#it's the paw in both worlds and the distrust in her own clan that makes her reach out to thunderclan time and time again

[sunnymoon-sunshine]

I still think it’s criminal that, out of all possibilities they could have done with Mistystar in regards to giving her a story of her own, they never wrote about her time in ThunderClan during The Darkest Hour. I honestly thought that was what her novella was going to be about when it came out.

There’s a plethora of ideas there. Mistyfoot, having been raised in RiverClan all her life, now having to acclimate herself to what she now knows is not just an enemy clan, but her mother’s clan. Her mother’s clan that just saved her when her birth clan turned a blind eye to the torture and death that were placed on the shoulders of Bluestar’s kits.

The elders! They remembered Bluefur’s lost litter. She must have caught them staring at her, noticing the striking similarities to their lost leader. How their lost kit had grown, and how they had called her name for weeks trying to find her in the thick snows that blanketed the forest in the season of her birth.

Or how ThunderClan struggled to consolidate the idea that an enemy was also their kin. Much as they may not have liked it, Mistyfoot had a claim in ThunderClan - even though, just a few short moons ago, she had cornered their leader in an ancestral battle over Sunningrocks. How could a warrior, born inside their clan yet raised in with their bitter rivals, fit into ThunderClan? It’s by the mercy of Firestar, born outside of ThunderClan, and Whitestorm, her cousin on her mother’s side, that she is accepted to ThunderClan.

Whitestorm, who remembered Bluestar’s lost litter, and how much his beloved aunt grieved for them. His aunt, his mother in how she raised him to be kind, to be noble, and to be a warrior ThunderClan could be proud of. Oh, how Bluestar would have done the same for her kits - it’s a pity, he thinks, that all Bluestar’s finest qualities went towards warriors of another clan.

And yet he enjoys being around Mistyfoot. She’s sharp as a thorn, quick as a weasel and she holds her ground, no matter how sharply her bones jut out, or how intense her grief is for her littermate. He understands, because he understands grief - and he feels it, in some way he cannot fathom, a sharp pang for the cousin he only knew in name alone, in the words of warriors who spoke of the greatest warriors of the forest. Stonefur. He would have liked to know his kin. To imagine a world where Bluefur could have raised her kits in ThunderClan with Thrushpelt, and he could have played with and taught and perhaps even mentored. Oh, how Bluefur’s kits would have been loved. He wonders what happened to Mosskit - and decides that it’s a secret that must have died with Bluestar, and that he’ll know soon. He isn’t a young cat, after all.

And he’s the one that comforts Mistyfoot the most. She isn’t alone anymore, because when she lost Stonefur, she lost the last of her RiverClan kin besides her own children, and Silverstream’s kits. There is family in ThunderClan, who knew her mother well - and know some very funny stories of her mother, to boot - and she is comforted by that. She knows why her mother gave her up, moons ago, because Whitestorm isn’t stupid and he understands how his father’s bloodthirsty nature most likely contributed to her decision. How Bluefur rose from the ashes of losing her children to accept her destiny as deputy, and how his father hated her for that for the rest of his life. There was something there, he was sure.

And he apologizes, because she should have been ThunderClan. And she disagrees - she loved being RiverClan, after all.

But being in ThunderClan’s camp, with the kin of her mother and the clan that was her first home, she starts to wonder what life would have been like - and would be like - if she stayed, all those moons ago.

[warriorsfireandwater]

Family First

A little one-shot based on the idea I sent about what Fireheart and Sandstorm’s stances would be on his presence in their kits’ lives. Obviously not telling you that you need to use this, but my muse doesn’t know when to shut up. 

Half a moon ago, if Fireheart had seen Sandstorm waiting at Sunningrocks, he would have been overjoyed beyond his wildest dreams. It was odd, now that he thought about it. Their Clans had despised each other for seasons, constantly at each other’s throats over who had the right to the very stones he had met with her so often on. Yet somehow, he was never quite as happy as he was during their secret meetings. For a while, he had thought that she felt the same way.

That hadn’t exactly turned out to be the case. Now, as he stared at her, finally coming face to face with her for the first time since she had so coldly dismissed him that fateful day, he didn’t know what to think. He tried to be angry with her–after all, she had been the one to end their relationship, yet here she was, asking to speak to him again. But instead, all Fireheart could feel was confusion, worry, and, though he tried to suppress it, a tiny seed of hope. 

“So,” he meowed, finally finding his voice. “It’s good to see you. You’re looking well." 

"Thanks,” Sandstorm meowed, glancing down at her paws. Fireheart wondered if she felt as uncomfortable as he did. “Listen, there’s…there’s something I need to tell you.”

“I’m listening,” Fireheart replied simply.

She took a deep breath, then meowed, “I…I’m going to have kits.”

Although Fireheart was by no means an idiot, there were times when he was a bit slow on the uptake. For a few heartbeats, he stared at Sandstorm in confusion until the unspoken truth of her words finally registered in his still-lagging mind. 

“I see,” he meowed finally, realizing even as he spoke the words that it was quite possibly the most pathetic reaction to finding out that one was going to be a father in history. But he was too stunned to do anything else. 

If Sandstorm was at all bothered by his apparent lack of enthusiasm, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she pressed on, “I…I know things didn’t end well between us, but I want our kits to grow up with both parents. You’re a great cat, Fireheart, and I know you’ll make a good father. So…will you be a part of our children’s lives?" 

Our children. The phrase tugged at something deep within Fireheart’s chest, and for a moment, for one brief, bright moment, he allowed himself to imagine a world in which he and Sandstorm were raising their kits together. Where they were the happy family he had always wanted. Some of their Clanmates might disapprove, but they would stand strong throughout all of it. 

But just as quickly, reality sunk in and he shook his head. As much as he wanted to be with Sandstorm and raise their little family together, he knew it wasn’t possible. The past few moons had forced him to grow up in more ways than one, and he knew now that he couldn’t afford to waste his time dwelling on pipe dreams. 

"No,” he meowed finally, feeling as though he was being torn open as he spoke his rejection. “I’m sorry, Sandstorm, but…I just don’t think it would work out." 

Her face fell. "Why not?” she protested. “We used to meet in secret all the time. Who’s to say we can’t do it again?" 

The irony of the fact that she was asking to meet in secret again when she had been the one to end things wasn’t lost on him. Instead of commenting on it, he replied, "Back then, we only had ourselves to worry about. How long do you think it will take for someone to notice that your kits keep disappearing from the camp?" 

"We could make it work,” Sandstorm pleaded. “Or if you don’t want to sneak around, I could join RiverClan or you could join ThunderClan. We’ll find a way, Fireheart, I swear." 

"Sandstorm, don’t,” Fireheart interrupted, shaking his head. “I’m not going to leave RiverClan, and I’m certainly not going to ask you to leave ThunderClan. Neither of us would ever be happy if we had to leave our Clans. Face it. There’s no way this is going to work." 

"But–" 

”Don’t,“ he interrupted again, his tail lashing in frustration. "Don’t you think this hurts me just as much as it’s hurting you? They’re my kits too, Sandstorm. You can’t possibly want me to be a part of their lives more than I do. But if we’re going to give them the best lives possible, they need to grow up believing that their father is a ThunderClan warrior." 

Fireheart paced back and forth, unable to meet his former mate’s gaze. He wasn’t sure what prompted him to start speaking, but once he started, he found that he couldn’t stop. 

"You want to know why I don’t think this will work. Well, let’s start with the obvious. I’m sorry, Sandstorm, but I don’t trust Tigerstar. I’ll freely admit that I don’t know the full extent of what he’s like as a leader, but he was Thistlestar’s deputy and that’s not something I’m willing to overlook. Thistlestar didn’t seem like the type of leader who would choose a deputy that didn’t agree with him on all counts. But whereas Thistlestar ruled by brute force and fear tactics alone, Tigerstar has the strength of LionClan and the cunning of a fox, which makes him even more dangerous. If he found out that our kits were half-Clan, I don’t trust him not to hurt them in some way because he would certainly be clever enough to make it look like an accident." 

"Furthermore, even under the miraculous circumstance that he doesn’t cause our kits to suffer some sort of horrific fate, letting them grow up being known as half-Clan kits would still deny them their right to be accepted by their Clanmates. The warrior code prevents us from physically harming a kit regardless of their birthplace. It does not, however, prevent anyone from giving said kit a hard time about their birth." 

"I love being a Clan cat and I would never even dream of going back to Twolegplace. Despite this, I can safely say that there are some significant failings in the way Clanborn cats think, particularly with your inability to see past the circumstances of someone’s birth." 

"I was born a kittypet, but I’ve lived in RiverClan since I was six moons old, and I’d like to think I’ve done everything in my power to be a loyal warrior. Even so, there are still cats even within my own Clan who distrust me, who still consider me to be fundamentally inferior to them because I wasn’t born in RiverClan. They may not say it out loud as much anymore, but I see the way they look at me when they think I’m not paying attention. Even those that aren’t necessarily trying to be insulting still consider me less than them deep down because that’s the way all Clanborn cats were raised: to think they’re better than everyone else simply because they were born in the forest." 

"Should I have to put up with it? No. And in an ideal world, I wouldn’t have to. But I’m willing to do it anyway because I love it in RiverClan and because my predicament is mostly by my own doing. I didn’t have any control over being born in Twolegplace, no. I did, however, have control over whether or not I chose to go out into the forest." 

"But I don’t want our kits to grow up the way I did, Sandstorm. I don’t want them to have to put up with constant whispers and taunts. I don’t want them to grow up believing that they should be ashamed of their parents. What happened between us was a mistake. I’m not saying it wasn’t the best time of my life, but it was a mistake. We were both foolish–well, mostly me for even suggesting it in the first place. And if the day ever comes when I have to pay for that misjudgment, I’m fully prepared to accept my fate. Our kits, however, are innocent, and they don’t deserve to be judged for their parents’ mistakes. But you know just as well as I do that if anyone else finds out that our kits are half-Clan, they’re going to pay for our mistakes for the rest of their lives." 

"I can’t let that happen, Sandstorm. I won't let that happen. I’m sorry. If there were any other way…but there isn’t. I’ll always love them and I hope they know that I’m proud of them, but I can’t be their father. I know you’ll raise them to be warriors that ThunderClan can be proud of, and I know they’ll have a wonderful father as well. It’s just…not me. I had the power to decide whether I stayed in Twolegplace or not, and now, I have the power to make sure that my kits have the life I could never have, being fully and unconditionally accepted by the cats they’ll be living alongside until the day they join our ancestors. And that’s an opportunity I can’t afford to miss." 

Without another word, Fireheart turned around and padded away, heading deeper into his own territory, feeling wearier than ever. Perhaps the day would come when he finally felt proud of the choice he had made for his unborn kits, but right now, the only thing he could feel was a heavy sadness. 

It wasn’t fair. For as long as he could remember, all Fireheart had ever wanted was someone in the Clans who shared blood with him. He saw how happy the families in RiverClan were, and he wanted that for himself. Now, there would be a litter of kits who shared his blood, creations of his and Sandstorm’s love (or what had once been). But he couldn’t ever claim them as his own. 

But he did have a family. His family was RiverClan, from the smallest kit to the grumpiest elder. They might not share blood, and certainly not all of them were fond of him, but they were all willing to put their lives on the line for him just as he was willing and ready to do the same for them. 

Fireheart knew the love his mother had for him. He knew the love of a warrior for his Clan, he knew the love between mates, he knew the love between littermates, and now, he knew the love of a father for his kits. And in the end, wasn’t that really what family was all about anyway? 

If it meant his kits were happy, then he would gladly put himself through anything for their sake because that was what a good father should be doing: putting his children’s safety and happiness above his own. 

Besides, no matter what, he was a RiverClan cat first and foremost. 

And in RiverClan, family always came first. 

- - - - - - 

wow that shit hurted... this is so good ty for writing this!! i love seeing other people’s takes on the characters and getting little writing snippets like this :’)))

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 12

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 12: Ella turns her back to Birmingham and stays with Alfie. But there’s still trouble they cannot shake 

         It still surprised Alfie to wake up with Ella in bed with him. Even though it had been nearly nine weeks of the routine. He’d been counting, yes. Because every Saturday morning, when he allowed himself to stay in bed a little longer than usual, he remarked at the sight. The next day would be the ninth Saturday.

           It gave him time to notice certain things about Ella in a setting he hadn’t seen her in before.

           Without fail, she always slept on her side. So there was a fifty percent chance she would be facing him when he woke up. It was one of those mornings. Her hand wedged between her cheek and the pillow, her lips parted slightly as she slept soundly. Her dark hair had grown longer than she usually kept it. It only made sense, she said Ada or Polly usually cut her hair. They always had.

           She’d rotate between wearing her slips to bed and swiping one of Alfie’s freshly laundered shirts. He didn’t complain. He liked the way it overwhelmed her smaller frame, grazing mid-thigh, and the sleeves over her hands if she didn’t roll them up.

           Alfie didn’t complain about a lot of things those nine weeks. It was comforting to have Ella with him. It had blossomed into a strangely domestic scenario. She never left after the night they reunited. She’d simply gone to work the next day and arrived that night with most of her things.

           He didn’t even bat an eye. Because it felt right. More than anything, it was what he craved. The woman he loved always there. Becoming accustomed to her rose and honey perfume and lavender soap, the feminine scents taking a hold of his flat. She arrived home from work far earlier than he did. Sometimes he’d find her in the parlor listening to the radio or already in bed, depending on the time of night.

           Alfie would’ve loved to bury his head in the sand and accept that it was heaven. But he couldn’t. The outside world was still threatening to spill into the quiet home they kept.

           The Shelbys were still in prison and Alfie could see Ella’s hope waning with each passing day. He saw the uneasiness in her eyes. The distrust of everything around her. Her blue eyes always glancing at the quiet telephone or out the window.

           It made Alfie agitated because he couldn’t fulfill her wishes. To make sure her family was spared. The only man who had that power was being an unbearable prick and Alfie was sure he would cause bodily harm the next time their path’s crossed.

           Of course, he wouldn’t. He’d bide his time. Wait for Tommy to make a move. Because there was something the Blinder knew that Alfie didn’t. Something brewing on the horizon and only Tommy was at a high enough point to see what it was. And if it involved Tommy, it involved the entire family whether they liked it or not. That meant Ella so inevitably; Alfie would have to gear up for whatever battle. He wouldn’t let Tommy’s past fuck-ups affect her anymore.

            All he could do was try to win her trust back, even just the little bit he would allow her. Ella had doubled down on her decisions, cozying up in Camden with Alfie. But she listened. Watched. Waited for that sign that something was amiss. Anticipated the next time he would lie or betray her. Maybe he’d lead the police right back to her. Maybe he’d send her back to her brother. She loved him, enough to believe he wouldn’t do such a thing. But there was once a time she thought her own brother would never let his family go to prison.

           As the weeks passed, however, it became increasingly difficult to keep up her guard around him. Not when he was so gentle and cautious around her. With every passing day, she was reminded of why she found him so endearing.

           She’d truly laughed for the first time in what felt like ages because of him. When he scolded Cyril in Russian for snatching half a loaf of bread off the kitchen counter. But only a moment later he was sneaking the mastiff table scraps.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           They made love for the first time a few days after the seventh Saturday together.

           Alfie had returned late from work. It wasn’t strange, but Ella was anxious to see him after a long day of work. She stayed up in bed for a bit before she realized she hadn’t left out anything for Alfie to eat.

           Ella wasn’t much of a cook. Not that Alfie seemed to mind much. He often made himself breakfast as he left for work much earlier than she did. And if he did come home early enough for supper, he was more than content with whatever Ella came up with. She learned her way around a kitchen from Polly and Ada. Neither were symbols of a perfect housewife. She certainly could feed a clan of Travelers. Skinning a rabbit seemed much easier than producing grand meals from scratch. It was especially intimidating to consider cooking traditionally Jewish dishes. She thought Alfie might like the gesture, but was terrified to disappoint. How embarrassing would it be to only point out the obvious? That she would never be the Jewish wife his family expected him to have.

           She was ruminating on this occurring fear as she cut up a loaf of bread in the kitchen. Cyril stood by her side, his tail wagging expectantly.

           When the front door opened, he turned and rushed over to greet Alfie. Ella heard the man quietly greet the dog, his heavy boots joined by Cyril’s paws padding on the hallway floor.

           “El?” Alfie looked puzzled to see her still awake.

           “I didn’t really make anything for dinner I…” She turned and gasped.

           He was sporting a black eye that certainly hadn’t been there that morning. He winced, knowing he wouldn’t have been able to hide it from her even if he tried. “Don’t worry, dealt with the fucker who did it.” It was mildly pleasing to know that the man had a bag of bricks tied to his ankle and dropped into the river. Clean cut. No blood. Wasn’t exactly eye for an eye but Alfie didn’t play that way.

           Ella grabbed a cold cloth to give to him. “Put that on it.” She instructed firmly. She had nearly a lifetime’s experience with tending to black eyes both her own and her brothers’.

           “What’re you still doing up, love?” He asked, gently pressing the cloth to his bruised eye.

           “Well, I’d gone out to dinner earlier with Amelia. I completely forgot to make you anything. If you’d like, I could put something together…”

           “Ain’t your job to feed me,” He chuckled and sat down to take off his boots. “Who’da ever thought you’d become such a little domestic mouse after a couple of months?” He teased.

           Ella couldn’t help but smile and walked over to unbutton his waistcoat and kiss his forehead. “Well is Cyril going to take care of you?” She murmured back tauntingly. “Because you’ve got a black eye, love.”

           “In me own fucking house.” He shook his head and playfully grabbed the skirt of her nightgown. “Toying with me in me own house.”

           She giggled and batted his hands away. While leaving the kitchen, she glanced over her shoulder. “Eat something. I’ll draw you a bath. Or would you rather I go to bed?”      

           “Cheeky girl.” He grunted and stood up. “Go on, I’ll be up in a minute.”

           She smiled and headed upstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           After a long soak to ease the ache in his body, Alfie dried off and walked into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Ella’s blue eyes followed him across the room as he went to rummage through the dresser.

           Maybe it was just timing, but she’d never seen him so vulnerable. Stripped of all the trappings he used to boost his stature. Never seen the tattoos that crawled over the blade of his shoulder, around the cuff, and onto his chest. Symbols, words, letters she didn’t recognize. Scars etched into several places on his body. A new one shown with every movement of his muscles. Some mildly faded nicks. Others angry and deep-set.

           It was hard to get over how beautiful he was.

           Ella stood from the bed and crossed the floor between them. Alfie heard her shy footsteps on the creaking floor and turned, a shirt in hand. He didn’t speak for a moment and neither did she. Her eyes scanned his torso as if she were cataloging every inch of it.

           Alfie’s breath hitched when she reached up and touched his chest. Her eyes found his again.

           “You’re not meant to have sex ‘fore marriage in your religion.” She clarified without much context.

           He swallowed and shook his head subtly. “No, not really.”

           Her fingertips were light against his skin. “How many women have you slept with?”

           “I uh…” He wasn’t sure what sort of answer she was looking for. But he decided sticking to the truth was ideal. Probably wouldn’t believe him if he testified he was untouched. “Didn’t keep count.”

           Her expression of curiosity didn’t falter. “I’m the last one then.”

           Alfie’s pupils blew wide. The unexpected bout of possessiveness from her was indescribable. It was like a hand reaching right into his chest and clutching at his heart. Without a second to spare, he scooped her up in his arms, hands firm on her thighs. “Ain’t ever made love before. Fucked, sure, but never made love.” He walked her to the bed, her arms and legs wrapping around him tightly. Eyes fixed on him. “So you’d be the first and last woman to claim that prize.” A smirk crossed his lips.

           “Gladly.” She murmured and kissed him without abandon.

           It was like sticking a hand into a fire without getting burned. Ella couldn’t have Alfie close enough. She needed to feel every inch of him against her. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades, clinging to him with every movement.

           With every flex of muscle, they stoked the fire fostered between them. At the peak, Ella cried out and buried her face into his shoulder. She was trembling so badly, Alfie was terrified he’d hurt her.

           When he regained his voice, he drew back and cupped her cheek. “You alright? Did I hurt you?”

           Ella laughed breathlessly and released her grip on him. Her fingers carded through his hair. “The complete opposite.” She captured his lips again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

           She was beautiful. Alfie couldn’t look at her without thinking that. It made his heartache when he woke up to her beside him. As each Saturday passed, he became more and more comfortable with the idea of forever. Forever having her, forever being hers. Used to be he didn’t know what forever was. That was until he found himself in her eyes.

           It was terrifying for a man like him. Someone who didn’t think he deserved forever with someone like her. But she’d firmly rooted herself in his home and his life. And he would never turn her away, not when he knew how devastatingly painful it was.

           So every morning, he kissed her forehead and whispered three words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Around the twelfth Saturday, Alfie noticed Ella was confining herself. For good reason, she hadn’t been back to Birmingham. But she didn’t roam in London. She’d been keeping herself to Camden much to his surprise. It was nice, she told him about the women she’d met including Ollie’s wife.

           He wasn’t sure if it was a tactic to try and forget her family. It didn’t seem like a healthy strategy but he wasn’t sure how to bring up the matter. Besides, she appeared happy enough. There were always the subtle hints she unwittingly gave up about her worry. But she would brush him off if he ever inquired if she was okay.

           One night, Alfie came home to the house smelling like an actual bakery. Warmth radiated from the kitchen and Ella had the radio loud enough so she could hear it from the parlor.

           He greeted Cyril while hanging his coat up. “What’s she up to then?” He asked the mastiff and followed him into the kitchen.

           Ella was humming along to the music, subtly dancing around the kitchen. She spun back and forth between the counter and the table. Her curls pinned up to accommodate for the longer length they were. She’d fashioned a small scarf into a headband to hold back any stray pieces of hair. She had what appeared to be a new apron tied around her waist and was wearing one of Alfie’s button-down shirts, the sleeves bunched up around her elbows, and a pair of loose-fitting trousers.

           Alfie smiled and snuck up behind her. She shrieked when he tickled her sides. “Alfred Solomons!” She smacked his arm. “Don’t fucking do that when I’ve got a knife in me hand!”

           He laughed and surveyed the scene in front of him. “You baking, love?” There was flour everywhere, even in Ella’s dark hair and across her cheek. The scent of bread also wafted from the oven.

           She pulled a sour face when she sensed the hint of amusement in his voice. “So what if I am?” Her hands went to her hips.

           Alfie wrapped his arms around her waist. “Didn’t think you liked baking, s’all.”

           Ella frowned and slung her arms around his neck. “Not much good at it.” She admitted. “Minnie tried teaching me. Says she’ll teach me how to make Challah.”

           “That’s nice.” He nodded and recognized the name of one of his neighbors down the street. She was one of the women Ella had befriended. “Made a fucking mess but smells good.” He brushed the flour off her cheek and tried to comb it out of her hair.

           She shrugged. “We’ll see how it turns out. Trying to be proper, I s’pose.”

           Alfie’s brow furrowed. “That what this is ‘bout?” He tilted her chin up so she couldn’t avoid eye contact. “Love, you don’t need to do all this. You’re not…” He waved a hand around to find the words. “Don’t need you to be like them.”

           “Like Minnie?”

           “Right. I know that’s not you. Don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not, right, if ya just trying to please me. Love you the way you are.”

           Ella stuck out her lower lip, her eyes flicked sheepishly away from his face. “Just thought you’d…I dunno.”

           Alfie reached around her waist to untie the apron, slipping it off and tossing it onto the flour-covered counter. He took her hand and coaxed her into the parlor where the music was loudest.

           She pouted but accepted the gesture and followed him down the hall. Her arms slipped back around him as he pulled her into a slow dance. Her cheek pressed into his shoulder.

           “Me mum, yeah, wanted me to marry a good Jewish woman. Someone to take care of the house, cook Kosher, pop out Jewish babies. If I wanted that, I would’ve tried to find someone like that long time ago, right? But I didn’t because I were looking for you, weren’t I?”

           Ella smiled slightly. “Looking for trouble? ‘Cause that’s all I am.”

           “Trouble or not, you’re fucking worth it, ain’t ya?” He grazed his lips over her temple.

           “Alfie, I’m afraid.” She admitted in a voice just loud enough to hear over the music.

           “Afraid of what, love?”

           She chewed on her lip and listened to his heartbeat for a moment before she answered. “I’m afraid of what’s to come and how it’s gonna affect us. Something’s coming, I know it is.”

           After speaking to Tommy weeks earlier, Alfie agreed with her. There certainly was something in the air. “We’ll be okay.” He murmured. “Won’t let anything happen to you, yeah?”

           “Just want to stay like this.” Uncertainty made her voice waver. “Please let it stay like this, Alfie.”

           He tightened his arms around her to comfort her. “Sh, sh, s’alright. It’ll be alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Every Wednesday afternoon, Ella would travel down the street to Minnie’s flat. There, she would hold tea for the friend group. The location never varied. Minnie was one of the few women in the group who didn’t have children. So the rest of the group took the afternoon as a welcomed break from the kids. Either they were in school, or they would drop them off at a relative’s house for a few hours. Sometimes, they’d bring the kids along, letting them play with toys in Minnie’s parlor while they talked in the adjoining kitchen.

           Ella adored all of the children the women had. Ollie and Elsie had four kids ranging from even to eight months. Ruth had a two-year-old daughter who was her entire world. Annie was pregnant with her first, having only just gotten married. Nora was also pregnant but with her third child, already having two young boys. And finally, Lydia, the oldest of the group, took home the prize of most children with six little ones.

           Every opportunity, Ella took to babysit. She missed her nieces and nephews, wishing she could see them again. It wasn’t their fault the family had been torn apart. She’d made note of Charlie’s birthday and had cried when she realized how long it had been since she’d seen him.

           Still, she kept her sanity despite the seemingly irredeemable loss of her family. The relationships with the Camden women and women from work helped. Along with Alfie, they reminded her that she had a choice of who her family was. Last names didn’t matter one bit.

           On Wednesdays, Ella left work early, freshened up at home and headed over to Minnie’s. Sometimes she brought along baked goods she had tried to make. It was usually just to ask Minnie what she’d done wrong because they didn’t quite taste as good as they did when they’d made the same thing together.

           She adored the small, tight-knit group of women and was grateful they had been so welcoming to her. It did help that most of them were wives of men who worked for Alfie. Some women in Camden would hardly look at Ella not because of her lack of religion, but because of her affiliation with the gangster boss.

           They were quite different from the women she’d been raised with. They were modern women in an orthodox community. Their hair was covered because of their marital status, never wore trousers, they attended temple without fail, and were devoted to their husbands. They were the kind of Jewish women that Alfie’s mother probably wanted him to marry. But times were changing and they’d secured some freedoms. Among friends, they were chatty and loved to have a good laugh. They tittered about topics that most men would deem inappropriate for women. Some even had a good deal to say about the current climate. But it was all good fun.

           They especially liked having Ella around. The Shelby girl was extremely interesting to them both because of her different upbringing and her unorthodox relationship with Alfie. The women were careful not to discuss the Shelby family. Ella had been clear that she no longer associated with them and would rather not go into too much detail about the situation. Minnie, the one closest to Ella, knew a bit more than the rest of the group. Ella had confided in her about the actions Tommy took to get her arrested. Also how her family was still facing the death sentence.

           But they did hawk her about Alfie. Most of them had known him for a very long time but only knew him as the gruff, intimidating man who had violent tendencies towards his enemies and questionable morals. None of them ever expected him to find someone to love.

~~~~~~~~~~~`

           “My mother would always steer me away from him.” Ruth wrapped her hands around the warm teacup. “You should’ve seen him before the war, El, just a troublemaker.”  

           Ella smiled and tried to imagine her Alfie as a young man. Clean-shaven, thin, always scuffed up from a fight or arrest. “Why am I not even surprised?” It was sound. Men like Alfie always got their start on the streets. All of the Shelby children did. The Italians did as well. The rejected bits of society. The bottom of the pyramid, the people the elite snubbed and continued kicking to the dirt. Most took their fate with stride. Others refused to accept it. A poor Jewish boy, a poor Irish Traveler, poor Italian immigrants. They simply kept getting up, dusting themselves off, and raising more and more hell. Louder and louder until they were impossible to ignore.

           “Such a little hellraiser.” Nora agreed. “The police all knew him by first and last name. They knew his mother’s name too.”

           “Do you remember when he came back from France?” Minnie set down a plate stacked with treats.

           “Sure, he came back the same day David did,” Nora answered. “Saw him at the train station. Something different about him, but they all changed when they were over there.” She shrugged.

           Ella nodded, her eyes glancing down at the tea in front of her. She hadn’t noticed how she was absent-mindedly stirring the tea for much longer than needed. “He never even dated anyone?” She wondered. Alfie hadn’t gone into detail about his past relationships. Neither of them had decided it was important enough to discuss. They didn’t realize that neither of them had ever held a serious relationship.

           The women chuckled in response. “There isn’t much dating here,” Elsie explained. “Usually your parents make the arrangement.”

           “Oh…” Ella tilted her head to the side. “That’s usually how gypsy clans do it too.” She admitted and thought about what Alfie had said a while back. About how her brother was ready to offer her up to another family. Maybe one of the Lees or the Youngs.

           “He’s had his good share of fine women from France.” Annie hid her smile into her teacup.

           The women laughed and Ella looked amused. The comment didn’t faze her. “Oh, I’m sure. We’ve had the discussion about our purity. Or lack thereof.”

           They all shared a sly look. “And I’m sure he’s given you the spiel that sex before marriage is never explicitly forbidden in the Torah.” Annie giggled and nudged Ella’s arm.

           Her face turned red. “Well, no he didn’t mention that specifically. Just said it wasn’t really proper.” She shrugged meekly.

           “Alfie does what he likes.” Minnie sighed and shook her head. “He always has, but you’d have to be blind to miss the way he looks at you. Didn’t think he had that sort of affection for anyone.”

           It warmed Ella’s heart to think about the subtle smile he tried to hide whenever he looked her way. Minnie was right; it was damn near impossible to miss the softening of his features, the way his muscles slightly relaxed, and the fondness written in his eyes. “He is much more than his reputation. We’ve had our ups and downs…but he is a good man.” She smiled sheepishly. “I ought to think he likes me if he’s stuck around this long.”

           Ruth chuckled. “Are you mad? He’s crazy for you. Surprised he hasn’t swept you off to get married.”

           Ella tapped her heel against the leg of her chair and clicked her tongue. “Well, since I’m not Jewish…I dunno.” It was so easy to forget the clear lines of division between her and the rest of the Camden community. When they welcomed her with open arms, she could disregard their differences. But something would always pop back up to remind her. “We haven’t spoken about it since I’ve moved here.” She purposefully left out the part when Tommy tried to barter her hand for loyalty.

           Minnie rolled her eyes. “Again, the man does what he likes, love. He’s not exactly what I would call a traditional man.”

           “He’ll probably bribe Rabbi Halberg.” Lydia joked.

           They shared a laugh but Ella shook her head. “No, no, I wouldn’t want to disrespect anyone. We’ll just have to make do I suppose.”

           “His brother married a catholic girl,” Annie recalled. “Before he and Alfie went to fight in France. Actually…no, did Joseph fight in France?”

           Ruth frowned as she searched her memory. “He enlisted far sooner than Alfie did, even before the war started. He was older. I believe he was shipped further East.”

           “Perhaps. Well anyway,” Annie waved off the minor detail. “He met a nurse and married her just months after they met. Don’t believe they had much of a ceremony, just went to the court to have the marriage licensed.”

           “Oh, but what’s the fun in that?” Nora frowned. “I want to dress her up!”

           Ella laughed but cringed a little. It was a nice fantasy, dressed in white, walking down the aisle with flowers and the whole shebang. But it just didn’t seem plausible. Maybe she lost the desire when they argued about it after Tommy’s proposition. Their relationship wasn’t standard so they wouldn’t follow standard procedures. “I don’t think Alfie would want a large ceremony anyway. Besides, I never saw myself as marriage material. Minnie knows, I’m shit at cooking and I’m messier than Alfie and Cyril combined.”

           “He doesn’t want a housewife. Just a wild Shelby girl to call his own.” Nora assured her. “He’ll just want to put a massive rock on your finger and brag about you. He loves you and men in love are very foolish. They’ll act like circus clowns, flipping over backward for your affection. And when they’ve got it, they’ll do everything they can to keep you happy. Not to mention he’ll want to show off a beauty like yourself.”

           The women agreed and teased Ella over her face turning bright pink. “Like Ollie. Elsie, tell her the story.” Ruth prompted.

           Elsie grinned and shook her head. “Talk about a fool. When we met for the first time he was so nervous. I thought he was going to faint!”

           “And your father was afraid he’d made the wrong choice!”

          The women continued on, telling Ella about the first time they'd met their husbands. She smiled and laughed along with them but in the back of her mind, she wondered about what the future held for her and Alfie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Monday evening, Ella was walking home from work. Alfie wasn’t fond of the arrangement. He offered to have a car pick her up to and from work, but she brushed off his concern. She had to remind him that she’d been walking city streets on her own for a very long time, both Birmingham and London. Safe to say, she won that battle and enjoyed the walk to and from work.    

           It was nearing dusk and it was a mild night out. She was getting close to Camden Town, only a few blocks away from the flat she now called home. It was quiet out, only a few other people making the commute home as well.

           “Miss Shelby!” An unfamiliar voice from behind called her name.        

           Ella paused and turned.

           A man in a nondescript, heavy black coat and derby hat approached her. She didn’t recognize him from anywhere. Not as one of Alfie’s men or a Blinder. If Tommy were having her followed, then they wouldn’t outright address her.

           “Pardon, do I know you?” She kept her guard up, her hand subtly tucking into her coat where her small handgun was kept.

           “We haven’t met before.” He pulled out a badge to show her. “Inspector Ian Blackwell of Scotland Yard.” He introduced himself.

           “Uh-huh.” It didn’t matter whether he was actually from the Yard or pretending to be. Either way, she was wary. “Can I help you with something?”

           “I’m sure you can.” His smile was unnerving. Strangely arrogant and yet secretive. “You’re the younger sister of Arthur, Thomas, and John Shelby? The niece of Mrs. Polly Gray?” He asked.

           “I’ve no ties with my family anymore.” She replied frigidly and kept her distance from him. “I haven’t spoken to any of them in months.”

           “I’m sure you haven’t. All of them were in jail, save for Thomas.” Inspector Blackwell tucked his badge away.

           The corner of Ella’s mouth twitched as she tried to keep her surprise under wraps. “So they’ve been released?”

           “You didn’t know?”

           She wasn’t fooled. That was a tried and true Shelby response to an interrogation. Answer questions with more questions. “If they’re not in prison anymore, Inspector, then why are you so curious about them?”

           He chuckled and stepped towards her. “What about a Mr. Alfie Solomons? What do you know about him?”

           Ella leaned away from him, trying to keep her distance without stepping back. She didn’t want him to know she was uneasy in his presence. “That name is unfamiliar to me.”

           “Really?” An amused glint passed over his face. “Shouldn’t you know the name of the man you’ve been living with for months?”

           “This conversation is over, Mr. Blackwell.” She hissed and went to turn away from him.

           Before she could reach for her pistol, the much bigger man snatched her by the arm. He wrenched her towards him and tilted his head down to whisper in her ear. “I don’t like people like you, Miss Shelby. Think you’re above the law because you’re fucking a gangster. If you make this difficult for me, rest assured I’ll make you pay. Or, you can comply and I’ll spare you.”

           “Or I can shoot you square between the eyes.” She replied in a cold voice. Her blue eyes glared back at him, refusing to show him any fear. “Do you know what’ll happen after that?”

           His jaw clenched but he didn’t respond.

           “I’ll let you know.” Her eyes narrowed. “I shoot you, spray your brains all over the street, leave you to bleed out like the pig you are. No one calls the police. Instead, four men arrive after I’ve gone. Jewish men. Very honorable men. They pick you up and bring you to a bakery down the street. They cut you into pieces, remove your teeth, burn off your fingertips, and pack you up into sacks. Around midnight, they take those sacks to the cut. Weigh them down with bricks. Come morning, there isn’t a trace of you. One could argue you never even existed. Your little friends can come here and ask what happened, but no one will know. You were never here. They’ve never heard of you. Then like that you’ve disappeared.”

           “You bitch…”

           “Thing is, Mr. Blackwell, it doesn’t matter who I’m fucking. Doesn’t matter who my family is. At the end of the day, I’m just as dangerous as they are.”

           “You and your dirty gypsy kin will hang.” The inspector snarled and tightened his grip on her arm.

           “We control the ropes, inspector. We decide who hangs.”

           “Miss Shelby?” One of the young men who worked for Alfie, Ben, was walking down the street. He paused when he saw the woman being accosted by the much taller man. “What’s going on?”

           The inspector loosened his grip and Ella took the opportunity to rip away from him. “This is Scotland Yard business, none of your concern.” He snapped.

           “You’re in Camden, anything ‘round here is Alfie Solomons’s business.” Ben reached a hand towards the gun tucked in his belt. “So I suggest you move along and leave Miss Shelby alone.”

           Blackwell narrowed his eyes but took a step back to show he was surrendering, even for just a moment. “Was only asking her a few questions, I'm well within my rights.”

           Ella moved to stand closer to Ben. “Will you walk me home?” She asked him quietly. Her eyes didn’t move from the detective, making sure he didn’t make any sudden movements.

           “Of course.” Ben nodded and gave the inspector one last glance.

           “I’ll be seeing you again soon, Miss Shelby,” Blackwell said with a hint of malicious glee in his voice. Despite her threats, he gave her a smug smirk before turning to walk away.

           “C’mon, let’s get you to the bakery.” Ben touched her arm to guide her in the opposite direction. “Alfie’ll want to hear what happened right away.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie was very interested in what the inspector had to say. But he flew into quite a fit before Ella had the chance to give him specifics. Once he heard that Ella had been stopped by someone from Scotland Yard, he dished out orders. Several men were set out to see if they could track down the inspector and others swept out to see if there were any other cops that were unfamiliar to the area.

           “If you find that fucker, you bring him back here so I can deal with him properly,” Alfie demanded before slamming the office door behind him.

           Ella was curled up in his leather chair, concern etched into her face. “Alfie, I didn’t mean to cause all this stir.” She said quietly. "I'm afraid I might've riled him up a little. He wasn't the only one tossing 'round threats." She admitted.

           “No, no.” He shook his head and rounded the desk. “’Nough of that, love. None of this is your fault.” He knelt down in front of her and took her hands. “Did he hurt you at all?”

           She shook her head. “No. He grabbed me but it’s nothing.” Her hand subconsciously rubbed the bruised area on her arm. “He knew about us…knew about my family. Alfie, they’ve been released from prison.”

           His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Must’ve been recent, haven’t heard anything ‘bout that.”

           “Things won’t be able to go back to normal.” Her eyes gazed off, blankly staring at the filing cabinets. “I’m glad they’re safe but…what did Tommy do to get them out of prison? Why did he arrange it all to begin with?”

           “S’pose that’s what that inspector is trying to figure out,” Alfie suggested with a slight shrug. His thumb grazed back and forth over the top of her hand, trying to calm them both down.

           “If the Yard’s questioning me then they’re questioning everyone. I bet they can’t even get to Tommy though.” She muttered. Her brother always had a tendency to avoid consequences.

           It was reasonable to assume Scotland Yard wanted to figure out what went wrong. Wanted to know how the members of the Shelby family just simply walked. But Alfie was not willing to let Tommy involve Ella in his mess again. Even if that meant keeping the Yard away from her. “I’ll handle it, love,” Alfie promised her.

           “This isn’t about you. This is Tommy’s doing, he should have to handle it. I’m sick of feeling the aftershocks of his decisions.”

           He clasped her hands in his. “This Blackwell, he mentioned me too, didn’t he?”

           Ella nodded hesitantly.

           “So then it’s ‘bout me. I’ll handle it.” He insisted firmly, holding her gaze. “El, I know that you’ve lost the trust of everyone including me. ‘N maybe I’ll never win it back. The only thing I can do is show that I’ll take care of you. ‘Cause I will. No matter what I’ll take care of you.”

           She leaned forward to hug him. “I wish I could be different for you.” Her voice broke. The fearlessness she’d shown in front of the inspector was beginning to fade. Those days, there was only one person she showed her vulnerability to. And he was holding her close.

           “Love, I don’t want you to be any different than you are right now.” He murmured.

           Ella buried her face in the crook of his neck, refusing to let go. “If I were different, your life would be so much easier.” She argued glumly.

           “If you were different, yeah, then we wouldn’t have fallen in love. Then me life would be fucking miserable, wouldn’t it?” He stroked her hair back and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Love you just the way you are and that ain’t ever going to change.”

           She whimpered a disagreement but was too tired to fight. Instead, she leaned into his arms, letting him take some of the weight from her shoulders. Her eyes closed and she honed in on his breathing.

           “Don’t worry about this, okay? I’ll take care of everything.”

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[lionblazelover]

Y'all wanna hear about my Villian!Lionblaze AU?

Of course you do! Who doesn't want to talk about the Lionboy?

Basically, this is an AU I made because Lionblaze is a character filled with potential that was just completely shoved aside for no reason, and I wanted to make use of that potential in a fun way. So. I made him evil.

Most things happen in the story as it should up until Eclipse. Here are a few key differences that set Lion to the path of villainy:

Lionpaw kept his relationship with Heatherpaw for a little bit longer. They becomes best friends, but don't fall deeply in love. Instead of breaking off his relationship with her in Dark River, it would happen in Eclispe, after he had almost killed Crowfeather, except-

In this AU, Lionblaze WOULD have actually killed Crowfeather. Heathertail is furious and horrified, and screams at him for being a monster, telling him that she will never speak to him again.

This is kind of the catalyst where things change for Lionblaze. Just like in canon, poor Lionboy starts having twisted nightmares. It starts off with Heathertail. Repeatedly killing her over and over again while Tigerstar whispers in his ears about the violence and suffering he has caused. The worst part of these nightmares for Lionblaze is that the brutality in these dreams slowly but surely stop bothering him

After this it kind of becomes fuzzy, because I haven't fully decided what I want to happen yet. Something I DO want is for Lionblaze to slowly become isolated from everyone but Tigerstar and Hawkfrost. The fire scene still happens, and Lionblaze learns that he had killed his father. I want that to be significant somehow. I'm struggling on whether I want Lionblaze to be the one who kills Ashfur or if it'll still be Hollyleaf. I still want Hollyleaf to have her mental breakdown, spill the truth, leave, all that. Lionblaze will lose a big pillar of his support system this way, by both Hollyleaf herself leaving and the distrust brought from his Clanmates (y'know the rumors and stuff that happen as a consequence of everyone learning the truth.) I can't remember much abt it, but I know there's a scene where Lionblaze attacks Tigerstar and pins him down, not killing him only because he's already dead, and Lion stops doing Dark Forest training. In this AU, what will happen is that Lion attacks Tiger, Tiger wins, and somehow convinces Lion to stay with him.

With Tigerstar being the only person Lionblaze trusts, Lionblaze starts seeing his Clanmates and the Clans in general as his enemy. Lionblaze is the example of how the Dark Forest training can work in destroying the Clans. And, with the Dark Forest holding one of the cats with the power of the stars in his paws, it only seems that much more likely to them that they can succeed in getting their revenge on the Clans. Lionblaze will do some very bad things in Omen of the Stars, from right under ThunderClan's noses. Only Jayfeather, and later Dovewing (and even later on Ivypool) will know it's happening.

I couldn't find a good place to put this, but in this AU, Lion's powers work slightly differently. He is invincible from his enemies. From his enemies. So his invincibility doesn't apply to people he trusts. So he will get hurt fighting his Clanmates. And, eventually, his powers no longer work against Tigerstar and Hawkfrost (yeah he didn't get hurt to them at all in training up until then. It surprises Lionblaze, Hawkfrost, and Tigerstar. This will be when Tigerstar begins truly plotting his Omen of the Stars plan.)

The Dark Forest and the Dark Forest Trainees will get more attention here. I want to show how the hierarchy of power works, the significance of becoming a Dark Forest warrior, the bonds the trainees would have gotten with each other and the residents of the Place of No Stars. Plus maybe even some StarClan development? I want to know more about the afterlife in this world and gosh darn it I will make my own rules myself if I have to.

In the end of this AU, though, I want Lionblaze to be redeemed. I'm not sure how. Something with secret agent Ivypool? Bring Heathertail back? Cinderheart? Then, the Breezepelt vs Lionblaze fight in the Dark Forest battle will hold more weight, as Breezepelt had trusted Lion and Lion legitimately liked Breezepelt and the time spent together in the Place of No Stars.

Or, maybe not.

There will be three, kin of your kin, who hold the power of the stars in their paws.

The sharp eyes of the jay bring knowledge, the roars of the lion bring fear, and the gentle wings of the dove will bring peace.

The end of the stars draw near. Broken and separated, the fourth must reunite the three enable to battle the darkness that will last forever.