#its so cluttered now ugh

[cvctuslesbian]

why did staff add the "following you" tag to the notes.....like yeah....i suspect most people in my notes are following me? what?

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 10

part 1 | part 9 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

When they get to Eddie’s trailer, Steve’s mom is sitting on the couch, eyes unblinking as she watches the TV.

There’s just static on the screen.

“Steve?” she slurs when she finally realizes they’re there. Sways a little when she stands. There’s a dreamy quality to her voice, a blank look on her tired face: agreeable but distant, a smudge of campfire smoke curling far over the trees.

Double-dosed her pills again. Jesus Christ.

“Oh, Stevie, baby, it was just awful.” She reaches out for him, and he wishes he could find comfort in the way she cups his elbows with delicate hands. Wishes he could lean into her touch and offer comfort in return, but her tone is so dull and mild that bile rises in his throat. Chemical calm bullshit, and Steve has had enough.

“Ma, just…” he sighs, shrugging her off. Scrubs a hand over his face. Too young and too old for this. “Just go home, okay?” The street is quiet again, all the neighbors tucked back in their houses now that the show has run its course. He doesn’t think anyone will notice her stumbling across the road. “Get some rest. I’ll be over in a bit.”

“Sure, baby.” He leads her to the door, and she turns there on the threshold, eyes glassy and unfocused; looks through him like he’s a ghost. Then her gaze shifts around the room — the hats, the mugs, the clutter; the lived-in explosion of color that Steve’s annoyed he likes so much — like she’s just seeing it all for the first time, and absently, she murmurs, “This place is dreadful, isn’t it?”

“Mom.”

“Hmm?” she asks, but she’s already drifting out the door.

Steve’s face is on fire. He stands there for a moment, just staring dumbly out into the dark. What the hell is wrong with her??

Behind him, Eddie snorts. "Oh, she’s on the good shit, huh?”

Steve whips his head around. Eddie’s eyes are full of mirth, his dimple peeking out, and it startles a laugh out of Steve. He thinks maybe he’d take offense if he weren't so busy being mortified.

But also, like.

It is a little funny.

Or maybe it’s so unfunny that it circles back around.

“Jesus, man,” he huffs, “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t know why she…”

“S’fine,” Eddie says with a casual flick of his wrist. Seems like he means it. He rocks back on his heels, hands in his back pockets, just sort of eyeing Steve up. Assessing. Running his tongue over his lips. They're big, for a guy's. “…You want a beer?”

“Fuck.” That sounds so nice. “Yeah. Please.”

“Have a seat.”

Steve takes the offer when Eddie nods at the couch, too tired to do the whole song and dance of ‘oh heavens no, I couldn’t possibly impose.’ Who’s got the energy for that?

The couch is old. His skull thuds against the un-cushioned back when he sinks down into it, but he’s too tired to care. Worn out as the lumpy springs under his ass, the frayed fabric beneath his arm. A wave of exhaustion rattles his bones, reverberates in his teeth. He thinks he could sleep for sixteen years.

Eddie clears his throat when he comes back with the beers, a sudden cautiousness about him as he hands Steve an unopened can like Steve might claw him in return.

"Sit down," Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna bite."

Eddie makes a strangled noise. The springs bounce as he plops onto the seat beside Steve, sitting sideways with one leg up on the couch between them, his arm resting on the back. "So, ah...." He gives a wavering chuckle; pulls a lock of hair across his face to hide himself. "Is this the part where I formally apologize for trying to knife you?"

Ugh. No the fuck it isn't. Steve’s too drained for it, absolutely at capacity for more serious shit this evening, thanks; and besides that, it was...

Whatever. It's old news.

Instead of giving a real answer he reaches into his pocket, snicks his own knife open and pretends to brandish it at Eddie, asking, "Eye for an eye?"

Eddie's eyes go huge. "Dude, what the fuck??"

"Just fucking with you," Steve laughs, lifting the can up to his mouth. "But there; now we're even. Shoulda seen your face."

“Ah—!” Eddie’s jaw drops in offense. “Ex-cuse you!”

God, of course he’s more dramatic than all the kids combined.

Steve jabs the knife into his beer, pops the top and starts to chug, throat working as he gulps the whole thing down in four big sips. It tastes like frothy, bitter piss, but it's cold and it soothes the scratch in his throat.

Eddie lets out a low whistle. "Well, goddamn, Harrington."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" "You're not?"

Steve grins and wipes his mouth.

—

They get drunk pretty fast (Eddie refused to be upstaged in his own house, so one shot-gunned beer became two became four), and somewhere along the line the conversations get weird; hilarious and dumb. Saying shit just to say it, chipping away at the ice wall between them with bare fingernails.

Eddie hollers some shit like: "What are you even talking about?" and his arms fling out wide, almost spilling his beer. "The deep sea is so much scarier than the mountains!"

"Are you joking?" Steve throws back. "The mountains have, like, giant cats and shit! Birds of prey with wingspans the size of your van."

"Yeah, and the deep sea has eldritch monsters that live in volcano vents and hunt with no eyes and eat their young for fun or whatever the fuck. You ever heard of an anglerfish? Or a phantom anglerfish? Tell me that shit isn't right out of a Lovecraft story."

"A what story?"

"How am I the one who hasn’t graduated yet?"

Then later:

“Dude, Batman? Seriously?”

“He’s the world’s greatest detective!”

“He’s a greasy little weirdo. You only like him because of your whole…” Steve gestures at his tattoos.

“Whatever, Spiderfan.”

And later still:

"Okay, okay, okay. Fuck, marry, kill... Shit. Y’know this would really be easier in a town where so many people hadn’t died."

Steve grimaces at himself; expects Eddie to call him out. It’s too insensitive, too soon.

Eddie just cracks a grin and suggests, "Fuck, marry, revive?"

—

They talk for a long time. Eddie's kind of charming when he's not being a dick. A nice smile, deep laugh lines. Steve can almost see why the kids are so obsessed with him. He's never met someone so animated; feels like he's talking to a Saturday morning cartoon. The conversation mellows out after a while, and he doesn't realize he's dozed off until Eddie shakes him awake.

"Hey, man," he says, voice just above a whisper. "I'm going to bed. You're welcome to crash on the couch, but, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I mean, your back is probably gonna hate you for it."

Steve rubs his fists against his eyelids and blinks himself awake. Feels jittery and weird, yanked out of the start of a bad dream. When he looks up he sees that he’s got his shoes up on the couch; and there’s dried drool on his chin, and all at once he feels embarrassed, off-balance and panicked like he missed the last step down a steep flight of stairs. Of course he's overstayed his welcome. He's being fucking rude. "My bad," he mutters as he jumps up off the couch. Stands up way too fast, makes his vision tilt and swirl. "I'll get out of your hair."

Eddie reaches for his arm. "Dude,” he says, “you're fine. You can stay if you want.”

Steve moves out of his hold. “Nah, get some sleep; I’ll see ya around.”

Eddie frowns at him, a little furrow between his brows, and somehow Steve feels like he’s in the wrong, like Eddie isn’t the one who just kicked him out.

Like maybe Steve’s just running away for a second time in one night. Always back and away, this guy.

Who's the fucking coward now?

—

part 11

y'all know the drill, tagging whoever commented on yesterday's installment provided your tumblr settings let me <;3 @thealwithnoname @violetsteve @manda-panda-monium @stuftzombie @bronwenmarie @aliea82 @slowandsteddie @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @ahsokatanoss @steveshairspray @hallucinatedjosten @estrellami-1 @ppunkpuppyy @stevesbipanic @silver-snaffles @yourmom-isgay @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @zombiecreatures @im-a-disgrace-to-humanity @faery-god @hotluncheddie @runninriot @a-little-unsteddie @teatimeeverybody @newtstabber @pearynice @hellion-child @cuips-not-cute @steddieas-shegoes @steves-strapcollection @loguine-linguine @griefabyss69

[nd-of-a-manatee]

Brambles pt. 1

Pls read this for context first

NEXT

[ID:

(This description is a text adaptation of a comic. Some descriptions have been tailored to fit the change in medium.)

It’s night.

The Motherlobe looms black in the dark blue sky among the trees in the quarry of Psychonauts HQ. The center window of the brain-shaped building is illuminated with pale yellow light. Inside that window, the silhouettes of Truman Zanotto–the Grand head of the Psychonauts–and an unknown female figure argue with each other as word bubbles clutter the space above them. Far below, Lili Zanotto (in her early teens) escapes the building out a side entrance and hops across hovering platforms over the lake at the bottom of the quarry. She’s wearing a blue sweater, black pants, red and white sneakers, and her brown hair tied in long low pigtails.

She steps off the last platform onto a grassy rock formation. The top of the formation used to be where her secret garden grew. It’s now empty, with a hole in the ground where the willow tree used to be. Lili hops easily past the site and uses a squiggle of levitation to clear a gap in the boulders that structure the hillside.

Lili walks on through the forest alone, hands in pockets. Giant moonlit pine trees and bushes surround her as she makes her way along an unclear path. When she reaches her destination, she looks ahead with weary irritation. Her reddish eyeshadow is purple in the low light, making her look even more tired. She has a new garden–filled with many varieties of plants, sectioned by a hedge down the center, surrounded by smooth stones, and crowned with three willows of varying height that huddle beneath a cluster of vertical cylindrical rocks that push together as if to cradle them. The whole place is covered in ropey green thorny weeds.

“Ugh. Again?” she groans.

She starts trying to pull the vines away from a nearby flowering shrub, but they’re stubborn and bite her through her fingerless black gloves. Her sixth sense suddenly gets her attention (represented with magenta lines that emanate from her head). She turns around and sees a rail-thin figure posed atop one of the stone stacks, backlit against the half moon hanging in the sky behind it. The figure is boyish and short with awkwardly long legs, upside down with one hand supporting it, the other behind his back, and both legs straight up in the air. A familiar brown helmet and red goggles make its head look bigger than it should be.

Lili, smiling, responds with telepathy.

<Hey, tree-sitter. What’re you doing here?>

Her friend and partner, Razputin, lifts his head and looks down at her through all the red hair sticking out of his helmet. He responds warmly through orange psychic waves.

<I sensed a disturbance.>

<Psh. I bet the whole county heard it,> Lili adds huffily. She glances away at nothing in particular.

<Definitely could from Sasha’s lab,> Raz admits.

<What were you doing in the lab this late at night?> she asks, crossing her arms.

<Shooting psychic waves at the moon.>

<Why? The moon’s still there during the day.>

<I know. We’ve been at it since this morning.>

Lili can’t help smiling again.

<Mind if I come down?> Raz asks.

<Go ahead. You can help me get rid of these weeds. They don’t listen to reason.>

Raz lists forward and effortlessly flips his way down the steep stone slope, landing all clean and professional in the grass at the bottom. His outfit is easier to see up close. Mint-green long-sleeve, light brown pants. The cuffs of both disappear into gray-green gloves and black and white hightop shoes. Lili gives him a single clap, and they get to work.

Both of them generate giant telekinesis hands composed of psychic energy in their respective colors. Raz selects a cluster of vines and yanks as hard as he can with his big TK hand. The vines react violently, twisting on their own so fast that the hand snaps into a cloud of scattering orange remains, complete with a “CHOMP” sound.

“Can’t we psi-blast them off?” Raz asks aloud.

“No way.” Lili doesn’t take her eyes off of the mess she’s concentrating on. Two fingers are pressed to her temple. “I’ve been so busy with missions and my mom visiting that I’ve hardly watered anything. I’d burn these stupid weeds off myself if the whole garden wouldn’t go up with them. I need my watering can, but I can’t get to it under all this.”

“Have you got any hedge clippers?”

“Yeah, they’re with the watering can.”

Raz thinks, forming a thought bubble that expands into a hand with a pair of hedge shears. He presses in on the weeds with a devilish grin.

Lili has wound up on the other side of the dividing hedge as the two of them move further into the garden. Green nettles and chunks of rope fly up from the other side while Lili tears strands of weeds apart with her TK hands. It’s a little easier, since hers wear gloves.

“So, about earlier…,” Raz begins gingerly. “Are you okay?”

Lili doesn’t break stride, but her eyes drag the ground.

“I’ve been worse. I just… I think I really screwed up this time.”

“What happened?”

Lili flashes back to earlier that evening, inside the Motherlobe. Everything is rendered in vague magenta shapes. Lili stood before a cork board covered in papers, pointing things out to the female figure from before as her father stood by. The woman’s arms were crossed stiffly. Her frame was broad and imposing. She was taller than the others in the room. Truman’s hands were clasped limply behind his back.

“Everything was going fine,” Lili continues. “I was showing mom all the cool stuff we’ve been doing and how safe the cadet missions are. She seemed, like, actually impressed for a second.”

The figure of Lili’s mother put the knuckles of her hand to her mouth. She had long hair that fell over her shoulders and a frizzy topknot that resembled a flame or firework. Her chin dipped in consideration.

“So, when are you coming back East with me?” her mother asked.

“Uh, I dunno. Things have been really busy.” Lili hadn’t had a better answer.

“Lili, be careful you’re not letting the Psychonauts get in the way of the real world.” The woman turned her intense blue gaze on Truman, who didn’t meet her eyes. “And family.”

“Why’d she look at your dad?” Raz asks in the present, poking his head over the hedge.

“Well, my dad may be really good at his job as Grand Head, but he didn’t used to be good at being, y’know, my dad,” Lili explains as casually as she can manage.

“Oh…” Raz sinks down behind the hedge as he thinks about that. “I guess Truman does hold the record for the most field hours. And office hours. And overtime hours. That probably wouldn’t leave time for much else.”

End ID]

NEXT

[prettyflyshyguy]

Anyway, thoughts on Being Human UK so far, under the cut for anyone who's interested in my TV ramblings. Shoutout to the people who suggested I watch it! It's been fun, misses the mark a little at times (for me) but overall; good! Done with Season 1 now. It's been fantastic background TV while I've been drawing/editing.

First of all, of course, the music is fantastic. Iconic British bangers left right and center. Aesthetically this show pops off. Set design, costumes, it screams 2000s so bad and also has the iconic British tv DNA. Particularly like this ghost who died in the 80s (because of course. He wears a casio and uses a walkman and listens to weird music)

The fact that they use prosthetics and a full animatronic suit for the werewolf bits has me swooning every time. It's beautiful. Visceral. Really really nice stuff. Huge props.

Writing wise, and I'm not sure if this is a british thing or a Being Human thing but the humor is great (of course!) but I find the juxtaposition of the humor with the at times, intensely dark themes and topics this show tackles, can be a bit rough. Like I really like that this show tackles some heavy stuff and the emotion of the three main characters, but it gives me a bit of whiplash at times and that lets it down a bit I feel. Its frustrating cause the humor is great, and the tackling of heavy topics is great, but sometimes they are too close together without a buffer and its a bit like OH slow down buddy! I need breathing room!

Anyway scenes like this keep me coming back because Ugh. The colour, the clutter, Joy Division playing. It's fun! The three of them are really fun!!

S1's finale had me by the throat when George hit me with the "This doesn't rob me of my humanity... It proves it." like FUCK OFF FUCK OFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF\

with the EYES AND THE TEETH TOO C'MON

Good shit good shit they know what's up. They know.

I'm not going to pay $17 for S2 on youtube right now because fuck off. Will come back to it when I have the dosh to chuck and when I don't feel bad about youtube robbing me.

[wrongcaitlyn]

do you have any favorite scenes that didn’t make it into talk ur talk?!?

okay so i took a long time to think about this bc GOD its such a good question but now that i rlly look back at talk ur talk - i realize that i was incredibly self indulgent with writing scenes and what sort of stuff i was including!! i mean, obviously the fic idea as a whole was very self indulgent, but i think that whenever i had an idea for a scene, it ended up in talk ur talk in some way

however, there are definitely some things that i cut out simply because they weren't in character/i didn't think it would be fitting, which sometimes you just have to do! the characters were progressing, and they didn't fit into this cookie cutter mold of a classic celebrity, so obviously i wasn't able to write some of the things i would've liked, aka:

interviews. i would've LOVED to write more interview scenes with nico. but i also knew that he, as a character, very adamantly was not a fan of them, and so obviously i couldn't just make him go back on his word and go off to do a bunch of interviews

more scenes in public/with fans, getting recognized and what not. honestly this may have just come from my own fear of oc's, bc everytime i included other characters that were not from the main cast, i got *terrified* like idk i just try to stay away from them? not like they can't be written well, they absolutely can, i've read fics with some of the most incredible oc's. i am just scared of writing them on my own, so i tended to stay away from the fan interaction thing even though i definitely would've liked to do that more

red carpets/award shows!! i didn't include a lot of these bc i felt like it'd get really repetitive after the first time and i didn't want to clutter up the fic with a bunch of, essentially, the same scenes. he walks down a red carpet. cameras are flashing. he answers some questions. that's pretty much it

OKAY OKAY WAIT THIS IS SOMETHING THAT TECHNICALLY it's not that it didn't *make it* into talk ur talk, but just several ideas that i had that i knew immediately wouldn't ever be in the fic, but like, aghsljdf my heart - him interacting with irl celebs. i KNOW i don't write that, i don't plan on writing that, i don't like writing with real people involved, BUT

him being a special guest on the rep tour

him talking with lorde at the grammys

him just meeting a bunch of other celebs like ugh ik i've thought abt it a lot and it'll never actually show up in the fic but i do like to imagine it!!

something i also didn't include in greatest of luxuries was will listening to welcome to new york. nonstop. like all the time. it's just always there he's always listening to it if i ever mention him listening to a song and not saying a specific song it's welcome to new york bc ofc it is.

(i am currently listening to welcome to new york)

aside from all that, i think when looking back at all of it, the one thing i regret is that i didn't write more school scenes. like. there were so many opportunities, more octavian, more angst, more nico being famous, like i feel like famous kid in a school with the asshole that is octavian would be such a cool dynamic and i kinda regret not writing it more! i think i may, one day, go back and write a few extra scenes of talk ur talk into a few one-shots or something (probably after i finish greatest of luxuries and just get nostalgic over talk ur talk lmfao) but i think that's it! thank you for the ask!!

[mrs-monaghan]

SHAZ 😭😭

https://twitter.com/DYSPHORlCA/status/1698126473167552663?s=20

I mean... the low budget, the low number of subscribers. This person is clearly extremely lucky to have been given recognition by V. However, this is the Barbie movie all over again. I never would have watched that movie if they hadn't used Jimin. And I not only watched it but I watched it in theatre 🤡🤡 luckily, its actually a good movie, so no regrets here. But still!

Now this person has V in the beginning of the video and it made me watch the whole thing. So that's one view from me. Imagine how many Armys are gonna watch it just the one time, too.

His biggest song is 2M so he had to capitalize on this but damn the amount of laziness!! His editor did not make any effort to find a better video of V. Zero effort which annoys the shit out of me. They used a titkok with words all over it. Something about V's wardrobe, if I was gonna put a clip of a BTS member I wouldn't just use the first one I find. Plus a little research and they could have ended up on weverse and screenrecorded that part themselves. Or they could have kept scrolling really and found a better clip.

Sorry guys, I am that one person who has issues with uncropped images so them using a cluttered clip on an official MV is really annoying to me. They didn't even download the TT so the OP's name is now all over the damn thing!!!! Ugh. So annoying!!!

But that aside, this is hilarious AF and good for them. Only an idiot wouldn't shoot their shot

[luckyluan]

The Champion.

March 23, 2024 - 11:27pm

Toshi stared down at the glowing metal card. It was warm like it just came out of the forge, and it growled a low, but energetic hum sending tremors up his muscular arms. 

“It’s an invitation to the Tournament of Strength. I did it! I made it to the Tournament of Strength. I’m going to Hemet’s Hideaway!” 

Imani stared at him quizzically. Her arms crossed over her signature vintage t-shirt; and she clucked her tongue. 

“Right. Cause all those words made since in that order.” she said. 

“Ugh. Mortals. See, there is this tournament—wait, no, let me back up.” Toshi stumbled. “At the dawn of the universe---ummm, that probably too far--” 

“Highlights, Toshi. Hit the highlights for me, please.” Imani said with a roll of her eyes. 

“Okay,” Toshi took a deep breath. “Do you remember how I told you I was only half mortal? Well, the other half is god. Umm, a god. I am a demigod. 

Imani looked him up and down. 

“Right...” she said. 

“Yeah, so, my dad is Tektun. The earth godhead. He-he controls the tectonic plates, earthquakes, all metals, and minerals that come from the earth and stuff like that. So, all his kids have a unique, ummm, aspect about them. Mine is strength. I’m super strong. 

“I said Cliff notes, Toshi.” 

“Ugh. Fine.” Toshi pushed a loose loc out of his excited face. “I have superpowers.” 

“Knew that.” Imani stated. 

“I have been training for a, literally, mythic tournament of strength that could make me a god like my dad!” 

“The Earth God.” Imani finished. 

“Godhead, but yes. This tournament is the MET Gala of superstrength. Demigods and creatures from all over the omniverse train for millennia to get one of these and I...got one...at 18.” 

“Mhm...mhm...fascinating. So, when do we leave?”  

Suddenly, the metal invitation brightened. The celestial card filled the room with uncomfortable warmth as the metal began to glow. Its dull hum swelled while its thick edges glowed a simmering orange. The room began to shudder violently. The closet doors knocked against their frames. Toshi’s tall, cedar dresser fell forward narrowly missing a frightened Imani. 

“Now.” Toshi yelled. “Quick grab it!” 

“I’m not touching that thing!” Imani shouted. 

“Imani!” Toshi shouted back. 

“Ugh. Fine.”  

Imani and Toshi grabbed the searing metal plate and disappeared in a flash of orange light and their cluttered dorm room went quiet. 

[melis-writes]

Bobby Deerfield prompt pls 😎 when he’s in the bath and has the phone, gets a call from reader saying she misses him and turns into phone sex 😫

Bobby Deerfield prompts, YES!! 🥵🥵🥵 Ugh, that scene of him in the bathtub is so sexy. He’s honestly so irresistible, especially in that tub. 🥴 Putting that phone call to good use here. 😈

Once a day without fail after the races, Bobby prefers to spend the majority of his relaxation time alone in his own solitude, fixing himself a hot bath.

The hot, foamy bath water in the tub surrounds Bobby and warms his supple skin, causing his muscles to relax as droplets of water from his damp hair trickles down his back.

Bobby lets out a deep breath, holding a cigarette loosely in the corner of his mouth as he gazes at the bath tray in front of him.

More so continuing business and work rather than completely relaxing in a hot bath, the bath tray in front of Bobby contains an ashtray filled with four recently smoked cigarettes, a lighter, a small cup of coffee, a telephone, a pack of cigarettes, a basket filled with varieties of old postcards, paper slips and notes, and a blue print sheet laid out on the centre of the tray with a detailed sketch of all of the mechanics, gears and pieces of Bobby’s personal race car.

Bobby carefully takes notes over the side of the blueprint, analyzing his race car in great detail with full focus despite the clutter over the bath tray surrounding the blueprint.

The only thing separating you from your fiancée is distance; you remain back at you and Bobby’s home in New Jersey, anticipating Bobby’s wins and the end of his spring racing campaign in Paris.

It’s you who initiates the call first, snuggled in bed with the telephone next to you—having checked and compared the differing timezones before attempting to reach out to your fiancée.

Even as the telephone rings loudly next to Bobby, he refuses to lose his focus. Without separating his eyes from the blueprint, he simply reaches his free hand over and puts the telephone up to his ear.

“Hello?” Bobby speaks out in a rather distracted tone, continuing to scribble down more notes.

“Hi, baby. It’s me.” You blush, speaking from the other end.

Just from the sound of your voice and the realization its you whose calling, Bobby immediately blinks and pulls his attention off of his blueprint.

“Darling, hi.” Bobby murmurs, quick to set down his pen on the bath tray. “I wasn’t expecting you to call until later on.”

“I thought I’d surprise you.” You rest your head against your pillow. “I couldn’t wait that long—not after thinking about how your race went all day. I miss you too much.”

“I miss you all the more.” Bobby takes the cigarette out of his mouth, putting it out in the ashtray. “I won’t be here long, baby. I only have two more races and you know those commercial contracts I signed to do here.”

“It’s alright, I know.” You shrug your shoulders to yourself, unable to wipe the smile off your face. “I don’t mean to rush you.”

“You might as well.” Bobby lets out a deep sigh. “It’s not the same here without you at all.”

“I know,” you pout. “More than ever I want to be there to support you, but you know all this morning sickness has been killing me.” Your eyes dart down to your stomach. “I feel like any kind of stress gets me nauseous all the time, let alone the plane ride to France.”

“You are eating for two now after all.” Bobby points out, a small smile over his lips. “You and the baby’s health is more important above all. Don’t mind any of this. It doesn’t matter. You know I prefer racing in Jersey anyway.”

“Still,” you giggle softly. “I can make a trip out of it to see you race in Europe too. Maybe once the baby’s developed a bit more. It’s too soon to tell. We both miss you. Are you busy right now?”

“Depends on your definition of busy.” Bobby glances into his empty coffee cup. “I’m alone, just enjoying a bath.”

“Just a bath?” You tease, fully aware of Bobby’s cluttered bath tray.

“And some blueprint analysis, as you know.” Bobby slowly pushes the bath tray away from him, resting his back against the tub. “Not right now. I only want to talk to you.”

“Don’t remind me,” your cheeks flare up with blush. “Do you picture me there with you?”

Bobby’s eyes flutter shut as he relaxes. “All the time, especially now. You do remember the last time, don’t you?”

“Oh, stop.” You clench your legs, remembering very well from the last month how a steamy session in the bath tub lead to your pregnancy. “My hormones are all over the place, I can’t stop thinking about it as is.”

“Stop thinking about what?” Bobby rakes a hand through his wet hair. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

You lick over your lips, remaining quiet for a moment. “I can’t stop thinking about that night…”

“The bedroom wasn’t enough.” Bobby’s voice lowers to a husky tone. “Was it?”

“I remember…” You let out a soft whimper, moving your free hand down between your legs as you eye the dresser where you watched yourself in the mirror mercilessly get fucked from behind. “You know I remember everywhere you took me that night.”

With the hot water only fueling his arousal, Bobby grunts quietly to himself as he notices his erection growing in the tub. “You’re expecting it, just like how you did then. It’s what you want again, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t say I had enough the first time…” You push your panties aside. “Almost two hours, that whole night. How could I get enough? You edged me for a week and then…”

“Mm.” Bobby can already easily picture again in his mind as to how he slipped your lingerie off of you and could barely get you over to the bed with the built up sexual frustration between you two. “You tell me what you want me to do to you when I get back.”

“Everything.” You breathe, placing your fingers over your clit. “I won’t let myself cum.”

“Good girl,” Bobby murmurs softly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to tie me up to the bedpost again,” you swallow hard, feeling a rush of thrilling arousal pump through you. “Or tie my hands behind my back. Take me however you want, I just—mmm…”

Bobby’s well noticed from the beginning that you’re already touching yourself, turning him on in the process. “You like being my personal little slut, don’t you? Touching yourself like that.”

“I love it when you call me that,” you whisper back, rubbing over your clit in lazy circles. “Fuck me from behind and moan that in my ear again and again.”

[whentherewerebicycles]

here is a scruffy little angel! ok I feel pretty fragile inside from a week of bad sleep & an especially terrible insomnia experience last night but I am trying to be brave about it. two of my grad school friends I haven’t seen in forever are in town this weekend and I am v excited about that!!! I always get weird homebody inertia around social stuff but then I have a great time (like last night I really dragged my feet on hanging out with M&A in the park/getting dinner after and then it was so much fun) so I just have to commit to stuff even if I feel like socially hibernating. when it comes to most social things my instincts are not a reliable guide to what will actually make me happy. so tonight I will meet up with them for dinner/drinks and then tomorrow we will hang out at the lake.

here are some things I’d like to do with the day:

finish young mungo which is absolutely gutting ughhh so painful but so good. I kind of want to put up my hammock and read somewhere without distractions but can’t decide if it’s too much effort. mm tbd.

work on writing meme prompts (this has been v good for me it’s forcing me to dig into scene writing/revision which for whatever reason is the thing I’ve built up the most writer’s block anxiety around)

the house is a tip right now it’s not dirty really just super untidy and the clutter is making me feel on edge. I think I need to do a few song-timed bursts of putting stuff in its proper place and ugh I might actually start with that so my brain feels calmer about other stuff

fold laundry

long walk with dogs because I didn’t walk them at all yesterday… I can tell I am avoiding walks partly because it’s a bit hotter out and partly because I’m getting Walk Boredom with our usual route. I think I’ll drive them to the slightly farther-out forest (4 min instead of 2 min haha) because it’ll be cooler and kinda interesting/new. also if I’m feeling really motivated I could do a very short run after I drop them off at home—I’m talking like, 3 min run / 3 min walk times 3 short haha. gotta ease back into it somehow.

pick something to wear well in advance of leaving. otherwise I will get so stressed later on and will end up running way later than I mean to & being way more amped up when I leave. why are clothes so stressful to me literally no one cares and I feel like people care even less in this city than anywhere else I’ve ever lived lol

shower around 3:30/4 so I can be ready to leave between 5-6ish

mm okay that all seems good. I think now it’s time to get up and do my first burst of song cleaning… maybe I will do all too well 10 min version + I can see you.

[the-knightmare]

Dear Diary

@flufftober Prompt: deary diary.

‘Dear Diary, I think I have feelings for a friend. Not Jimmy Jr. this time, I got over him before high school. I think I like Zeke. It started two weeks ago when we studied for that math test (I passed with a C by the way). We were going over the practice questions when his hand brushed mine, and Diary I felt sparks. Ever since I haven’t stopped thinking about him. I hadn’t realized how muscular Zeke got from the wrestling team, or how his smile is a little lopsided when he’s laughing. I can’t stop thinking about what kissing him in the middle of prom would be like, super romantic. I have an idea of how it would go: It starts when’- Louise slammed the journal shut with an exclamation.

“Oh, sick! I’m not reading this mushy crap!”

Gene grabbed the journal from his sister, “let me see, I want to know if her prom fantasy has as many musical-style dance numbers as mine.”

“Ugh, why do you and Tina get so excited about a stupid dance? It’s just an excuse to buy expensive dresses and go to after parties,” Louise huffed tossing her arms in the air, “but at least we know why Tina’s been acting silly in front of Zeke lately. Think he’ll ask her out?”

“Now that you mention it, Zeke has been acting funny around Tina. I mean, he’s been in love with her since junior high, but he’s never been nervous about it before.”

‘It starts when prom posters are put up. Prom is on the brain and boys are asking girls every day with cute promposals. Cue Zeke, at our usual lunch table with our friends, he waits until I sit down before pulling out a wooden horse from shop class with ‘Prom?’ carved on it. When I say yes, our friends cheer but everything fades as we touch hands.’

“You think Zeke would be up to this plan?” Louise asked, turning to Gene with a mischievous grin.

“I may have heard him talking with Jimmy Jr about tips for asking a girl to prom, so he may be receptive, but I thought you didn’t like all this stuff?”

Louise shrugged, looking away from her brother. She wouldn’t say it, but she could deal with the ‘mushy crap’ if it meant making her siblings happy. Complain the whole time about the sentimentalism and romantic gestures she would. But at the end of the day, Louise would endure the eye-roll worthy displays of romance if it meant Tina would be happy. Not that she would tell Gene or Tina any of that.

“I don’t, but this could involve getting Zeke in a horse costume to deliver the carving, and that would be funny,” Louise said, taking the journal to replace it among Tina’s desk clutter.

“Oh, what about getting a live horse and Zeke promposes on the beach!” Gene exclaimed.

“But that doesn’t involve a costume, save it for the marriage proposal,” Louise replied, with only mild sarcasm.

“Good point. This can be goofy and over the top with costumes, the horse can wait for the dramatic romcom wedding.”

Zeke was quick to jump on the horse costume plan, something Louise wasn’t surprised with when she remembered his mascot costume theft. Gene was able to borrow a costume from the drama club, leaving Zeke open to carving the horse during free a week of open wood shop at lunch. Louise tasked herself with distracting Tina from Zeke’s absence so that when the day finally came, two weeks after reading her diary, Tina was surprised when a horse-costumed Zeke delivered a carved horse to their table with ‘Prom?’ carved on its side.

Before Tina and Zeke entirely faded from their plane of existence into a world of their own, Louise leaned over to her sister.

“I already switched shifts with you this evening so you guys can have a date or something. You’re welcome.” It may have been a Friday night shift, one where she usually stayed up with popcorn and whatever movie marathon Louise managed to get a hold of, but for Tina’s happiness it was worth the sacrificed Friday night.

[glitched-nomz]

Leo's having trouble sleeping, so he sneaks into Donna's room to find some science thing to help.

Cw: sfw platonic vore, g/t

Leo poked his head into Donna's room. His eyes felt heavy, but no matter what he tried, he just couldn't get himself to go to sleep. Fae was already asleep, and she was really grouchy if you woke her up early, and he didn't want to deal with a grumpy, spiky turtle who was also way bigger and stronger than him. He knew she'd never hurt him but also annoying his dearest twinnie was super fun.

Donna probably had something in here to help him sleep. Hopefully it was labeled and came with an instruction manual, and wasn't right next to some kind of violent explosion death ray or whatever.

Ooo, that looked useful! He picked up a ray-looking thing, labelled with a big 'S' on the side.

Perfect! It was probably a sleep ray!! It didn't have an instruction manual, but it also didn't have any big red warnings on it, so it probably wouldn't kill him.

Leo moved to a clearer area, one with less clutter everywhere that would be less dangerous for him to fall in. He pointed the ray at himself, closing his eyes in preparation for sleep.

The ray fired, hitting him square in the plastron, but he was still awake.

He felt really weird.

Leo looked up. He wasn't even a third of the table leg height. He stared at his hands. Given how big everything else seemed to be around him, he'd guess he was around maybe 6 inches tall, if he was being nice to himself. He was probably closer to four or five, he couldn't really tell, honestly.

Gueeeygh… He'd have to go to Donna to see if this was fixable or if he was stuck being tiny forever. After touching- nay, using her tech without permission, and being wrong about what something did.

He'd be lucky to make it out alive.

-*~-*~-

She felt a tiny hand poking at her face.

"-onna, Donna! Wake up! I need help!" An obnoxious, familiar, weirdly high pitched voice hissed.

"Eugh. Leo, why are you so small?" Donna grumbled, rubbing her eyes. "I swear, if this was Draxum's doing-"

The tiny slider laughed nervously. "Eheuh, no, not… no. See, I was just coming in here to say hi, y'know? Cuz insomnia twins and I didn't wanna wake Fae up. And I saw this cool looking laser thing, so I poked at it a bit, and… now I'm this size."

Donna narrowed its eyes. "You touched my tech. You little shit!" She snatched her tiny twin up, glaring directly into his eyes. "You know what, I'm not gonna change you back until morning, because I'm just that fucking pissed and tired right now, it said in annoyance at her obnoxious younger sibling." It really didn't want Leo to get himself hurt messing with her stuff- that was basically the same thing as hurting him herself!

Leo gave an affronted gasp. "I'm not younger than you! We're the same age!!"

"Scoff! You're literally my younger twin. Trust me, it's science."

"No it's not! Now put me down, I wanna make myself normal sized again, since you won't!"

A grin started creeping its way up Donna's face. "Oh, I don't think I will." It licked her beak. She had noticed she was a little hungry, and Leo was the perfect size for a midnight snack…

Leo's eyes widened. "Wh- hey, no, Donna! That's- you're totally overreacting here!! I won't touch your shit till you're awake, I promise!"

Donna rolled her eyes affectionately, tilting her head back and dangling Leo over its open mouth.

Leo kicked his feet, writhing in protest. "Oh, c'mon, I wouldn't do this to you if you accidentally shrank yourself with my stuff!"

Sticking her tongue out at him, Donna widened her jaws, and dropped Leo in. Swallowing hard, it felt Leo slip down her esophagus and land in her stomach. The little twin inside squirmed angrily, writhing against the walls of her stomach.

It purred, putting a hand on her now semi-rounded plastron. "See, Leo? This is what you get for messing with my beautiful, fragile, state of the art tech without first consulting me. Don't do it again." It flicked her belly.

"Ugh, fine!" A tiny, muffled voice called. "I guess I'll just wake you up instead next time!"

"Which would be preferable, because then I could use my tech (or my fists) to knock you unconscious and/or drag you to sleep! You know we sleep better when we're near each other, 'Nardo! You idiot!" She yawned, the warm, full feeling in her belly making her tired. "Now, if you please, shut your fuck and go to sleep so I can prove my point."

Laying down, it felt Leo shifting inside her. She churred, rubbing her belly gently. The small, wriggly form in her stomach gave her a pleasant sensation, making her purr softly. Feeling her brother squirming inside her, feeling him moving and safe and alive- She understood why their eldest sibling liked doing this so much.

It was so comforting.

Donna knew where Leo was. She knew he was safe. He was probably asleep, or at least about to pass out, too! She knew she was hella tired. She gave her belly one last rub before closing her eyes.

She knew Leo wasn't lying about having trouble sleeping, and rocking motions helped him rest. Apparently, having someone else asleep inside her helped it sleep, because after only a few minutes she was snoring away.

-*~-*~-

Leo, despite his theatrics, actually didn't mind when his twin dropped him down her throat. Sure, it was wet, but it was warm and soft and an excellent pressure stim. Maybe Donna had been rude about it, but he had fucked with her shit… Honestly, knowing her, he was getting off easy.

They bantered for a bit, Leo trying to ignore his growing sleepiness. He was relieved when Donna said she was going to sleep, relaxing into the warmth surrounding him.

It was easy to get nestled into Donna's belly, feeling her soft breaths as she slipped into sleep. He could still feel her hand on her plastron, pressing softly against him. If literally being inside her wasn't comforting enough, knowing that she was holding him, in a sense, certainly was.

Yawning, he rolled over, and slid his eyes shut. It took a few minutes, but his sister's slow, even breathing and rhythmic heartbeat rocking him and squeezing him quickly put him to sleep.

[tobacconist]

ELEMENT REPORD(s)

collated.

from the weather hermit:-

TRACEE HENGE

-

element repord six-two-two. poo, POO! hot levels: -6 cow angle: 9 theres a cloud-clash: temporary two-to-fourteen, six-to-three gull warning: oh! field weather: 6 simper me with churning rain, ksh! ksh! stop.

-

element repord for the 24th of lull. warnings of severe droop in knool parish, waxing at 15 and 2, and waning at lights out. bang! bang! bang! possibility of dog-shake (eugh!), with puddle displacement, and backsplash: 3 WARNING: not good for mrs chinnermans hatchday dance (shame!) a heavy front! settling in for the night, despite bad moon-shapes. (oh) blowing it rough in brownlap for the wet meadow raking contest! a glove-graph of the island shows fingerless fleecey, with occasional handrub. aaaand blowthrough! blanket thickness: 2, with occasional sheets rising in the vest.

-

element repord for foursday the 18th of leafmoss. dunderhatch today, if youre planning to take part in the moss jump at the hoof&hedge hut. and hairsieves for girls. wafting. klesh later, so avoid deliberate stamping in the upper parishes. good news for spatter fans! level: 8-9 all nightly. smoothing to a dripple, with sheep-crouch: 4 by sunclimb. down in the lower parishes: cloud-goo wafting. ah, wafting, ah! ah! moistly mostly, then to edgy; with A CHANCE OF MERRIMENT. heeheehee followed by a deep depression in kraw.

-

element repord for threesday the 14th of phew. "words in me mouf! make me seem gud wevver!" - but i know its not real. thunder. BLEUARH! OOH! dirty shocker. HAIL! ah! ouch! woof woof bang. WHAT THE PHEFF'S THAT!? oh, its just up. AHAHA! bah! out!

-

element repord for the 24th of wilter. over in newhaw, ugh, terrible conditions for the fun fungus walk setting off from bobs mould hut at seven and three this nightly. and bring a stick! moOoO~ a real cow freezer in the south. (hueah!) a quick look at the weather-veins: there are cramps in the calves, ankles enlarged; dirty toes. heh...

-

element repord for threesday the 14th of phew. at seven and two today, warnings from the mellt office: OUCH! with occasional OOH! AH! and ROOFSLATES! with the ability to fry an egg! (no poaching) moving on to two to tutu, to two too to two two to two, too? to, uh, tomorrows picture: mainly light crayon, moving to a heavy felt pen in the south, AHHH! scribbles rising. wind at soft levels: softly, softly. possibilty of electric dogstorm, woof woof bang bang woof woof bang bang bang. dank gussets at dawn...

-

USE ME! USE ME! (but only for weather purposes) softly, softly my cormorant. kuru-kuru-kuru~ tether my merkintroy with seedless doubt (?) crunchy biscuit for breakfast... baaaaaaaad. reddly-bick houpsto, reddly-bick houpsto, tiddly-bits ahoy; cluttering the basset pipes. ouegh grooming the cloud-horse! (oof) and now trying to ride it. clop-clop-clop-clop-clop-clop-clop-clop

-

element repord for foursday the 10th of bloom. visibility is low today, especially in the upper parishes. you can see two clogs on a chair at about the distance of 8 cats (10 cats if theyre kittens) theres no crunch, in the atmosphere biscuits. its down from a slight droop two, too, to to a dirty curve, reducing to a soggy pulp overnight. if, like me, youre heading down to the sale at lucys lingerie and booty-boutique:- MAKE SURE YOURE WEARING FOG-GOGGLES. and loose elasticated panties. (hohoy!) brisk walks, end with a nose-breaker, mainly on a door; with pain and bruises rising.

[moondirti]

hi dee, hope you're doing well! saw your ask game and wanted to join in on the fun.

for the game... mahonia and aloe vera. ☺️ have a good day!

hi lovely! sorry for the late response:( i only just now saw this!!

mahonia ⇢ what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does?

the ocean, 100%! something about being near big bodies of water really inspire me like nothing else, it’s a blessing i live in california. often, i bring my moleskin journal (because hand writing gets my juices flowing more so than typing does) and brainstorm little scenes or themes that i want to include in my future works, all while laying on the scorching sand. therapy in its best form i swear

also, video essays! i consume way too many for it to be healthy, but they’re always so enriching and help improve my own work

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

a nice, organised home. i grew up with very clutter-having parents, and now live with the same type of roommates. while i love my bits and bobs, i really need them to be laid out in a way that makes the area look and feel clean. not only that, but to have a big kitchen where i have complete control over my groceries, and to cook everyday. maybe even a little laundry room all to myself. ugh, i would die

random get to know me

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 4

The patrol fled the kittypet nest with all due haste. There was a brief pause to gather some cobwebs and plaster them on Mistyfoot’s scratches, but otherwise it was very much agreed that no cat wanted to linger around the lone Twoleg nest for long. Even if they had scared off the kittypets, who knew if they had other methods of attack? They would know this land far better than any of the patrol.

They easily crossed a stream that arced its way sharply into the pine forest from the lake, and found that oaks and maples and birches were now starting to take the place of the cedars and pines. Naturally, Nightfrost and Mistyfoot took the lead, the familiar territory type putting a spring in their step.

Crowflight, however, couldn’t help but be cross. More trees! Do they ever end?

At least Stoneheart had the decency to participate just as much as before he’d found his camp – he kept up with the group, chatting to Mistyfoot about this and that, his eyes peeled for anything interesting - unlike Tawnypelt, who just seemed focused on getting the rest of this scouting trip done as soon as possible, with as little effort from her as she could manage.  

Crowflight had to keep himself from curling his lip each time the RiverClan deputy looked through the trees and down to the lake. If it were Feathertail or Stormfur, they certainly wouldn’t be acting like RiverClan was the only Clan in the world!

He heard Shadepaw’s voice again: You’re being unfair, she reminded him gently. We’re all looking out for our Clans at heart...

Crowflight suppressed a sigh, knowing that she was probably right – after all, he was just as impatient to finally scout the moorland. The forest just seemed so endless...

As if the trees had heard him, they began to thin out – soon enough, before the cats lay a large, flat clearing. Crowflight tipped his head. The area was too perfectly cleared out to be natural, with only a few trees in what seemed like strategic spots. The grass, too, was cluttered with stones in places, torn up in long, straight lines, too regular to be natural.

“Scrapcans!” Nightfrost breathed sharply. “Look!”

Crowflight followed his gaze and sighed. As Nightfrost had pointed out, the area was dotted with scrapcans – tall, hollow structures where Twolegs put their trash and other waste. These were different-looking than the ones they’d seen in Purdy’s Twolegplace, more run-down and brightly colored, but they stank in just the same way.

Well, that answers that. This is a Twoleg place, too. Crowflight narrowed his eyes. There were no nests, nor were there any monsters, yet the area still bore that faint, acrid scent. What purpose could this place possibly serve a Twoleg, though? Crowflight couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Twolegs hanging out in a big, empty field, not unless it was to use their dogs to corral sheep on the moor. This area wasn’t nearly large enough for that.

“It’s a greenleaf Twolegplace,” Tawnypelt reported, sniffing the air. “The one in the old forest had a fence around it to mark its territory, but this one doesn’t look like it’s the same way.”

“Ugh.” Mistyfoot had taken a moment to check her haunches. The cobwebs had stayed on, and Crowflight thanked StarClan that the wound didn’t look too bad. The ThunderClan she-cat raised her muzzle. “Does that mean they’ll be here, too?”

Tawnypelt nodded. Her eyes flashed, and she admitted, “I’ve been keeping an eye out around the area as we go – there are a lot of streams and rivers, all of them leading to the lake, and now this place...? I think this lake might be a Twoleg fishing spot.”

The fur between Stoneheart’s shoulders bristled. “So, we’ve led the Clans into more Twoleg trouble?!”

Tawnypelt flicked her dappled tail. “I wouldn’t say that – I don’t think Twolegs will be around here much unless its greenleaf. That’s the time where they bothered RiverClan the most in the old forest. Any other season and they weren’t around in large numbers – and if it’s this small of a greenleaf Twolegplace for the whole lake...”

“Then it might not be as bad,” Mistyfoot guessed, her tone cautious.

Tawnypelt nodded. “Yes.”

Crowflight hoped she was right. Twolegs were just so disruptive and destructive – he supposed Tawnypelt might know that better than any cat. In the old forest, RiverClan often had to contend with Twolegs messing about in their river, to sometimes fatal results.

“Why would Twolegs want to be here in greenleaf?” Nightfrost wondered. “Shouldn’t they be staying in their nests and fattening up for leafbare? It’s too hot to go elsewhere!”

Tawnypelt shrugged. “Who knows why Twolegs do what they do?” She scanned the area again and said, “That’s all just my theory, anyway. This place looks like it was used at least last greenleaf, so I think we ought to expect them next time around, too. Maybe even in leafbare – some Twolegs like to fish on ice, foolish as that might sound.”

“It might not be so bad,” Mistyfoot reasoned again, getting to her paws. She was clearly trying to see the good in this. “Their scrapcans might attract a lot of fresh-kill.”

“Maybe,” Stoneheart muttered. “Or they’ll infest the forest with racoons...”

Nightfrost nudged him with a paw. “StarClan never said that this place would be a paradise!” he purred.

Crowflight grimaced. “They never said it would be crawling with Twolegs, though,” he pointed out grimly. Their Clanmates had fled the old forest to get away from Twolegs – what if they wanted nothing to do with the lake after hearing about all this? Where else could they possibly go?

Why did StarClan bring us here if there’s just more of the same old annoyances?

Mistyfoot looked up at the sky. The sun was arcing towards sunhigh. She sighed. “We need to keep moving,” she mewed. “There’s still so much to see...”

The rest of the patrol agreed. Nightfrost took the lead this time, and they each trekked across the open clearing towards the safety of the woods. When the branches closed overhead, Crowflight had to admit that he felt safer than he had in that clearing – but it wasn’t because of the trees, it was because he was away from the Twoleg stink.

His relief didn’t last long. Here and there they spotted strange markers on the trees, shiny and brightly-colored and smelling of Twoleg. Accompanying them were thin, winding trails through the forest, which also smelled of Twoleg, though it was extremely faint.

“Twoleg walking trails,” Nightfrost reported, lifting his nose from one of them. “These were in the old forest, too.”

“And in RiverClan territory,” Tawnypelt added. “So, I’m probably right, then. Twolegs will come here in greenleaf, like they did back in the old forest.”

Crowflight glanced at Stoneheart. The other tom was clearly unhappy with that fact, same as Crowflight was. Yet what could they do but adapt? Like Midnight and Nightfrost had said, the Twolegs were just as much part of this world as the Clans were.

Still, Crowflight wondered if there was a single place that Twolegs hadn’t yet touched. As it stood now, it seemed like every Clan was going to have to deal with Twolegs in one form or another.

They passed the trails without much difficulty, heading deeper into the forest with the lakeshore to their side. The trees here were thankfully less dense than the pine woods, making scouting far easier – Crowflight spotted an old Twoleg nest down near the lake shore, and the patrol paused again at his call.

“It doesn’t smell like anyone’s been there for a while,” Mistyfoot admitted, her jaws open to scent the sweeping breeze. With the wind coming up from the lake, it was thankfully easy to get a read on the old nest. “And it doesn’t look well-maintained.”

“A lot of overgrowth,” Nightfrost reported, his tail-tip twitching. “Fragrant, too. Maybe herbs grow there?”

“We’ll have to see.”

Crowflight’s ear twitched, jealousy burning in his belly. It was clear the two ThunderClan cats had definitely picked out this place as their land, and were imagining what to explore first. Crowflight’s paws itched – wasn't it his turn, yet?

They turned away from the abandoned nest and headed upslope. Crowflight felt the earth growing harder beneath his paws and wished again for the softer peat moss of the moorland. Rocks and stones littered spaces between the trees, warm from the sun that streaked through the leafless trees and crawling with the remnants of bracken and brambles and ivies.

At sunhigh they stopped in a small glade and decided to hunt. The forest was teeming with unsuspecting prey, so much that even Crowflight had an easy time plucking a bird from its own foraging. Its warm body filled his mouth with the scent of fresh-kill as he sent his thanks to StarClan and turned himself back towards the glade.

The other cats were settled in and eating already, huddled in the sunshine that lit the frosted grass beneath them with a warm glow. The land in this part of the forest had begun to feel higher, broken and uneven; but this spot was flat and smooth in comparison, with only a few large stones oddly gathered to one side, near the trees.

Crowflight set down his bird. “Where’s Nightfrost?” he wondered.

“I saw him stalking a squirrel, just over that way,” Stoneheart reported, flicking his tail away from the glade. He licked his lips, lifting his muzzle up from his shrew. “He looked like he had it under control.”

Mistyfoot frowned and sat up. Her mouse lay uneaten between her paws. “It shouldn’t take this long to get a squirrel... I’ll go look for him.”

She trotted towards the trees, following Nightfrost’s scent. Crowflight bristled and followed – if they all went into the strange trees one at a time, they might never find one another again, whether they were comfortable in the territory or not!

Stoneheart and Tawnypelt weren’t following. Crowflight kept close to Mistyfoot’s flanks as she headed through the trees, her nose twitching. Nightfrost’s scent was low to the earth, but strong, and, most importantly, not shot with blood or fear. That was a good sign.

“He probably just got side-tracked,” Crowflight offered, glancing at Mistyfoot. “You know him, he’s got fluff for brains.” She was looking very worried.

“Probably,” she agreed, her tone tight. “But let’s not chance it.”

Crowflight recalled that she had lost her first and only apprentice to a badger, not long before their first journey had begun – it had made her very protective of all the ‘paws that had gone to the lake, chosen or not, in her own Clan or not. Nightfrost being made warrior days ago must have slipped her mind for her anxiety, which Crowflight guessed was peaking.

Mistyfoot quickened her pace. Crowflight kept up, but admittedly he was looking more for roots or stones in his path than Nightfrost. He didn’t want to get himself hurt, especially right now.

Nightfrost’s scent eventually grew bright and strong, full of adrenaline – Crowflight guessed from the faint, underlying musk that he had been chasing the squirrel, hoping for the kill. He couldn’t be that far off, now. Together, Crowflight and Mistyfoot followed the trail as it wound and darted through the trees and rocks... and then stopped, abruptly.

They were at what appeared to be a cliff’s edge – though that cliff was wildly overgrown, lined thickly with brambles and bushes all up its stony sides. Nightfrost’s scent clearly went over that edge, but there was no sign of him, anywhere.

Crowflight glanced about in confusion – meeting Mistyfoot’s mystified gaze. What had happened?

There was a thrashing, crashing sound from below. Crowflight looked down and found that he could see straight through the brambles and bracken, down to the dirt below – his pelt prickled at the cat-sized hole in the overgrowth.

“He fell!” Crowflight hissed. “The hare-brain! He must not have noticed the drop.”

Mistyfoot, bristling, ordered, “Look for a way out! Quickly!”

Crowflight nodded stiffly and the two cats parted – Mistyfoot headed down the slope, while Crowflight headed up, realizing that the cliff’s edge he was following became incredibly obvious the higher up he went.

He swallowed, nerves firing in his paws as he paused to look down. The staggering distance... Nightfrost would’ve died falling from this high up!

He thanked StarClan that it didn’t seem like Nightfrost had fallen that way. He crested what he guessed was the very peak of the hollow and looked again at what lay below – like the ShadowClan camp, it was full of bushes and overgrowth, but instead of soft slopes, it seemed like something had clawed a hole in a hill, creating sharp, jagged stone walls and sheer cliff edges when it withdrew. It reminded him of the mountains, almost, and somewhat of Highstones back in the old forest.

Crowflight peered ahead and thought he spotted movement, in a place that looked like a way out. There was a black shape, and a gray one... he breathed a sigh. Mistyfoot had found Nightfrost!

Crowflight picked his way down the opposite edge, stones clattering down into the hollow, and reached them within a few moments.

“... need to see it!” Nightfrost was mewing, his voice high-pitched with excitement. His pelt was covered in dust and he had more than a few branches and stray dead leaves caught in his fur, but his eyes were shining. “It’s perfect!”

Mistyfoot looked worried. “What is?”

“This place!” Nightfrost breathed. His tail whipped back to towards where he’d come from. “I found ThunderClan’s new camp!”

Crowflight paused, flicking an ear. This stone hollow, for ThunderClan? He glanced at Mistyfoot, who looked just as confused. What did she think?

“Show me,” she decided.

Both she and Nightfrost pushed their way through the brambles. Crowflight wanted to follow, but his paws wouldn’t move. He swallowed at the bitterness that rose in his throat. Finding their camps was what they came here to do, but if they had found ThunderClan’s, then that meant that WindClan was all that remained.

If I find nothing, I’m a failure.

The bushes rustled, not from within the hollow but from without. Crowflight stood at attention, jaws open to call a warning, only to close them quickly as Stoneheart and Tawnypelt appeared, walking together with confused looks on their faces.

“You were taking a while, so we followed you,” Stoneheart explained.

Tawnypelt’s tail fluffed. “And a good thing we stopped when you did, up there! Is Nightfrost all right?”

“He is,” Crowflight mewed. He nodded into the brambles, and added, “They’re just--”

He was interrupted by Nightfrost shooting out of the brambles, eyes alight with delight. He skidded to a halt before Tawnypelt and Stoneheart and yowled, “I found our camp!”

Stoneheart and Tawnypelt glanced at one another, then to Crowflight, who could only shrug. Then, Mistyfoot appeared, gingerly trying not to scrape her haunches any further on the tangled brambles. Both Tawnypelt and Stoneheart gazed at her, wondering the older ThunderClan cat’s perspective.

“It’s a possibility,” she mewed, when she was free. She shook her pelt of debris. “But it’s a good one! I think Tinystar will like it.”

“It looks dangerous,” Stoneheart intoned. “I saw the cliff...”

“Yeah, that’s what makes it so cool!” Nightfrost mewed, practically jumping on his paws. “With a cliff like that, no cat will want to bother us!”

“A cliff like that can kill you,” Crowflight cautioned. He wanted to cuff Nightfrost across the head – didn't he remember Duskflower, or anything he’d learned in the mountains? It was just as easy to be killed by something that was meant to protect, if you went about it like a fluff-brain!

Nightfrost did pause in his jubilation to consider that. He frowned, and meowed, “We'll figure it out, I’m sure,” he said seriously. “But I really, really think this is it!”

“Congratulations, then,” Tawnypelt purred.

Stoneheart nodded his head. “Indeed.”

Mistyfoot and Nightfrost shared a look, their eyes shining. Crowflight’s pelt shivered – they looked so happy; so pleased that they had found their camp. They all did. He resisted the urge to dig his claws into the earth. It was so unfair that they’d gone the way they had, instead of towards the moor. He hated feeling so left out.

Crowflight frowned. “We should keep going,” he muttered. He could feel the sunlight fading already, his shoulders growing cold. “We’re running out of time.”

He didn’t wait to see their reaction before he turned away. Seeing their faces just hurt right now, so he kept his gaze straight ahead.

The others followed quietly. Crowflight could feel their eyes on him, pricking like claws. Did they have to stare? Was he amusing them? Was WindClan being last and possibly not being able to find their own home funny? His thoughts thundered in his mind like bees swarming their hive.

“Hey,” Nightfrost’s mew was quiet, cutting through the noise as the small black tom caught up. He walked at Crowflight’s shoulder, his tail low. “What’s bothering you?”

They walked together, as much as Crowflight didn't want to, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to outpace the ThunderClan cat, not in his own element. Still, that didn’t mean Crowflight had to answer... so he didn’t. His jaw stayed stubbornly shut.

Nightfrost sighed. “Don’t act like that,” he grumbled. “What, after everything we’ve been through, you’re just going to go back to being the nasty old Crowpaw we met at Fourtrees?”

Crowflight bristled at that. “I’m not, I’m just-”

“You are!” Nightfrost hissed. He nudged Crowflight, his ice-blue eyes dark and serious and very unlike him. “You’re going back to that grumpy, mean-spirited cat that had more stubbornness than brains!”

Crowflight bared his teeth. “Why shouldn’t I?” he snapped back. “We’re all going our separate ways, anyway! You’ve all found your camps...” He could see the others out of the corner of his eye, hanging back. Were they listening in? Their gazes were turned away but he knew what they really wanted to be watching...  

Nightfrost’s gaze softened. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re scared you won’t find a place for WindClan? That we won’t be friends anymore when the Clans split up?”

Crowflight didn’t respond. He bit his tongue and looked at his paws.

Nightfrost pressed his side against Crowflight’s. “We’ll find WindClan a camp,” he promised. “And we’ll always be friends. You know that, mouse-brain! After everything we’ve gone through together, why wouldn’t we?”

Crowflight sighed.

“Are you okay?” Nightfrost wondered.

Crowflight looked away from him. “I will be,” he muttered.

Nightfrost purred. “Good - now, race you to that break in the trees up ahead?”

Crowflight swallowed. “Of course!” he hissed.

Nightfrost chuckled and took off with a spring, leaping over a root. Crowflight lengthened his stride and followed, keeping pace with the other tom despite the terrain. Behind them, he could hear Mistyfoot protesting, and Tawnypelt groaning.

I lied, Crowflight thought, watching Nightfrost pull ahead. The opening in the trees wasn’t far, and he could hear the sound of splashing in the depths of his ear fur – there must be a good amount of water in that treeless spot.

In ThunderClan, he thought, looking at Nightfrost, you have Mistyfoot and Shadepaw. Stoneheart has Rowanclaw in ShadowClan, and he and Mistyfoot are littermates – they'll always have one another, even if they’re in different Clans. Feathertail has Brook, even, in the Tribe.

Nightfrost skidded to a stop at the bank of a river, his pelt lit by the sun. He looked back at Crowflight and called, his chest puffed out, “I win!”

Crowflight panted, trotting as he slowed down. “Ha... I suppose you did,” he breathed, reaching Nightfrost. He cuffed the tom around the ear. “I’m not used to running through the forest, though!”

Nightfrost rolled his eyes and bent down to drink from the swiftly-running water. Crowflight did the same, but it tasted plain on his tongue, and his throat tightened as he glanced sidelong at Nightfrost.

When we part, we might be friends, sure, but you won’t be alone. You've always had cats you were close to...

Who will I have?

[cebwrites]

all coming up roses

comfort fic for my buddy @dillybea cause it’s been rough :’c 💓💓

word count: 0.5k

You follow the path before you, ducking under branches and stepping over the occasional overgrown root. Birds chirp high in the trees whose leaves provide shade for your little trek through the forest and you see critters skittering, scampering around. Going about their merry little business. 

Eventually this path leads you to a cottage in the clearing; double checking the address hastily scrawled on your arm and what appeared to be its address on the crooked mailbox. This did seem to be the place…

You knocked hesitantly, some noise could be heard from the inside - a muffled voice, clattering, and… a goose?! The door swings open and you’re met with feathers and a disheveled young man biting back a curse when he meets your gaze, exasperation immediately turns into a little sheepishness but he does afford you a smile.

Tacchan.

“You made it! Ugh, don’t mind him, come in, come in–”

He weaves through a small mess in the entrance hall and larger clutter spilling in from what appears to be a separate workspace. A woman in otter themed clothing and someone with a goatee–tattoos adorning their fingers, hands, and arms–bicker about color swatches in the living room, you’re offered a friendly wave and curt not, respectively from each, when you walk by. The man from earlier leads you to the back porch, a quaint little table already set up with snacks of every variety.

“I’m glad you could stop by,” He chirps as he takes a seat, gesturing for you to do the same and offers a cup of tea once you’ve settled in, “It’s been a while, huh?”

A little bit away, you can see two people tending to the garden–one tall man wearing a long skirt and a blond who joins him, the large sun hat resting on their back obscures most of their features but you momentarily spot what could be a third eye behind their bangs when her profile is visible. The two of them wave, too, when they notice you.

You hear the plaps of little webbed feet up on the deck as you sip your tea, there’s an indignant hjonk to announce his grand entrance. The young man seated beside you is none too impressed by the show.

“Came home because you were hungry, huh?” He holds out a cup of ice-water and berries for the little menace to ham on, and ham they do.

You can’t help but smile at the gesture. The wind carries wafts of something good from the kitchen, its breeze keeps you cool enough to make the day’s warmth pleasant. Further up in the cottage you barely make out the noise of people laughing, there’s a vague sound like music by the upstairs window, and you can even see two bunnies dart towards and away from each other, playing near the foliage. Fewer houses ever felt more like a home.

“Hey, I heard it’s been rough lately,” you turn to the man’s attention, “that’s why… I just wanted to tell you that you’re always welcome here, you know? If you ever need to get away for a while, our door’s always open.”

The goose now sits in his lap while he fusses over their feathers–they preen. Spoiled behavior.

Takashi smiles at you, his freckles follow the movement.

“Things'll get better, Miss Cae. Someone’s looking out for you, so I know they will.”