiddling. The way Miguel straightens his tie into his waistcoat and checks the chain that drapes along his side. He checks the time on his cracked pocketwatch and spins it between his fingers. Gwen leans up to flick a stray strand of hair away from his face.

“Think so?” 

“Entirely presentable.” 

"¿De veras?" Miguel clears his throat, “Best be on my way to get her.” Miguel loops his fingers on his fine leather belt and waltzes right on up to your stall of hand-sewn dresses. 

For once in his life, he feels underdressed. A man sets some coins in your hand, plucking up a small communion dress for his daughter. With ruffles, lace, and the occasional ribbon. He’s not sure how much luck you’d have selling more than scraps of ribbon in this little town. You set the coins aside, turning your attention back to his daughter who-- somehow, got a brand new ribbon bundled in her ponytail between his fiddling and the walk over.

“Buenas tardes,” he clears his throat, whipping out his metal badge. “I’m Sherriff O’Hara.” 

“Encantada, Sheriff O’Hara. You’re looking as pretty as a penny this fine afternoon. Can’t be wanting any of my dresses. My name is… well, how can I help you?” 

“Papa,” Gabriella coos as if this whole mess wasn’t on her tiny little shoulders. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad, not yet.

“Yes, mami, Sheriff O’Hara. Do you know old Sheriff O’Hara?” Miguel suppresses his delight as you lift her up onto your hip. Most days, he didn’t notice his own melancholy. Coming home to his little girl soothed all that like a good helping of booze after a bad wound. “She likes you.” 

You sure talk pretty. He clears his throat, pulling on the sloppy tie that feels a whole lot hotter all of a sudden. He shouldn't be acting like this. Has it really been that long since he’s been with a girl? He couldn't go to the saloon and pick any one of those lovesick girls. The town wouldn’t continually elect a loose man. Miguel’s eyes catch the flickering gold of a bumblebee locket on your chest. He traces the curve of its wings, wrapping around a crusted gem.

“‘Course she does, she’s my girl. I lost Gabi up in the crowd flow.” 

“You lost her? You can’t tell me you’re the kinda man that does it all. Where is your wife?”

Where is your wife? The question tormented him. He could do it all. Managing the sloppy, slow thieves and putting down the occasional drunken brawl. At the end of the night, he came home to his empty home and saw his little girl. Miguel’s gaze danced along the puffy clouds in the sky. The fluffy clouds drift the same as usual, the same old slow draw, unknowledgeable about the change in his life. He suppresses the distant melancholy in his voice in surfacing old memories. 

“Ain’t got a wife. She ran off on me with some wolf. Usually, I got a sitter for my girl but, she came down with a fever.”

“A wolf?” you repeat after him, “Why, you mean a gentleman?” 

A gentleman, he scoffs under his breath.

“If you wanna call him that. He was an outlaw.” 

“I’m mighty sorry, Sheriff.”  You looked at the little girl in your arms. Gabriella’s small fingers fiddle with the glimmering gold pendant on your chest. He throws her a look-- behave. She’s not paying attention one bit. You set your parasol down, freeing the necklace and setting it in her tiny fist. “I’m a whole widow myself. Lost my man in the war and never got the chance to have one’a my own.” 

“You don’t say. You on the market?”

“On the market like cattle?” you teased. If he’s not mistaken, that shy smile of yours was all his. Maybe you like him. It's a signal that he could keep going. 

“Coño, no. You’re too fine for that,” the words are buttery smooth, but upon discovering how the words may come off, he realizes he might be sliding into a trap on the back of those words. Your lips are slightly agape, half in shock. “Pretty. You’re too pretty.” 

“Oh, Sheriff, don’t worry your head,” you adjust Gabriella on your hip, swaying in place like it was natural. “I ain’t one to take offense to pretty words. Suppose you want your niña back?” 

There went his chance.

"That'd be best," he slides his hands underneath Gabriella’s tiny arms to pick her up. The pendant she held clattered free from her grip, nestled in the deep grass. You were about to pick it up when a scrawny thing of a man swiped it from the grass. For an instant, Miguel thought it might be Pavi, who loved to be helpful in the most annoying ways. Catching doors even when it's men, dropping his scarf on mud for girls, a charming and shy kid. It isn’t, though, it’s that weasel he seems to be throwing in the pin every damn week, bolting off in a full-on run. 

“Ay, not my locket!” you gasped, plucking your skirts over your boots. 

“Maldito niño--” Miguel stops you, sliding Gabriella back into your arms. Not that she was complaining, tiny hands slapping together in a rendition of applause as Miguel darted after him, his booming steps beating the ground. “Get back here, kid!”  

“Dios, you sure have a busy papa. I'm sure he’ll back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.” You looked between the little girl nestled comfortably in your arms and the parting sea of the crowd. Gwen zooms past, eliciting another round of jovial laughter from Gabriella O’Hara. She does love a good game.

It ain’t that Miguel wants to leave his girl with any old fool that waltzed on into his town. But he knows his community, knows they’d not leave him out to dry, and knows that taking his daughter on a town-wide chase with a skinny little weasel around town is not the move. Especially not if he has a gun, which he did, because of course he did. Now, the man has a jail cell and Miguel has a crook in his neck from where the buffoon fell through the crooked second floor of the post office.

He works the sore muscle the whole way back to your wagon. It’s high time for eating. His stomach was raging after the scent of someone’s pulled pork, the roasted sweetness of corn. If we wanted to be presentable then, he sure wasn’t now. Dust was a second skin on his pants and aged boots. He walks past the platform where Hobie plays a tune with his banda. Most vendors were wrapping right on up for some proper debauchery.

He finds you there, swaying to the beat of the music with Gabriella hanging in your arms. Her tiny hands were around an ear of elote already. Guess she extorted a snack out of you. 

“One gold locket,” Miguel heaves out the words as he digs in his pocket, whirling the golden chain into your small hand. You flip it over once, then twice, examining it for any defects. “Better to keep that tucked away out here. Puts a target on your back right quick.”

“Muchísimas gracias, sheriff. You're a sweetheart,” you reach out, grazing his scratchy cheek with your supple lips. Gabriella is flatly squished between his sweaty chest and yours. She’s fallen asleep flat against your chest. “You don’t know how much this necklace means to me.” 

There are whispers from the women he’s turned down. The viejitas who have been trying to set him up for a full-on year now, those who told him he needed to find a girl as soon as possible to marry. He didn’t want to. Not unless it made sense. 

“Yes, well, you could tell me,” Miguel finally picks his daughter from your arms. She’s out like a light. “If you want.” 

“It was my mami's, once upon a time. She gave it to me on my wedding day," you explain. "It's all I got left of her. I wonder what she'd think of me these days, travelin' town to town like I got secrets."

"You ever think of settlin' down again?" He turns his gaze past Hobie’s banda, to the yellowing sky. The sun is setting out over the horizon, casting warm orange and soft pink into the air. The road is full of wagons. The clip-clop of horses running their way to the next town, some checked in to the hostel.

"A veces," you explain. "If it feels right, I think I will."

"Yeah?" He settles on the bed of your wagon. The dresses were packaged and kept in locked chests, kept away from the bed of the wagon where your blanket was. Most of the foreigners have left, but you. He doesn’t have to guess to know that it was his fault. “You off to Rio’s hostel?” 

“‘fraid I’m out of town,” you smiled at him. “She ain’t got any rooms. Next city over might.” 

“Stay with me,” he says. “The night. Bit too late to get robbed on the road with all them pretty dresses you make. Wouldn’t be right to be sheriff and let a young thing out there without company. Some'a them outlaws take wives that way, y'know.” 

“Oh, Sheriff O’Hara, ain’t no one care about widows on the road,” your hand finds your chest. It’s said with a laugh, as though someone, somewhere, made you feel less than. It wasn’t going to be Miguel.

"Ain't a widow if you're carried off." He reclines, watching the figures of couples dancing to whatever the hell Hobie was playing on his guitar. His eyes track over Hobie’s gloved fingers that prance across the strings, waiting for you to walk back on that stupid comment. You do, snapping out a fan in the waist of your heavy dress to fan yourself.

“You really sure? I don’t mean to be a burden. I’m sure you got better to do than take care of company.” 

“You took care of my girl. Least I could do. Long as you go to church in the morning.” 

“Oh, now he’s askin’ me to church. When’s the wedding, Sherriff?” 

“Miguel. Soon as you want it,” he returns, half a smile pulling at a normally closed-off face. Miguel turns to set his Gabi down on your blanket, throwing you a look for permission. You nod, watching her roll on the wool thing, setting her hands under her cheek until she gets into a position that isn’t as bad as laying on her back. He tucks her hair back over the shell of her ear, exhaling a breath. Somewhere between his ex-wife’s flight from the town and today, she began to look more and more like him. He’s thankful for that. He doesn’t need more memories of her. Only needed to get through each day, and make the next better than the one before.

“She’s tuckered out,” you lean down, just by his face. “All that escapin’ papa work.” 

“Si,” Miguel hums as he massages his sore shoulder. “Tell me about it. I’m getting too old for this.” 

He lifts his head from his daughter’s tiny body, reminded of all the times someone told him to get married. If not the women chasing him around his jail at all hours of the day, then the women at church who, at the moment, were gossiping away. He could hear the prattle already: sheriff likes rich girls. The type to have a golden locket and French silk. The luxury of hopping from town to town like some no-good woman. He’d wager, your husband ain’t had the money to take care of you but for these light luxuries. Traveling town to town wasn't no small feat.

Tch. He’d deal with it tomorrow when he took you to church. Scandalous as that was.

“Fancy a dance?” he offered up his hand. 

You remove your gloves, skin is soft and supple against his, only marred by the pricks of a needle. Your gloved fingers grazed his scarred palm, tracing the long strike that marred his open palm. There’s a thought there, just behind the reach of your playful eyes. He couldn’t quite reach it. 

“I’d love to, Miguel.” 

Something tells him he has time to.

[grimoireofhayley]

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking, Possessiveness, Dirty talk, Religion talk, Suppressed Mental Health problems (I.e., reader has some issues that she isn't aware of)

Word Count: 0.9k

Taglist: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @fanfic-enjoyer123 @darkenwolfie @juda-the-simp  @colsons-baker @junnniiieee07  @ok-boke @ren-ni @katie-tibo @bruce-yamada

A/n: I promise the chapters from this moment onward will be longer! I haven’t proofread this chapter yet, but I’m working on it as it’s published. I can’t leave ya starving now can I? 😜

All chapter links!!! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 12

You stood a few meters away from the door, contemplating on how you were going to walk up to both Sidney and Tatum and act like you didn’t just have a heavy-heated make out session with Billy that almost ended up with your back pressed against the glass window; being railed from the front.

The door opened again, startling you from your thoughts as Billy and Officer Brinks came out.

You watched closely, frowning.

Billy was cuffed and being held aggressively against his own will and his dad only stood a few feet away from him, not even trying to hide the fact he was disappointed in his son.

Billy looked at his father, his white shirt clinging to his muscles from the amount of sweat that was coming off of him, defining them more than needed.

“Tell ‘em.” Billy began, his voice cracking. “Come on, Dad, tell ‘em!”

“Just wait for the lawyer, Billy.” His dad stated, unimpressed.

You wanted to run up to Billy and hug him close, but the interaction you had prior made it impossible for you to even budge.

“Sidney!”

This caught you off guard.

“Sidney, come on, you know me.” He whined, fighting against Officer Brinks’ hold, but the man was far too strong as his grip only strengthened, pulling Billy towards his cell. “Sidney, baby!” He hollered, not noticing your presence in the background.

‘I was merely just a distraction…’ You thought, baffled. ‘How could he do and say that to me, and then beg Sidney to look at him, like we didn’t just almost fuck back there..’ You cringed, biting your lip, trying your hardest not to let any tears build up again, but you failed.

Sniffling, you looked to the side, spotting Tatum, fortunately, she was already heading your way.

“(N/n), we’re going to get you and Sid out of here, okay?” She beamed, placing a hand on your back and began rubbing circles in an attempt to keep you from breaking down.

She gently grabbed your hand after a few seconds and dragged you towards Sidney, who was balling her eyes out.

Tatum looked ahead, seeing her brother, Dewey.

“Hey, Dewey. Can we go now?” She asked, impatient.

“Yeah, hold on a second.” He mumbled, but Tatum wasn’t having it.

“God dammit, Dewey!” She screeched, outstretching her arms to the side, in the process, she let go of your hand as aggravation strung along.

Dewey glared, stomping from his boss.

“What did Mama tell you?” He hissed, “When I’m wearing this badge, you treat me like a man of the law.”

You and Sidney just stared at each other, not sure what to say or do and for a minute, you had completely forgotten about the woeful event that occurred beforehand.

“I’m sorry, Deputy Dewey-boy of the law, but we’re all ready to go…” Tatum huffed, grabbing Sidney’s things and stuffing them away in a bag. “Now.” Tatum finished, handing Dewey Sidney’s things.

The Sheriff laughed, patting Dewey on the back.

“Take ‘em out the back way. Avoid the circus out there.”

___

“Isn’t there a back way out of this building?” Gale asked, already walking towards the back with her cameraman.

“Yeah, down that alley I think.” Kenny answered, hoisting the camera on his shoulder, steadying it.

“You stay here, I’m going to get the police car.” Dewey ordered the three of you and then jogged towards his destination, not realizing Gale was on her way.

“There they are!” Gale suddenly blurted, running towards you, Tatum and Sidney.

“(Y/n)! Sidney!” Gale shouted, slightly out of breath.

The bright beam of the flash on the video-er, blinded you for a moment.

“Hi, this is some night! What happened? Are you two okay?” Gale asked, not really interested, as she shoved the mic between you and Sidney, awaiting answers.

“They’re not answering any questions, all right. Just leave us alone.” Tatum stepped in front of you, swatting the mic away.

“No, Tatum, it’s okay. She’s just doin’ her job, right Gale?” Sidney spoke, now in front, confidence radiating off of her despite the forced smile making its way to her face.

You glanced at Sidney, not sure what she was doing, when all you wanted was to just leave, maybe get some rest before the next day. You were irked as it was, and Gale’s voice just kept going and going, making it more difficult to think, breathe, and leave.

“Yes, that’s right.” Gale grinned, oblivious.

“So, how’s the book?” Sidney asked, curious to know what Gale would say.

“Oh, it’s going well, should be out later this year.” She answers.

“Oh, I’ll look for it.” Sidney mocked, she was definitely pissed off.

“I’ll send you a copy—“

Gale didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence as you butted in; your knuckles connected to the side of her face, causing her to knock back, falling into her cameraman. She groaned, pain searing throughout her jaw and cheek, her hand immediately shot to the stinging sensation she felt in a horrible attempt to soothe the affliction.

Sidney’s mouth gaped as she looked at you, not sure if she should thank you or scold you as she wanted to be the one to punch her.

“I’ve had a long day.” You started, “And your voice was the tip of the iceberg.” You growled, “And frankly, I didn’t want to hear you talk anymore.” You fumed, spitting at her feet. “Now, if I were you, I would put that book on hold and shut the fuck up for once.” You finished.

<—Previous Next—>

[chirpycloudyrobin]

Previous || Masterlist || START || Next

Interlude: godly husband and wife break some heavenly rules to take care of son, new heavenly emperor finds this adorable and lets them get away with it

jiang yanli ascends first, despite dying after jin zixuan. turns out fate sees sacrificing yourself as a non-combatant with very low cultivation for a demonic cultivator who is at the brink of insanity takes some insane balls. fate sticks her in the water master role immediately after ascension and heaven sighs in relief that shes not another water tyrant.

jin zixuan ascends second as the new martial god of lanling or maybe shandong. technically he got his heavenly calamity shortly after dying but he wanted to stay behind and wait for his family to pass on naturally before ascending. fate saw it as very romantic and let the man do his thing.

they both agree that wei wuxian is not to be blamed for their deaths and to bring him up as a deputy god when the time comes.

their first and foremost worry is, of course, their baby jin ling. they cant go to him immediately as they have to settle in their new roles as gods. they have to establish themselves first, and that means amassing believers.

it takes them a few years but eventually they have a good cluster of worshippers within lanling and yunmeng and other, scattered areas. nobody really recognises them as the former lanling jin heir and the former young mistress of jiang since most of their worshippers are either non-cultivators or rogue cultivators who dont want shit to do with the formal cultivation sects. righteous clan cultivators, after all, dont have time to practice something so common as the common folk's religion.

they first appear to jin ling through dreams. jin ling knows them as his parents as soon as he was able to understand. granted he still gets pretty upset that he only gets to be with them through his dreams but jiang yanli and jin zixuan are stretching the rules pretty thinly already.

it's through his dreams that jin ling gets the full picture surrounding his parents' deaths. he still hates wei wuxian just a little bit, but that's just grief for you.

when jiang yanli and jin zixuan get their own deputy gods, they assign a couple of them to infiltrate jinlintai and end up working close to jin ling. through them, jin ling was able to have an additional way of contacting his parents short of actually, physically meeting them. the couple essentially strong armed their way into raising jin ling from beyond their mortal time, but heaven and fate are apparently okay with it.

so jin ling grows up with his parents' influence. he has jin zixuan's tsundere tendencies, but around those he is closest with he is a bit of an extreme mother hen. he has few friends around his age, still, but hes a lot less lonely compared to his canon counterpart. he has his martial aunts and uncles, the deputy gods his parents sent to teach and take care of him. when he grew old enough to go on night hunts, he often takes detours with his caretakers to help his parents' worshippers. he does it enough that he ends up being known as his parents' messenger or (more embarrassingly) their priest. he cannot let the cultivation world know of that. absolutely not.

does jiang cheng know of his sister and his brother-in-law's ascension and their active participation in the raising of jin ling ? absolutely. the first thing jiang yanli did when they met in the dream world was apologise for leaving him all alone, but also whack him upside the head for the absolute stupidity he and wei wuxian got into after her death. jiang cheng had to confront his complicated emotions about wei wuxian a lot sooner. jiang yanli is severely unpaid as the family therapist.

jiang cheng makes up for it by helping build temples of her around yunmeng and the hubei area.

overall, their family is as perfect as can be. almost.

one final question lingered: where was wei wuxian ?

wwx had died, yes, but they found no sign of him in the heavens. according to (reluctant) heavenly emperor xie lian, he wasnt in ghost city either. they scoured the earth but no fragment of his soul could be found.

maybe jin ling hates wwx a little for worrying his mother and uncle with his disappearing shenanigans. maybe.

and then the dancing goddess of dafan mountain happened. his jiujiu thinks wwx somehow took over the body of the dude who was with mo xuanyu. who he proceeds ??? to whip ??? jin ling is definitely tattling to his mother.

in their shared dreamscape that night, he does tattle to his mother. unfortunately, his jiujiu also tattles on him for taking the dancing goddess head on. theyre both scolded to hell and back that night.

whatever. at least they have a clue where wwx's soul had gone. does it weirdly coincide with heavenly news of a newborn calamity level ghost ? yes. but what is a calamity-level ghost against the wrath and worry of a big sister ?

[starksbabie]

The Ink That Binds Us - Chapter 1

Next

Summary: Omega reader moves to Stark County, ND after her grandmother dies and she inherits her house. She gets a job at a local diner where she meets charismatic asshole alpha, Deputy Gator Tillman. Will his rough around-the-edge ways push her away before she even knows that he’s her perfect match?

Tags/Warnings: Soulmates AU, A/B/O, eventual smut, 18+ mdni, mentioned unwanted touching, soulmates have matching tattoos, Gator Tillman (he’s his own warning).

Word Count: 2.4k

“We were just two broken souls trying to fix one another… Somehow I ended up with a piece of you and you, me.” — Evy Michaels

- 10 years earlier -

You wake up and stretch, your nest is cozy and warm around you. The blankets, pillows, and stolen clothes from the people important in your life are arranged just so. Slowly, you sit up and climb out, headed to the bathroom before you head to school. On your way past the vanity you freeze in your tracks. There on your right bicep is a large tattoo. 

When a soulmate permanently marks their skin, their other half also receives an identical mark. You gasp and cover your mouth, tears forming as you inspect closer. It’s the letters LOL in dark colors, and the O is clearly made up of barbed wire. 

Why would your match do this to you? Why would your alpha mark up your pretty skin with such a crude tattoo? You don’t know who your alpha is, but you're upset, and this has left a sour taste in the back of your throat. 

- Present Day -

Gator walks into the diner pulling the door open with gusto, knowing he’s late to meet Roy. It seems he’s always late lately. He slides himself into the booth across from his father and sags into the cracked and creaking leather. 

“What kept ya?” Roy asks, not even bothering to look up at his son from his paper as he takes a sip from his coffee. 

“Was dealing with that… uh, assignment you gave me.” He smiles at his father as the waitress sets down a mug, and begins to fill it up for him. 

“Would you like anything else?” You look at the deputy, your hip cocked as you wait for his response, setting the carafe on the edge of the table. 

“You’re new.” Gator looks the new waitress up and down, he knows all the staff in the diner. He eats here more than he eats at home. 

You nod and pull out your notepad. 

“Mhmm just moved here recently.” You pull out a pink pen, tapping the end of it against your plush lower lip. 

He tries to scent you and finds himself a little disappointed when he can’t pick up any trace of you. Damn scent blockers, he’ll never understand why you omegas use them. 

Meanwhile, you’re taken aback by this man’s strong scent. It’s almost as if he’s intentionally giving it off, trying to fill the air around you. Notes of palo santo and sage wrap you in warmth, and nostalgia while still being refreshing, exciting, and new. Your heart begins to race, and you’re nervous that these two alphas sitting in front of you are able to hear it beating out of your chest. You almost miss his order as he asks for what he wants. 

“Western omelet. Bacon and white toast.” He sits back and looks at his father as you make your notes and lift the carafe heading back to the kitchen. He can’t help himself watching the way your hips move as you walk away. 

Roy reaches over and slaps his son upside the head, “If your eye causes you to sin son, pluck it out.” 

Gator immediately drops his gaze and keeps it on the table when you deliver his and Roy’s food. 

He mumbles a soft, “Thank you, miss.” 

Having noted the lack of a mating mark on your neck when you originally took his order. 

You come and refill coffee and check on them, before setting the check on the table. At the bottom you’ve written Thank You in your loopy handwriting, followed by a smiley face. 

You bid them both good day before walking away. The smell of palo santo and sage lingering around you for the rest of the day. 

 The next day you’re leaning against the cool bricks outside the diner, trying to take some deep breaths and slow your heart rate, when some black steel toe boots enter your line of sight. You slowly look up the khaki-clad legs, your breath catching when you see a gun seated in a holster wrapped snugly around their thigh. That’s when the scent hits you. Palo santo and sage, your eyes snap up to meet the honey-colored ones of the alpha you served yesterday morning. 

“You hiding out here?” 

His eyes aren’t the only thing that’s like honey, the timbre of his voice pours over you like a warm drink on a cold winter’s morning, soothing your heckles that were raised from the alphas inside.

“I’m not hiding from anything.” You snap, your voice harsh. 

Gator’s not used to being spoken to like that, certainly not by an omega. He draws himself to his full height and steps closer. 

“Then what’s got you so riled up, little one?” 

He gently tugs on the hem of your sleeve, and his eye catches on the ink hidden there. 

“What’s that?” He asks, as he goes to lift your sleeve but you slap your hand over your bicep stopping him. 

“Don’t touch me! You alphas are all the same. You don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself.” 

That stops him dead in his tracks. His voice gets low and serious. 

“Who touched you?” 

You fix your sleeve, making sure the embarrassing tattoo is completely covered, “it’s not important.” 

“It is to me, I’m the law. It’s my job to protect.” 

You notice he doesn’t finish that statement but don’t say anything, your eyes dropping back to the ground. 

“Who touched you?” His voice drops even lower, this time into his alpha register, the one that makes it hard for you to resist, your omega hindbrain begging to submit to him. 

When you’re still silent, he’s slightly impressed. Most omegas he knows submit as soon as they hear that tone. 

“Don’t make me ask again.” 

“The alphas sitting in the corner booth… one grabbed my ass as I walked by. Told me I should be raising pups, not working.” The words rush out of you even as you try to hold them back, sometimes you hate your designation. 

A growl rumbles low in Gator’s chest as he stalks into the diner. He spots them almost immediately, two alphas and a beta sitting in the back corner booth by the entrance to the kitchen. You follow after him, nervous about what this hot-headed alpha is going to do. 

He slams his hand down on the table, effectively shutting them up. 

“If I ever hear about one of you touching another omega without their permission again. We’re going to have problems. Do you understand me?” He glared, at the three men. 

“Yeah? I don’t see your mark on her pretty little matting gland. So why don’t you mind your own business?” The biggest of the alphas says, straightening up. 

Gator opens his jacket to reveal his badge and rests his free hand on his holster, the alphas pale as they realize who they’re talking to. 

“I said, do you understand me?” He repeats. 

They nod and throw some cash on the table, pushing past him to leave, not even casting you a glance as they make their hasty retreat. 

You look at him, “You didn’t have to do that.” 

He straightens up and turns to look at you, “How about a little gratitude? If anyone else bothers you, you come straight to me.” 

You look at him, and after a long pause you nod, even though it wasn’t a question. 

“Good.” 

He grabs a seat at the counter and looks up at the specials board.  

“Can I get a Coke and a burger? Fries too…” He trails off, realizing he never got your name. 

“Y/N.” You supply, smiling a little as you write his order on the ticket. 

“Y/N. That’s pretty. I’m Gator.” He sits back as you ring in his order and slide his drink across the counter. 

“Gator… like the animal?” You ask, looking at him as if he’s playing a joke on you, and at any minute, he’s going to bust out laughing because you believed him. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He smiles and pulls a business card from his pocket handing it to you. 

You hold it in your hands and inspect it. Sure enough, there in the center, it says ‘Gator Tillman’ Deputy Sheriff. 

You smile and nod, sliding the card into your apron pocket.

“Well, alrighty, Deputy.” 

After lunch, Gator spends most of his afternoon sitting at the counter talking to you between customers. 

You find yourself rolling your eyes as he makes terrible jokes, mostly at the expense of the other patrons. 

As your shift ends, you clock out and wash your hands, drying them as he watches you. 

“How are you getting home?” Gator asks as he stands, following you outside. 

You kick your feet in the dirt a bit. 

“It’s not that far from here. I just walk.”  

“Let me give you a lift. C’mon.” He turns and heads to his truck without waiting for your answer. 

You freeze, watching as he jumps up into the cab of his truck. 

“C’mon, it’s too late for you to be walking home. Get in.” He doesn’t leave you any room for argument. 

You hesitate a moment longer before walking around and climbing into the passenger seat of his truck. His scent is so much more intense in this confined space. You find yourself a bit dizzy as you buckle yourself in, and hesitantly begin to give him directions to your house. 

Gator considers himself a pretty good officer. After a moment, he glances over and watches your face as you guide him through the turns towards your home. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks, relaxing back into the seat, and sucking on his vape, being careful to blow the sweet-smelling smoke away from you. 

“It’s just,” you anxiously rub at your matting gland, “I’m an unmarked omega taking an alpha to my house…” You trail off, your skin heating in embarrassment. 

He smirks and takes the last turn onto your street. 

“Yea? Well, I mean… you don’t have to be unmarked for long.” He drapes his arm over the back of your seat, and suddenly it feels as if the temperature in the car shot up 20 degrees. 

You let out a small squeaky noise at which Gator laughs. 

“Relax, I’m just kidding. I’m just dropping you off at home. No funny business, I mean… unless…” he looks you up and down, his gaze lingering on your thighs. 

You let out an indignant sound, “Gator!” 

He laughs and turns into the driveway of the little 1950s ranch you call home. 

You grab your bag and climb out of the truck, breathing in the fresh air clearing your head. He leans across the center console of his truck watching as you walk up the steps to your door. 

He rolls down the window and hollers after you.

“See you soon!” 

He says it with such sincerity that you shake your head and roll your eyes fondly, looking back at him. 

“Goodbye, Gator!” You wave before slipping into the house, locking the door behind you.

You peek out the front window and watch as he takes his time backing down the driveway and pulling away. 

That evening, after taking a shower and changing into pajamas, you flit around your kitchen making yourself something to eat while you relax in front of the TV. 

You turn on the sink to fill your glass when you hear a sound coming from the cabinet below. You frown and open the oak-colored door, gasping when you see water spraying from one of the pipes. 

You quickly turn off the sink, but unfortunately, that doesn’t stop the water from spreading across the bottom of the cabinet and out onto the floor. 

“Shit!” You try to block the flow of water with your hands, but it’s no use. 

You panic, not sure what to do, but you know you need help. Then in a moment of clarity, you remember Gator’s card in your apron pocket. You grab your apron off the hook by the door digging in the pocket before snatching your phone off the counter. You call him in a bit of a daze, watching as the puddle on your floor grows. 

“Pick up, pick up!” You mumble under your breath. 

“Hello?” 

His voice is deeper, gruff over the phone. You feel guilty for inconveniencing him, but you really didn’t have anyone else to call. 

“Gator..?” 

“Y/N? What is it? You okay?” You hear some shuffling, on his end of the line. 

“Um… no? My sink is leaking everywhere, and I don’t know what to do. I… I didn’t have anyone else I could call. I’m sorry.” 

He runs his fingers through his hair, a little surprised at your admission. 

“I’ll be right there. Okay?” 

“Okay. Thank you.” You relax a little, knowing that help is coming. 

You hang up and run to the linen closet grabbing out towels, in the meantime. Your ears perk up when you hear a car pulling up outside only a few minutes later. You run to the door and pull it open. Smiling wide when you see Gator’s truck in your drive. 

He puts his truck in park and gets out, grabbing a toolkit from the truck bed before heading to your front door. He looks good in dark wash jeans and a white shirt, his hair soft no longer styled from the day. 

“Thank you again for coming, I don’t know what else I would have done.” 

He hops up your steps and steps into your home and the first thing he notices is your scent. It permeates every inch of your space, fresh greens, mimosa buds, and beechwood wash over him, fruity and floral. 

The second thing he notices stops him dead in his tracks. Your pajamas consist of shorts that show off your legs, something he’s sure to appreciate later, and a tank top. There on your arm, the mark that he’d noticed earlier, is his tattoo plain as day. Etched onto your skin. 

You are his soulmate.

Next

[mrprettywhenhecries]

don’t waste your time (on me) [g.t]

04. | A Bad Idea

Gator Tillman ✘ Win Lewis (OC)

⇾ w.c. 5.1k words ⇾ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, misogynistic themes, inexperienced!Gator, public sex, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, early ejaculation, oral (f!receiving), cum eating, gator being sweet, recreational drug use/marijuana ⇾ a/n. took longer than I wanted to to finish this chapter, and I think I've definitely looked at it for too long. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I could use some kind words 💚

When Roy realizes his son didn’t heed his advice, he changes tactics, telling Gator to invite Win to the ranch.  After a steamy night of sex and drugs, Gator breaks the news to Win and she realizes his feelings run deeper than she thought.  And maybe so do hers.

[ masterlist • win bio ]

“Oh fuck, Gator–”

Win’s voice cracked as her head fell back against the stall door, Gator’s heavy breaths loud in her ear with each snap of his hips, desperately fucking her in the dingy bathroom stall.

“Oh shit, you feel so damn good, Winnie,” he grunted, his brows pinched in concentration and Win couldn’t help but grin as she watched him, her head and heart only tangling further each time she tangled with him, which over the past few weeks had been as often as possible – Gator taking every opportunity he could to fall into bed with her or find some clandestine spot for them to fuck like rabbits at any free second, which at the moment happened to be after breakfast in the diner’s bathroom before Gator’s shift.

For a second, Gator’s expression altered, alarm crossing his face as his grasp on Win began to slip and she let out a yelp, hastily bracing herself before she could fall.

“Gator, if you drop me, I swear to God–” she hissed, gasping as he hefted her up higher against the door to readjust his grip on her thighs, which were wrapped tightly around his waist. “I'm not gunna drop you,” he huffed defensively, resuming his impatient thrusts, making her tits bounce softly beneath her tight top.

“Now quiet down,” we don’t want anyone finding us like this,” he grunted.  “Not unless you wanna end up in handcuffs for indecent exposure,” he teased, flashing her a cheeky grin.

“Wouldn’t that entail you ending up in handcuffs too?” Win pointed out, but Gator’s grin only widened.

“Oh, but you forget, sweetheart.  I’m the law,” he chuckled darkly, his eyes screwing shut moments later as he came, as if it were the thought of her in handcuffs that had tipped him over the edge.

Panting heavily, he pressed his face to her chest while he composed himself.  “Did you cum?” he asked suddenly, as if just remembering to ask, his large brown eyes seeking hers and Win shook her head.

“I was close, but no,” she answered truthfully, and Gator frowned, setting her down unsteadily.

“Fuck, sorry,” he muttered as they fixed their disheveled appearances, his disappointment in himself taking Win aback a little.

By all accounts, Gator seemed like just the type of guy who didn’t really care if his partner finished, as long as he was satisfied.

Except, the more time Win spent with him, the more she realized, Gator wasn’t exactly like she’d expected him to be.  Sure, some of the shit that came out of his mouth was problematic as fuck, but it almost felt parroted, as if he were just repeating what he’d heard his whole life, and it was no surprise to her who he’d heard it from.

“It’s okay, you can pay me back later, Deputy,” Win drawled, slipping her arms around his shoulders as she raised up on her toes for a kiss, sighing as his lips moved against hers.

Gator raised a brow at her as he pulled back, his hands lingering at her waist.  “Later?” he asked hopefully and Win bit her lip, nodding.

“Yeah, I have the night off, you should come over, watch some movies, play some video games, have some hot nasty sex on my couch,” she purred, grinning at him expectantly and Gator groaned.

“Fuck, Winnie, you’re gunna make me hard again,” he whined and she snickered, taking his hand to lead him to the door.

“You go ahead and I’ll follow, that way it won’t look like we just did what we did,” Win said, giving Gator a little shove and he chuckled as he turned back to wink at her before striding back out into the diner.

Fighting to keep a straight face, she stepped out moments later, returning the waitress’ smile and wave before she noticed Gator standing awkwardly at the end of a booth and her blood ran cold as she noticed who had just sat down.

When Roy Tillman’s eyes met hers, it felt like time slowed, the air around her turning thick like jelly and she forced herself to keep walking, Gator’s gaze catching hers helplessly before she pushed open the door and hurried outside.  Something about the Sheriff’s sharp gaze made her feel weighed and judged, like some animal at the county fair, and she didn’t like it.

Gator swore under his breath when he saw his father walk through the door and tip his hat to the waitress, heading to his favourite booth.  He’d taken a gamble meeting Win there, hoping Roy would be having breakfast with Karen and the twins.

As soon as Roy noticed him, Gator nodded to him, stopping at the end of the table to greet him.

“Looks like we had the same idea today,” he chuckled, looping his thumbs through his belt loops as he shifted his weight from boot to boot, hoping Roy wouldn’t notice Win leaving, though she’d have to walk right past them to get to the door.

“Guess so,” Roy mused, half glancing over the menu, though he always ordered the same thing, when suddenly his eyes lifted, fixing on something just past Gator.  He could smell Win’s perfume as she passed and glanced over at her as she hesitated for a moment at the door before pushing it open.

Once the door shut, the bell on the handle chiming her departure, Roy glanced back up at him and nodded toward the seat across from him as the waitress came with a cup and her pot of coffee.

“Sit with me,” he murmured, and Gator did so, scooting into the booth and resting his arm across the back of the bench.

Roy waited for his coffee to be poured and the waitress to confirm his usual order before speaking, his gaze focused on the steaming cup in his hand.

“Am I to assume you expect me to believe that was merely a coincidence?” he murmured, taking a careful sip from his cup before his eyes flicked up to Gator's, his sharp gaze seeming to see right through him.

Gator shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding eye contact.  “That what’s a coincidence?” he asked, frowning in confusion and Roy let out a disappointed sigh, thanking the waitress as she set his food in front of him.

“That was the girl I told you to stay away from,” he continued, taking a bite of the crispy strip of bacon.  “And you ignored my advice because–?  What, you think you know better than me?”

“I don’t know what you’re–” Gator mumbled, only for Roy to cut him off.

“Don’t insult my intelligence, son,” he snapped, his eyes boring into Gator’s.  “You’ve been coming home late, if at all, you’re neglecting your chores, you’re distracted,” he listed off, taking a bite of his eggs.  “It’s not hard to see where your head’s at.”

Gator opened his mouth, a slew of excuses ready on his tongue, but he quickly swallowed them as his father took a deep breath, as if deciding something.

“I suppose you are a man now, and you can make your own decisions, as long as you understand that she’s not proper wife material… as she is now.”

Gator frowned, just the barest downward twitch of lips and knitting of brow, but he didn’t argue.

“Now, I got two stipulations if you insist on continuing to see this girl,” Roy said, holding up two fingers.  “One,” he ticked off, “you pick up the slack with your chores on the ranch, and two–” he brought the second finger down as well– “you bring her to Sunday dinner so we can meet her properly.”

“Uh, I dunno if that’s such a good idea,” Gator muttered, earning himself another sharp look.

“You questioning my judgement?”

Gator gulped, shaking his head quickly.  “No!  No, it’s just… uh, I’m confused.  I thought you said–” he trailed off, stumbling over his own tongue and Roy let out a long suffering sigh.

“It’ll be good for her to spend some time around honest folk, and maybe Karen can show her how a proper woman acts,” he drawled, and Gator quickly nodded in understanding, though he already knew Win wasn’t gunna like it.

“Alright then, get goin’ now,” Roy said, nodding toward the door.  “We’ll see you and your girl Sunday.”

Gator nearly tripped climbing out of the booth, trying to figure out how to persuade Win to go.

When Gator showed up later that night–for it could be no one but Gator, with that booming cop’s knock–Win answered the door in a pair of shorts and one of his black tees he’d left behind, her nipples hard under the dark fabric, having forgone a bra when she’d thrown it on after her shower.  The pungent smell of weed clung to her, and Gator leaned against the door frame, unabashedly looking her up and down as he got a whiff.

“You been smokin’ in here, miss?” he drawled, his lips stretching into a sly grin and Win shrugged, not even bothering to deny it.

“You gunna arrest me, Deputy?” she asked, arching a challenging brow at him.

“I just might have to,” Gator replied, running his tongue over his molars as he shook his head in bemusement.

Win eyed him skeptically.  “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?” she asked, tugging him inside and shutting the door, pressing her back to it when Gator took a step closer, pressing his hands to either side of her head, boxing her in.

“Oh, you have no idea, Princess,” he drawled, watching her lips hungrily.

“I’m really not surprised,” she teased, slipping under his arm to flit past him, leaving him wanting more, and Gator let out a frustrated breath, toeing off his boots and shrugging out of his leather jacket before following her.

“You got any weed left?” he asked and Win threw her head back in laughter.

“You’re such a shit cop,” she snorted, pointing to her pipe laying on the coffee table next to her lighter.

“Hey, I’m the law, remember, sweetheart?” Gator scoffed, snatching the pipe and bringing the mouth to his lips.

“I’m not sure that’s how the law works,” Win murmured, rolling her eyes as Gator struggled to get the lighter to light, flicking the wheel several times before a flame appeared and he took a long draw.  

Win leaned against the wall, trying not to stare too intently when he finally blew the smoke out in a long stream, the effect somewhat ruined by the coughing fit that followed, and she snickered, shaking her head.

“I’ve got a frozen pizza and some wings in the oven,” she said, nodding toward the kitchen.  “You want something to drink?” she offered, telling herself she was just being a good host and not waiting on him hand and foot.

“Got any Mtn. Dew?” Gator asked, sinking onto the couch and grabbing the remote, flipping through the channels til he found something he liked.

Win reappeared several minutes later with two bottles, dropping one in Gator’s lap before plopping down next to him and taking a swig from her own.

“Die Hard, nice,” she murmured, snatching her lighter and the pipe from the table before leaning back and resting her legs in Gator’s lap, the light from the tv screen illuminating her face in the dark room as she took another hit.

She hadn’t been planning on getting high that night, but their near run in with Roy that morning had her nerves on edge and she’d ended up swinging by her dealer’s trailer on the way home before she realized that’s where she’d been headed.  And though she was curious as hell if the Sheriff had sussed them out, saying something to Gator after she’d left, she wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.

It weren’t as if they were dating…

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” she murmured, taking another swig of her Mtn Dew, her eyes finding his in the dim light.

Gator frowned in thought, his large hand resting on her ankle, thumb drawing circles against her cool skin.  “You know I used to play football?” he asked, not really waiting for her response before continuing.  “I was All County quarterback senior year, a real winner,” he boasted, his gaze turning far away, as if lost in memory.

“So you were a real hot shot, huh?” Win mused, having a bit of a hard time picturing it, if she was being honest.  “I’m surprised you didn’t have cheerleaders falling over you left and right,” she teased and Gator wrinkled his nose at her, clearly not amused.

“Oh, I did.  The only problem was, they were all members of the Abstinence Club,” he huffed.  “The only action I got was over the clothes and awkward handies while making out,” he admitted with a scowl, just waiting for Win’s amused laughter. 

“Aw, you poor thing,” she cooed instead, a hint of condescension in her tone, biting her lip to keep from giggling, just imagining Gator’s frustration.  “Weren’t there any freaky girls you could’ve gotten with?  You know, anti-social goth girls that wouldn’t turn their noses up at fucking the quarterback?” she wondered.

“Unfortunately, no,” Gator sighed, letting his head fall back against the couch.  “It’s a pity you didn’t go to high school with me.”

“You think I would’ve fucked you back then?” she teased and Gator snorted.

“Course you would’ve, you can’t keep your hands off me,” he boasted, a smug grin twisting his lips. “You’re such a shit,” Win scoffed, though she couldn’t hold back her answering grin, knowing he was probably right.

“Can I get another hit of that?” Gator asked, nodding to the pipe in her hand and Win followed his gaze, sitting up slightly.  Instead of handing it to him, however, she brought it to her mouth, lighting the bud and taking a long drawl, the light from the small flame illuminating her face.  Holding the smoke in her lungs, she crooked her finger, beckoning him closer, peering up at him through her lashes.

Frowning in confusion, Gator leaned in, gasping in surprise as Win tilted her head as if to kiss him, their lips nearly touching before slowly exhaling the stream of smoke into his mouth.  

Gator’s eyelids fluttered as he inhaled the pungent smoke, a soft groan catching in his throat before he surged forward the rest of the way, capturing Win’s lips in a searing kiss that took her just as off guard as she’d taken him, pinning her beneath him.

“That was fuckin’ hot,” Gator breathed between deepening kisses, his tongue writhing against hers, exploring her mouth boldly as his free hand traversed her body, slipping under the hem of her shirt to cover her breast, greedily massaging her beneath the dark fabric, his fingers tweaking her pert nipple, playing with her piercing to draw a desperate moan from her.

“Gator–” Win breathed, squirming beneath his touch, arousal pooling low in her gut and seeping through the thin fabric between her legs.

“Hmm?” he hummed, grinding against her, his bulge obvious beneath the rough fabric of his cargo pants and she whined as it pressed against her aching heat, the sudden shrill cry of the oven timer interrupting the moment.

“Shit, I gotta get the food out,” she groaned, half halfheartedly pushing against Gator, a gasp leaving her lips as his mouth found her pulse point, his canines sinking into her skin.

“Ignore it,” he mumbled, grinding harder against her as he pinched at her nipple, his tongue soothing the love bite at her throat.

“It’ll burn,” Win argued, biting back the moan that sprang to her lips before pushing Gator back, nearly kneeing him in the groin as she rolled out from under him.  He let out a frustrated growl, but the rumble in the pit of his stomach reminded him just how hungry he was, the smell from the kitchen making his mouth water.

“Win!” he called, palming himself over his pants before adjusting his half softened length.  “Hurry up, I’m starving,” he whined, leaning back against the couch to peer into the kitchen to see if she was coming.

“You’d get it faster if you got off your ass,” he called back, finally rounding the corner back to the sofa, two plates in hand.

“Oh, you’re an angel,” Gator cried, reaching for the plate she held just out of reach, waiting for a ‘thank you’.

“Close enough,” she snorted in amusement, letting him have his food before sitting back down next to him and propping her feet on the edge of the coffee table.

Silence fell as the two of them dug in, watching the movie as they ate.

“So…” Win mused around a mouthful of pizza, her eyes flicking from the tv screen to Gator.  “When’re we gunna talk about this kink you have with restraining me?” she asked, her lips twitching at the way he froze, half eaten wing still hanging from his sticky fingers.

“What?  Who says I—“ Gator cut off mid sentence at the knowing look in Win’s eyes.  “I dunno,” he mumbled, sucking the rest of the meat from the wing before dropping the bones to his plate.  “Just like the idea of being in control, I guess.  Like seeing you helpless,” he murmured, clearing his throat.

Win nodded.  “I like being helpless sometimes,” she mused, watching his reaction.  “Don’t see why we couldn’t try that sometime.”  She shrugged nonchalantly and Gator had to swallow, needing to work moisture back into his mouth.

“As long as you let me return the favour,” Win added, grabbing her pop bottle for a swig.  “You look awfully cute yourself when you’re squirming under me, whining for me to let you cum.”

Gator flushed, his eyes falling to his plate, not sure he wanted her to know how much he enjoyed that as well.

“Think we should decide on a safe word before we delve into those fantasies,” she mused.  “Maybe something simple as ‘yellow’ for slow down and ‘red’ for a hard stop,” she suggested. “Think you can remember that?”

“Yeah, course,” Gator huffed, rubbing at his nose with his knuckle before making to suck his fingers clean of sauce.

Before he could finish, Win caught his hand, wrapping her lips around the first finger, her tongue curling around his digit before hollowing her cheeks to suck, pulling his finger from her mouth with a soft pop before repeating the process with his next finger, her eyes not leaving his.

Gator’s mouth fell open as he watched, a moan catching in his throat.  “Fuck, Win,” he hissed, his cock once more straining against the confines of his pants.  “You really know how t’make me hard.”

Win smiled, leaning in to whisper in his ear once she’d finished sucking his fingers clean.  “Yeah well, I’m really fucking wet right now,” she breathed, licking a wet stripe along the shell of his ear.

“Oh shit–” Gator groaned, his eyelids fluttering as his hips gave an involuntary jerk.

“Are you gunna be a good boy for me?” Win asked, placing her hand over the bulge in his cargos.  “Gunna let me ride you?”

Gator let out a shaky breath, clearly itching to free his throbbing length, but holding back, waiting for Win’s permission.

“Uh huh, I’ll be good,” he whispered breathlessly, wetting his lips as he pleaded with his eyes.  “Need you so bad,” she whined and Win’s grin grew.  She loved that he was two sides of the same coin–cocky and demanding one minute and needy and submissive the next.

“Good boy,” she purred, grasping the hem of her shirt and lifting it over her head in one swift motion, letting it fall to the floor as she leaned in to kiss him, her hands slipping under his shirt as her tongue flicked against his, her palms sliding up his stomach and chest as she worked the tight fabric over his head.

Breaking the kiss just long enough to rid him of the garment, her mouth was back on his as her hands went to his pants, making quick work of his belt and zipper.  As soon as his cock was free, Win stood, hooking her thumbs under the elastic of her shorts and shimmying them down along with her soiled panties, letting Gator watch, his eyes caressing her body like a man starved before she crawled astride him, too needy to tease him any further.

“Need you,” she breathed against his lips, her tongue meeting his as she ground down against him, coating his twitching length in her slick.

Gator’s answering groan was quickly swallowed and his hands circled her hips tightly, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he guided her movements and Win reached between them to grasp his cock, lining him up with her slick entrance and sinking down onto him, their moans blending together.

“Feel so good,” Gator grunted, his mouth falling open as she began to ride him, her hips rolling fluidly against him, picking up speed as his gasp on her urged her on.

Not bothering to watch her volume, Win’s rising moans competed with the sloppy sound of her pussy as her smooth movements turned harried, instead bouncing in his lap, chasing her pleasure as he drowned in it.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” he gasped, exploding inside her without warning, her tits bouncing in his face as she milked him, pumping her fuller with each bounce.

“Shit—“ Gator whined, his head falling back against the couch as he panted for breath, kicking himself for cumming too soon.

“Sorry, I—“ he began, wincing as he softened inside her and Win surprised him by pressing a weary kiss to his lips, her sweat slicked forehead falling forward to rest against hers.

“Didn’t mean to cum so soon…”

Win shook her head.  “It’s kinda hot,” she murmured, working moisture back into her mouth.  “My pussy’s too good, you couldn’t hold back,” she said, her lips quirking slightly.  “You know, there are other ways you can help me finish,” she added with a shrug and it was Gator’s turn to wet his lips as a thought occurred to him.

“Sit on my face.”

Win’s brows rose at how fast he suggested it.  “You sure?” she asked.  Gator’d had yet to test his oral skills and Win wasn’t exactly expecting much, but the husky way he said it made her stomach flip.

“Okay,” she breathed, helping him slide off the couch to the floor, his head resting back against the couch cushions while Win hovered over him, his spunk mixed with her arousal dripping down the inside of her thighs and he groaned at the sight, hooking his arms around her legs boxing in his face, bringing her down to his mouth.

“Oh–” she gasped as he kissed her, giving her clit an experimental lick, his tongue seeking her sensitive nub, swirling around it as he savoured her taste.  It was so much sweeter than he’d expected and he moaned into her cunt, his eyelids fluttering as he grew bolder, tilting his chin upwards as his tongue pushed into her folds, exploring her already messy sex with fervor, his nose bumping against her clit with each movement.

“Y-yeah, yeah just like that,” Win murmured, her hands gripping the couch back as she rolled her hips, grinding against Gator’s face in her desperation for more friction.

His fingers bit into her thighs as he feasted on her, using his entire face to pleasure her, past caring about the mess that smeared his chin and cheeks, each gasp and moan he pulled from her felt like a badge of honour, driving him on, his tongue delving deeper before returning to her throbbing clit, lapping at it with broad relentless rolls of his tongue, breathing heavily through his nose as he drew her bundle of nerves between his lips to suck until she was shuddering, her thighs clamping tighter around his head.

“Oh fuck, GATOR–!” she cried, her hips stuttering as her climax hit her and she threw her head back, her entire body going rigid.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, collapsing to the couch and letting Gator breathe.  “You can say that again,” he exclaimed, grabbing his shirt to wipe his face and taking a swig of pop before turning to look at her, a smug smirk gracing his swollen lips.  “Seems like you enjoyed that,” he drawled, climbing to the couch with her and getting comfortable, laying half draped over her where she lay, their legs tangling as he snuggled closer.

“Don’t get cocky, Tillman,” Win teased, running her fingers through his mussed hair, the gelled strands half falling into his face as he rested his chin against her chest.

“Too late,” he chuckled huskily, licking his lips.  “You taste really good, by the way,” he mused.

“Glad you think so,” she murmured, relaxing back against the throw pillow behind her, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment.  “That was pretty hot how into it you were.”

Gator shrugged.  “I like making you feel good.”

Win hummed, her fingers trailing down his smooth back, tracing lines between the dark moles and freckles that littered his skin.

“So, I was thinking… you should come to the ranch for Sunday dinner,” he murmured after a moment, his downturned eyes flicking up to hers hesitantly and Win frowned, her brows pinching.

“Gator, are you crazy?  That sounds like a terrible idea,” she exclaimed, half pushing up to gape at him.  “What about Roy?  I thought the last thing we wanted was for him to know about this?” she asked, gesturing between the two of them.

Gator winced, hoping she wouldn’t freak out too much when he told her his dad already knew about them.  “Actually, this was his idea…” he replied reluctantly.

“Really?  Somehow I have a hard time believing that,” Win huffed, an uneasy feeling bubbling in her gut and she let out a soft groan.  “That’s what he said to you after I left this morning, wasn’t it?  He figured it out,” she murmured, reading the truth in his guilt filled gaze.

Gator nodded, the lines furrowing his brow deepening.  “He said he wants to meet the girl I’ve been sneaking around with.”

A heavy rush of air whistled through Win’s teeth and she pressed a hand to her face.  “I dunno, Gator, this all seems very official, and we’re–hell, I don’t really know what we are,” she exclaimed, letting her hand drop while her gaze instinctively sought his in the dim room.

“What do you want us to be?” he asked softly, a worried frown knitting his brows as he waited for her answer, his large brown eyes watching her earnestly.

“Aw Jesus, don’t do that,” Win groaned, snapping her eyes shut against the sight, too much for her to take in the moment—her chest tightening with an emotion she didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Do what?” Gator countered, nearly pouting, his frown deepening and Win groaned again when she opened her eyes.

“You know what!” she whined.  “Stop looking at me with those damn eyes of yours.”

“What’s wrong with ‘em?” Gator asked, a small smirk playing at his lips when he realized the power he had over her with just a look.

“They’re dangerous!” Win exclaimed, trying to turn away, but Gator was having none of it.

“Yeah, and why’s that?” he countered, grabbing her chin to force her to face him and she huffed a sigh.

“Because they’re more beautiful than they have any fuckin’ right to be,” Win breathed, wincing when Gator’s grin widened.  

“Fine!” she huffed, cornered.  “I like seeing you, alright?” she conceded, feeling her cheeks burn.  “But I like how easy this is–how it’s been–and-and I’m afraid putting a label on it is gunna complicate everything.  I don’t wanna get hurt,” she explained, her words growing smaller at the end of her outburst and Gator’s expression softened.

“I don’t wanna hafta hide you anymore, Win.  I wanna show off my girl.  Fuck, I want everyone to know you’re mine.  Is that so bad?” he murmured, searching her face.

“Your girl?” Win scoffed before softening, her resolve weakening—those two little words sending her stomach fluttering.

“C’mon Winnie, be the Ripley to my John McClane,” he uttered with all seriousness, using the line from one of her favourite songs against her and Win barked an incredulous laugh, her doubt forgotten for a moment.  

“I can’t believe you actually just made that reference!” she exclaimed, hiding her face against his forehead and Gator stiffened.

“Hey, I listened to that mix you made me.  Some of it was weird, granted, but I liked that line!” he yelped defensively.

“Now, how the hell can I say no when you compare me to one of the most badass women in movie history?” Win murmured, shaking her head in bemusement.

“You can’t.”  Gator shrugged, half holding his breath as he waited for her answer.

“Alright, fine, I’ll be your girl,” Win relented, rolling her eyes and Gator sobered at her flippant tone, the amusement draining from his face.

"Don’t get my hopes up if you're just gonna leave like everyone else,” he murmured, and Win felt a block of ice drop into her stomach.  All this time she’d been so focused on how he could hurt her, never giving any thought to the fact that she could hurt him just as badly, that his feelings for her might be that deep, and it took her by surprise at just how serious he was.

“I won’t,” she breathed, turning his face toward her, her eyes searching his, the vulnerability in his gaze twisting her heart.  They’d never talked about his mother before, but if her friends were to be believed, she’d apparently run off when he was young, leaving him with his father.

“I mean it,” she insisted, her breath wavering.  “Just… don’t make me regret it,” she whispered and Gator nodded.

“I won’t,” he echoed, letting out a breath she hadn’t noticed he’d been holding.  “Does this mean you’ll come?” he asked and Win sighed.

“Yeah, but they’re gunna hate me,” she reminded him, anxiety prickling her gut.

“Just don’t get political, and wear your nicest dress and those boots you look so good in,” he said, the tension leaching from his body as he rested his cheek against her chest, nuzzling closer to her.

“I hope you know what you’re talking about,” Win whispered, but she felt herself relaxing as well, slipping her arms around him, the weight of his embrace calming her somewhat.

“Trust me,” he murmured.

Win squeezed her eyes shut, hoping she could—hoping she wasn’t making a mistake.  She knew this meant she’d be walking willingly into the wolves’ den, but at least Gator would be there with her.  He wouldn’t feed her to the wolves.

At least, she hoped so.

⇾ taglist. @heartbreak-sandwich @cherrychapsticksteve @super-unpredictable98 @b1tchy3lf

[novankenn]

Son of the Serpent (9)

/==/ Table of Contents /==/

Jaune sat on his bed, still in his nightclothes, actually laughing as he played with the Vacuo Death Viper without a care in the world. Which of course made his team very apprehensive. Each one waiting for the moment when the vile creature would attack their team leader.

"Guts, there is nothing to worry about."

"Says you." Nora responded, a desk chair clasped in her hands, ready to be used as a makeshift hammer.

"Jaune could you please?" Pyrrha whimpered. The invincible girl not being a fan of snakes, or for that matter spiders, rats or mice.

"You want to hold her?" Jaune asked, a warm smile on his lips as he held the deadly creature out towards his friends.

"I'll pass." Ren replied, "You said your mother is here? I take it because of the... snake?"

"Yes. This one is usually perched about her neck. It was her first tattoo, much like how the Valean Pit-Viper tattoo about my neck and shoulders was mine."

To accentuate the point, Jaune smiled and suddenly from around the collar of his t-shirt the scaled head of another serpent appeared. It slithered out from under his shirt and coiled about his shoulders, even going so far as to affectionately nuzzle Jaune's cheek.

The Death Viper, not to be out done, scaled Jaune's extended arms, and faced off against the Pit-Viper. The pair of serpents rose, their eyes starting at each other. Their forked tongues flicking in and out of their mouths, tasting the air.

Ren, Nora, and Pyrrha gasped and froze as the pair of venomous snakes both opened their mouths, exposing gleaming fangs.

"Are you guys tired?" Jaune asked as the pair of snakes, "That was a couple of big yawns there."

"Yawns?" his trio of teammates asked, utterly stunned, as Jaune lifted both serpents casually from around his neck and laid them on the bed.

The Pit-Viper coiled tightly upon itself, with the slightly larger Death Viper coiling around it, ending by laying its head over the neck of the smaller... if his friends didn't know better... it looked almost as if the pair of vile beasts were cuddling.

But before anyone could make a comment, there was a series of knocks upon the door. The slightly unnerved trio of Jaune's teammates stepped away from the door, just enough for Pyrrha to answer it.

“Oh, Professor Goodwitch, and?” Pyrrha eyed the woman standing next to the Deputy Headmistress. She had an air of authority much like Goodwitch had, but unlike the Professor’s aura... this woman’s was more sinister.

“Mom.” Jaune greeted the woman, who eyed up Pyrrha for a moment before stepping past and into the room… uninvited.

“Jaune.”

“Mom?” Nora asked, looking at Ren, “I thought she’d be blond?”

“So did I.” Pyrrha added.

“Well, Mrs Arc I have escorted you to your son, I shall take my…”

“I require access to a room with a sparing circle.” Benisato commented out loud. “Is there such a place available?”

“Mom?”

“Jaune, you ran from home. Your sisters were in tears. Your father was a nervous wreck…”

“You don’t und…”

SMACK!

“Do NOT tell me I don’t understand! Your father and I did not suffer all that horror in the frontier so you could be a stupid little shit and go and get yourself killed because you wanted to be a HERO!” Benisato screamed at the top of her lungs, tears forming in her eyes. “We thought we lost you! No calls, no messages! We thought you died!”

“But…”

“There is no BUT Jaune!” she continued to scream at her son, all the frustration, fear, and anger of the last several months bursting forth. “Your stupidity nearly tore your family apart!”

“I’m sorry…” Jaune responded, still holding the cheek his mother had struck with the palm of her hand. 

“Don’t…” Benisato grabbed out and hauled her taller son into a tight, almost crushing embrace. “Don't ever scare me like that again… you’re too precious to me.”

[fallenclan]

(every italic text is me angry as FUCK)

Poppyfeather and Ravenshade were on a patrol. Nothing well had happened. He pierced a neck artiery, making Poppyfeather lose lots of blood, killing her swiftly.

However, she didn't take this murder very well.

~~~~~~~~~~

On the night of the murder, after Moonstep and Poppyfeather were grieved and buried by the clan, Ravenshade got his definitely well-earned promotion, much to his pleasure. The moment Cherrystar muttered the words:

"From now on, until my passing, the new deputy of Fallenclan will be the young Ravenshade. I hope Poppyfeather will hear these words and approve of my choice-"

A sudden downpour of rain threatened to floor the gathering and a bright red cardinal feather fell on Ravenshade's paws. This is the color of a poppy. Ravenshade thought.

At night, when the ceremony ended, Ravenshade reclined to his matted, cozy nest to have his well-deserved rest. However, poor Ravenshade would not get his beauty sleep anytime soon.

In the middle of the night, a bright mist of light appeared in front of the black tom. He opened his eyes to noticed the ghost of Poppyfeather, grinning menacingly, showing teeth more jagged than the side of a cliff.

"You fool." She said.

"What do you want now, traitor? Are you coming back to haunt me?" Ravenshade scoffed, a smile forming at the end of his lips.

Poppyfeather took a deep breath and began the speech.

"You fool, you do not realize what grave mistake you have made. I am bound here by anger, ready to curse you and your name. As the passing of time wears down on you, you will rot into a shell of your former glory, bound by greed and ambition. Claws as sharp as thorns will tear into the pelts of many, a blood river forming and a heap of bones will form under your paws. You will waste away as even your family turns against you, a mush of blood cherries crushed by your paws in anger. You will burn and melt away, killed by the one who you least expect. A small leaf will tear your flesh and desecrate your corpse, beware of everyone and everything! No one is your friend!" She chanted with passion, a smile forming as she noticed Ravenshade's eyes opening more and more. "Why must you do this? Why must you make this decision? This path takes you only brings you more and more disaster and betrayel, so abandon this path and rethink your life, or turn into a pile of ash, burned by your greed, pride and ambition. You foolish little boy, every single day of your life, i will make it miserable." Poppyfeather ended the chant, knocking Ravenshade out.

But even in his dreams, Ravenshade could not find peace. An image of a hill of bones with a river a blood forming at the base could not leave his mind, the black cat with red paws and purple eyes never escaping his dreams. Yells, shrieks, calls for help being heard at all angles, Ravenshade desperately tried to block it out, occasionally Littleleaf's voice and bloodied paws filled his vision. The black tom tried to run away from everything, only to come across the silhouette of a familiar figure.

"Do not go past this line," Gyoza said, "it is not worth the pain it will cause. A little leaf with bring your downfall, thorns slashing your neck. Turn back and run away, son."

But Ravenshade didn't follow his father's advice, tearing the ghostly apparition and running faster than ever.

...

Ravenshade woke up in a cold sweat, his heart beating fast.

"Brother, are you okay?" Littleleaf's soft voice was heard across the den.

"Yeah, i'm fine. Just had a nightmare."

"A nightmare after your deputy ceremony? That sounds like a bad omen, Raven."

"...I guess..." Ravenshade mumbled.

The image of the bone hill and the blood river remained throughout the day, along with the poppy red cardinal feather.

-🌀 (immediately after this i ate fries so thats helpful i guess)

THIS IS SO EPIC YES....

[bonefall]

did you already start planning squirrelstar's leader ceremony and if so who's giving her the 9 lives?

I'm still a bit concerned that the writers will pull something with her 9 lives, but I've got so many good choices for BB!Squilf that it's not an issue to start considering who's gonna turn up for her.

Plus, honestly, NOT totally interested in abiding by canon if they commit the dumbshit we're suspecting they might. Pre-emptively biting and killing it.

Here's the list of candidates so far. Everyone with a * is a definite yes;

Goldenflower Her mentor in BB, replacing Dustpelt! After everything Squilf has gone through with Bramblestar, and after Golfy took her son's side after the big reveal, it feels good for her to show up with a life for Judgement. To decide when to listen to her heart, but also, when to realize when it is leading her astray.

Sandstorm Mother choice is a solid one, though I'm leaning towards giving this life to Ferncloud for variety. Squilf's got 5 immediate relatives here to give her a life.

Hollylark* Her grandkit, and Sparkpelt's mate who sacrificed xeir life to take her illness away. Xey'd give her a life for Interdependence, for all of the connections that bind a Clan together. Love, friendship, convenience, family. Squilf is familiar with sacrifice in service of it... but it's more than that. To love is to BE loved-- she must accept reciprocity. And... xey'd make some kind of loaded comment about Nightheart, knowing that neither one of them want to talk badly about him. I might end up changing xeir life to something like "letting go," as foreshadowing for how I'm absolutely planning for Nightheart to NOT return to ThunderClan after his road trip with Frostpaw. BUT I don't decide arcs until they're done so we'll have to seeeeee

Firestar* Basically required. Squirrelstar is his daughter, the successor of his ideology, and the follow-up to a leader that Firestar considers a mistake. His chats at these sorts of ceremonies often get wistful, so I feel like they'd talk about second chances, wanting people to be better than they are, how to fix things that are broken and when they aren't worth the effort. He says it explicitly, "You're just like me. A spark of my flames, burning bright, long after I've become starlight..." His life would be for Progress. To continue to evolve and grow, to never be so stuck in the past that she can't see the future, to know when things can be fixed and when they must be broken.

Rosepetal I want to save her on one hand, but on the other, having her go out in a blaze of glory at some point in ASC or TBC is a good reason why Squilf didn't make her deputy. Rose was her first apprentice and has always been a dedicated, passionate warrior who would deeply want that spot. If she's here for the 9 lives ceremony, she'd give Squilf a life for Ferocity. "Give them twice the Hell you always do, so that it's like I'm right there next to you."

Shrewface* (Shrewpaw in life.) Her guardian angel. He helped her hide the secret of Leafpool's pregnancy, and has always stood over her, providing help secretly. Now he can finally stand before her and give her a life. He would actually stumble and chuckle, because he's wanted to do it for so long he's blanking on the life he wants to give her. On one paw, Squilf is a little annoyed. It's a super serious leader ceremony, holy moment in her life, but on the other... Shrewface is so HAPPY! His joy is infectious. He's standing before her as the adult he would have been, but under that, she sees the funny teenage best friend that she lost so long ago. It feels almost like being a kid again. So she picks her own life by saying, "How about one for Joy?" And he says, "Hey that's a great idea!"

Rainwhisker A ThunderClan cat who died in the WindClan Civil War, and someone she remembers fondly. The life he gives is a life for Collateral. He has no shame in how he died, and he believes Firestar's call was the right one. But he needs to remind Squirrelflight that beliefs are backed with blood. Every time she brings her Clan into war, there is a chance that someone will die because of her choice. He restates that he believes his death was noble; but his life will remind her of the cost that someone else might pay.

Sootfur If it's not Rainwhisker, I'd like his brother Soot to be here. I think his death was haunting, with how Squilf couldn't save him, watching him tumble down a rockface because of his broken leg and being brutally murdered by what-is-now a boar. She's carried guilt from how she couldn't save him her whole life, so in contrast to Rainwhisker, his life is for Acceptance. To remember that not everything is her fault, and she could NEVER be so perfect as to avoid all of life's misfortunes. Even if others pin blame onto her for something she couldn't control; no leader is powerful enough to save everyone. Thinking about it though, I might really try to slot BOTH of these guys in. I think the contrast of the two back to back is powerful; that actions have consequences, but not every tragedy is a consequence.

Ferncloud She just died very recently, taking both Graystripe's super edition AND his sacrifice in the Dark Forest. Graystripe is still alive, living at the tribe with his son Stormfur. She confronted Ashfur for Squilf, so it feels right that she also comes to support her here. Ferncloud, for the first time in so many years, looks at peace. She isn't gray and grizzled anymore, but sleek and vibrant. Her family surrounds her, Dustpelt, Elderberry, Brindleface, her many lost kits. So, the life that she gives Squilf is for Faith. In StarClan that she will always have Clanmates in the skies to watch out for her, in her Clan that there will always be future angels fighting by her side.

Longtail Her uncle, and Jayfeather's mentor who trained him into the full angel-punching cat he became. During the big trial she has in Squirrelflight's Horror, Longtail was one of her loudest supporters, and eventually nudged her backwards so her son could grab her ankle and drag her back down to the mortal plane. He's always been her wonderful uncle, so, he might end up taking that life for Faith from Ferncloud. Just depending.

Feathertail* I want her to show up in the ceremonies of every patrol cat who achieves power, as a given. If we get Crowstar, I also want her to be there. I just think it's nice that if Crow, Bramble, and Squilf ever did end up able to chat about this together, in spite of the TANGIBLE awkwardness of the three of them being in the same room, they'd be able to make a joke about Feathertail Gives You A Life and it would land a little TOO hard, be a little TOO funny, because they were hoping that SOMETHING would lighten the air and it did. But anyway, this incredibly specific desire aside, Feathertail Gives You A doobie life for Tranquility. That the once-impulsive Squirrelstar will be able to slow down and consider every action, to take a deep breath in stressful times and think about what she's about to do. That as leader she will be under immense pressure, yeah, but also immense power. She can always afford to take a moment before making a big decision.

Leafpool* MANDATORY. There's NO reality where I do not end off this ceremony with Leafpool. When she steps up, they can't look at each other without crying. It overwhelms them, to the point where Squilf can't even choke out her sister's name. Leafpool, meanwhile, has gotten used to controlling her body while her heart breaks into billions of little pieces. She'd done it for her whole life, and now, she does it again in death. "this life is for love," she touches her night-cold nose to Squirrelstar's, and the new leader's vision begins to fade into black, "you know why." From the darkness, memories burst forth. Of them as kits, their silly games and dreams, how they planned to one day be the cleric and leader of ThunderClan together. The terrible loneliness of being separated while Squirrelpaw was on the Sundrown Patrol. The ache in Leafpool's heart whenever she saw her sister mistreated; how she gave up on relationships with Crowfeather and, to some extent, with Mothwing as well so she could serve her Clan and stay with her family. The three kits, the anxiety as Squirrelflight took them, the way it felt like Leafpool was being flayed to give them up. Parenting, loyalty, betrayal as Hollyleaf snapped and revealed the secret Squirrelflight desperately didn't want to keep, the guilt that Leafpool felt watching her suffer for helping her. The way they always felt like, on some level, it was them against the world.

And then she wakes up, back on the shore of the Moonpool, with her Clerics beside her. Leafpool is gone. StarClan is, once again, very far away, and she's left with nothing but the cold feeling on her nose and the looming specter of war ahead of her.

12 candidates in total, but only 9 can take the spot. So I'll trim it down once we get there!

[warrior-cats-rewritten]

If I had to rewrite Changing Skies:

Tawnypelt

The Clans are going to fight the humans.

Tigerstar is too busy leading and keeping everyone calm, so he sends Tawnypelt and whatever friends she wants to go on a mission to find out how they can stop the Twolegs.

Tawnypelt doesn't really WANT to, but does it because she wants her son to know she trusts his judgment.

She brings along Crowfeather (let me cook) and Brambleclaw. (LET ME COOK)

First major event is Crowfeather dying. He gets a terrible wound on his back leg from doing something Tawnypelt TOLD HIM NOT TO, and the infection kills him.

Tawny and Bramble are on their own now, and tensions are high. Not only that, but they have NO CLUE what to do, and the Twolegs are getting closer every day...

The only clue they have is with a strange kittypet named Rufus, wearing a strange bulky collar.

Tawnypelt is getting angry, and tired with Brambleclaw. He isn't the brother she thought he was, and their relationship has been fractured since the reveal that he trained in The Dark Forest. Sure, she supported him during TBC, but that ended up not being HIM and it was a terrible mistake to make...

It's his insistence that she listen to him, that he "prove himself", that he is the choice-maker and... Tawny's had enough.

"Brambleclaw, you're older than most cats around the lake, for Starclan's sake, GROW UP ALREADY!"

He leaves, insisting that he knows what is best, and she'll feel so sorry once he's right! No one ever believes in him, just because of his father!

She finds his body the next day. Rufus helps her bury him, but there isn't time to dwell, she needs to keep going. Rufus keeps walking up to humans wearing sleek white pelts that hild little flashing boxes up to Tawnypelt, he keeps saying it's fine but the way he lets them PICK him UP is going to give her a heart attack!

Kids these days. (Affectionate. Bewildered. 3 seconds from signing adoption papers.)

Leafstar

Leafstar is suffering from depression, and notices that her sight is starting to dim.

Fidgetflake tells her that she is developing cataracts, and Leafstar just takes it as "one more thing to happen to me". Her mate has died, her daughter Stormheart was killed in the horrific war against Splashstar and Berrystar that she herself barely made it out of with her last life... Her children have grown and have kits of their own, they don't need her anymore, cats don't want to talk with her...

She's completely lost her spark, and finds no joy in anything. She's not only losing her vision in a physical sense, but she's lost her 'vision' for Skyclan.

She also needs to hold the election for a new deputy, as Skyclan does things differently, and Hawkwing has been killed by a polluted stream.

The candidates are: Violetshine (who now has trained Beetlepaw instead of Reedclaw), Macgyver, and Rileypool (death swapped with Sagenose and mentored Kitescratch).

Violetshine is selected, and immediately some cats are calling for her to be made leader instead. A vote goes through, but not enough cats vote in the theoretical Violetstar's favour. (She doesn't mind!)

Leafstar is distraught when the construction comes Skyclan's way, poisoning their main stream and leading MANY cats to sickness, including her sweet granddaughter Wrenflight, born of Harrybrook and Bellaleaf.

The others Clans have less sympathy. Skyclan is using kittyp-er Daylight Warriors, they'll be fine if they just go back inside their homes. Maybe Starclan's angry that they're taking resources.

She slams her paw down onto the Moonpool's thin frozen surface, it cracks beneath her paw, the cold water spreading its horrible chill, ignored as Leafstar snarls at Starclan.

"Answer my pleas, stop punishing me, or my Clan, or I am taking us back to The Gorge, Other Clans be damned. Help us, or you will prove to me that you truly are a bunch of useless dead cats parading around with sparkling fur and empty promises!"

A ghostly figure appears, just for a moment, whispering to her.

"You may not have sight any longer, and I know all hope seems lost, Leafstar, but brighter times are coming. Do Not Let The Moon Fall."

Moonpaw

Since the writers wanna be awful about Sunbeam, I'm going to one-up them and do this pre-emptively.

Nightheart brought Sunbeam to Riverclan. He wasn't made Leader or Deputy, no, that was given to Icewing and Minnowtail.

Sunbeam, tragically, passed in childbirth soon after she got pregnant by accident... She left Nightheart with a single kitten, a tiny tortoiseshell tabby molly with a white chest, and wide blue and yellow eyes.

Nightheart, still stubborn about names and meaning and holding a grudge against his mother for not providing him with the Orange Gene, names his daughter Moonkit, determined to constantly remind her how she Doesn't Have To Be Like Sunbeam. She has quite a few friends, some in different Clans!

Moonpaw is apprenticed to Flame. An ex-Kin member that joined Riverclan during WCR!AVOS who Nightheart hates with a passion. Guess why.

Moonpaw is a good kid, but her relationship with her father is strained beyond belief. She wishes he would stop... Acting like this. Like he's the only cat to have ever suffered, stop arguing with her sweet mentor over the pettiest thing, stop comparing her to her mother in the most backwards way he can by trying to push her to somehow be the opposite of a cat she's never met...

She is good friends with Frostfeather and Whistlemoon, especially Whistlemoon, for obvious reasons. Moon buddies!

Moonpaw is dared by an older apprentice, Rapidpaw, to "go spend a night at the Moonpool when it's a new moon with all the ghosts!"

She's scared, not of the dark but if her dad finds out. "Sunbeam LOVED breaking rules!" He would always say, "But you can be good and do what YOU want. Just because your mother liked to stand out, doesn't mean you always have to! You can be special in your way!" She always saw Frostfeather glaring when he said that...

"Rule breaker." Frostfeather would scoff. "Didn't know her at all..."

Anyways, aside from a fright from a possum, she makes her way to the Moonpool with ease.

Too much ease.

She walks around, stepping into the pawprints on the ground, and batting a little plant that's growing at the entrance.

Not scary!

She walks into the main chamber, eyes sparkling and growing bigger as she lays eyes on the Moonpool for the first time.

It's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

In awe, Moonpaw slowly steps up to it, looking at her own reflection in the sparkling, crystal water, she pokes a paw in.

The gentle ripples lap at the edges, and Moonpaw swears she can hear a soft whispering.

Immediately though, she is bombarded with noise, giggling kittens, cats chatting with one another, and a soft warning.

"Careful, don't fall in!"

Moonpaw looks around for that voice, softer than any others, yet more clear. She stares into the crystal clear, sparkling water of the Moonpool, deeper, deeper, and deeper, drawing her in and making her more calm than she's ever felt...

She falls into the Moonpool.

[veiledaura]

Crowfeather's Greed (Evil AU)

In this parallel world, Crowfeather's life doesn't diverge until much later. It remains identical until the fateful moment when Breezepelt tries to kill Lionblaze.

This time, Crowfeather isn't fast enough. He fails to save his Thunderclan son. Disgusted at Breezepelt, he heavily scars him and chases him away. He shouts that he should consider himself exiled. However, after a while, Breezepelt limps back to Windclan camp. He knows Crowfeather has no authority to banish him and pleads his case to Onestar.

The leader is unsure, as Lionblaze wasn't a Windclan warrior, but he was their ally at the time. However, Breezepelt's fate is already sealed. Jayfeather is enraged by his brother's death and marches to the trial. He reveals Breezepelt's attack on the Moonpool. Even Onestar can't make excuses for that and turns the traitor away.

Nightcloud is unable to handle all this. The mates get into the worst argument they ever had. Nightcloud blames Crowfeather for their son's downfall. Meanwhile, Crowfeather hates that she downplays Lionblaze's murder. The two get into a skirmish and need to be separated. After they calm down, Nightcloud declares they are no longer mates and that he is dead to her.

Crowfeather becomes more isolated than ever. All his loved ones were either dead or estranged. Even Leafpool, who had the most sympathy for him, didn't know what to say anymore. In the depth of his despair, Crowfeather fell into his old ways. He rebounded. He latched on. Perhaps he could fix the hole in his heart if he found a new love.

Like Crowfeather, Gorsetail had lost two kits in the Great Battle and despised Breezepelt. They bonded over their grief and hatred, creating a broken union. Eventually, Gorsetail revealed her own forbidden romance, and she understood Crowfeather's struggle. Nightcloud was in disbelief. She didn't expect him to hit this new low. How could Crowfeather love his son's harshest critic?

Nightcloud admitted Windclan didn't feel like home anymore with Crowfeather around. She said it in a way; she hoped the grey tom would volunteer to leave Windclan instead of her. When he didn't pick up on it, she admitted she was tempted to join Breezepelt as a rogue. Crowfeather snapped, "Well, go then," as he intended to have a future with Gorsetail. Heartbroken, Nightcloud left that same day.

Crowfeather buried his regret and numbly refocused on Gorsetail. In their whirlwind of emotions, they quickly ended up with a pregnancy. Crowfeather pushed it mainly because he wanted a "do-over." Soon, their two daughters were born. Mottlekit was a grey and cream tortoiseshell, and Whiskkit was a plain white she-cat.

Crowfeather wanted to avoid a repeat of Breezepelt, so he went to the opposite extreme. He got involved in every aspect of his kits' lives and ensured they stayed on the right track. He ended up becoming a perfectionist. He would demand his kits' sleep at certain times and stop any games he considered a "waste of time." He said he was proud of them and only doing it for their benefit. His daughters got confused at the inconsistency between his loving words and harsh actions.

As for their mother, Crowfeather's relationship with her was becoming stagnant. They got together because of their shared grief, but once those emotions subsided, there was nothing left. When Gorsetail wanted to go on exciting adventures, Crowfeather wanted to stay home. Their personalities simply weren't compatible. If they weren't discussing their daughters, there would be awkward silence. Gorsetail kept asking for breaks, but she never officially broke it off. Crowfeather seemed eager for the relationship to work and promised it could improve.

Around the same time, Crowfeather was eying up the deputy position due to Onestar's advancing age. If he couldn't land the role, he hoped one of his daughters could fulfil his ambitions. At the very least, he wanted Mottlekit and Whiskkit to be model warriors. They would be the finest hunters, fighters and mentors. So Crowfeather wanted to give them a head start. As soon as they turned six moons, Crowfeather secretly gave them extra training. He said they couldn't tell anyone else, as he was giving them an unfair advantage. He taught them moves that were too advanced for their age.

Whiskpaw was naturally shy but became worse under her father's pressure. Soon, she admitted that she didn't want the training at all. Crowfeather accused her of cowardice and ended up getting angrier. In the past, he had rare moments where he was too physical with Breezepaw. With his temper worse than ever, Crowfeather constantly cuffed Whiskpaw's ear and snarled at her.

Mottlepaw had ambitions similar to Crowfeather's and could thrive under his expectations. She closely listened to his advice and even improved upon it. Mottlepaw showed more talent than Crowfeather, and he didn't know how to teach her more. Unlike her father, she wasn't impulsive. She was cold and calculating. She could make a step-by-step plan about becoming deputy. Mottlepaw swore off a mate and kits until her later years.

When Mottlepaw discovers Crowfeather's forbidden romances, she calls him an embarrassment and says he is undeserving of the deputy role. He wasn't the cat he portrayed himself to be. Mottlepaw and Whiskpaw begin ditching their father's training sessions. When Crowfeather convinces them to come occasionally, he is rougher than ever to make up for lost time. He accidentally ends up splitting Whiskpaw's ear.

Whiskpaw had a panic attack and refused to leave the apprentice's den. Mottlepaw wanted to tell everyone in camp about their illegal training. However, Whiskpaw begged her sister not to do it. She was too scared to rock the boat and potentially deprive Crowfeather of the deputy position. Instead, she said she forgave Crowfeather. Whiskpaw becomes a Medicine Cat to get away from the training.

Moons passed, and Crowfeather remained estranged from his daughters. Gorsetail never knew about their training, so she didn't understand the distance. She assumed Crowfeather was too damaged by his past and that asking him to act as a normal father was too much. The sisters earned their full names of Whisknose and Mottlesky.

During this time, the Clans were fighting the Kin. Onestar's secret was finally revealed, and he sacrificed himself to kill Darktail. Harestar became leader and Crowfeather's dreams became true. He was appointed deputy, even if his daughters knew he didn't deserve it. For once, his life was looking bright.

However, it was short-lived. After the Kin's defeat, Skyclan made their grand return. Crowfeather hadn't seen them in person, but his clanmates relaid alarming news. Breezepelt and Nightcloud had been spotted among Skyclan's ranks. They must have stumbled upon the fifth Clan as rogues. In their desperation, the pair had put aside their judgement of kittypets.

Crowfeather was terrified of Breezepelt discovering his new family and what he could do to them. He decided he would be proactive and take matters into his own hands. He already didn't like the idea of Skyclan moving to the Lake. However, Breezepelt pushed his stance from neutral to hostile. As deputy, he convinced Harestar that Skyclan should return to the gorge. Windclan and Shadowclan allied together to drive the fifth Clan out.

Mottlesky was chosen to be on the battle patrol. Crowfeather remained at her side to act as her bodyguard. As Breezepelt defended Skyclan camp, he spotted Crowfeather and a strange she-cat. He saw their similarities and wondered if it was his daughter. Breezepelt charged at his father and demanded to know the truth. The black tom wasn't looking at Mottlesky, but his close proximity and general anger were enough. Crowfeather registered him as a threat. Having flashbacks of the attacks on Lionblaze and Jayfeather, he sprang at his wayward son.

Crowfeather reminded Breezepelt of his exile and said he should have never returned. He can't be trusted to not kill again. His son argues he has matured and has a new mate. It falls on deaf ears as Crowfeather slashes his throat. Mottlesky witnessed everything. She doesn't have much sympathy for a murderer, but the level of violence from her father shocked her. She reminds Crowfeather that it wasn't self-defence.

Suddenly, Nightcloud wails out and attacks with a vengeance. Mottlesky and Crowfeather are forced to work together, fending off the grieving mother. Around the battlefield, Windclan realises a father has murdered his own son. Morale plummets, and they soon retreat. As they head back to camp, Crowfeather's clanmates ask if the battle was necessary and if he did it to satisfy his personal grudge.

When Whisknose hears about Breezepelt's murder, she has a breakdown. She yowls that her forgiveness is meaningless and he is simply getting worse. Gorsetail asks what her daughter is talking about, and Whisknose blurts about Crowfeather slicing her ear. At that moment, Gorsetail breaks up with Crowfeather.

Crowfeather suffers the political consequences as well. Harestar says he is too personally motivated and can no longer be deputy. The grey tom can't believe that history is repeating itself. This is the third litter that hates him. He wishes Breezepelt hadn't returned, and perhaps he wouldn't be back at square one.

Crowfeather spends days in his nest in a deep depression. He begins fantasising about his apprentice days, a time when he was still innocent. He wonders what would have happened if Feathertail survived and they settled down. It would have been so much simpler. His grief would have never led him astray and left a trail of estranged kits.

On the fifth night, Featherpelt caught his eyes. She was so much like Feathertail in every way. Her name, her pelt, her personality. She was his former apprentice, too, so the bond was already there. Alright. One more try. If he can find someone else, perhaps it will work out this time.

Crowfeather spent moons obsessively getting closer to Featherpelt. He claimed he was reconnecting with friends since his breakup. Featherpelt somewhat understood and was happy to spend time with her old mentor. Crowfeather bent over backwards for Featherpelt, showering her with compliments and gifts.

Finally, he confessed his love for Featherpelt. The silver she-cat was confused. She admired her mentor, but did she love him? She felt uncomfortable about the age gap. At the same time, he put so much effort into their friendship. She felt guilty if all his efforts were for nothing. She asked Crowfeather to give her time to think about it. Not satisfied, Crowfeather used his influence as the former deputy. He asked a few followers to put "a good word in for him".

These followers pestered Featherpelt, who said she could give him happiness after such a difficult life. She cracked under their harassment and said she would give Crowfeather a chance. The grey tom demanded kits as soon as possible. The silver she-cat reminded him that Whisknose thought she was infertile—or at least, it was too dangerous for her to give birth.

Crowfeather accused Whisknose of lying, as she didn't want her father to move on. Going further, the grey tom pleaded that he "needed her" and "she was his only shot at happiness". Emotionally exhausted from his manipulation, Featherpelt complied.

It didn't end well. Featherpelt died during birth. She had a single kit, a son who looked identical to his father. Whisknose tried to get another queen to adopt the kit, but Crowfeather refused. He declared he would stay in the nursery and take Featherpelt's place. Whisknose was terrified of the look in Crowfeather's eyes, but she couldn't deny a father his child.

That night, Crowfeather sat with his newborn. He bitterly named him Barrenkit. Crowfeather kept jumping from love to hatred for this tiny bundle. This was his son, yet he had taken Featherpelt away from him. It was just another death to add to the pile. Had Starclan cursed him?

Why had his ancestors made Barrenkit look exactly like him? Would the curse be passed onto him? What good was that? What good was any of this? Why was he raising another kitten if he was going to end up ruining their lives? Featherpelt might have fixed Crowfeather, but she was gone now. It was just him and Barrenkit. It was destined to fail.

So, why subject Barrenkit to that? Why subject him to this hopeless world?

Crowfeather snarled. He would not let Barrenkit become like him. He pressed down onto his son's neck.

[tomjamesavery]

I miss Her Written for Ginnyversary with the prompt: #B14 — He waited until her husband was out of the room, then... Read on: AO3

James Potter felt slightly better than before, as he stepped into the Floo at Godric's Hollow. 

His son and daughter-in-law had invited him to dinner at Grimmauld Place, and since Lily, his wife, was currently on an international NGO educational trip, teaching magical orphans in South America, making him quite lonely at home, he was happy for any distraction he could get.

As he was employed at Hogwarts, as the new deputy Headmaster to Minerva McGonagall and  Head of Gryffindor House, he found himself with a lot of time on his hands since the summer break had started two weeks ago.

But that wasn’t on his mind right now, as he dusted himself off, stepping from the Floo into his son’s family’s living room.

“Dad! And on time at that!” Harry happily greeted him, glancing at the old grandfather Clock, engraved with the Crest of the House Black.

James smiled at his son as the two lovingly embraced in a big bear hug.

“24 Years old, and you’re still smaller than me.” James teased, earning him an eye-roll from Harry.

“We’re basically the same height Dad, I guess I’ve just learned to better control my hair,” Harry smirked. “Look at your mop of unruly Potter mess up there!”

James only snorted as he lightly elbowed his son in the side. Neither of them noticed the third person that had entered the room.

“You both have hairstyles worthy of the Potter name.” Ginny had appeared in the doorway, she was wearing a Harpies sweater and grey Jeans, smiling brightly at them. “Now come on you two, dinner is ready, Harry, our Cook, spent the entire afternoon whipping something up for us.” She exclaimed over her shoulder, leaving towards the kitchen again.

James smirked as he saw his son stare after his wife, a lovesick look shaping his face.

“A lucky bastard, that’s what you are.” He teased. Earning him a rude hand gesture from Harry, as the two Potter men made their way into the kitchen as well.

Dinner was a calm affair, Harry had prepared them Beef Wellington with sides of mash, green peas, and Brussels sprouts. James had to admit, his son could cook.

They chatted about what had been going on in their lives recently, Ginny outlining the details of their last Quidditch training, as the two men attentively listened.  Harry told about the new field of work assigned to him since he had been appointed Deputy Head of the Auror Department just last month, it was a commotion and there even had been a party thrown in his name, which he hated.

While James outlined his plans for reworking the garden at Godric’s Hollow, and how he had been keeping himself busy over the last few weeks, pointedly ignoring how much was missing Lily.

While Harry luckily didn’t seem to catch on, James had noticed the looks his daughter-in-law was giving him, she wasn't as oblivious as her husband, and James was once again reminded how she very much had become a real daughter for him and Lily, in all but blood, they loved her unconditionally.

After they had finished the main course James was very certain Ginny had fully caught on to how miserable he had been feeling recently. They were sitting in comfortable silence for a short while, before Harry spoke up again, a big grin crossing his features.

“I’ve tried myself on something special, for dessert tonight, give me a few minutes, I will be in the kitchen!” With those words he stooped up quickly making his way toward the kitchen, whistling as he went.

But James's eyes were already on Ginny, and he waited until her husband was out of the room, before he spoke.

“Yes, I am lonely, I know it's unreasonable, but she’s been gone for four weeks, and she’ll only be back by the end of this month, so in two weeks…” He continued a hint of desperation in his voice. “Ginny I don’t know what to do without her… I can't…”

“James!” He was interrupted by his daughter-in-law, who looked at him in concern, as she continued with a calm voice.

“Breathe! Deep Breaths, In and Out!” She instructed, and James closed his eyes, doing what she said.

“Good that’s better, now listen to me for a second.” Her tone was sweet and she gave him an understating smile.

“We both know how much Lily wanted this, and I know how much you supported her, going there on her own, to do what she loves, helping others.”

“Lily misses you too, and I bet she can’t wait to come back and snog you senseless-“ James smiled at the thought, as Ginny continued.

“-But she wouldn't want you to be miserable here, she wants you to be fulfilled and happy, and of course that doesn't mean that you’re not allowed to miss her, but crying after her like a little lovesick puppy, wouldn't make her happy either if she knew-” Ginny explained.

“-and I can tell you, if there’s anyone that always knows stuff like that, it's her!” She smiled, her face full of understanding.

“So jump into your garden, and get working, or start preparing next year's school plan, whatever, just stay busy, she will be back in two weeks' time anyway, those few days will fly past, I promise!” 

The last words she said made James feel a lot more at ease, Ginny was right, those two weeks would fly by, just like the last four had, he would just keep busy and before he could blink, the love of his life would be back and they would be united again.

“Who wants self-made treacle tart!” James threw open his eyes, just as his son stepped back into the room, holding two plates of dessert.

He suddenly stopped, looking at his wife and father sitting at the table. “Everything alright, you two look so serious somehow?” Harry raised a confused eyebrow. There was a deafening silence for a second until James couldn't but laugh as he and Ginny burst into loud laughter, leaving Harry staring at them in even bigger confusion.

“No Babe, it's fine, we were just talking about how full we were from your wonderful meal.” Ginny lied as she jumped to her feet, chastely kissing her husband on the lips, before turning and shooting James a swift grin as he nodded in thankful reply, reciprocating her smile.

Harry only shook his head, his eyes still wide open in confusion as they switched between James and Ginny. “Sometimes you two are an enigma to me...”

[sunshades-frozen-sky-take-3]

So like, what are certain "policy changes" in Bloodclan since Mapleshade founded it? I don't know how to word it, but mainly, what differences are there between that one and the Scourge founded one in the og story?

Well lots of things change from canon in this au.

First, Mapleshade's kits don't die, Mapleshade thinks logically about that and decides to wait a bit for the storm to pass. Mapleshade nearly shows up at Riverclan's camp only to overhear Appledusk and Reedshine being lovey dovey, peaces out. Then here's where the real kicker starts.

She meets "Myler", who suggests she create a "clan" or whatever she called it, as he's interested in the clan cats and how they work, and offers her a fang studded collar after seeing her scare off a dog. She accepts, seeing as the street cats might harm her kits if she doesn't show them who's boss. She appoints "Myler", who as it turns out, is actually called Bone, as her deputy and she's happy. Until one day when her son Larch is caught stealing prey from riverclan, and is severely wounded by, you guessed it, Appledusk. Mapleshade finds out, and is peeved. She tries to heal him, but without medical help, he dies. Maple is devastated, and declared war on the clans. She knows that even though Bloodclan has numbers, that won't do very much against the leaders who have several lives.

so maple comes up with the best idea.

Destroy the moonstone.

No moonstone, no lives, right? So she and her Bloodclan warriors enter mothermouth, and she orders them to start hacking away at it. After a few hours, they start making big cracks in it, and eventually shatter it into pieces. Mapleshade grabs a shard as a souvenir ( this is important later).

The battle commences, and Bloodclan, now with the true numbers advantage is winning. They end up taking over the clans, now with all of their leaders dead. Maple is still upset with the loss of her son though, and now with the moonstone shattered, how will she see him again? Suprise! Turns out the shard she picked up still works, and her son appears to her and thanks her for avenging him. Maple surprisingly doesn't do much after that. Content with her kits and clan.

Eventually, scourge takes over, and Rusty is invited to the clan, But Rusty feels that there's something wrong in Bloodclan, and hears whispers from seemingly nowhere about how he must right the wrongs and "Save the clans", but, there's only one clan, right?

[skippyv20]

Hi Skippy & Friends-Pilgrim here waiting to see if we will have any fun images to play with later tonight. In the meantime, this fluffy announcement is back in the news but more fleshed out and I can only shake my head knowing the tentacles of global politics and insiders in DC these two bring to the table. Are the puppeteers looking for fresh meat to install? Is there a special ops division to recruit and train females to be flashy players/spies in political warfare? It seems there is a definite model type. I can see similarities in Mrs. Harkle’s, and Mrs. Clooney as her George it was reported, was pegged by a former prez and now puppeteer extradinare, to be the one chosen for the Oval Office, but he didn’t make the cut due to a low cognitive threshold. (Don’t shoot the messenger!) Here are some quotes from this article in today’s NY Post showing her huge rock-but of course that is a no brainer.

“It’s certainly a happy ending for Abedin, 47, who has a son with her ex, disgraced former Congressman Anthony Weiner. (He was caught posting photos exposing himself with his toddler son sitting next to him on some website.) They were married from 2010 to 2017. Huma Abedin and Alex Soros, 38, are engaged, Page Six has exclusively learned. It will be Soros’ first marriage.Hillary Clinton’s former deputy chief of staff has also been seen leaving her now-fiancé’s apartment downtown in NYC. One former senior Clinton aide had previously told Page Six of the pair, “It’s a classic Clinton World couple. Alex is the perfect match for Huma.” “Alex started to get more politically active 10 years ago when he was still finishing college. He started hosting his own events, not just for the Clintons, but for congressional candidates.” “He literally grew up with his dad hosting and being the biggest Democratic donor in American politics,” the source added.

The couple are both major Democratic political players. Abedin has long been considered a “second daughter” to Hillary, and Alex’s dad, George Soros — who made his money in hedge funds and is worth $6.7 billion, according to Forbes — was one of the top 10 donors to Hillary’s presidential run in 2016, contributing more than $9.5 million to the campaign.”

Huma knows allll the Clinton secrets, being Hillary’s closest personal aid for years and years. Looks like she has won the Golden Fleece award! What could possibly go wrong? Over and out for now.

Very interesting!  Thank you dear Pilgrim!❤️

[wrathfulrook]

James Rook

James Rook is 15 years old and has never known who his father is. But when he finds out who his father is, he realizes it's his mom he may not know. AU, no collapse.

Ship: John Seed x Patience Ekner (deputy oc) [past relationship]

Rating: T

Word count: ~4.9k

Read it on ao3.

Maybe James Rook was naïve. None of his friends trusted their parents the way he’d trusted his mom. None of them considered their parents their friends. Until recently, he’d thought his close relationship with his mom was simply a result of being raised by a single mother. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

It was easy to sneak away.

Now 15 years old, his mom had assumed his recent distance from her was just a bit of teenage rebellion. But it wasn’t him. It was her. All of her lies and secrets. He hadn’t even known his mom’s real name until recently. What kind of mom does something like that?

The more generous part of James’ mind reminds him that he grew up happy and loved. That his mom gave up a lot for him; he knows that. Based on what he’d been able to find – and he’d found quite a bit; it had been national news at the time – changing her name was likely just a desire to protect herself, to protect him. That generous part of his brain tells him that there’s no way his father was a good man. If he was, James wouldn’t have been on a Greyhound and travelling cross-country to visit a prison.

James loved his mom.

But the less generous part of him seethed in anger. What kind of mom hid her kid’s origins from him? That part of him also ached, felt shattered. He felt like a fool. And he felt betrayed. How was he ever supposed to trust her again?

~

When it all ended, when the National Guard came, they all ended up behind bars. Joseph, Jacob, John, and Faith. Tucked away where they could never hurt anyone ever again. In the aftermath, her own name and face were plastered all over the news. Her statements were used in each trial, printed in papers nationwide. And so the courts had been all too willing to grant her petition for a name change. Patience Ekner ceased to be, and Patience Rook was born.

Patience Rook left Hope County, left Montana, never to go back. She put it all behind her and moved forward, the only reminder she chose to keep, the new surname she took, her nickname from those brutal, bloody days. Of course, there were other reminders she hadn’t chosen. The tattoo of her sin, for one. Wrath, he’d assigned her. Not that she ever believed, but she found wrath fairly fitting at the time.

In hindsight, he’d chosen wrong. It shouldn’t have been WRATH she spent hours getting covered up with flowers that she didn’t think particularly suited her. No. In retrospect, it should’ve been LUST.

But the tattoo wasn’t her only reminder of that time, of him. There was also the child she’d birthed, the child she adored. Her son.

Hers.

But, oh, did he look like his father. His hair dark where hers was blonde, eyes blue where hers were grey. He even had that same charming smile, the one that had worked so well on her those many years ago. The only thing of hers she could see on her child were her numerous freckles. But while her freckles remained always, her child had outgrown them by the time he hit high school.

Every now and then, he would say something, make some face, talk with his hands in a way that she was hit full force with the memory of his father. Both the horrible things he’d done and those stolen, secret nights they couldn’t keep apart from one another…

But mostly, usually, she looked at her boy and saw only him. James. Her perfect miracle baby. The gift that made everything about those dark days worth it in her eyes. He had been such a happy, smiley baby. Always giggling and gurgling. He’d been talkative long before he learned to speak. Always so sweet and kind. Petting her hair and telling her “Okay mommy… s’okay mommy…” as she purged herself of a stomach bug he’d brought home from daycare when he was too small to even form full sentences, while she in turn tried to reassure her baby that mommy was ok.

Even now, he was her perfect child. Still sweet, still happy. But now his own person. And she was so amazed by the person he’d become. He was funny. Funny in a way she never was. And so clever. Amazing grades as well as a quick wit… Patience loved her child and she knew how much he loved her too.

Even despite how he’d recently been pulling away.

~

James wondered how many signs he’d missed over the course of his life. How obvious it should have been. His mom had always told him she didn’t know who his father was. He recalled once, in one of his earliest memories, that she’d told him she chose his name because she’d always liked it, but also because she thought his father would like it too.

He’d asked her about it later, and she said that she’d never said it. And he believed her. He was so little at the time; it could’ve easily been a false memory. He still wasn’t sure it wasn’t. After all, he had a memory from around the same time of flapping his arms and flying like a bird throughout the house, and that memory felt equally as real.

But whether or not she’d told him his father would like his name, she knew. His mom knew who his dad was the whole time. Because he looked exactly like one of them. The Seeds. The cult leaders. He couldn’t know which was his father, but one of them was. He looked exactly like John Seed. The Baptist. The sadistic monster who tortured and murdered and starved innocent people. Just reading about his crimes had been enough to give James nightmares for a week.

He didn’t know whether or not that man that was his father, but he was related to him. There was no way he wasn’t. He’d been able to find some footage of the court proceedings against him, and it filled his stomach with an uncanny dread. Like watching an older version of himself. The same smile he saw every day in the mirror, the same gestures, speaking with his hands in the same way James did. Even his voice sounded familiar. Not the same, but certainly not very different from the way James sounded to himself in videos.

If John Seed wasn’t his father, he was at least his uncle. One of those men – John, Joseph, or Jacob – was his dad. His mother, the woman regarded nationally as a hero, the deputy who brought the cult to justice, had had a child with one of the cult’s leaders.

James had spent the past weeks learning everything he could about the Project at Eden’s Gate. And he was horrified at the thought that his mom would ever willingly have any sort of relationship with any of those men. He almost hoped she hadn’t. But if one of those men was his father, and his mom had in fact not been voluntarily involved with any of them… No. James couldn’t stomach the thought of that either.

No matter what the circumstances were back then, the situation now was that James had told his mom he was spending the long weekend camping with a friend’s family, when in reality he was on a bus to Montana to meet the man who might be his dad.

It had been surprisingly easy to contact John Seed. Apparently, you could write a letter to anyone as long as you knew their name and which prison they were at. James’ first letter hadn’t received a response. Probably because he had intentionally been a bit light on the details. Eventually he’d tried again, this time including his mom’s former name and, after much mental back-and-forth, a photo of himself.

And that had received a response.

John Seed had written back, though he didn’t say much. And via snail mail, they had arranged to meet. John Seed had even offered to fund the excursion, but James had declined, instead saving his allowance and taking small amounts from his mom’s purse every now and then, little enough each time not to be noticed.

He’d never stolen before, and he didn’t feel good about it now. But James liked to think himself honorable, and he would find a way to pay his mom back every cent he’d taken once he’d figured out who his dad was.

And hopefully John Seed could tell him.

~

Patience wasn’t nearly as obtuse as her son thought. Oh, how she sometimes missed those simple days when he believed she knew everything.

No, Patience knew that James had something going on. She didn’t know what it was, but she had a few ideas. As a mother, she had quite a few worst fears – drugs, alcohol, vaping… But those were just fears. James was a smart boy. He knew better than to get involved in something like that. Plus, he’d been exhibiting no signs of substance abuse. He was just suddenly more secretive and private than before. She had a more realistic suspicion than drugs.

Sex.

She feared her baby boy had become sexually active. 15 was so, so young for that. Patience had never even been kissed until she was 19. She’d been a little awkward growing up, a bit of an ugly duckling. Not James, though. Yet another way he took after his father. He’d always been a cute boy. Her son had taken a girl to the middle school dance. Kids had had crushes on him his whole life. He’d already had three “girlfriends” in his young life.

And so, what if his recent distance was a result of him starting to have sex?

Moms were meant to worry after their children, and Patience was no exception to that rule. But she’d always tried to be open, honest, and educational about sex. He should know enough, be responsible enough, to do what he was ready to when he was ready to. And inform her when he was ready for her to know. After all, a child asking where babies come from while only having one parent… James had been aware of the concept of sex from a very early age, especially with her claiming not to know who his father was.

Patience sometimes felt like she should feel guilty about lying to her son about something so serious as his parentage. Especially because that one lie involved a million more. James didn’t know about her time as a deputy. He didn’t even know she’d ever lived in Montana. He didn’t know their family name was actually Ekner. There were a lot of tiny lies that went into covering up who his father was. But she didn’t feel bad. Not even a little.

Because she was keeping her baby safe. Safe from publicity. Safe from her past. And safe from John Seed.

~

James had never felt more out of his element than when he was checking in as a visitor at the prison. That is, until about twenty minutes later when he was sitting across the table from John Seed.

John Seed wore a beige correctional jumpsuit and his hands were cuffed to the table, which James hadn’t been expecting. Despite this, the man seemed completely at ease. He was well-coiffed, his salt and pepper hair slicked back, his facial hair neatly trimmed, and the crows feet around his eyes creasing when he smiled genially at him. He had clearly aged in the past 15 years since the news coverage James had found, but he was certainly recognizable, and still eerily familiar.

“So, you’re the deputy’s son… It’s nice to meet you, James.”

“Nice to meet you…” James floundered on what to call the man across from him. John? Mr. Seed? He opted to let the sentence dangle awkwardly.

“You can call me John.”

James nodded. “John.”

“I’m assuming you have many questions for me.” John dove right into it and James felt a bit flustered. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, though, and doubted anything would seem normal in a situation like this.

After a brief pause, he spoke. “Yes… Like I wrote in my letters. I think you or one of your brothers may be my father and I-“ James swallowed uncomfortably, a too-obvious tactic to buy time to build courage. “I was wondering if you knew who my father was.”

John smiled. The smile seemed friendly on the surface, but there was something in his eyes that James couldn’t place.

“I am. I’m your father.”

James nodded, surprised that he didn’t feel surprised. Logically, he knew it could have been any of the brothers. Logically, he knew that it was likely his close resemblance to the man across from him that made him feel any sort of connection. But the moment John confirmed it, he realized he’d known. He felt, somewhere deep inside of himself, that John Seed was his dad.

“So… you and my mom…?” James let himself trail off, not really sure what he was asking, or how he should ask it.

John nodded, one eyebrow raised, as if impressed by the audacity of the unspoken question. “Yes. We were involved. In secret, of course. We met up more than a few times, none of which were terribly romantic.”

James understood the implication and asked no follow up questions. John and his mother hadn’t been in love. They weren’t dating. They just… were. James didn’t love the idea of his mom being some guy’s late night booty call and didn’t particularly want to think about it. But at the same time, he’d spent his whole life believing his mom didn’t even know who his father was, so it wasn’t exactly an unbelievable idea.

“Is she well, your mother?”

James nodded.

“And where does she think you are right now?”

James blinked in surprise. “How-?”

John laughed, not unkindly. “She’d never let you come here. Not in a million years. Not to see me.”

James didn’t like the emphasis he’d put on the word “me,” some red flag going off somewhere in the back of his mind.

“She thinks I’m at a friend’s.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes when he spoke. “No, she doesn’t.”

James didn’t know what to say to that.

“Tell me, James, have you been raised in the faith?”

“I- what faith?” Surely John knew his mother never subscribed to the cult’s beliefs.

He shrugged. “Any faith.”

He shook his head no. “No. We’re not religious.”

John just hummed contemplatively but didn’t look surprised. Nor did he look surprised at the next, sudden question.

“Did you know about me?” He hadn’t even known he was going to ask the question until it was out, tumbling past his lips.

For the first time since his arrival, John’s face lost all traces of humor, of ease, of amiability. His eyes, the same eyes James saw every day in the mirror, bored into his own.

“No. No, I never had any idea. If I had known I had a child, I’d have been there for you. For her.”

James doubted that very much. Not because he doubted John; he had no idea whether he meant that or not. He doubted it because, even if he wasn’t locked away behind bars for the rest of his life, he knew his mother would never let this man near them. That’s something he would have known even before he found out just what his mother was capable of, what she’d done in Hope County. More than he trusted that the sun would rise tomorrow, he trusted that his mom would do anything and everything in her power and beyond to keep him away from any perceived threat.

And he knew his mom considered John Seed a threat.

John brushed past the serious moment easily, that same easy smile sliding back into place. “Tell me about yourself, James. A father should know some things about his son, don’t you think?”

James warily nodded. “…Like what?”

“Anything. Everything. What classes are you in? Do you have any hobbies? You’re 15, right? When is your birthday?”

“Uh- yeah. 15. I’m a sophomore. My birthday is June 21st.”

Though his facial expression didn’t change, James knew he was doing the mental math. And given that he didn’t say anything about it, the math clearly checked out.

“Are you driving?” John asked.

James shook his head no. “No. All the summer birthdays have driver’s ed in the spring semester. I have my permit, but mom’s only taken me out driving once, in a parking lot. I didn’t do very well, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it. It’s like anything else – you just need practice.” John smiled kindly, and James could almost forget the horrible crimes he was convicted of. In fact, if he wasn’t wearing the khaki jumpsuit, he was sure he would’ve let himself. “And what about school? How’s school? Your grades?”

“Fine. As and Bs, mostly. I’m taking all the regular classes. And my electives this semester are Spanish, debate, and study hall.”

“Debate? How are you enjoying that?”

James shrugged, uncomfortable bragging about himself. “It’s fun.” He left out that he was captain of the underclassmen debate team.

“And Spanish is an elective?” John asked in an interested voice. “Does your school not have a language requirement?”

“No, it does. Two years. But I want to take Spanish for all four. I just meant, I’m taking Spanish as opposed to French or German.”

John nodded. “That’s a very intelligent choice. Does your mother help you with your Spanish studies?”

James nodded, a bit taken aback that John knew his mom spoke Spanish. It wasn’t like she spoke it often. He was surprised it came up in their time together. “Yeah, sometimes. When I was first learning last year, she labelled everything in the house. And she’ll speak to me in Spanish sometimes when I want to practice.”

“She sounds like a wonderful mother.” John spoke softly, kindly, genuinely pleased.

“She’s the best.”

~

James had returned when he said he would, but he was very light on the details. When she’d asked how camping had been, all he said was “fine.” But she knew he hadn’t gone camping. She’d called the parents of the family he claimed to be camping with, and they were home.

James was lying.

Would he really lie about spending the whole weekend with a girl? He never used to lie to her.

Patience had gone out and purchased condoms, dental dams, and a few other small but useful things and left them in the top drawer of James’ bathroom. She considered leaving him a note, assuring him they didn’t need to talk about it if he didn’t want to, but eventually decided that leaving no note would convey the same message.

She was fairly certain she had James’ sudden secrecy figured out until a few days after his return. James had just gotten on the bus for school, and she was about to head to work. She pulled out her phone to check her banking app, debating the financial pros and cons of stopping for a coffee on the way.

She froze.

She double-checked that the name at the top of the account was hers. Then triple-checked. It was. She went into her checking account, to see where the staggering windfall of cash had come from.

And then she threw up.

~

James couldn’t focus at all. He hadn’t taken a single note, hadn’t read anything his teachers wrote on the board. He’d even been called on in government class, but he hadn’t even heard the question. His mind was elsewhere. Back in a Montana correctional facility with his dad.

His dad who was friendly, who missed flying his planes, who wished his siblings were housed in the same facility. His dad told him what each of the small tattoos on his hand meant, who laughed kindly when James clarified the latest teen slang he’d used, who promised to keep in touch and had already kept his word – a letter had arrived in his secret PO box just yesterday.

The same dad who was and remained a religious extremist, who’d used his legal knowledge to cheat people out of their homes and businesses, who’d cut off food supply to the Holland Valley. The same dad who’d tortured people, who’d skinned people, who’d murdered people.

James thought that meeting his dad would clear things up, but he’d never felt muddier…

~

John had aged well in the intervening 16 years. He had lines around his eyes, and his hair and beard had gone salt-and-pepper, but it worked. He looked just as good, if not better, than he had when she last saw him. How was it possible to age so well in prison? It hardly seemed fair.

He smiled at her from across the table, with that same charming smile and those sparkling white teeth. “Deputy. What a wonderful surprise.”

Patience glared at him. “Cut the shit and don’t call me that.”

“Patience Ekner.” The smile didn’t leave his face. “Or Rook, now, isn’t it? Cute.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you find this amusing, truly, but I actually need to speak with you.” They fell back into their old banter so easily that it startled her.

John leaned easily, comfortably, back in the cold metal chair. He nodded for her to continue.

“What the hell is that money?”

“It’s for my son,” he answered easily. Too easily. As if it were the most normal, natural statement in the world.

Patience had to restrain herself from leaping across the table and throttling him like she should’ve all those years ago.

“My son!”

All the mirth drained from his features and she was faced with the stony, terrifying look that lingered in the nightmares of so many Hope County residents.

“Our son. That you hid from me for 16 years.”

“He’s 15.”

“Pregnancy, dear. Also hidden.”

“And for good fucking reason!”

He scoffed. “I don’t think there’s any reason good enough to keep a father from his son. And James agrees with me.”

If looks could kill… well, John would’ve been dead long before he got her pregnant. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you even say his name.”

“Why not? It’s a perfectly good name. Strong, masculine, Biblical. I’m pleasantly surprised. I’d have expected you to name a child Björn or something ridiculous like that.”

Patience rolled her eyes. “Believe it or not, John, your opinion didn’t actually factor into what I named my child.”

He smiled softly. “Yes, it did.”

“John, I am only here to tell you to leave us alone. And to take your money back. I don’t need it.”

“It isn’t just for you. It’s for James.” How calmly he spoke did nothing but piss her off even further. “I’m assuming you didn’t react well when James told you he’d visited me.”

Patience stayed silent and John grinned as she fell into the obvious trap.

“Oh…?” His tone was thick with blatantly-faux surprise. “He didn’t tell you? And I suppose you didn’t tell him you were here now?”

She remained silent, glaring.

“Interesting. It seems you’re both talking more to me than to each other.”

“Stop it. Just shut the fuck up and leave us alone.”

John shrugged. “I can leave you alone, yes, but if James wants a relationship with me, I have no interest in denying him.”

As Patience left, she heard him call out to her back, “You still look wonderful, Deputy!”

~

James heard his mother slam her bag down onto the table first thing when she came home. He walked into the kitchen to greet her.

“Bad business trip?”

His mom looked at him with a look he couldn’t place, one he’d never seen before.

“…Mom?”

“I wasn’t on a work trip, James. I was in Montana.”

Oh. That was the look. She knew. Of course she knew. James had never lied to his mom and he was apparently not very good at it. Not like her. He tried to quash down the unkind thought.

He also tried to quash down his initial impulse to apologize. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Well- at least, looking into this and contacting his dad wasn’t wrong. And he wasn’t going to apologize for that. The stealing and the sneaking off to Montana… that might warrant an apology.

“James…” Then his mom was rushing towards him, taking him into her arms, holding him so tightly she was practically crushing him.

And then he was hugging her back.

“How? How did you find this out?”

James sighed. “I was doing a Wikipedia deep dive on cults…”

His mom raised one eyebrow, perplexed. “Why were you doing that?”

He felt his face redden as he thought about Millie from geometry class. But he explained nonetheless, “My friend Millie is into true crime. She was interested in Jonestown, so I just… did a little research.”

He nearly jumped, he was so startled when his mom burst into raucous laughter. Seeing the look on his face, she tried to pull herself together.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry; it’s not funny. Just, that we got into this mess so you could impress a girl!” She laughed again and kissed his forehead. “Oh, you are so my son…”

James grinned at the joke.

“So. How did you realize?”

“I look like him.”

She nodded. “You really, really do.”

“I saw some videos of some of the trial.”

She nodded again, squeezing his arm in support. “That must have been hard.”

“I saw lots of interviews with you, too. Ekner?”

“Yes, Ekner,” she smiled kindly. “That was my grandpa’s name. It’s Swedish.”

James nervously chewed his lip, in much the same way his mom often did. “Yeah. You look Swedish.” He paused. “I don’t.”

“No. You don’t. I don’t know where John’s family is originally from.”

They were silent for a long moment until he finally spoke again. “Why?”

“Why what, honey?”

“Him.”

“Oh.” His mom looked down, as if gathering strength. And then she was honest with him. Truly honest. “You have to understand, it was like the world was ending. Not like the Peggies thought – that’s what we called the cultists, Peggies. Not literally, like them. But like the world as I knew it was ending. We had no phone, no TV, no internet. I was the last law enforcement officer left, and I wasn’t enforcing any laws. I was just trying to save people where I could.

“Everyone was armed. And everyone was using their arms. There was no food. I went hungry a lot. Hunted and fished when I could. My home, along with lots of others, had been burned down. I slept in abandoned cabins, unoccupied bunkers, and in trees stands. People were trying to kill me and I killed people. Always in defense of myself or others, but I’ve taken lives.

“I never thought I’d see a day where I could check the news on my phone, drive to work, go out to eat with friends, go on a walk unarmed… It was a completely different world. It was a war. Horrifying. The things I saw… well, I’m sure you read about them.”

James nodded. “I saw some pictures.”

He was once again pulled into his mom’s arms. “I’m so sorry, James. I never wanted you to see anything like that. I’m sorry you had to. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I want- Just keep going.”

“Ok.” She nodded and continued, “It was basically the end of the world. And in spite of everything he was doing, he was charming. And we became… well, obsessed with each other. Rivals, almost, though that makes it sound trivial. Taunting each other over the radio, going out of our ways to make each other’s lives harder, even in ways not specifically related to the cult or the resistance…

“And then it just sort of happened.

“And then it kept happening. In spite of everything he was doing. I knew it was wrong. And it’s not that I didn’t care… it’s that I didn’t care enough.”

“…Oh.”

“But I can’t regret it because it brought me you.”

He returned her small smile.

“And I’m sure you’re angry with me. And I’m sure you’re hurt.”

Yes and yes. But he didn’t respond.

“You’re allowed to be upset, you know.”

“I am,” James admitted.

“Everything I’ve done has been to protect you. He’s not a good man.”

“I know.” He looked down at the linoleum flooring beneath them. “But he’s still my dad.”

“Just biologically.”

James simply shrugged. “Maybe. But shouldn’t I get to decide that?”

His mom’s eyes watered with unshed tears and her face became pink in an effort not to cry. “You can’t trust him, honey.”

James wasn’t sure he could trust her either anymore. But he knew in his gut he would trust her again someday. So, he spoke honestly. “I don’t trust him. I just want to know him.”

“I don’t think he’s the kind of person anyone can truly know.”

“Did you know him?”

His mom hesitated a long time before telling him, “I’m not sure.”

“Oh.”

She gently squeezed his arm again. “I can tell you what I do know?”

James looked into his mom’s eyes and nodded once. And for the first time, she began to tell her son about his father.