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cuttoothed · 3 years

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A little fic for @jonsimsandcats and also inspired by some adorable art on discord! Featuring notes on kitten rearing, and of course some Jmart because it’s me.

Jon works at the Institute here, but a non-spooky version of it!

Martin is doing a final check on the fish tanks when he hears the bell above the front door jingle. He sighs; he knew he should have locked up first. Just his luck.

“This is your fault,” he tells the angelfish balefully. They don’t seem contrite, too busy nosing in the fine gravel for any food they’ve missed. Martin walks out to the front of the shop, preparing his best customer service smile to tell whoever’s come in at—he glances at his watch—three minutes past eight that they’re closed, and no, they can’t just wander around for a few minutes to look at the animals. Honestly, some people seem to think there’s no difference between a pet shop and an art gallery.

There’s a man standing at the front counter, looking around anxiously, a bundled up jumper clutched against his chest.

“Sorry, we’re—” Martin begins, and that’s as far as he gets before the man unleashes a frantic tirade.

“Please!” the man says, “I need your help, I-I’m not sure they’re breathing and they were out there for hours on their own, I know you’re not supposed to move them in case their mother comes back but I couldn’t just—just leave knowing they were still there, and all the vet offices nearby are closed, this was the only place I could think of!”

The man is wild eyed, almost panicked, and Martin lifts both hands in an appeasing gesture.

“Woah,” he says, “Uh, maybe start from the beginning again? Slowly?”

“Right, ah, sorry. Sorry. I spotted them this morning, under a bush just outside my work.” The man sets the bundle of jumper down on the counter, and unfolds it to reveal two tiny scraps of fur: one gray, one black. Kittens, Martin realizes, so small they can only be a week or so old; certainly not old enough to be without their mother.

“I left them alone, because I’ve heard that the mother usually comes back after a little while. A-and I meant to go and check on them again during the day, make sure.” The man sounds anguished now, his face miserable. “But I—I got caught up in work, forgot about it. It was only when I was leaving that I remembered. And they were still there, on their own. Barely moving. Please—is there anything we can do?”

Martin looks down at the tiny creatures in their nest of wool; he can just about see the shallow in-out of their breathing. All day outside alone, at their age, the odds aren’t great. But he’s met enough kittens to know that they’re shockingly resilient little sods, and he’s never given up on a so-called hopeless case before. He’s not about to start now.

“You did the right thing moving them,” he assures the man, moving to flip the sign on the door to CLOSED. “We need to get them warmed up and get some food into them. Body heat is the best thing for them right now—can you start warming them with your hands?”

“Oh—ah, yes,” says the man, turning to his bundle of jumper with a worried frown. Martin leaves him there while he rushes around the shop, grabbing kitten milk replacer and nursing bottles, and then into the back to heat two mugs of water in the microwave while he makes up the bottles. He pops them into the mugs to warm, and brings the whole lot out to the front. The man now has a kitten in each hand, and is holding them pressed carefully to his chest for additional warmth; his expression is still worried, but also desperately tender, and Martin feels a pang of something behind his ribs at the sight.

“One of them is moving,” the man says eagerly as Martin sets the bottles down. Martin can see the gray kitten wriggling weakly in the man’s grip, responding to the heat. Its sibling is still motionless, and Martin’s heart sinks a little.

“That’s great,” he says. “Hold onto her for another minute, and let me see if I can get her sister moving too.”

He holds out a hand, and the man almost reluctantly passes him the black kitten. Martin doesn’t try to notice that the man has lovely hands, with long, slim fingers, narrow wrist jutting out of his shirt sleeve, but, well, he notices a bit. He turns his attention to the kitten; he can’t make out the motion of its breathing anymore. He takes it in both hands and starts to massage it gently. It lies limp in his palms, head lolling, and Martin starts to feel despair crawling cold up his spine.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “You can do it.” The man is watching him anxiously, the gray kitten cradled against his chest, and Martin knows he can’t give up. He keeps rubbing the kitten’s small body, trying to will warmth and life back into the tiny, fragile form. At last, after what seems like an eternity, the kitten squirms in his hands and a faint, plaintive mew escapes it. An answering mew comes from the gray kitten, and Martin laughs, relief washing over him.

“Right, let’s see if we can get them to eat.”

After checking that they’re not too chilled to feed, Martin tests each of the kittens with a drop of formula on their tongue; thankfully they both seem able to swallow without difficulty. He shows the man how to feed the gray kitten, holding its body in a neutral position with the bottle tilted for a gentle flow. It doesn’t take long for the kittens to figure out the process, and Martin can feel the tug on the bottle as his kitten begins to suckle.

“Oh,” he hears softly from beside him, and turns to see the man gazing in delight at the gray kitten, whose tiny, unfurled ears are twitching as it sucks.

“She’s doing great,” Martin comments. “Good job.” The man gives him a tentative, pleased smile, and Martin still isn’t trying to notice but it’s a very nice smile. “I’m Martin, by the way.”

“Jonathan Sims—Jon,” says the man, and then gives a small, tense laugh. “God, I haven’t even apologized for storming in here while you were clearly trying to close up for the night.”

“That’s all right, I didn’t have any exciting plans tonight anyway. I’d much rather be spending time with these little beauties.”

Jon smiles again, more sure this time, and all right, maybe Martin deliberately notices the dimple in his right cheek. Just a bit.

Once the kittens are fed, Martin shows Jon how to stimulate them; both of them only pee a little—poor things are dehydrated—but it’s a good sign. They clean them up and tuck them back into the nest of Jon’s jumper, where they curl up into a small puddle of black and gray. Jon gives a sigh that’s somewhere between relieved and exhausted.

“Thank you,” he says. “I, ah, I think I forgot to say that as well. You know a lot about this.”

“I volunteer at a shelter, there are a lot of kittens. If you like, I can take them for tonight and bring them in tomorrow?”

“Ah,” says Jon. “Do you think that’s—I mean...I-I’m not sure I’d feel right, handing them off to someone else. Not that I think you’re not capable!” he rushes to add, and Martin finds himself smiling.

“No, I get it. You found them, you want to take care of them. I’ll warn you, though, it’s a big commitment. For the first couple of weeks you have to feed them every two hours, even during the night, and then it’s every three or four hours until they start weaning. It’s like having a newborn baby.”

“I don’t get much sleep generally,” says Jon. “At least this way I’ll have something to do while I’m up all night. And my work is—well, I’ll explain the situation.”

He looks set on it, brow furrowed with determination. Martin considers arguing more: that a shelter will be better equipped to care for the kittens, that there’s no guarantee they’ll survive in any case, that Jon doesn’t know what he’s signing up for. But the shelters are always crowded, and kittens this young have simple needs, and really, a dedicated foster parent—armed with the right knowledge—is probably the best thing for them.

“Right,” he says, “Let’s make sure these two are well wrapped up before you take them home.”

He scrounges a cardboard box from the back and they settle the kittens into it, still wrapped in Jon’s jumper along with a soft fleece blanket printed with cartoon fish. Martin gathers a couple of cartons of liquid formula and extra bottles to get them started, and shows Jon how to pierce the nipple so the flow isn’t too strong.

“It should be warmed to body temperature,” he explains, “But not directly in the microwave—put the bottles in heated water, like I did earlier. Do you have a hot water bottle?”

“Yes, I do,” says Jon, frowning intently as he listens. Martin nods.

“It’s better than a heating pad at this age, they’re less likely to get overheated. Don’t make it too hot—body temperature, again—and wrap it in a blanket so they’re not touching it directly.”

“Got it,” says Jon firmly, and Martin believes him. He bags up the formula and bottles and an extra pet blanket, and presses them into the hands of a startled Jon; the till is shut off for the night, but Martin can explain and pay for the items tomorrow.

“What’s your phone number?” he asks, and Jon looks even more startled.

“S-sorry?”

“Or your email. I’m going to send you some links—videos, a couple of good blogs that should be helpful.”

“Oh, ah, right. Of course.” Jon recites his number and Martin saves it under “Jon (Kittens).” He peeks into the box one last time before Jon scoops it up, and sees the kittens snuggled in the folds of the jumper, paws waving in little kitten dreams.

“Thank you again, Martin,” says Jon. “I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.” His tone is shy but genuine, and it sends warmth through Martin’s chest and up into his cheeks.

“Any time,” Martin says. “And feel free to text me if you need anything—if you have a question or...anything. Or call me if you like.” He’s aware he’s rambling a bit, but it’s not every day an attractive man says that he doesn’t know what he would have done without you, so he can hardly be blamed.

“I will,” says Jon solemnly.

He doesn’t text Martin any questions that night, but when Martin sends him the links to a youtube channel and three blog posts on kitten care, he replies:

Thank you :)

Martin spends most of the rest of the night wondering what that smiley face means.

He doesn’t necessarily expect to see Jon again, and certainly doesn’t expect to see him the very next day. But just before one o’clock in the afternoon the bell above the door jingles and there’s Jon, looking tired and more than a bit sheepish.

“I got all the way into work this morning before I realized I’d never paid for any of the things you gave me,” he says, reaching for his wallet.

“Those were gifts,” Martin tells him firmly. “Sort of a “welcome to foster parenthood” care basket?”

“No, I couldn’t let you—” Jon starts to protest, but Martin shakes his head emphatically.

“It’s no big deal, honestly. I get an employee discount anyway.”

“I...well, then I suppose I need to thank you yet again,” says Jon.

“It’s becoming a bit of a habit,” Martin jokes, grinning, and Jon smiles in return. He hesitates a moment before continuing:

“Maybe I could buy you lunch instead, then? To pay you back.”

“There’s no need, honestly,” says Martin, even as his brain berates him: What are you doing, idiot, he’s asking you to have lunch with him? Say yes!

“Please, I’d like to,” Jon says, and then gives a thoughtful frown. “Only if you want to, of course, don’t feel obligated—”

“I’m on lunch in five minutes,” Martin blurts out before he can overthink it.

“Great!” says Jon, sounding pleased. “If you have time, we could go by my office as well and visit the kittens. I just fed them before I came to see you.”

Before I came to see you, not before I came to pay you back, and Martin feels that warmth crawling up towards his cheeks again. Even if Jon’s intentions are purely friendly rather than...anything else, well, Martin could always use more friends.

“How were they last night?” he asks, and the smile that spreads across Jon’s face this time is pure delight.

“Oh I barely got an hour’s sleep,” he says, waving a hand. “And today they’re sitting under my desk reminding me every couple of hours that they need attention and that they are far more important than whatever I’m working on. They’re perfect.”

“Sounds like cat parenthood suits you,” Martin teases gently, and Jon laughs.

“I think it rather does.”

Lunch is...nice, and only slightly awkward in the “getting to know a new person” sort of way. Jon is serious, but also funny in an understated, acerbic way, and there’s a gentleness to him that wouldn’t be immediately apparent, if Martin hadn’t seen him cradling two tiny, fragile lives to his chest last night. He’s the kind of person Martin would like to know better, he thinks.

Afterwards they go to Jon’s workplace, which is extremely academic with a brass nameplate by the door and everything, and down to the basement office where Jon works; Martin doesn’t really know what archiving entails, but it looks like mostly a bloody great pile of paperwork. Jon’s two colleagues give Martin friendly and extremely curious glances as they pass; Jon pointedly ignores them in favor of directing Martin to his desk and the cardboard box sitting beneath it.

When Martin glances inside, the two kittens are curled up in the folds of the fish-print blanket, lying against the shape of what he assumes is the hot water bottle. Their bellies already look rounder than they were last night, thanks to regular feeding, and their limbs twitch as they sleep.

“I’ll take them to the vet for a check up after work,” Jon murmurs quietly, gazing down at them with a soft expression. Martin recognizes that look of adoration, and he knows this pair won’t be going to a shelter or anywhere else; they’ve found their home with Jon.

“They’re lucky you found them,” he says, and Jon smiles self-consciously.

“I think I’m the one who was lucky,” he says.

They spend a bit more time with the kittens, and then Martin realizes that it’s about time he got back to work if he doesn’t want to get in trouble. He excuses himself, waving goodbye to Jon’s still curious colleagues, and Jon walks him out to the grand front entrance of the building.

“Thanks again for lunch,” he says. “And—you have my number, right? The offer is open, if you need anything, just text me.”

“I will,” says Jon. “And, ah, let me know if you’d like to come and see the kittens again. Any day. Well, most days,” he corrects himself. “We could, ah, maybe have lunch again?”

“That sounds...really nice,” says Martin. Jon smiles, pleased, and Martin isn’t trying to notice the faint flush that spreads across his face, but it’s very cute anyway.

As he walks back to work, Martin’s phone vibrates with a text. It’s a picture of the kittens, curled up on top of each other, with the message:

Come back and see us soon!

Martin grins; the kittens, he thinks, weren’t the only ones lucky to be found last night.

#the magnus archives #jonsimsandcats2021 #my fic #jonmartin

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a-little-birdie · 3 years

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Nests and why they are important.

This is just idea thinking. For the winged au (when talking about birds and people and such I mean the people with wings, sorry!)

(This is really long so, sorry about that)

Okay so nests

They are circles made of blankets, pillows, feathers and a soft mattress that is difficult to tear or cut, because claws.

They are the place these feather heads sleep and keep warm but

There is way more than that!

Okay so,,,, lets get into the world building

Predators (eagles/hawks) are bigger than most other birds with only a few exceptions, therefore they need less blankets and pillows to keep warm since they themselves can keep warm just fine on their own plus there��s wings, so adding onto that a predator will keep molted feathers that have been gifted to them in their nest, gifting a feather is something very important because it’s like giving a piece of your essence.

A birds wings symbolizes their freedom and who they are, a slaves or prisoners wings may be broken, burned or torn right off to show what they are, that they have lost their freedom and who they are as a person.

A predators nest is usually a bit above the ground, but babies bounce so it’s okay. When they have chicks there will usually be many more blankets and pillows. You can actually tell where the chick/s sleep because there will be this little separate nest made of blankets and pillows, inside the nest, with these large imprints around them. It’s really cute. ^-^

A song bird’s (Robbins, starlings, sparrows, etc) nest is naturally smaller than a predators and have many more blankets and pillows to keep them warm and comfortable. A songbird might give hand made blankets or pillows with one of their feathers sewn in.

It is very unwise to refuse a gift from a songbird since gift giving is something very important to these small but mighty people and if you refuse a gift they will take great offence and you will find a pouty songbird (but like seriously these guys are tiny terrors DO NOT PISS THEM OFF TRUST ME. They can and will out fly and out maneuver you, theres a reason they’re hard to catch.) How you can get forgiveness is by giving them a basket with some bread and a few other things such as berries or seeds and some sweets.

A song birds nest will be on the ground usually in an open area (in their house of course!) where natural sunlight can easily come in. There would usually be a wide window on each side of the room to let in light from the sunrise and light from the sunset. Song birds rise and set with the sun.

A corvids nest (ravens, jays, magpies) is actually one of the only ones to still use sticks and natural items for their nests, it’s actually incredible. Their instincts are still rather strong when it comes to certain things, so they tend to have a liking for tradition but there are some who don’t follow tradition.

Please do not offer to help a corvid with their nest, in their culture it means you have a romantic interest in them and they will either A) explain to you what that means to them or B) tell you no or let you down gently or C) accept your offer. If they accept your offer hopefully you understand their culture or you’ll be having an awkward conversation.

They still have a mattresses it’s just more bowl shape and surround by sticks, moss and leaves. Plus blankets, pillows and feathers, they’re still keeping up with the times. Usually with a corvids nest (specifically magpies but all of them do this) you’ll find shiny little objects woven into the branches that keep the nest together. Taking one of these usually means untold doom, adding one and it staying there means that you are trusted, the corvid thinks of you as part of their flock. Congrats you now have a giant puppy that will commit theft for you /lh

A Corvids nest because of the bowl shape can be hard for chicks to crawl out of. This is actually used to the parents advantage so that until the baby birds can crawl out of the nest without any help they’re more or less restricted to the nest for safety reasons of course! The parents will take the chicks out of the nest so that they can get fresh air, meet people and actually learn how to walk and further develop their muscles and wings.

Owls who? Haha don’t mind the pun. Anyways, an owls nest well more like their cities are up high in the trees, in the ancient forests. The trees in the ancient forests are at least three metres across and the height is very tall. They’ll have their nests in either natural or homemade hollows in these large and ancient trees high above the ground. But don’t worry! The have decks and bridges and railings and all that to help keep them safe! There’s even ramps that lead to the ground incase any chicks who are branching fall to the ground or any elders or just people who can’t fly in general are on the ground!

You will not catch a single stair in the owls home, they believe that for everyone to be equal everything must accessible by everyone, there’s even some elevators using the pulley system! Everyone there does their fair share, even the children, instead of money being used people will trade items or help the other person out.

Their nests tend to have a lot of animal skins instead of blankets, with pillows made of fur that has been taken off of the animal skin and wrapped or tied together with string or fabric. Their mattresses are flatter and tend to be made of moss, leaves and bark softened through boiling of water then covered in more furs because soft = yes.

Burrowers are birds that live under ground, it’s in the name. Think hobbit holes but put them at the base of large trees or bushes and make them not hobbit holes. Because the term “Burrowers” spread across most families it is difficult to pin point a specific design or commonality between all of the different “Burrowers”. Usually you can assume a Burrowers nest will be like the rest of their species/ family but put it underground.

Tropical birds will have their nest anywhere, inside a hut, on top of the trees (literally), inside a tree, on the branches, on the ground, hanging in the air, anywhere they will put their nests. But there are two things in common, one: it’s always in a heavily forested place or the jungle, tropical birds have grown up with vines and branches and a lot of things getting in their way while flying, they have grown used to the chaos of the jungle and they revel in it. Two: the roof is always transparent, removable, nonexistent or it’s there simply so the house is attached to at least something while its hanging in the air.

Because of their choice of residence (where they want to live) it’s extremely hard to get to their homes so we had to ask a tropical bird when we found one and the most they told us was: “we have a mattress, pillows and blankets.” And they wouldn’t tell us anymore because. “What else is there to tell?”

A hummingbirds nest is rather small with high walls. Because the chicks are so fragile they spend most of their time inside the nest sleeping, eating and trying to strengthen up their bones. In fact their bones are so fragile that if a hummingbird chick were to try and walk their legs would simply snap under the pressure of gravity and their own body weight.

When under quite a bit of stress or experiencing quite a lot of emotions or just one strong emotion, the nest will be changed. However, how much of the nest that will be changed is is a different story.

Another time the nest will be changed is when the people of the house are expecting chicks, either the entire home will be cleaned or the nest will become nothing but a blanket Fort, or something like that.

Thanks for reading this thing on nests I guess, I’ve still got a lot of world building to do but if you have any questions about the world or anything please send it in! I would love it if you did! It would actually help me a lot on the world building!

#little birdie writes #winged!technoblade #winged!smp earth #winged!hermitcraft #winged!dsmp #winged!au #winged #worldbuilding #please send in asks!#it would make my day!#this isn’t really edited so have fun with tha!#if you couldn’t tell I was running low on mental energy near the end #this is actually way bigger than I thought it would be but it’s fun!#yeah it would actually help a ton if people sent in asks or something #because it’s gonna help get my brain going and then I’ll be able to expand more on that stuff in the world and such #like please #ask me stuff #yeah anyways have a good day!

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irishmacguirefucker · 4 years

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I need to know about the barn cats for emotional support reasons

FUCK YEAH I CAN DUDE. Be sure to read past the cut, I talk more about the kittens in the second half.

It started with one really. They were having a bit of a mice issue and figured what better to deal with it than a little hunter. The plan was to ask around, see if anyone had some to sell, but one kinda fell into their laps. Lenny, Mary-Beth, and Hosea had taken a little trip into town. There was a beautiful old bookshop they were headed to, looking to spend a bit of their new earnings on some novels. After spending far too long in the bookshop, they were heading to the general store for supplies.

When they were nearly there, there was a commotion across the street. They watched as the barkeep of the saloon chased a scrappy looking cat out of his bar with a broom. Without thinking, Mary-Beth ran to defend the poor animal. She’s always been quick, and she managed to scoop up the fleeing feline before it could get underneath the porch of the general store. The angry barkeep stormed up to her broom in hand, and Lenny and Hosea took a protective stance directly behind her. “That your cat, girl?”

The brunette responded with just as much venom. “Yes she is and I don't appreciate you beating her like that, she ain't done nothing wrong!”

She glared right back at him, and he looked offended that she would dare to speak against him. “She was sitting on my goddamned bar! Keep your animal in check, next time I ain't gonna be so nice.”

Lenny bristled, and nearly pushed the man from where he was getting so close, but Hosea held him back before he could. “Now there’s no need for all this ruckus, we’re taking the cat away now. Come now Mary-beth, we had better get her home.”

The barkeep was still red-faced with anger but didn’t say more as the small group walked away. They got to the porch of the general store, and Hosea was about to address Mary-Beth when an old woman sitting on the bench outside spoke up.

“Now you don't mind old Larry, he’s nothing but an angry bastard.” She said, putting down her knitting on her lap.” That your cat there, young lady? I could have sworn she was the stray that's been running ‘round here since the springtime…”

Mary-Beth flushed at the slight chastising tone in the elderly woman's voice, but she just laughed. “Don’t worry girl, I’m just glad someone is looking out for her. Are you going to keep her?”

Mary-Beth turned to Hosea with the biggest puppy dog eyes. “Please Hosea, she’s all alone! And we need a cat to take care of the mice, let me bring her home!”

Hosea laughed kindly at her pleading. “Now how could I say no when you ask so nicely. Come on Lenny, it seems we will be getting the supplies ourselves since miss Gaskill has her arms full.” Lenny just laughed along and followed the older man in.

Mary Beth nearly followed him when the older woman stopped her. “Now don’t go bringing her in there, they’ll have your head for bringing an animal inside. Come, sit by me while you wait on your father.”

Mary-Beth didn't bother to correct her as she sat on the small bench. The cat had begun to calm down, now focused on aggressively sniffing Mary-Beth's perfume scented curls. “We needed a barn cat, she’s quite the little blessing!”

The old woman smiled kindly. “She’ll be good at her job, she’s been killing mice ‘round here for months.”

Mary-Beth and the woman conversed for a while as the men got supplies. It was nice to make conversation with the locals, it wasn't a pleasure they really had back in her outlaw days. Never without a motive at least. The men walked out and they each said their goodbyes to the sweet old lady and headed back to the wagon. By now the cat was completely calm, just enjoying the scratching and petting from her saviour.

Mary-Beth reluctantly handed her to Lenny while she climbed into the back of the wagon, and when Lenny carefully placed the tabby in the wagon as well it immediately went and laid beside the girl. It was a calm ride home, and everyone was happy to see that they had found an answer to their mouse problem, and an adorable one at that.

In Mary-Beth’s defence, she had no way of knowing the cat was pregnant.

She hadn't been so round when they picked her up, but now a few weeks later she was looking ready to pop. She had become quite the spoiled cat in her time at the ranch, but she had no interest in actually staying in the ranch house. She spent a lot of time exploring the property, and some of the gang were a little worried she might just run off. Luckily she stuck around, taking a particular liking to the loft above the barn.

To everyone's surprise, Molly was practically the cat’s biggest fan. She had cats back in Ireland and had liked them since she was a little girl. Whenever she saw the pregnant tabby she would give her a little treat, or pet her until the feline got bored. The redhead was a little sad that the cat didn't seem to spend much time inside the ranch house, but in a way, it encouraged molly to go outside herself. She was the one to find out the cat was giving birth. They all knew she was close and each member was a little worried about finding a litter of newborn kittens in their beds, but the only one hoping to be there when it happened was Molly.

She hadn't seen the cat in nearly two days and she was worried. She asked around, and nobody had seen the feline. Eventually, she recruited Jack, Mary-Beth, and Tilly to help her look for the cat properly. After nearly two hours of searching, Jack burst into the main house and grabbed Molly by the hand to drag her outside. He was speaking a mile a minute, but the moment she heard the word ‘Kittens’ she was running to keep up with the boy. When she got to the barn, she saw Kieran climbing down from the loft. He had been working in the barn at the time and climbed up to help the girls look, and found the healthy litter with their mother.

She had 6 little kittens, each of the suckling from their mother in the straw. Kieran explained as much and one at a time each of the girls climbed up to take a look. They were all surprised when Molly climbed the ladder, but she was determined to get a look at the babies. As she sat among the straw, gazing at the squirming babies she called down to the others. “Will they be alright up here? It's so cold…”

Eventually, they decided that when the kittens opened their eyes properly they would try and move the little nest into the main house to be watched properly. After helping Jack take a look, Molly very carefully climbed back down the ladder and followed the others into the house once more.

A few weeks later, there were kittens roaming the whole ranch. It took a little getting used to for some, trying not to let them get underfoot, but it was nice. They had all taken to calling the mother ‘Mama’, and Jack had named nearly all the kittens after spices from the herb garden. One of them, however, Molly named. It was a stark white kitten that she had her eye on from the start. It acted a little different from the others and the mother always had an eye on it. Eventually, they determined that the white kitten was deaf, though that didn't stop him from rolling with his siblings just the same. Molly had been enamoured with it from the start, spoiling it and carrying it around. She named him Shamrock and called him her lucky little prince. He ended up being the most spoiled cat of the bunch and followed Molly around the house like it was his job. The moment she sat anywhere, he was in her lap. His fur grew to be long as his mother’s, and Molly brushed it often. Not to say she didn't also brush the other cats as often as they would let her, but Shamrock was the only one who seemed to enjoy it rather than just tolerate it.

Dutch is not a fan of Shamrock. He does not appreciate that he’s basically stealing his girl. The cat also does not like Dutch, he literally growls at the man when he leans over to kiss Molly. It's very funny.

The other kittens are Yarrow, Mint, Basil, Sage, and Mushroom. Yarrow is a near copy of her mother, just smaller. Mint and Basil are nearly identical orange longhair Tabby’s, both male. Sage is a grey tabby but she has short fur. Mushroom is solid grey.

Jack named them, it was right around the time Charles and Hosea were making the Herb garden and teaching the boy about different plants. The boy is mushroom's favourite. The grey cat almost acts like a dog, wrestling with Cain and climbing all over Jack. They go on adventures, the three of them, like a little team.

Yarrow is the best hunter, just like her mom. She's particularly great at catching birds, when she got bigger she actually took down a few crows in the garden.

Sage is a menace. She can get into anyone's home somehow and will climb all over their stuff. It drives Grimshaw absolutely crazy.

Mint and Basil can only be told apart by Mint’s one white sock and the white tip of Basil’s tail.

#rdr2 #ranch au #mary-beth gaskill #hosea matthews #lenny summers #cats #writing #rdr2 ranch au #ask #headcanons #Anonymous

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livewireprojects · 3 years

Photo

So I was working on a pic for day 16 but I was working on it after work so didn’t have much time before 5pm to get pics.(I need a scanner one of these days) At some point I just looked at how dark it was getting in the room I take pics in & gave up. I also don’t know what to do for day 17, I want to guess something like Future Foundation or characters being in the simulation from DR2 due to the name of the project but I dunno. I might do something but the theme future is coming up so I’ll likely save it for that.

I’m rambling & kind of feel bad for my posts for day 15 So day 16 was alternate universes & I really enjoy AUs though a large amount of the ones I like are crossover plots. Most of the pics aren’t crossover based & are largely just based on past RPs. I made a bunch of pics & didn’t want to spam with posts for each so I tried to put as many as I could together.

The first three pics are based on a thing I call Monster Community AU thing, pretty much characters are secretly some kind of creature(witch, alien, merpeople, harpies, etc) living among humans but sometimes do things in secret areas other monsters hanging out at like a community of monsters.

The two scenes here are from different mermaid RPs, both from my Monster Community AU stuff again. Both pics involve RP plots that were DR1 happened, DR2 characters were trying to survive the aftermath of the world going mad(pretty much surviving in the destroyed city until finding somewhere or something) & some other stuff I’m going to leave out due to rambling. Just know this is technically a simplified version of the series post-DR1(if that makes sense? probably not) that was used because I keep doing shit in RPs.

The one to the left is from a plot were the survivors find a cave they end up staying the night in only to decided to check further & find themselves in a place other monsters are living in. For some reason Makoto is a grey eyeless big mouth monster, I think I was obsessed with a design I saw on Tumblr but can't find anymore. Byakuya is an octopus merperson because for some reason I imagine he'd be on if he was a merman. The second one is vampire Byakuya is living in a mansion his family had by the sea on a cliff area that leads to the beach. He ends up learning Makoto is a merperson(whose parents tried to keep him from learning about other creatures for safety) & expecting their kids. Makoto is a species of merperson that make nests in the sand when they have kids so Makoto had to stay in the water until the babies could swim by themselves. Byakuya will probably have some special pools setup in the house for the twins since they'll be to young to go into human form after the being old enough to swim.(It'll only be a couple months) At the moment Makoto is in a cave inside the cliff that leads to the ocean, some how the inside of Byakuya's mansion has a secret stairway leading down here. Makoto can't leave the water because his nest is here & his merperson instincts don't want him to leave until the babies hatch & are old enough to swim. Due to Makoto's parents hiding his & Komaru's mermaid/creature side Makoto didn't think much on the fact he was a merperson until he got pregnant & his instincts demanded he make a nest... That's also how Byakuya learned his family had a secret area of the mansion & proceeded lug a futon mattress/blanket down there to be close to Makoto. I didn't think much about it at the time but I guess something lead to his parents getting protective & scared if someone knew they were merpeople, then again there's a Japanese myth about eating mermaids/some kind of fish people would cause immortality. I almost forgot this but Byakuya hung up a net & decorations so the babies when down in the cave don’t swim into the sea.

This one is based on an RP were Byakuya is a werewolf while Makoto is a harpy. DR1 happened, Byakuya & Makoto had a relationship but went their separate ways to find their families(see if there’s hope of them still being out there) while working on getting their lives together.(Since with the despair event they likely need to recover/figure out what to do now)

Byakuya at some point is house sitting for Hinata & Komaeda(originally it was his vacation cabin in the woods but something changed forget why) when he ends up having to help a harpy who lost their nest because a tree landed on it. He took the harpy in because they didn’t have anywhere to go & the crash broke one of their wings. He was to tired to think much about figuring out who the harpy was after patching them up because he was tired.

Byakuya ends up learning in the morning that the harpy is Makoto & pregnant. Byakuya reassured Makoto knew he was safe now & he(Byakuya) isn’t going anywhere. Byakuya later learned Makoto found his family but someone attacked & ditched him in the woods while injuring his eye. After that Byakuya helps Makoto recover & they eventually move to his vacation house when Hinata & Komaeda come home. Byakuya has a nursery for their eventual kids & Makoto ended up staying in the nursery sitting on the egg Ichigo was in when he had the twins. Len kept barking when he found her until she finally hatched.

Here’s Makoto perched on Hinata’s couch singing a bird tune as Byakuya listens, sometimes the blond will sometimes whistle which makes Makoto squeal in delight because it sounds like Byakuya trying to mimic a bird. Makoto is meant to be a House Martin harpy because the bird is cute & has fuzzy feet. Makoto’s hood/cape is just his hoodie tied to his neck, he can slightly still see out of the injured eye but without something to protect it things seem to bright during the day through that eye.

This was the pic that lead to not posting anything the other day, as you can tell I made more pics right after managing to finish it. This pic is once again based on an RP(well two of them), for some reason I really liked doing this plot. The AU is pretty much everyone lives in a world of animal centaurs(in Kazuichi's case he's a shark merperson) & for some reason this is before modern technology exists. Everyone lives in caves that have been carved into homes with some having multiple rooms, they have furniture made from leftover stone, wood, some other stuff & clothes made out of normal animal skin like they're in Brother Bear or something. Given the state the world is currently at they seal off the entrances to their caves in the winter after making sure to have enough food to last it.(There's some that have the ability to hibernate luckily) I have absolutely no idea why I enjoy this so much. So Byakuya is a wolf(lol blond wolf fur) & Makoto is a pygmy goat(I made him a little bigger because again awkward size) but for the first RP I kept switching the species(from pudu deer to pygmy goat) because I was obsessed with those animals at the time. It ended with S having Gundam call Makoto a goat/deer hybrid so he's a deer goat in the first RP.(I didn't switch it often but kept talking about confusion) In the second RP Makoto stayed a pygmy goat for the entire RP. Len is a wolf centaur & Ichigo is a goat centaur, Byakuya & Makoto had other kids but they're preexisting characters(Komaru & Chiaki for some reason) & I'm mostly focusing on these characters.(I don't actually know what I was getting at) The twins are a couple days old, since Ichigo is a pygmy goat she's already active. Byakuya is laying down so she won't get hurt, Ichigo & Makoto's goat side makes them enjoy climbing things so the little baby is climbing on daddy. Len's eyes & ears haven't opened just yet so he's kept safe in a portable cradle thing since he's to small to play with his little sister right now.(Makoto will retuck him in in a moment) Makoto has a poncho thing because he has trouble keeping warm which luckily his kids didn't inherit. Also Byakuya is pretty strong so he can take his daughter & his mate trying to climb on him especially when Makoto is pregnant. It's ok & doesn't bother him in fact it's kind of cute especially since sometimes after that Ichigo will do a little jitter dance that baby goats some times do.(He'd also whether they climb on him or a stool thing than try to climb the side of their home or something bigger due to worrying about the two hurting themselves.

Byakuya & Makoto have slightly long hair because it's hard for them to cut their hair with a dagger Byakuya worked on for hair cutting. Byakuya is hoping to eventually trade something for a mirror some traveling trader visits, maybe see if someone in the pack can help with cutting hair not that it matter much.

Go check out @naegamimonth

#naegamimonth2020 #naegami #my art #shared OC

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365days365movies · 3 years

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March 5, 2021: The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (2013) (Part Two)

Am I going to watch Kaguya-sama again after this?

It is a funny show, so I’m probably gonna watch a compilation or something. Anyway, where was I? OH RIGHT! The Tale of Princess Kaguya, Recap Part Two! This movie is beautiful so far, and I’m enjoying this adaptation of the classic story reinterpreted. Told the girlfriend about this, and she mentioned one of her favorite games: Okami.

It’s based quite heavily on Japanese mythology, and also has a similar aesthetic to this movie. Rumors persist that they’ll be rebooting this, so fingers crossed! Anyway, let’s get back to the movie! First part of the Recap is right here!

Recap (2/3)

After the dream/return to the palace, Hime seems to accept her fate as Princess Kaguya, and is no longer the rebellious and rambunctious kid she was before. And yes, I’ll be referring to her as Kaguya from now on...until the time is right. She studies (and suffers) in silence, clearly unhappy and depressed.

Miyatsuki either doesn’t understand it, or is completely ignorant of her suffering. He brings her a pet bird to keep, which she somewhat brushes off. However, she lets the bird go, as if wishing she could fly away with it.

But time once again passes, and Kaguya grows more beautiful, and the rumors of this beauty spread. People gather outside to palace to get a glimpse of her, and Miyatsuki has made sure to never show her face publicly. Her servant, Me no Warawa (Hynden Walch) is accosted outside of the palace, with a pile of messages and letters for her. She also brings cherry blossoms to the essentially captive Kaguya, for which she is thankful.

Words of her beauty and bamboo-based origins are also spread by Akita to a group of five suitors, all of whom are completely entranced. These five suitors are a classic part of the story, and are also represented in the recent anime based upon it (Kaguya-sama: Love is War).

The five suitors LITERALLY race there, spurred on by Akita’s...really horny speech,not gonna lie, dude says that this (13-year old) girl got his “juices flowing”, real fuckin’ quote there. Guuuh. Anyway, Miyatsuki and Sagami are overjoyed, as marrying any of these dudes is a guarantee for a happy and prosperous life. But Kaguya...is honestly surprised that she’s supposed to be happy. FUCK, MAN.

She’s SUPER not interested in these guys, but they are ridiculously interested in her. She meets them in honor of her father, but not on her own behalf. They present their proposals to her, and I’ll introduce them in order! First up, Prince Kuramochi (Beau Bridges), an older man of great wealth who basically compares her to a jeweled tree branch on the mountain of Hourai. Cool? In the anime, he’s translated into the best character in the series, game and ramen lover Fujiwara Chika.

Second is Prince Ishidzukuri no Miko (James Marsden), who’s already completely fucked because James Marsden is voicing him, and he basically only plays characters destined to be cucked. Check out my recap of The Notebook for more on that. He pledges to worship her, and compares her to the Stone Begging Bowl of Buddha. In the anime, he’s translated into uptight rules-follower Miko Iino.

Ishidzukuri’s comparison is mocked by number three, Abe no Miushi, Lord Minister of the Right (Oliver Platt), a corpulent man that compares her to...a robe of fire-rat fur. You’re comparing her...to rat hair clothes? Um...wow, dude, that’s legit insulting. No wonder you don’t have a counterpart in the anime yet.

Suitor number four, Grand Counselor Ootomo no Miyuki (Daniel Dae Kim) agrees with me that that’s a SHITTY comparison, and instead compares her to the Five-Colored Jewel around a Dragon’s Neck. His counterpart in the anime is the main love interest, Miyuki Shirogane. Yeah, sort of rigged in his favor in the show. It’s based on it, not a true adaptation.

And lastly is the sullen Middle Counselor Isonokami no Maro (John Cho), who compares her to a cowry shell from a swallow’s nest, which ensures safety in childbirth. And his counterpart is the equally sullen and video-game loving Yu Ishigami, another one of the best characters in the series.

OK, enough about the anime, yeah? Sorry, I just...I just really like it. Anyway, the suitors’ comparisons give Kaguya an idea. She plays the koto for the men, which entrances them (and me, it’s a gorgeous sound), and she thanks them for the sentiment. However, for her hand in marriage, they will need to bring her each of the treasures they compared her to. After all, they compared her to rare treasures, meaning that she is also not easy to obtain. By doing this, they show that they are worthy of that treasure. NICE.

The men leave, noting that it was quite impossible to get these treasures, and that Kaguya is a rare jewel that no one will capture. Objectifying, but OK. When they leave, everybody around the castle leaves as well. Which, to be fair, was exactly what Hime wanted.

Sagami is PIIIIIIIIIIISED, and quits. Miyatsuki’s not exactly chuffed either. But Hime’s finally free, and goes out of the palace with her mother and Warawa to see the city and the cherry blossom trees. Good for her. ‘Bout time she had some fun and joy in her life.

It’s cut off VERY fast, however, when she encounters a family of commoners, who only recognize her as nobility and nothing further. Realizing how separate she now is from them as they bow to her, she breaks a little. And they leave to go back to the city. While getting back there, though, who should she run into but Sutemaru, who’s just stolen a chicken. She calls to him, and he stops and recognize her...but they leave and he’s caught. And Hime cries.

Time passes. Three years, to be specific, as they actually tell us this time. Hime’s still close to her mother, as they still garden together in the back. However, relationships with her father are less great. He comes in and tells her that the first suitor, Kuramochi, has come back with the jeweled branch after all this time. Hime can’t believe it.

Kuramochi comes in with the jeweled branch, which dazzles brilliantly. Kaguya asks how he found it. He weaves a dramatic tale of happening upon the mountain and the branch. As this takes place, though, a local craftsman comes by to collect his fee for...making the branch. And now that he’s made, the cheap-ass Prince takes the fuck off.

Next up is Abe, the rat skin guy, with fire-rat robe in hand. Kaguya calls his bluff, though, and tells him to drop that shit in the fire. If it’s real, then it won’t burn, and the two will marry forthwith. And that shit BURNS. Which sucks, because dude thought it was real, and spent literally ALL of his money on it.

Afterwards, in a conversation between Hime and Waraka, it’s revealed that Miyuki’s actually going to get the Dragon Pearl, and we see that in a gorgeous sequence. It doesn’t go well.

Meanwhile, Ishidzukuri drops by, having brought something for Kaguya. It’s not the bowl promised to her, but is instead a sweet little flower. He admits that he went searching for the bowl, filled with love for Kaguya. Instead, he found a treasure of nature, the flower, and was meant to represent his devotion and the depth of his feelings for her.

And that’s actually very sweet. But he’s James Marsden, so he’s FUCKED. But she definitely seems entranced by his offer to take her some place natural and beautiful and far away. Impassioned and full of love, he lifts open the blinds and sees...his wife. GODDAMN IT JAMES MARSDEN. The cuckee becomes the cucker.

Which sucks, because she actually did fall for him there for a second. We next hear of the Counselor, sent to fetch the cowry shell. However, he tragically dies in the attempt. This knowledge shatters Hime, who rips up her private garden in absolute sorrow. Her mom, who’s genuinely the best mom, tells her not to blame herself.

Meanwhile, as all of this is happening, Princess Kaguya has the ear of the Emperor, the Mikado (Dean Cain). He wishes for Kaguya to become one of his brides, and will make her father a member of the court. Miyatsuki, ever tone-deaf to his daughter’s desires, is thrilled. But Hime refuses, to which her father says that refusal of the Emperor’s wishes is impossible. And Hime says that she will do it to make her father happy, and then she’ll kill herself immediately after the wedding.

Um...fuck. I...I think I’m giving this one a Part Three. See you there!

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tetedurfarm · 4 years

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Do you have any advice for getting into keeping rabbits? I was looking into getting a couple for meat production and possibly starting to learn to tan pelts but I don’t want to get confused over all the conflicting info on the internet about wire flooring and such things.

ugh, it’s so frustrating, isn’t it? with pretty much every other animal you can just google “how to raise x” and get tons of good advice, but the rabbit results are dominated by HRS forums that will crucify you for even mentioning breeding, much less meat production.

so here’s some points i’ve learned from experience to help you out:

1. wire flooring is not evil. in fact it’s great. it’s clean, it’s sanitary, there’s airflow if you use it in a hutch, and if you do it right you won’t have foot problems (unless you’re raising rex or giant breeds, but even then there’s easy fixes like my lattice mats.)

here’s what you’re looking for: 1″x0.5″ grid 16g - 14g wire. if you order your cages from a manufacturer like Bass Equipment (my preferred cagemaker,) or Klubertanz, this will come standard. if you make your own cages or buy from a feed store, it’s a bit more hit and miss.

make sure the half-inch wires are on top when you build your cages, so the weight is distributed properly:

see how the smaller gaps are “on top”?

vs this side. (shoutout to me having like twenty cages all in pieces in my living room to get these nice reference pics ;p)

i also recommend you get your floors galvanized after weld; they’ll last a long longer that way!

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2. babysaver wire is called that for a reason. babysaver is when there’s a 1x0.5 grid near the bottom of a cage. it’s there to keep kits from falling out of the cage, and helps prevent predators from easily pulling kits out.

this is a cage with babysaver. it does what it’s meant to. i use these for my doe cages, and even if a kit gets dragged out of the nest, as long as i find it in time, it’ll survive because it didn’t roll out and get snatched by something off the ground.

vs one without:

i use these for bucks and my growout pens for older kits. they are cheaper than babysaver cages, but it’s worth the money to keep your babies safe.

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3. invest in a good pair of j-clip pliers. even if you buy prefab cages, often times they’re cheaply made and you’ll need to fill in gaps so they don’t fall apart so easily. it’s also good to keep them around just because, because after a while the clips can get rusty and fall off, and you’ll need to replace them occasionally.

good on left, not so good on right. the ones on the left cost my about fifteen bucks from my favourite hilariously-named rabbit supply site: Rabbitnipples.com. the ones on the right were like $8 at my local feed store. so a significant markup, but VERY worth it. the good pliers are more comfortable to hold in your hand, and make much nicer/more secure crimps than the cheap ones. i often have to crimp clips twice or more with cheap pliers, because of the way they’re shaped:

the good pliers have a solid mouth that make a clean loop with no pointy outy bits. and they can double as removers if you mess one up!

this is topical because i lost my good pliers and had to order new ones, and in the meantime i built four cages and my palms are so sore/bruised from the cheap pliers. don’t be like me.

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4. vets kinda aren’t worth it. one of the things you’ll see on HRS sites is that vets are ABSOLUTELY necessary. i don’t hate vets, but they chronically have no idea how to treat rabbits, often making them worse or causing them to die because they administered a med that’s safe for cats but not rabbits. they also often subscribe to HRS rhetoric that pellets are evil and rabbits should only eat hay and greens, which is…wrong (i’ll get to that in a minute.) if you can find a good vet it may be worth it for one or two rabbits, but once you get into the double-digits, it’s just not worth it. exotics vets are expensive, and i can’t afford $50 just for a consult for thirty rabbits. learn how to treat everyday ailments like sore feet, wounds, abscesses, eye infections, stasis/bloating, and birthing issues on your own. i suggest joining up with a meat rabbit forum (i like rabbittalk.net,) and going through their articles on rabbit medicine and herbology. if i can’t fix it myself, that rabbit is soup. and if a rabbit chronically has health issues, don’t use it as a breeder. bad immune systems/teeth/feet/etc are hereditary.

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5. things will die. get used to it. with livestock comes deadstock. if you can’t handle animals dying, including newborn babies, or having to euthanize animals (including newborn babies,) don’t get livestock. if you can’t look your food in the eye and thank it for its sacrifices, then don’t get livestock. this is not a place for bleeding hearts.

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6. don’t breed a new doe by herself. rabbits are running on hormones only for their first litters, and sometimes they mess it up. having an experienced doe kindle alongside her that you can foster to gives the new doe’s kits the best chance of survival in case she doesn’t get it quite right. this ties in with the last point, though - you’re gonna have dead babies. sometimes you have to make the babies dead yourself, because mama screwed up and the foster already has eight of her own. not everyone has a n’rithaa who can nurse nineteen and not break a sweat, and the kindest thing to do is pick the strongest and cull the weaker ones so mama doesn’t have so many to feed.

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7. feed them pellets until you know what you’re doing. pellets are formulated to be perfect nutrition for rabbits. they are the healthiest option imo, and definitely the easiest. it can take a few tries to find a feed that works for you, but they’re generally not too expensive and if your animals keep weight and make babies, then they’re fine. trying to feed fodder only is expensive, time-consuming, and often ends up with animals not getting enough vitamins that cause bone issues, bloating, and tooth problems. i am 100% convinced this is at least half of the reason why you see a lot of house rabbits that go into stasis a lot and have bad teeth. (The other half is they’re always poorly bred byb rabbits, but that’s another conversation.) fodder can be done well, but unless you really have the time/resources to grow appropriate plants or have a lot of pasture to graze on (and no worms/cocci or other bad things in your soil,) pellets and hay are perfect. especially if you show.

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8. if you wanna get into tanning, just get a synth tan, and don’t expect fur rabbits to be an ideal meat producer. fur doesn’t prime until the animal is about six months old, and typically you’ll be slaughtering them for meat around 12 or 16 weeks. so if you want to produce fur, either stop caring about the quality of your hides, or get ready to spend more in feed while you grow them to prime. i know it’s popular to use rabbits as a dual-purpose animal, but you need to set expectations lol. so far i’ve found rabbits that are half rex produce really nice furs before “prime” age, but they still take longer to grow out than my meat-specific rabbits. dual purpose really just means “not that great at one or both purposes.”

also just don’t even bother with brain/egg tanning and get you a synth tan like Rittel’s or Trubond. “natural” tans have too much of a learning curve, require smoking to make them waterproof, and the results are subpar. synth tans are cheap, easy, usually safe to put down a train if you’re on city water/toss outside if you’re on septic, and will produce a waterproof skin that’ll last forever.

also alum isn’t a tan. if you get it wet it’ll start rotting again. if you wanna make clothes or rugs, use a real tan. please. i beg of you.

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9. auto-water systems are godly but don’t waste your money on expensive ones. if you don’t know this, i’m disabled, and i like to make things easy on myself so i’m not having to fill 39458639458 bottles a day. it sucks. auto-water systems are SUPER convenient because you only have to refill the reservoir every few days and keep an eye on the nipples to make sure they aren’t clogged.

the problem is: they leak. all the time. forever. when i first got started i used cheap water nipples from amazon and was annoyed at how often they’d start leaking, or were leaking right out of the package. so i switched to the more expensive Edstrom system that you can order online from places like rabbitnipples.com, bunnyrabbit.com, the bean farm, and bass equipment. problem is, those leaked just as bad, and the edstrom water nipples cost FIVE DOLLARS EACH. when half the nipples leak directly out of the box, i’ve just wasted $20+. at least the ones from amazon are like $20 for a bag of 100. if they’re all gonna leak anyway, at least i won’t go broke having to replace them all.

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i can’t think of anything else off top my head so i’mma cap it here. i’ve been doing this for five years and learned many many things the hard way so hopefully you won’t have to!

#questions #cecile posts #faq #housing #equipment #this post is so long my neck hurts now from concentrating #foxstew

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spookyrobbins · 4 years

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don’t go (where i can’t follow)

pairing: catra x adora

description:

following shadow weaver’s escape, catra’s future looks doomed. but with the appearance of her past self and adora, maybe catra can save them and herself.

chapter two.

even children get older

links: ao3 || chapter one

Night fell as they entered the Whispering Forest, long shadows creeping around them. Catra suppressed the urge to quiver in fear at them. She wasn’t afraid of shadows anymore. (At least that’s what she kept telling herself in the dead of night.)

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the two little girls. Little Catra flinched at the shadows that seemed to reach out for them, turning her face into little Adora’s shirt. Little Adora seemed to be equally afraid of the strange noises around them.

Catra fought to keep a straight face when a flock of birds burst out of the tree and almost hit her in the face. She settled for a threatening hiss that seemed to drive them away.

“So like, you’re me, yeah?” The little version of her piped up from her place wrapped in little Adora’s arms.

Tamping down a strange feeling of jealousy at the sight, Catra replied, “I guess. Honestly, all this magic shit gives me a headache.”

“Magic?” Both girls gasped, their eyes wide with terror.

Catra shrugged halfheartedly as she navigated them further into the forest. She vaguely aimed them towards where the princesses’ palace was. They’d be better equipped to help two little kids than Catra. Catra didn’t even like little kids. At least, Adora did. “Yeah, magic seems to explain everything.”

“Like Shadow Weaver’s magic?” came her small voice.

“I don’t think Shadow Weaver’s behind this, considering she was locked up at the time. But there’s a lot of this magic stuff going around these days. All sorts of weird princess stuff and magic swords and everything.”

“Shadow Weaver’s locked up?”

“Princesses?”

Catra focused on little Adora’s question first. “Yup, all sorts of princesses. There’s Sparkles and the flower chick and the one who does freaky things with water.” Catra shuddered at the thought.

“You’ve fought princesses?” Little Adora asked, her mouth falling open in awe. “That’s so cool! Catra, d’you hear? Fighting princesses!”

Catra chuckled to herself at little Adora’s excitement. This was the Adora she knew, the one who wanted to share the world with her and didn’t have time for all the princessing and whatnot. This Adora held her close and tried to protect her. Present-day Adora couldn’t give a shit about Catra these days.

“I’ve fought all the princesses. Even beat ‘em a few times.” The sight of Adora in all her glowing glory hunched over after having her claws imbedded in her back flashed before her eyes. That counted as beating her, right? She definitely didn’t feel like she was going to be sick afterwards. She definitely didn’t cry herself to sleep for a month afterwards.

“What about Shadow Weaver?” Little Catra asked in a soft tone, almost trembling.

Catra squeezed her eyes shut. She hated how scared she was at that age. At least she had grown out of that. Kind of. At least Shadow Weaver was gone.

“She was locked up. I locked her up. But she escaped. That’s why Hordak sent those people after me. But I’m the one who beat her.” Her hands shook slightly on the rudder, but she managed to keep it steady. “I was the one who was strong. And she still…” Her throat seized up painfully. “She still didn’t choose me.” The last words came out so softly she doubted either of the kids could hear her. Or rather, she hoped her younger self didn’t hear it.

“You, uh, I mean, I beat Shadow Weaver. Holy Hordak! I beat Shadow Weaver!” Little Catra leapt to her feet, flinging herself at her older self’s legs. Catra laughed loudly, the sound echoing in the quiet forest. “This is the best day ever.” Catra glanced down at her little face, those heterochromatic eyes alight with joy. She wasn’t sure if she had ever been that happy in her entire childhood. Maybe this was the one good thing she’d ever do.

Her eyes strained to see much further than a bit in front of the skiff, as if the forest was making it darker so even her eyes couldn’t make out what was in front of her.

“How about we set up camp for the night?” she asked as she slowed the skiff in front of a tree with spindly branches almost forming a ceiling. Helping both girls down, she set about making a little campsite for the three of them. For a moment, she debated having them find firewood, but thought better of it given what happened the last time they had separated in these woods. She tossed her pack to little Adora. “Set up some beds with those. I’ll grab some wood.”

She crossed the small clearing in search of fallen branches, trying to suppress the painful ache in her chest.

She had finally left the Horde. There was no going back now. She’d be shot on sight. There was nothing for her there. To be frank, there was nothing for her anywhere. Maybe she’d just live in the woods, finally acting like the feral animal everyone always told her she was. Or she’d go to the Crimson Wastes and disappear.

But for now, she needed to take care of those two and get them to people who could fix this situation. And the best person for that, unfortunately, was Adora and her princess friends.

She cast a glance to the little kids who were giggling happily as they made a nest for themselves. Stars, she missed not sleeping alone. Until Adora left, the only times Catra had slept alone were during Shadow Weaver’s punishments when she slept in the cells. And even then, she was in too much pain to really know she was alone.

But now, she just tossed and turned, always seeking a warmth that wasn’t there.

As these thoughts ran through her mind, she gathered an armful of sticks. A screaming peal of laughter startled her.

Little Catra sat on top of little Adora’s chest, her hands on her hips. The two were giggling happily, little Adora tickling at her sides.

“Hey Catra!” Little Adora called to her as she reached the skiff. “Are you still ticklish?” She wiggled her fingers threateningly even as little Catra kept her pinned to the ground.

“If you come near me, I will claw your face off,” replied Catra evenly, dropping the wood on the ground. “Split a ration bar if you’re hungry, but I don’t know how long we’ll be in the woods.”

“I’m not hungry,” little Catra declared, shoving a ration bar into Adora’s hands.

“Yes, you are, dummy. Just eat the bar. I don’t wanna have to carry you around all day tomorrow.” The pair of them stared at each other, but the older one won in the end.

“Aren’t you hungry?” asked little Catra through a mouthful of ration bar.

Her stomach twisted at the thought of food, but not from hunger, but from anxiety. And anyway, she was used to being hungry, the little one didn’t have the same years of practice. Little Catra’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t ask any more questions.

As the two girls ate, Catra began to build a fire, fishing an older lighter out of her bag.

“Whoa,” hummed little Adora, her eyes fixed on the flames, “it’s so pretty.”

Little Catra, in true form, reached a hand out to touch it, yelping as a spark landed in her fur.

“Don’t touch it, it’s hot,” said Catra, monotone. “Now, go to bed, you two. We’re walking tomorrow.”

“We’re not taking the skiff anymore?”

“They’ll be able to track it that thing anywhere once Entrapta’s on it. I’m not taking any chances. Seriously. Bed, now.” Little her looked like she wanted to argue until little Adora brushed her fingers gently.

Each girl settled into their own pile of blankets, just far enough that they weren’t connected, but close enough that they could almost press their fingers together.

Memories pressed at the back of Catra’s eyes of how many times they had been punished (or rather, she had) for sharing a bed. Shadow Weaver’s figure looming over their bunk, cold fingers curling around Catra’s wrist, pulling her from Adora’s side.

“Hey,” her voice cracked unfortunately on the word, “you guys can share if you want.”

The hope that bloomed in their faces would’ve been adorable if it wasn’t so tragic.

In seconds, little Catra piled all of her blankets in with little Adora’s. The two girls burrowed into the blankets, little Catra’s head tucked against little Adora’s chest. Little Adora fell asleep almost instantly, but little Catra’s eyes remained half open even as little Adora sleepily petted her ears.

“Aren’t you gonna sleep?”

“Somebody’s gotta keep watch. Go to sleep, kitten.”

Little Catra watched her intently until her eyes couldn’t stay open any longer.

Once the little ones were both asleep, Catra let herself relax back and stare up at the empty sky. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so alone. In the Fright Zone, there was always noise, guards chatting or the rumble of bots moving through the halls or just the weird noises all the pipes made. The Whispering Forest certainly lived up to its name. It felt like something was about to sneak up on her at any moment. Wind whistled through the trees, amplifying every noise.

Catra had no sense of how much time had passed, just waiting for something to spring out of the woods. The moon had shifted a bit, but Catra never had any formal forest survival training. Apparently it was covered in Force Captain training.

“Hey Catra,” hissed a voice right next to her ear. Catra started, swinging out with her claws. Luckily, little Catra had good reflexes and ducked in time. “Ha! I’m faster than you.”

“No, you’re not, I just didn’t want to hit you.”

“You’re not a very good watch then, huh?”

“What do you want?” Catra groaned, pushing herself into a seated position.

Little Catra folded in on herself in front of Catra, her arms curled around her knees, her tail looped around her arm. “Um, was just wondering….”

“Wondering…? Just ask what you wanna ask. I don’t want to have to carry you all day tomorrow.”

Little Catra stared intently at her knees. “Where’s your Adora?”

“She’s not my Adora,” Catra all but hissed, tension surging up her spine. And as it turned out, she never was. Little Catra shrunk back at the harshness, tears springing to her eyes. “It’s complicated. Life’s not fair.”

“Is she dead?”

Catra’s heart stopped. Even the thought of Adora dead hurt. Sure, she had tried more than most. But it had never succeeded. Was that because Adora was just better than her? Or, or, was it because Catra could never actually kill Adora? A traitorous voice whispered in her ear, sounding an awful lot like Adora.

Her claws dug into her forearm, the pain grounding her.

“No, she’s not dead.”

“Really? I just thought… ya know, if you’re a Force Captain, then something musta happened to Adora. Shadow Weaver always, always said…”

“That Adora was special, that she was destined for leadership.” Catra finished the thought, a strange prickling in her fingertips. “And I’m cannon fodder…”

“Just an animal,” murmured little Catra, a few tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey, kid, don’t listen to her. She’s wrong about me, er, us.” Catra reached out tentatively for her younger self, pausing when the little girl flinched. “It’s okay. I’m going to take care of you. I promise.” At those words, little Catra let her touch her, desperately pressing into it. “I promise,” she repeated as little Catra moved to curl into her side.

“So if Adora’s not dead, where is she?”

“You’ll see. That’s where we’re headed.”

“Are you not friends with her anymore? We said it’d always be the two of us. I don’t want Adora to leave. She can’t leave me. I won’t leave her!”

A sob bubbled in her chest, but she tamped it down. “Take it easy, kitten, your Adora’s still here.” Catra brushed her fingers over little Catra’s head, letting them tease gently over her ear tufts. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” A small purr rumbled out of little Catra’s chest, vibrating against Catra. She surprised herself by letting a returning purr.

“What’re you two doin’? ‘m cold.” Both looked up abruptly to find little Adora rubbing at her eyes as she stood to her feet. “Kitty, you left,” Little Adora said with a pout.

The nickname tore at Catra’s chest, leeching into her broken heart. Not long after they were this age, Adora had stopped calling her that. Her own terrified screams at Adora after an overnight session with Shadow Weaver as Adora had tried to hold her and calm her down before someone found them echoed in her head. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She hadn’t. But Shadow Weaver had held her with her magic, calling out to her, “Here, kitty, kitty.” Adora had called her kitty once more as she let Catra cry and Catra lashed out, catching Adora’s chin. Shadow Weaver stole her away again and Adora never called her kitty again.

As Catra sunk further into memory, little Adora had crawled into her lap next to little Catra. The added weight and warmth jarred Catra out of thoughts of that dark magic coursing around her.

The little girls wrapped themselves in a blanket, their fingers entwined together, pressing back into Catra’s body.

As their breathing evened out, Catra couldn’t help but sink into the warmth of the contact. It had been so long since someone touched her for longer than a moment.

Frequently, Catra wondered how her life had gotten to where it was. Most of the time, that thought came as she fought Adora, or more specifically She-ra.

This time also had to do with Adora, sort of.

“Hey! Watch the ears!” Catra yelped as a chubby hand pulled on one of her ears. With one hand, she pulled little Adora off her shoulders, dangling in her in front of her.

“Sorry, Catra,” drawled little Adora, her eyes bright with mischief. With an eye roll, Catra set little Adora on her feet.

Catra cast her gaze upwards to check where little Catra was playing in the trees. She could hear her, but not see her. Eh, she was probably fine.

Little Adora fell into step beside her, almost automatically reaching for her hand. Catra hesitated for a moment, her ribcage aching, before letting their fingers slot together.

The pair of them walked in silence through the woods, the only sounds the occasional creak of a branch as little Catra lept from tree to tree.

After what might have been an hour of walking, little Catra dropped from a tree a bit in front of them, scaring little Adora enough to send her scrambling behind Catra’s legs.

Little Catra grinned at them with bloody teeth, feathers and sticks embedded in her hair. “Hey, ‘Dora.” Her eyes flickered to her older self momentarily as a blush covered her cheeks. “I got you somethin’.” Catra then noticed the way she was holding her hands behind her back. “And you too,” she addressed her older self, her cheeks turning almost red.

Catra let go of little Adora’s hand as little Catra bounded over to them. Hesitating for a moment, little Catra then held out her hands for each of them, a dead song bird in each.

Catra choked on air for a moment before schooling her features. “Uh, thanks, kid.”

“They taste soooo good, Adora! You’ve gotta try.”

Little Adora began to reach forward, but Catra stopped her. Both girls stared up at her with wide eyes. “Er, kitten, that’ll make Adora sick.”

Little Catra’s face crumpled, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes. Without another word, little Catra turned on her heel and sprinted back into the woods.

“Crap,” hissed Catra. She turned to little Adora, grabbing her shoulder. “You stay here. Do not move. Do not make a sound. If something comes, then scream as loud as you can. I’ll go get, uh, Catra.”

“But I can help find her! I’m good at finding her.”

“I know, kid, but she’s probably up a tree now or something. This’ll be faster.” Catra almost let little Adora come with her after she pouted dramatically, but now wasn’t the time for her soft heart.

Catra squeezed her shoulder tightly once more. Then, she sprinted after little Catra, praying the girl hadn’t gotten too far. She kept her ears pricked, desperate for a sign of the little girl.

“Catra, please. This isn’t safe.” Catra scaled a low hanging tree in an effort to increase visibility. “Kitten, come back. You can’t just run away here. It’s not safe.”

A broken sob came from one of the trees in front of her.

“You said I was gonna hurt Adora.”

Catra lept up to the tree, hanging on a branch below her little self. Little Catra sat with her back against the trunk, curled into the smallest ball possible. Her tail whipped back and forth anxiously.

“Kitten, that’s not what I said.”

“I don’t wanna hurt Adora. She’s my friend.”

“I know that. I’m you, remember?”

“You don’t have an Adora. That’s what you said.”

A shot to the chest wouldn’t have hurt so badly. Her younger self had managed to find that old, festering wound and hit it hard.

“Yeah, well, life isn’t sunshine and rainbows, is it?” She snarled, only catching herself at the end. She knew the kid was just scared, but god, did her heart always hurt like this? She pulled herself up onto the branch so she was facing herself. Little Catra hissed at her, which Catra easily returned. “Settle down, kitten.”

“Adora loves me. We protect each other. I’m not hurting her.”

Catra sighed heavily. This was a favourite tactic of Shadow Weaver’s when she was small. Punish her for every mistake she or Adora made and then tell her she was hurting Adora, that she was dragging her down. Stars, Catra couldn’t even be good enough for herself. Was she so broken that she couldn’t help herself?

“I just wanted to give her something,” mumbled little Catra into her knees.

Catra let her tail rest between them, almost brushing little Catra’s toes. “I know. You bring her that mouse yet?”

“Mouse! Where?”

“Eh, I’ll tell you later. But I get it. I used to bring my Adora presents too. But thing is, you and me, kid, we’re different from Adora and the others. One thing Shadow Weaver’s not wrong about. Eating that bird tastes good to you, but to Adora, it’ll make her sick. It’s part of being a hybrid. Our bodies are different. Like Scorpia loves eating bugs because of her whole scorpion thing.”

“You know a scorpion, named Scorpia?”

Catra scoffed, “You do realize, we’re a cat hybrid, and our name is Catra, right?”

“Whatever,” little Catra grumbled, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Look, I know you weren’t trying to hurt Adora. And kid, don’t listen to Shadow Weaver. You’ve always been a good friend to Adora. It’s not your fault.”

“Then where is your Adora?”

“She’s-” An ear-piercing scream cut off Catra’s fumbling reply. “Oh fuck, Adora.”

“You left her?” Little Catra screeched.

“You ran off! It doesn’t matter, we need to go.” The pair of them scrambled down the tree. Without a word, Catra slung little Catra onto her back. “Hold on tight.”

Catra took off at full speed towards the spot she had left her. They burst through the trees to find little Adora facing off with one of Entrapta’s robots. A series of scorch marks lined the ground where little Adora must have been.

“Fuck, go get Adora and hide, I’ll deal with the robot.” Little Catra dropped off her back seamlessly while Catra moved directly towards the robot. “Hey, you there! Over here!” She waved her arms about, desperate to get the robot’s focus away from the girls. The robot turned slowly, the light blinking rapidly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as little Catra pulled little Adora into a bush. She hoped they’d actually stay put this time.

Almost a moment too late, she lept out of the way as the robot firing a shot at her.

“Identification: Force Captain Catra. Code: Sierra-Papa-Tango 3138!” She yelp as she slid under the robot, tearing at its underbelly.

“Identification accepted.”

“Stand down!” Catra yelped as she jumped on top of it in an effort to dodge its projectiles. “Stand down!”

“You do not have authorization.”

Catra let out a long curse as the robot tried to buck her off. She drove her claws into its top to steady herself before shoving her hand into the vulnerable camera area. She pulled out as many wires as she could until the robot collapsed on the forest floor.

“Sorry, Entrapta,” she muttered as she tossed down the mass of wires. “Kids, you can come out now.”

The two little girls emerged from the bushes, little Adora looking a bit worse for wear. A long scrape crossed one cheek while her trousers were covered in grass stains. Little Catra hovered protectively over her shoulder as Catra checked out her cheek.

“Might have a bit of a scar,” Catra said, cleaning it best she could with her meagre supplies. “But you’ll live.”

“Scars are so cool, Adora,” little Catra added, pressing a brief kiss to the wounded cheek. Little Adora’s entire face turned a familiar shade of pink.

“Thanks, kitty.” Little Adora returned the kiss on little Catra’s cheek and Catra was 100-percent convinced her face had never been that red in her entire life. (Other than all of the other times with Adora, the traitorous voice in her head whispered)

Catra busied herself with repacking the bag as the two girls whispered. While her back was slightly to them, little Adora snuck up on her and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Uh...sure thing, kid,” managed Catra, only slightly, completely embarrassed by her reaction. “We better keep going. We’re still probably a day or two out from where we’re going. Especially considering this freakin’ forest hates me,” she added under her breath.

She motioned with one hand and the two little ones fell into step with her easily. Absently, she supposed there was some benefit to military training for seven-year-olds; at least it made them easier to wrangle in a magic forest.

“Cap’n Catra,” called little Adora from one side, “why does the forest hate you?”

“Uh, ‘cause it’s the Whispering Forest.”

Both girls yelped in fear. “But, aren’t there princesses in here?” Adora asked, shifting closer to Catra nervously.

Catra winced slightly as little Catra climbed up her body, claws digging into her side. “We have the might Force Captain Catra to protect us!” Little Catra settled on Catra’s shoulder, her hands buried in her hair. Catra bit into her cheek as her younger self pulled hard on her hair to maintain her balance.

Little Adora giggled, tugging on Catra’s arm until their fingers were interlaced.

“I know that you’ll protect us.”

“Always, kid.”

It had been nearly four days since they had fled the Fright Zone and it seemed the forest was neverending. In particular, it didn’t like Catra or even her younger self. Little Adora, on the other hand, seemed to have a way with the forest and kept correcting their direction. Of course, even without the stupid magic sword, Adora was special.

Catra tamped down the bubbling resentment that had taken up residence a year ago. She didn’t have a problem with a seven-year-old. That was pathetic. That was weak. She had a problem with nineteen-year-old Adora. She had a problem with She-ra. She didn’t have a problem with a seven-year-old who didn’t know what she’d do at a later date. A seven-year-old who looked at her best friend like she was the whole world and held her hand and made sure she was safe. That was the Adora Catra was mourning. That was the one Catra missed like someone had taken a piece of her.

She hooked her thumbs into the straps of the rucksack, watching the two girls running slightly ahead. They had made up some sort of racing game that morning and somehow weren’t completely tired yet. Carta simultaneously looked forward to and dreaded that point. Her entire body ached from the hike through the woods plus the fact that she had been carrying each of the girls on and off and she felt like she could sleep forever.

“‘Dora, I’ll give you a headstart! Betcha can’t even beat me then!” Little Catra yelled as she hung from a low hanging tree branch. Without a word, little Adora took off, but stopped just before she passed a massive tree. “If you stop, you can’t win, dummy!”

“There’s something up there! Like a shiny building!”

Catra jogged to catch up with little Adora and sure enough, there was Bright Moon in all its stupid, shiny, princessy glory. Almost involuntarily, a sharp exhale fell from her lips. Never thought she’d be thrilled to see the headquarters of the Rebellion, at least not without an army at her back.

“Whoa,” little Catra gasped behind her. “Is that where we’re going?”

“Yup. But we’ve gotta wait a bit. It’s almost dark, then I’ll go and get who we need.”

Little Adora wandered back towards them, her little face glowing with wonder. “It’s so big and shiny.”

“Why do we have to go there?”

“‘Cause I said so,” snapped Catra, wincing at her own tone. The anxiety in her stomach made her want to throw up or run away or anything but what she needed to do. “Do you think that you two can stay safe on your own? I can’t take you with me.”

“Uh, duh, we’re like the best fighters ever,” replied little Catra, setting her fists on her hips. “And we have knives. Nobody ever gave us knives before.”

Little Adora looked a bit more reluctant. “What if a bot finds us?”

“They don’t come this far out. The only thing you two need to keep an eye out for is princesses and Rebellion soldiers.”

“And we’ll stab ‘em and claw their faces off!” Little Adora cheered, nudging little Catra, who bounced up and down next to them.

Catra let out a chuckle. “I like the enthusiasm, but no, no clawing anyone’s face off or stabbing.” Both girls groaned and rolled their eyes. “If a princess or a Rebellion solider finds you, tell them you need to talk to She-ra right away. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am. No hurting the Rebellion and ask for She-ra.” Adora echoed back, but her face was scrunched up in distaste.

Catra glanced around, looking for a hiding place. “Alright, you two are spending a night in a tree. Kitten, you’re in charge,” Little Catra whooped loudly, cutting Catra off.

“What? But I’m….” Little Adora’s lower lip trembled slightly.

“Look, what I was gonna say, is you’re in charge of making sure you two don’t fall out of the tree. Now, c’mon, I’ll help you guys up.” Catra passed her rucksack to little Adora, who looked incredibly thrilled by the responsibility. Only little Adora took her help while little Catra scrambled up the tree to help pull little Adora up. “Stay put until I come back. Only come down for me, okay?”

“Can you do any birdcalls?” Little Adora yelled down.

“Birdcalls?”

“Or whistle? We need a signal. I read it in the Horde Manual.”

Stars, she forgot what a dork Adora was. “Sure, I’ll whistle when I come back. Try and get some rest.”

The two little girls called back their goodbyes as Catra slunk off into the tree line. There was a ridge that jutted out to the back of Bright Moon without many guards. That would have to be her best bet. If all went to plan, she’d be able to find Adora’s room without much difficulty and then convince Adora to help her, which would be infinitely more difficult.

She stuck to the edge of the forest as she worked her way towards the back of the castle, eyes fixed on the troops training below her. One misstep and she’d be dead. So really she hadn’t improved her overall place in the world these days. Everyone wanted her dead and probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. As long as she got the girls to safety and then fixed from whatever weird magic this was, it would be fine. And anyway, execution at the hands of the Rebellion would be nicer than whatever Hordak’s twisted mind could come up with.

As the world fell to complete darkness, Catra positioned herself in a tree that would allow her to watch the castle with ease. Luckily, Bright Moon lived up to its name and every room was brightly illuminated, so anyone could watch the inhabitants with ease.

Resting her chin on her knees, she watched the rooms, waiting for Adora to appear.

Maybe death wouldn’t be so bad. It couldn’t be the worst. Maybe then every minute of every day wouldn’t feel like something was clawing its way out of her chest, leaving the remains of her heart.

A door to a balcony cracked open and Adora’s laugh echoed across the chasm. That was something that hadn’t changed over the years.

Catra focused in on the room the sound came from. Adora was there along with the two idiots she had left Catra for.

She had spent too many nights awake wondering what was so special about them. The answer Catra had finally landed on was it was that they were special and Catra, as everyone had always told her, was not.

She pushed down that pain, leaving the old wound to fester.

And so she watched as Adora and her new friends laughed and chatted and stars, when did this start hurting again.

After what felt like a lifetime, Adora and the boy left the room after a long good night with lots of hugs and kisses.

Catra waited for Adora to reappear in a room. Once she had her target, Catra dropped out of the tree, shaking her aching limbs.

She was going to have to jump it. If she missed, she’d probably shatter both of her legs. For Hordak’s sake, she needed to stop getting into these sorts of situations. With a running leap, she landed on a window sill a whole floor below Adora’s room.

Not ideal in any way. Despite the screaming in her muscles, Catra pulled herself up, balancing precariously on the arch.

“Huh, could’ve sworn I heard something.” A droll voice floated up. Catra pressed her body as flat to the wall as possible. A head and shoulders emerged from the window, but only looked right and left, not up. Catra exhaled shakily when whoever it was flicked off their light and fell silent.

She scaled the way up to Adora’s balcony. Of course, she had a balcony, fancy princess and all. Once she was on the balcony, she moved around quickly to curl into the shadows against the wall formed by the window.

The light was already off and Catra was just mustering up the courage to speak to Adora, a loud knock sounded inside the room.

There was a shuffle of feet and then, “Uh, hey Adora, I just got a weird report from the forest. One of our scouting teams found a couple of Horde-issued ration bars and a Horde bot totally torn up.”

“What? Do you think the Horde’s attacking?” Adora sounded more panicked than Catra was used to.

“No, no, nothing like that. But the bot, it looked like it was torn up by claws.”

“A lot of things in the Whispering Forest have claws, I guess.”

“This seemed more deliberate. I’m not sure what could cause this kind of damage, but I’ll keep looking into it.”

“Wait, Bow, what do you mean? Deliberate how?”

“Most of the damage was in the ocular centre. It was torn out pretty cleanly. So I don’t think it was some animal.”

“Hm, strange.”

“Like I said, I’ll keep an eye out for any more weird reports. Sleep well, Adora.”

“You too, Bow.”

Footsteps came closer to the open door and then stopped. Catra held her breath. She could just barely hear Adora mumbling to herself about something, but then slowly she stopped.

Catra waited until her joints began to ache. She strained to listen for the familiar sound of Adora’s even breathing.

After a long while, Catra moved in front of the door, slipping in easily. For a kingdom at war, there was very little security around here.

Adora lay curled on her side, facing the window. Moonlight illuminated her face, her blonde hair ethereal under the light.

Now wasn’t the time for Catra’s fascination with Adora’s hair though. She inhaled shakily, trying to stop the trembling in her fingers.

She approached the bed silently, waiting for Adora to move or open her eyes or something. In all the years she had known her, Adora had been a light sleeper. But as with everything, she’d gone soft.

Catra crouched in front of Adora’s face, resting one hand on her shoulder. She shook gently, waiting for Adora’s eyes to open.

Those blue eyes flew open.

“Hey, Adora.”

#catradora #catradora fanfic #adora x catra #catra x adora #spop fanfic #spop #**

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squiggle-dragon · 4 years

Text

So, I've decided to also post full chapters of Faded here in addition to Ao3. So, here's the second chapter.

Chapter 2: "Do I know you?"

Soul cracked his eyes open, vision blurring initially as sunlight filtered in. 'Daylight…? Fuck… how long was I out for?'

He was resting on a nest of blankets in some sort of contraption, similar to a basket. While Soul was not necessarily up-to-date with the technological advances of the world, he at least managed to acquire a fair amount of knowledge.

'Plastic basket,' he decided, lightly pushing against the sides with a furry paw despite his body's protest. He started to stretch, immediately thinking better of it when pain shot through every square inch of his small form. The youkai paused, noticing a makeshift cast on his other foreleg, 'What's this…? A splint?' Soul scrutinized it, narrowing his blood-colored eyes before giving it a tentative sniff. The scent of antiseptic burned his nasal passages and he sneezed profoundly, wrinkling his nose in displeasure, 'Absolutely horrible.'

Memories of the previous night returned to the forefront of his mind and his lip curled slightly, 'They'll be six feet under the ground when I recover.' The fox drew his lips back further into a fierce snarl, digging his claws into the blanket, 'And I'll hunt down that cocky bear and turn it into a bear skin rug. No one jumps me like that when I'm-'

"Oh, you're awake!"

Soul screeched in surprise, fur standing on end and eyes wide with alarm. Raising his gaze, he spotted the source of the voice and stared at her warily. She seemed relatively young from what he could tell, as humans aged very differently than youkai. Their eyes met and Soul squinted slightly as a peculiar feeling overcame him.

‘I’ve seen those eyes before… somehow…’

The pigtailed girl knelt down next to the basket, lightly resting her arms on the edge of it and peering down at him, “I didn’t mean to startle you. Sorry about that.” The human offered a warm smile, which he felt himself relax slightly at, “You’ve been out for two days. I was really starting to worry about you, little fox. I gave you some antibiotics and-”

‘Anti-whats-is?’

“-just in case. I mean, you got beaten up by a huge bear of all things! You’re lucky I could scare it off!”

She grinned at him, and he was sure he’d blush if he wasn’t currently two feet tall and covered in fur. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt oddly embarrassed.

“You also broke your leg,” she continued, her smile fading into a look of concern. Her green eyes traveled down to the splint currently on his left foreleg and he followed her gaze, nostrils flaring slightly at remembering the scent of chemicals.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” the girl added after a small pause, hunching over slightly. “I just kinda had to use what was available. Unfortunately, that ended up being the laundry basket.”

His ears flattened against his skull and he glared up at her, growling lightly, ‘Are you serious?! Your dirty clothes were in here, weren’t they?!’

Taken aback ever so slightly by his suddenly hostile aura, his absent-minded savior frowned, “Hey, I launder my clothes daily, okay?”

‘So they WERE!’ he hissed angrily.

She narrowed her eyes and puffed out her cheeks a bit, clearly able to tell he was agitated with her, “Would you calm down? I’m quite clean! Do you actually understand me or something? Because this doesn’t seem like normal wild animal aggression to me….” He froze at her words, so she continued, “You only have to deal with me for a bit, okay? As soon as you’re healed up, I’ll release you back out so you can continue your moodiness elsewhere.”

Soul let out an audible snort, achingly rising to a seated position despite the cast. He furrowed his brows, starting to feel light headed almost immediately, 'Oh right… I haven't eaten in a few days.'

The youkai squinted slightly, feigning interest in some invisible spot on the blanket in an attempt to ignore her. There was no chance in Hell he would be accepting any more aid from this weird human. A powerful, nine-tailed kitsune at the mercy of a tiny human girl?

'Unheard of and laughable.'

In the brief moment of silence, his stomach decided to betray him and let out the most shameful growl that he was sure could be heard by the human girl in question. Soul froze, ears pinned back and expression completely mortified. ‘Fuck! No! Fuck, fuck, fu-’

“Sounds like you’re hungry,” she commented, causing him to sulk slightly. Still, he refused to look at her and remained tensed, cursing his stomach a thousand times. Hunger was such a pathetic weakness.

He started to make some noise of protest before he realized that the pigtailed girl was missing; likely finding food, no doubt. Soul growled before trying to hop out of the basket, instead throwing his body against it. The result was the laundry basket tipping over on its side, forcing him to topple forward with it. His tail obscured his vision as he growled again, painstakingly moving to where he could even make the attempt to stand up, ‘Oi! Get your ass back here! I will NOT be indebted to you! HUMAN! Don’t you DARE!’

Soul awkwardly stumbled out of the room, given the cast on his leg. His body ached and pleaded with him not to be so rash with his movements. He knew full well he should be resting, but he sure as hell was NOT about to let himself come across as some weak victim. He could take care of himself, damn it! The bandaging and doting for two days was enough.

While he had no idea of the layout of this strange place, he was easily able to find his target by following the noise. This girl didn't exactly make it difficult with all of the racket she generated - which seemed to be a talent of hers when he thought back to the incident with the bear.

The kitsune awkwardly entered the kitchen, body lowered and his large ears pricked forward as he approached. The girl in question was currently crouched in front of an open cupboard, biting the nail of her thumb in a thoughtful manner. She was examining a can clutched in her other hand, furrowing her brows in deep concentration.

Despite his impeccably stealthy entrance, the girl almost seemed like she could sense his presence. Soul froze when she looked up from the can to meet his gaze. She pursed her lips a bit before hesitantly holding up the can for him to see, "Do you eat dog food…?"

Every fiber in Soul's small body seemed to light up at the sheer audacity of her statement, wanting to yell at her for such a dumb question. The fox arched his back in an almost cat-like manner, fur ruffling as he glared at her and snarled, 'Do I look like a dog to you?!'

Despite his clearly aggressive reaction to her, she seemed mostly unaffected outside of mild irritation. Any normal person would likely be wary or even scared that the snarling fox would lunge at them. This strange girl, however, treated him more like a petulant child.

"Goodness fox, it was just a simple question," she replied with a hint of agitation before putting the dog food back into the cupboard. “Given your attitude problem, I didn’t think you would. It was just something that normal foxes tend to eat if given to them and it was on the list when I researched it.” Closing the cupboard door, she stood up and stretched her back for a moment with a grimace, “I’m a college student, so therefore quite poor. However, it would seem I need to move a little up in the price range for your more sophisticated tastes.”

“Fortunately for you,” she started after a brief pause, walking over to the stove. “I had gotten some chicken earlier to make some chicken noodle soup from scratch since I seem to be battling a small cold. I’ll give you some of the chicken and a bit of broth, if that will suit your tastes better, Your Majesty.” Ignoring the sour expression he gave her in response, the human equipped an apron and started to prepare the meal.

Soul watched her quietly as she worked, eventually deciding to lay down against one of the farther walls. When she set a pot on a nearby counter, an envelope resting along the edge drifted through the air and gently landed a short distance away from him. The fox glanced at the envelope, curiosity winning out as to what it was. With another wary glance up at her, he slowly inched his way across the floor in a rather comical fashion, given the cast on his leg.

After what seemed like an hour to him, he stretched out one paw and managed to rest it on one corner of the envelope, feeling oddly accomplished at the meager task. His long tail twitched happily, clearly easily amused at the simplest of things. Soul pulled the envelope closer to him, blood-colored irises searching out the name on it, ‘Maybe now I’ll know what the hell this crazy human’s name -- !’

‘Maka.’ The kitsune’s body went rigid as soon as he made out the girl’s name, feeling the oddest sense of foreboding. Much like her eyes, her name seemed somehow familiar.

Why did it feel like a boulder of ice was currently settling in his stomach?

While the dam didn’t break open, it was clearly overflowing and he was caught in a downward spiral. Before he could process one emotion, another broke through almost like a tidal wave - or would, but everything felt also strangely faded.

Fear… which made his recent experience with near-death pale in comparison despite the fact he knew it wasn’t but an echo of the original emotion.

A profound sadness… like something gravely important was lost. It briefly felt like his heart had been ripped out and a gaping hole was left in its place… yet he didn’t bleed. Slowly bleeding to death would have been more merciful.

And finally, a surge of anger that threatened to take over completely. The rage Soul felt almost overwhelmed the feeling of loss and his power felt on the verge of being let loose. His eyes glowed ominously, lips drawing back in a snarl as the feeling only intensified. Faint outlines of his other eight tails could be seen waving in the air behind him as his power crept up, seeming unaffected by his weakened state. At this moment, however, Soul could not care less if he transformed to his true form here in the kitchen. His mind felt blank aside from the desire to lose control - to kill.

Something needed to be destroyed…

Someone needed to be torn apart….

Somehow, the sound of the lid slamming down on the pot snapped him out of whatever confusing trance he had been in. His eyes widened in shock, trying to get his breathing under control as his body trembled in the wake of the strange event. Losing all strength, Soul collapsed onto his stomach and laid there with a distant glaze to his eyes. His brain scrambled to make sense of what it all meant, Maka’s worried voice barely registering. Even as she kneeled at his side and scooped him up, talking to him... her voice sounded so muffled.

“Tama!” another voice cried, sounding similar to the girl’s voice that was currently cradling him - yet it certainly wasn’t her. It couldn’t be, because her lips didn’t match the motions.

Just what the hell was going on?

Slowly, Soul managed to pull himself back to reality and focused his gaze on Maka’s worried expression. His hearing returned to normal to hear her muttering various things about how stupid she was to think she could take care of him properly. For whatever reason, she was in a state of blind panic over him - and he couldn’t figure out why. He’s treated her like crap this entire time, being aggressive and - as much as it pains him to admit it - ungrateful.

This crazy girl faced down a bear for him, though he was sure she would not be able to take it on should it have attacked. They would have both been dead. But this insane girl did that and he remembered being wrapped in something she had been wearing. It was warm….

And suddenly - the fact she was now battling a cold now made sense. She was sick after running out in the rain and using her main source of protection to bundle him up. Then while he was unconscious, she tended to his wounds the best that she was able. Now that he thought about it, he could faintly remember waking up briefly to see her passed out on a strange chair near his basket. It wasn’t for more than a minute or two due to being in such bad shape and feverish to boot, but she hardly looked comfortable.

She was going to share her soup with him as well, which caused another twinge of guilt. Oh, he really needed to be less of a little shit. It didn’t sound like she could really afford to have an extra mouth to feed, but here she is - offering to share.

It was at this point that Soul noticed tears starting to roll down her cheeks and he sighed, somehow feeling really uncomfortable about her crying. With a gentleness that he didn’t even realize he ever possessed, he raised a furry paw and rested it on her cheek.

‘Maka… I don’t know who you are, but the tears need to stop. For some reason, I really can’t stand to see you crying… you weird human.’

He gasped out in pain when she suddenly captured him in a borderline bone-crushing hug. The same anger from his previous interactions with her did not rise to the surface and he instead let out another sigh - possibly for air at this point. Okay, so she was worried about him.

Somehow, he could deal with that.

#soul eater #soma #soul eater au #soul evans #fox demon #fox youkai #maka albarn #soul maka #faded au #faded chapter 2 #soul x maka

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whump-the-caretaker · 4 years

Text

Shifter, epilogue

start / previous / about the characters

Recovery is a very human concept.

In his attempts to be as human as possible, he tried to do it all at once.

Beck tried desperately to put the whole experience behind him. It didn’t matter how many time Avery told him it was okay to not be okay, he couldn’t face a future where that place hung over him for the rest of his life.

He forced himself to be perfect, to avoid animal forms all together. To speak and move like a normal person. If that meant he was just as trapped inside his own body as he had been in that cell, it was the price he paid for his humanity. The beast could suffocate before he let it claw its way out.

The nightmares woke him night after night, and his instincts kept him silent. Silent and still, not a tear loud enough to wake Avery.

He suffered in silence until his mind seemed to decide it was enough.

The beast ripped out of him as a nightmare put him back in that place. In the snarling form of a wolf, he loomed over the figure in his bed, teeth at Avery’s throat in the dead of night.

“Beck?” Avery called to him, voice shaking. “It’s me.”

Beck growled when Avery tried to shift away.

“You’re out. You’re free,” he said, holding very still. “I’m right here with you. We’re both safe.” He reached cautiously to touch the wolf’s fur, jerking his hand back when teeth snapped at it.

“That’s fine, I’ll just talk. No touching.”

He remembered a night like this, laying on the floor of that cell, talking a silent Beck out from under the bed, soothing and calming until he was allowed to touch.

This night, it was only a few minutes before recognition sparked in Beck’s eyes and he scrambled back, falling, human, from the bed.

“Oh god,” Beck gasped. “Oh god, what did I just do?”

“Shh, no, baby, you didn’t hurt me.”

“I could have killed you!”

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! This is not okay.”

“You weren’t going to hurt me, Beck.” Avery slid off the bed and knelt in front of Beck. Reluctantly, the shifter allowed himself to be pulled into his husband’s arms. He was shaking too badly to fight him, breath coming short. “You just got a bit lost. It’s all okay.”

Beck broke then, a gasping sob bubbling up out of him. Avery rubbed his back while he shook. Tears soaked Avery’s shirt, and between that and the way Beck was clutching onto it, nails more like claws as he devolved into hysterics, it was pretty much ruined.

Beck cried hard enough that he hurt, but at the end of it, a weight had lifted from his shoulders. By the end of it, he thought nothing of being scooped back into bed with his husband, only complaining when Avery pulled away to fetch a cold cloth from the bathroom to wipe his face.

When they were curled in bed again, the blankets tucked around them, Beck was too tired to keep fighting his own brain. Avery made a startled noise when he shifted into a housecat, but smiled and pulled him close anyway, fingers buried in thick, white fur, and the faintest hint of a purr rising under his hand.

Beck shifted more after that, spending his day in a state of flux. In town and around his people--the empire he was having to reclaim and rebuild by metaphorical claw and tooth--he never wavered from his human form, but at home, he perched and moved and curled in whatever skin was comfortable. Real creatures or imagined, it was as easy as breathing, and Avery didn’t blink twice if he more often had a cat draped around his shoulders or a wolf padding down the halls than a husband.

They laughed more, a tail in Beck’s human form to read his mood.

They talked more, while Beck followed him like a puppy or nested like a brooding hen.

There was one form, a form he’d always favored, that didn’t make an appearance. Avery didn’t ask. Whatever made Beck happy made him happy.

Except the day came when Beck did take the shape of a fox, and he saw the crooked scars and knob of poorly-healed bone, and his heart stopped.

“What happened?” he breathed.

Beck snapped back. “What?”

“What happened? To your ankle.”

He thought he’d known everything. He thought he’d been there for the torture, seen all the injustices Ricky had inflicted.

Beck went pale. “I... stepped in a trap.”

“In a trap.”

“Yeah, I--they smoked me out and--during the hunt--” He shuddered, taking a deep breath and starting over. “Fox hunt. I was in a fox hunt.”

Avery’s breath fled his lungs. Fuck.

"They--I was stuck as a fox. It was--" he huffed in frustration, rubbing swiftly at his eyes. Just the memory seemed to have put him back to the feral place where each word was a struggle. "The dogs chased me into a tree stump. Ricky lit it on fire, and I ran into a trap."

"God, Beck." He couldn’t breathe.

"I'm sorry," Beck choked out.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I’m sorry."

"No, Beck, darling, what are you sorry for? You didn't do anything.”

Beck flinched back. “Yeah, no--” He hissed a breath in and then out again, pushing to his feet to pace away. “There’s stuff I need to tell you about.”

“Okay.”

“Just. Don’t talk. Let me get it out.” He paced back towards Avery. “At the end--the end of the hunt Ricky told… He told me that I was the prize. They tied me up and gave me to the woman who laid the trap.” He turned, stilling in his pacing, but staring at the far wall rather than Avery.

“She had me for a long time.”

Avery started to speak, but Beck held up a hand.

“Don’t. I need to get it out.” He took a deep breath. “And I had to do it again. On purpose, to get out. At that party…”

He had squirmed on the floor, intentionally drawing her gaze. He'd slid a hand up her thigh, pushing her dress out of the way. He'd fucked her with his mouth just for a hope of getting out of that place.

Avery touched his arm and he jolted, realizing he’d gone quiet, looking through the wall.

"Sorry, I--everyone was making me shift and-and… not important. She asked for me to be a fox again, and I just… snapped. I got her to take me outside, and I did what she wanted, and I distracted her so that I had time to get by blocker off."

"Beck…"

"I'm sorry. Sorry I wasn't better. Sorry I let them do this shit to me. Sorry I had to... Sorry I got you hurt. Sorry I was weak."

Avery held his face in his hands and looked into his eyes. "Listen to me. You are not weak. You are so goddamn strong." He cut Beck off before he could argue. "No. You are here and they are not. You survived.” He kissed his forehead. “You survived through hell and you do not need to feel guilty for what you did to get here."

"I do, though. I can still feel people touching me, still hear her telling me what to do. There are videos of me out there, and I'll never know if I'm talking to someone who’s seen them."

“You’ll get past it.”

“But they’ll still be out there.”

"Fuck them. Fuck anyone who watched those or who touched you. You're Beckett O'Hare. If anyone crosses you, they can die by your hand. Or mine."

Beck swore that he would prove the words right, that Avery’s faith in him would be founded. He swore he could be strong. They would be strong.

And if he was never quite… human again, no one would dare to mention it.

#whump #shapeshifter whump #inhuman whump #inhuman whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #cw: noncon #cw: trauma #cw: dehumanization #series: shifter #beckett ohare #avery carter

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x--wildxangels--x · 4 years

Text

Sagittarians are born between November 22 and December 21, and belong to the Fire element of the zodiac (along with Leo and Aries). This lot are all big characters, and live life to the max. If star signs were theme park rides, the Fire sign crew would be the hair-raising, white-knuckle roller coaster.

Sagittarians are optimistic, restless, progressive and adventurous. They can’t stand to be contained, thwarted or bossed about, and freedom is their catnip. Woe betide a boss/ partner/parent/friend who tries to tell their Saggie comrade what to do… expect to hear the door slam as they bolt for the hills!

They are ruled by Jupiter, which makes them all jammy so-and-sos, who (no matter how absurd an escapade they pursue) will land in clover, on their feet, smelling of roses. Sagittarians are great companions for wild weekends, especially in Vegas, where some of their infamous luck may rub off on you!

Their symbol is the archer, which suits their outdoorsy, restless nature. They adore ‘hunting’ (love interests and bargains vs actual animals, as they love all creatures great and small), they enjoy the thrill of the chase.

To get an idea of the classic Sagittarius personality traits and types, we need only to look to some of the most famous archers: Brad Pitt, Miley Cyrus, Jay-Z, Britney Spears, Tyra Banks.

These guys are never dull.

TYPICAL SAGITTARIUS PERSONALITY TRAITS

HONEST (read: tactless)

#nofilter, like SRSLY NONE. They will say what others truly think, but would never dare utter aloud. If you want an honest opinion, then ask a Sagittarius… BUT you’d better be sure you want the whole, unvarnished truth because that is what you’ll get (my sister is a Saggie, and I bear many scars…)

ADVENTUROUS (read: rebellious)

On the one hand, they love to get the wind in their fur, a new horizon on their map, and it’s all jolly good fun. On the other hand, if you’re working with them/living with them/trying to make firm plans with them… this need for freedom at all costs is NOT jolly good fun at all. Perfect travel/weekend companions, somewhat difficult colleagues and ‘nesting’ partners.

OPTIMISTIC (read: naive)

It’s not that Sagittarians are stupid, they do realise that other people aren’t all wholesome or filled with good intentions, BUT their default settings are definitely turned on to ‘TRUST’ and ‘BELIEVE’. They don’t like scaremongering or whinging. They don’t want to engage with negativity or bad news until there’s no refuting it. This reluctance to err away from positivity can make them come off as naïve.

INDEPENDENT (read: unreliable)

Although warm and loving, Saggies are undoubtedly and consistently marching to their own drumbeat and are not willing compromisers when it comes to stuff they didn’t dream up/plan/agree to initially. They will never NOT have a plan A, B, C, etc... so they don’t need your input really, and they don’t much want it either. They’ll do what they’re doing, whether you like it or not basically, which means you can only REALLY rely on them when your plans/priorities align.

PHILOSOPHICAL (read: cold)

On face value, Sagittarius looks like a passionate, free-wheeling party animal but, deep down, they are deep thinkers too, and love to figure stuff out, unravel an issue, poke at a theory. They actually prefer the mental and intellectual realm (like their opposite sign, Gemini) to the emotional one. They prefer to ‘think’ vs ‘feel’, and (this is often a big shock as you get to know them) their initial warmth is more of a surface skin. They’re a philosopher at heart.

WHAT ARE SAGGITTARIANS INTO?

Pets. Horses and dogs especially, but ALL creatures bright and beautiful/great and small make the wish list. You may sense your Saggie friend is an animal-whisperer of sorts, and you may well be right. They feel a kinship with the animal world, they respect and admire the way that animals rely on their instincts and live only in the moment.

Travelling. The open plain, the far-reaching seas, the distant horizon… these things make Saggies grin, because they LOVE to get out there and roam around discovering new places, cultures and people. New landscapes stimulate them, they are the zodiac’s great adventurer.

Sports. Physically adept, competitive and outdoorsy, most Saggies are built to play sports. They thrive on the challenge of winning (that Fire sign streak), and they enjoy the team-building (their open and friendly personality makes them a hit with most other players).

Writing. They love to express themselves (#nofilter) and they do have a lot to say as they’re perceptive and social, they take in a LOT of stimulus. Many Saggies find words come easily to them, and they enjoy entertaining people. Writing delivers on all these fronts.

Flirting. You know what I’ve been saying about freedom and adventure? Well it kinda applies to their love live too (sorry). PSA: flirting is like breathing to Sagittarians, everyone is a potential target, this is the area of life they most enjoy ‘hunting’. More often than not, it’s harmless fun - but not always. They can’t help themselves sliding into those DMs…

#sagittarius #( lena scully. )#( lena p. )

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dabard · 5 years

Text

An Outsider’s Guide To Humans: Entry #42

Humans are not invincible, they can die, they can be killed. I write these words unwillingly, because the truth of mortality is something I had hoped would not- could not apply to my own experience. My name is Amvixxis, and I killed a human. My ship is the Allied Systems exploratory vessel “[Hiskaren insect]” and on it I am the sanitation officer. A cleaner on a very strict schedule. I had worked on this ship for ten terran rotations of Sol, almost half my life, before we took on the human Alex. They were terrifying at first, for humans had not long been among the stars and we had few preparations for their arrival on our own vessel. I guess that’s why this guide was started, right? Alex was taking over as quartermaster, their gift for numbers and heavy equations far outstripping any other species we’d employed. Humans you see, have niches much like a subspecies of another race would have it’s specialization, only humans are not restricted to one thing. Alex was beyond extraordinary with mathematics, yet they could also mend clothing, prepare lavish meals, build and repair simple constructions, read maps and navigational systems. Humans hungered for knowledge, and are fascinated with learning as much as they can, especially if it helped their every day life. This meant that Alex, unlike the rest of the crew, cleaned their own rooms and workspace, long before I arrived near the end of my rounds. “U-Um, Human Alex?” I had asked, when first discovering the cargo holds they managed to be spotless. “You know that I am designated to clean here, yes?” “Oh, yeah I know Amvi.” They had bared their teeth at me, waving their hand slowly. “I just like to clean, helps me sort out everything in my head while my hands are busy. I don’t mind doing this to save you some work, I’d prefer it honestly.” My topmost ears flattened against my head in confusion. “You want to do my work?” “It’s my work too, I make the mess after all.” The human had let go a light “Ahuh” that I remembered was a sign of amusement. “If you’re worried about being ahead of the all mighty schedule, you can hang out here for a bit? It gets kinda lonely with just me and cargo that doesn’t exactly uncount itself.” It usually took me twenty “minutes” to clean the cargo holds accounted by Alex, then another ten for their office and quarters. This time was instead spent talking with my strange new crewmate. Our deathworlder came from a city in the desert, an oasis of light and glass. Las Vegas. They told me of Earth, of the animals and plants that seem so dangerous on a datapad screen, yet from the lips of my new confidant they were... Intriguing, beautiful for their eyes. I, in turn, told Alex of my homeworld Garnessa, of its rolling auburn hills and crystal beaches where my people would gather in the night to sing the sun asleep. “It sounds magical.” Alex had sighed. “I wonder if I’ll ever get to visit, or if they’d let me.” “I’m not sure.” I answered truthfully. “My people have been preyed on before, they shy away from predator species.” Alex puffed out their cheeks and huffed, blowing their fringe up, and out of their eyes. “I’m not exactly chasing you up and down the hallways am I?” I trilled in amusement. “No, but all the same, I do not know if it would be allowed. Why do you want to see it anyway? Your Las Vegas sounds far superior.” “There’s noting for me back home.” Alex shrugged. “My dad was a drunk and bounced my mother off the walls if she spoke a word against him. My brothers are okay, I guess, but never really cared enough to get my pronouns right.” I tilted my head. “Are your brothers intellectually challenged? Pronouns are not hard to get right.” Alex tilted back their head and roared with laughter, by then I was versed enough in their habits not to cry in fear. “No, they weren’t challenged, just products of a bygone era. I like it out here more than back home, I want to find a nice, pretty world, and grow old there.” What strange beings humans are. We were three weeks underway in the voyage when they attacked. Perri’ka, the nest breakers. I was only halfway through my shift, when our warning siren began to sound, I had no real knowledge of what to expect during the chaos. Ships are so rarely attacked outside of war, a ship such as ours was built for research and carried so little in terms of defense it must have seemed like a gift from the Source for the Perri’ka. I abandoned my work and ran for the safety of the engine room, but of course, that was one of their first targets. I rounded a corner, all six of my ears flared in terror, my short fur rigid from exertion and the siren pounding in my skull, I saw the reptilian before me and halted, trying to turn and run but not quite managing it. The Perri’ka you see, had already grabbed me. My species, the Emnae, are prized by many as slaves. We’re small, mild mannered, and with the right coercion we sing such beautiful songs. The creature that grabbed me was not concerned with my music though, for it had wrapped a tendril around my neck and squeezed. My vision blurred around the edges, and that pressure only felt tighter, and tighter, and tighter... And then it wasn’t. Just wasn’t. I choked, heaving up my morning meal as my body tried to make itself lighter, tried to make it easier for me to run. I looked up through the tears and marveled at what I saw. The Perri’ka who had assaulted me was not alone, in a group of six they had gone to sabotage the engine, in a group of six, they died. Alex had come to save me. Humans are odd, for they don’t bond only with their own species, this much you know. What you do not know, is that this bond is stronger than we could imagine. Your mother, your father? They love you right? They’d die for you. Humans can feel that love, for anyone, for anything. And Alex? Alex felt it for me. I know that without a shadow of a doubt. I killed Alex, not by claw or tooth, not by poison or weapon. It was by being small, and weak that I killed Alex. Perri’ka... They aren’t like other species. They’re stronger, faster, angrier. They’re what a Deathworlder is meant to be, a creature spat out of hell for being too mean. I say this because I want it to be clear that when I say Alex killed six of them, it was not because humans are physically superior, no. Humans are crazier though. Alex tore out throats with their teeth, slammed balled up fists into the side of skulls, took out their utility knife and painted a nightmare across that hallway in shades of purple blood. If it had been five against one, I’d pick Alex to win every. single. time. But there were six. And Perri’ka are venomous. The last bit Alex, and by the Source I hope it savored that small victory as our quartermaster gouged out it’s eyes. It held on, and Alex... Alex started to die. They could feel it, I could see that much in their eyes. Alex’s knife was huge in my hands, but I took it up all the same and cut that thing off my friend. My friend... Yes, I’d call them my friend, how could they be anything else? The Perri’ka, now without their soldiers, retreated from the fray and left us to repair the ship under the impression we were warriors. Alex survived another three hours, Perri’ka venom was supposed to kill within the minute but whoever made that rule didn’t know my Alex. They clutched my hand, until the very end. “I didn’t want to die here Amvi.” My friend had gasped, pain shooting through their spine. “Not on a ship, so far from solid ground.” “I’m sorry.” I had cried, hugging their arm to me. “I’m so sorry. You should have let them take me Alex!” A blow across my cheek. Shock had me reeling for a moment, until I turned to see Alex withdraw their hand in jagged movements as the strain of moving so fast took it’s toll. Their other hand still held my own. “I would rather be here dying with you, than living with my friend stolen away.” The human had groaned, a guttural sound that sent a cold shiver up my back. “I did this for me, not you.” “...okay.” I sniffled. “Can y- GARHHH!” Alex convulsed as the toxin in their veins savaged the human’s organs. It took them a moment to recover. “Can you promise me something?” “Anything.” “Bury me somewhere no human has ever been.” Alex asked, locking eyes with me. “I at least want to manage that, to go where no one has gone before me.” I nodded, not really caring if the Allied Systems would allow it. “I promise.” “It’s sad, y’know?” Alex gave a ragged laugh. “We won’t find out if your people would come around to the idea of a human on their planet. I’d have liked to see the crystal beaches.” To laugh at something so tragic, humans make the mind twist so strangely. “Do you want to hear it instead?” I had asked, the air heavy with the smell of their already decaying body. Alex, no longer able to talk, nodded softly. And I sang the sun asleep. Humans can die, they’ll die for love, for the pack bond, for a friend, I know because I’ve killed one. Don’t make my mistakes. Alex rests now, on a crystal beach, on a world that humans may never set foot on, beneath a tomb with a simple inscription. “Here rests Alex, on a nice, pretty world, to grow old upon.”

#humans are space orcs #deathworlders #humans are space australians #humans are weird

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the-little-shoebox · 5 years

Note

1-100 do it scrub

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED LET"S GO!!!! SORRY FOR THE WALL!

1. What is you middle name?Actually don’t legally have one.2. How old are you?213. When is your birthday?September 134. What is your zodiac sign?Virgo5. What is your favorite color?Green or orange. Both are very good.6. What’s your lucky number?759 and 1137. Do you have any pets?No but I reeeeeeeally want some!8. Where are you from?I’m from Louisiana, the boot of the country. 9. How tall are you?IRL I’m around 5 foot 6. Average height my dude.10. What shoe size are you?10 and a half to 11… yeah big feet for kicking your a-

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?Like…. 2 or three? One tearing about as the seams. 12. What was your last dream about?I…. don’t remember. But I do remember it involved tripping over my roommate’s mountain of clothes while shouting at her for something.13. What talents do you have?Not blinking, screaming a variety of sounds, needle felting, embroidery. 14. Are you psychic in any way?No, not at all psychic.15. Favorite song?DON"T MAKE ME CHOOSE! Well, one of my favorites of all time is ‘Life itself’ By Glass animals. Though Missio songs have been growing on me.16. Favorite movie?Ok this is gonna be weird but Matilda is one of my favorite movies. Watch it whenever it comes on TV. 17. Who would be your ideal partner?Alrighty have them. They’re up above making me answer all these in one go. Love ya babe!18. Do you want children?No. Kids intimidate me.Only fur babies. 19. Do you want a church wedding?Nah. They seem a little too formal for my taste.20. Are you religious?Well I was a long time ago, but I’ve honestly fallen out of it over the years.

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?Yes. Emergency stitches.22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?The closest time I did was because we tried to walk home via railroad tracks ditching mom at a pizza place. I was put in the back seat of the cop car and cried thinking I was gonna go to jail. I drew a smiley face on the foggy window……. I was young and stupid.23. Have you ever met any celebrities?Nnnnnnnope!24. Baths or showers?Baths all the way, I enjoy just soaking and totally not falling asleep in the water.25. What color socks are you wearing?I have no socks on now. Jokes on you!26. Have you ever been famous?I’m not famous. Nooooooot at all.27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?Noooooo. I like being in the shadows.28. What type of music do you like?Little bit of everything, but mostly pop or really chill music.29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. 30. How many pillows do you sleep with?Three at most. Hug them all

31. What position do you usually sleep in?It shifts to on my back or on my side just curled up among the blankets.32. How big is your house?Honestly not that big. Simple little adobe.33. What do you typically have for breakfast?If I’m at home a sandwich, but really it’s anything I can grab. Maybe some chips. 34. Have you ever fired a gun?Only a water gun. Never touching a real gun.35. Have you ever tried archery?Actually I have! Not too bad at it!36. Favorite clean word?Clean word…… Moxie. I love just saying moxie.37. Favorite swear word?Bumblefuck……. Some friends help make that.38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?24 hours. Worst night of my life39. Do you have any scars?A few! Claw marks on my arm, but the most infamous one is on the bottom of my left foot. That one needed the stitches.

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?If I did they hid it really really well.41. Are you a good liar?Oh no I’m the absolute worst liar. Anyone can tell you that.42. Are you a good judge of character?I like to think it’s about 75 percent accurate? I have a decent enough judge, but it sometimes glitches and I feel like crap for it.43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?I……. no? 44. Do you have a strong accent?Not really. It abandoned me.45. What is your favorite accent?I’m a sucker for like Irish tones. They’re neat to me!46. What is your personality type?If it’s the letter’s thing it’s ENFP. IF I had to say for myself….. loud.47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?I really don’t know. Maybe this one nice light blue jacket I have. I can’t answer that honestly.48. Can you curl your tongue?I think so!49. Are you an innie or an outie?Innie.50. Left or right handed?Ya girl leftie all the way!

51. Are you scared of spiders?Only a few like Brown Recluse and Black widows. All the others are perfectly fine with me. 52. Favorite food?Chicken and Dumplings. My favorite comfort food when I can get it.53. Favorite foreign food?I’d have to say eggrolls and Mongolian chicken. I really love Mandarin food apparently.54. Are you a clean or messy person?Messy. No question about it. I live in a rat’s nest. Working on it though!55. Most used phrased?Either 'you got this!’ or 'FIGHT ME!’56. Most used word?Bruh. I say bruh IRL waaaay too much.57. How long does it take for you to get ready?3-5 Minutes…. not counting the hour is takes for me to actually wake up.58. Do you have much of an ego?No? I least I hope I don’t.59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?Both. I do both.60. Do you talk to yourself?All the time.

61. Do you sing to yourself?Even more so! 62. Are you a good singer?Ehhhhh, we’ll call it so so.63. Biggest Fear?Lightning. I absolutely freeze up and cower from it. Not fun.64. Are you a gossip?…… yeah in recent years I have collected a lot of dirt. But I only receive it and don’t spread it. I hoard all your secrets for myself. 65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?How’s how to train your dragon 2 count?66. Do you like long or short hair?I have a pension for shorter hair, every to fun your fingers through.67. Can you name all 50 states of America?I better if I flipping live here!68. Favorite school subject?Art(Duh), but if we didn’t have that I have a soft spot for history or Speech and Debate.69. Extrovert or Introvert?Extrovert. I scream hi to everyone!70. Have you ever been scuba diving?No, but it sounds so fun!

71. What makes you nervous?Everything. Silence, chances in schedule, deadlines, my own thoughts. So…. everything.72. Are you scared of the dark?Not really. I love the dark. I am the dark.73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?Eh..... no. They’ll figure it out on their own.74. Are you ticklish?I am not disclosing this information.75. Have you ever started a rumor?No thank god. That ain’t my style!76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?I mod servers on discord and I do them very well. So yes, that is my authority.77. Have you ever drank underage?No thank you. Not really a fan of alcohol from the looks alone.78. Have you ever done drugs?No….unless caffeine counts.79. Who was your first real crush?My first crush was a guy in like fifth grade called Mark. Annnnnd that was the first time I had my heart crushed in front of me. Luckily he grew up to be a jerk so I’m over it. 80. How many piercings do you have?Zero. I am a chicken.

81. Can you roll your Rs?“Pretty sure I butcher them when I try.82. How fast can you type?Honestly not that fast. 83. How fast can you run?Depends, who am I chasing?84. What color is your hair?Dark Brown, almost black.85. What color is your eyes?Brown as well. 86. What are you allergic to?Seafood, wasps and bee stings, penicillin. 87. Do you keep a journal?Not really. Though i may try to do one again!88. What do your parents do?My mom is a retired teacher. She…. doesn’t really do that much now.89. Do you like your age?Yeah. I’m content with my age and where things look to be going now!90. What makes you angry?Small things, disrespecting arts, just blunt stupidity. Anything off r/insanefacebook.I get angry at a looooot of things.

91. Do you like your own name?Yes I do. I am proud of my name!92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?I have even though I don’t want kids. Though I can’t remember them at the moment.93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?NO KIDS!94. What are your strengths?Drawing expressions, optimism, staying motivated to do a thing.95. What are your weaknesses?Anger, paranoia, long list of health issues. 96. How did you get your name?I have no idea.97. Were your ancestors royalty?I don’t freaking know!98. Do you have any scars?I ALREADY ANSWERED THIS!!!!!99. Color of your bedspread?Dark grey.100. Color of your room?White….. it’s a dorm room.

#THERE I DID THEM ALL!#I AM SORRY #Not gt #Noodle facts

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bookmawkish · 6 years

Text

Just a patient, part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

All my fanfictions (includes more Loki)

Tag list for Loki fics: @only-kneel-before-loki @ohhhmyloki @1800-fight-me@tarynkauai @rainhowling @hanasonly @dean-the-trickster @nikora3010@skip-the-static @sailor-moons-butt @clockworkherondale @oatballsoffury @artbysteph87 @smginger1131

If you want on or off the tag list, just say! Hope I didn’t miss anyone!

It’s always been a dream of yours to touch a tiger.

You were eight. You first saw tigers on TV. Huge cats, almost the size of horses to your mind, striped like bars of sunlight. You almost couldn’t conceive of something so big, when “cat” to you was something you could pick up and hold in your arms. When you were ten and saw your first real tiger at the Cincinnati Zoo, passing inches away from you behind the barrier, you could practically feel the smooth, flat hide, the almost-bristle of that close-lying fur. The hot, animal stink suffusing the air around you. You wanted to touch that pacing tiger more than anything else in the world, even though you knew that it could take your arm off with barely a thought. The call of the void is strong, as you have learnt in your adult life. That thing which pulls at us when we stand at the edge of the precipice, telling us against all sense to throw ourselves off. The dark tug of desire to simply pull a trigger, throw a punch, when the anger is high and the provocation almost (but not quite) too great. The void is in all of us, and even at ten years old you’d felt its teeth, as sharp and lethal as the teeth of that zoo tiger.

Later you went to the snake house, and met real horror for the first time. You didn’t want to meet the blank, staring beaded eyes, see the aching expandable jaws. The relentless undulation of the lemon python in particular had put your teeth on edge, as if it were under your skin, constantly moving and bulging, back and forth in the dim light. That pallid snake had never left you, those jewelled eyes, that sense of completely alien perception. If the tiger was your dream, these circling, muscular forms were your nightmare. You’d moved through the musty, bitter-scented gloom as quickly as you could, and out again into the air, the sun.

But it had been a good day, all in all. Your father had bought you a plush tiger at the gift shop, and, clutching it that night, you had dreamt happily of the day when you would finally bury your hand in that real mane, feel the bristle of whiskers, because surely that day would come. It had to come. Tigers had prowled your dreams, and even now, when you think of your father, you think of that long-ago tiger and how sure you‘d been that one day you‘d have that raw feline power under your palm.

You flatten your hand, moving from just fingertips to laying the whole length of your hand against his face.

Loki does not feel like your dream of a tiger.

Loki feels like your nightmares of snakes.

His skin is clammy and hot and coated with a patina of dirt so it feels grainy, scaled, under your fingers. The sense of barely contained energy, that continual muscled motion that had looked so unpleasant in the python is right there, in the working of his jaw and the unbearable straining movement of his head. When you touch him your first instinct is revulsion at the way he feels, as if you’ve put your hand into a nest of hidden horrors. The memory of the acrid scent of the snakehouse fills your mind and your nose, a smell you’d thought long-forgotten.

But something stops you from pulling your hand away, and that something is the fact that only this morning, when you’d pulled out of sleep Loki had once again been lying at your side, breathing harshly, shuddering and registering on even your half-awake senses as wounded, exhausted, broken.

You are asked sometimes if you treat the enemy. Like it’s even a consideration, when your unit is sent out, like you get to choose. Sure, to a certain point of view it seems oxymoronic. At your side in the field, your fellow agents are shooting down the foe, but once they’re down, if they’re alive, you’re there. And you’ll do your best to save them.

Whenever you’re asked this question, you tend to tailor your answer to your audience. There are some people who are never going to be impressed to hear that you treat the bad guy no differently than the good guy, once he’s down and leaking his guts out on the floor. Triage is for everyone. Whoever’s dying first gets treated first. And yes, if asked, you’ll give accounts of times you’ve been attacked and abused by the dying enemy you’re trying your best to save. Some people’s principles are greater and stronger than the value they place on their lives. Fanaticism in particular is so strong you could use it to build a wall around the world.

You’ve treated fanatics. Possession by principle. Their bodies puppeteered by words, thoughts and empty promises. They’re the ones that have stayed with you. Because sometimes - and yes, it’s been more than once - you’ve seen them at the very end. When the possession of principle finally cedes to the fears of the body, and you see in their eyes the doubt, then the dawning knowledge that this is wrong, wrong after all -

And then they die.

Possession is a terrible thing, and you can end up dying from it.

And this is why your hand stays put on Loki’s face, and no matter how much he snaps and snarls and throws his body about in the restraints, you stay. Because he’s alive and he’s not in control, and as your patient the only ethical thing to do is take that control for him. Treat him. Bring him back from the void that’s calling to him.

Or at very least, to make your voice call louder.

Your name doesn’t do it.

Your touch doesn’t do it.

Loki is a beast, a creature of madness, a thing driven by some terrible greater purpose without form. You speak to him, your hand upon him, feeling the terrible heat boiling off him through your skin.

Your voice doesn’t do it. He struggles there in his restraints, bound up tight, limbs held back in an unnatural spasm. It must be so uncomfortable.

And suddenly, with a lurch of vertigo in your stomach, the memory of a memory of the dream -

- the keeper had taken the lemon python from its glass tank and the coils had poured in a relaxed, sick tangle out over her hands like spilt intestines -

- you know what you need to do.

“Banner,” you croak, as Loki spits and writhes in his bonds. “I need him - I need the ties slackened. I need him to be able to lie down.”

Now it’s their turn to be hesitant. They don’t want to do it. They have your sympathy, because you don’t really want to do it either. But as soon as the understanding had dawned, you’d felt rested and relieved for the first time in weeks, as if your body itself knew what was needed. There is absolutely nothing else to be done, and so the cell is full of people once more, trying to make this whole incredibly unsafe situation as safe as possible.

Bruce Banner now seems to have that furrow of worry engraved permanently between his eyes: you’re honestly humbled by his depth of caring for someone he barely knows beyond a name. He even comes the closest to you (and you haven’t moved from Loki, not an inch, even though he is growling constantly now, a rumble of furious sound, eyes darting violently at each agent in turn) and crouches down.

“Are you - are you sure?” he asks, for the third time.

You want to say something cliché. Throw a little bravado in. Like “Sure I’m sure.” or “I’ve never been less sure of anything in my life, but I’m doing it anyway.” But you’re honestly just so fucking tired and the instinct that drove you to give the order feels like the promise of rest. So you just nod. Again. And Bruce closes his eyes briefly, as if in pain.

“Okay,” he says. You only realise then that they’ve been waiting on him, that he’s the one in charge right now, when he gives the nod, and an agent in full riot gear - where the hell is your riot gear? - hands you a switch-release. “You press that, he gets enough slack to lie full on the floor if he wants to. That’s also enough slack for him to tear your throat out. Just so you know.”

Oh, you know.

“Press it again, they’ll tighten up, he’ll be less able to move. Not completely unable. Just…less.”

Bruce stands up. You realise that the room has emptied around you. You and he, and the snarling creature, are the only ones here.

“I’d suggest you press it twice in very quick succession,” he says, and then leaves quickly, as if it hurts too much to look at you anymore.

The door has scarcely closed behind him when you press the button. You’ve never been one for putting off inevitable danger. Procrastination in war loses lives. Needless tension costs you calm. Lost calm costs you ability. Your thumb presses down firmly, in a deliberate motion that anyone who isn’t you might mistake for balls of steel.

The world contracts. You breathe in. You breathe out. The room seems obscenely quiet and still for the length of that one breath.

Loki lurches forward, carried by the momentum of his own struggling to tear you apart, and sprawls full length on the floor. He’s still hogtied close enough to save you from being instantly attacked, and even without being able to see him you can almost feel the will of Bruce Banner, desperate for you to press down again on the button, make yourself safe.

But you don’t. It’s only clear to you now that you never intended to, that this was never your body’s plan. Instead, you carefully lower yourself down next to Loki’s thrashing, snakish form, and gradually get lower until you are lying on your side, facing him, your faces less than a couple of feet apart. His expression is awful, virulent, quite mad. At this distance you can see the flush of every broken blood vessel in his eyes.

And then, just as deliberately, you turn your back to him, rolling onto your other side. And gracelessly, shuffling on the unforgiving floor, you manoeuvre yourself backwards, ignoring the terrible snarling, ignoring everything except the tiny voice of that instinct inside you that is saying, against all sense, it’ll be ok, we can rest -

Contact.

Your back fetches up against Loki’s chest, the deep rumble of his growling humming through you, the shivering tenseness of his every muscle enough to make you vibrate right along with him.

In and out, the push of a half-ruined ribcage against your back.

You forget how to breathe in the same moment that Loki remembers. He draws breath in with a whooping, broken sound, as if he’s just come up from almost-drowning, and the noise is instantly recognisable. Dark hair spills over your shoulder, brushes your face, as his head falls forward in exhaustion.

This is your dream. This is where you have needed to be since Stark Tower.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfiction #fanfic #MCU #Avengers #bruce banner #shield agent reader #reader insert #loki x reader #medic!reader #loki/reader #reader #just a patient

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oldwarriors-fireandwater · 6 years

Text

Chapter Twenty

“What do you think will happen?” Beechpaw asked. The tom paused to sniff at a clump of ferns.

Firepaw shrugged. “I dunno, you know more about this kind of stuff than I do.”

The toms were on patrol with Shadepaw and Minkpaw - though apprentices typically didn’t patrol alone, according to Shadepaw, Leopardfur said it would be a sort of test, at least for Beechpaw and Shadepaw. Firepaw figured that it also had something to do with the fact that half of the warriors were holed up in Crookedstar’s den, discussing the matter of ThunderClan and ShadowClan.

Shadepaw’s tail twitched. “We can’t keep hiding behind the river forever,” she meowed. “Sooner or later, they’re going to come for us, too.”

Minkpaw scowled. “The fact that they’re killing kits should be more than enough to get Crookedstar to want to fight. And to think Brokenstar tried to say Yellowfang was a kit-killer!”

The other apprentices nodded along with her. The Clan had become suddenly much less suspicious of Yellowfang since hearing that Brokenstar had recruited rogues to use for battle, and that those rogues had no qualms about harming kits. Firepaw had even watched Whiteclaw bring the medicine cat a fat fish before the group left to patrol. It’s probably his way of making up for attacking her.

“What about Beetleclaw and Frogleap, though?” Beechpaw asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a senior warrior being punished.”

Minkpaw frowned. “I’d rather not talk about that.”

Shadepaw gave her a sympathetic look and nodded. “Let’s just focus on the patrol.”

The apprentices were heading upriver. They had long since passed the bridge, and were walking into taller grass now. They followed along the gorge, but kept a few fox-lengths away to be safe. It was easy going. The land north of camp was clear of obstacles and full of tall, fresh grasses.

Firepaw noticed some white, fluffy animals in the distance. They were grazing, and seemed not to notice the cats. “What are those? They look like bushes.”

“Sheep,” Shadepaw replied. “They're pretty harmless, and their wool is great for nests.”

“They creep me out,” Minkpaw said, shuddering. “They have such… vacant stares.”

Shadepaw glanced at her, looking amused. “I'll protect you from the scary sheep.”

Minkpaw’s tail bristled with embarrassment. “I'm not scared!” she blurted. “They're just weird!”

Shadepaw purred. “Whatever you say.”

They skirted around the herd of sheep, wandering without much direction. They stopped every so often to sniff at a stump or rock, checking for foreign scents, before they would move on again.

Firepaw found the patrol was oddly relaxing. Camp had been tense for days, and it was nice to get away from the bickering warriors. Though he wasn't close to Shadepaw, she seemed to get on well with Minkpaw, and the apprentices chatted easily as they walked.

“I hope my assessment is soon,” Shadepaw meowed. She twitched her whiskers. “I feel like I've been an apprentice for ages.”

“You're only two moons ahead of me!” Minkpaw retorted. “It hasn't been that long.”

Beechpaw snorted. “And I'm a moon ahead of you, Shadepaw!”

Shadepaw rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. We’re all due to be warriors soon!”

Firepaw frowned. I wonder when I'll be a warrior. I've been here… a little more than two moons, I think? Maybe three by now?

Beechpaw shouldered him. “You can't be too far off. You're about the same age as Minkpaw and Grasspaw, I think.”

“Ooh, what do you think our names will be?” Minkpaw asked. Her tail flicked with excitement at the thought. “I’d be pretty pleased with ‘Minkwhisker’.”

Beechpaw chuckled and flicked her with his tail. “I’d bet you'll get ‘Minkstorm!’”

“Oh, come on,” Shadepaw retorted. “She's a great hunter. Of course she’ll get ‘whisker’.”

Minkpaw beamed at the praise.

Firepaw said nothing. The feeling of comfort was starting to fade—he was still practically an outsider when it came to this sort of thing. He knew a few names by now, but most meant nothing to him yet.

Beechpaw looked thoughtful. “I wouldn't mind ‘throat’.”

Minkpaw shook her head. “C’mon, I see how much you hang around the nursery. I'll eat my tail if Crookedstar doesn't name you ‘flower’.”

Beechpaw grinned. “That's true… I haven't been able to hang out in the nursery in a while, though. Has anyone seen Mallowtail’s kits lately?”

“I saw them when I first got here,” Firepaw said, eager for the shift in conversation. “But I haven't seen much of them since.”

“I'm sure they'll be running around and getting under everyone’s paws any day now,” Shadepaw replied. “I brought the queens some fresh-kill the other day. Her litter is an energetic one! I don't think poor Brambleflower has gotten any sleep since they opened their eyes.”

Minkpaw glanced at Shadepaw. “What do you want your name to be?”

Shadepaw shrugged. “I’m sure I'll just get ‘pelt’ or ‘fur’.”

“No way!” Minkpaw exclaimed. “You’re the best fighter out of any of us. I bet you’ll be Shadeclaw.”

Shadepaw purred. “Shadeclaw does sound pretty nice...”

Firepaw held in a sigh as they returned to the topic of names.

Beechpaw seemed to notice Firepaw’s change in mood. He batted at Firepaw. “What about him?” he meowed.

“Tough one,” Shadepaw said. “How fast are you? ‘Firefoot’ wouldn't be a terrible name.”

Firepaw smiled a little. “I don't know if I'm fast, but I did run from the Twolegplace to Sunningrocks when I was younger…”

“Firefoot has a nice ring to it,” Beechpaw agreed. “Or maybe Firetail? Let's find you a tree to climb and see how you fare.”

“I heard a ShadowClan apprentice say you were handsome at the Gathering,” Minkpaw went on, starting to snicker. “Maybe he’ll be Fireface?”

“Fireface!” Firepaw meowed. “That's too weird.”

Shadepaw laughed. “‘Face’ means you're an attractive, healthy cat. Not a bad name, but it does sound a little weird as yours.”

“Now hold on just a moment,” Beechpaw said. “I, for one, want to know who said Firepaw was handsome. He's still got kit fluff!”

“I don't!” Firepaw retorted with a laugh. “That's just how my fur is!”

Eventually, the apprentices headed home, having found nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn't until they passed the bridge that Shadepaw suddenly bristled.

“What's wrong?” Minkpaw asked.

“ShadowClan,” Shadepaw hissed. “I smell them.”

The others tasted the air. Firepaw did notice the unusual smell—it was familiar, like Yellowfang’s scent, and that may have been why he didn't catch it at first.

“She's right,” Beechpaw growled. “What are they doing here?”

“We aren't far from camp,” Shadepaw said. “Let's hurry.” She started to run, so the other apprentices dashed along after her.

“What if they're attacking?” Firepaw asked.

“Then they might be in trouble,” Beechpaw panted.

They didn't slow until the reed border of camp was in sight. There seemed to be no sounds of battle, and no screeches of rage or pain, so the apprentices halted for a moment to catch their breaths.

“Come on,” Shadepaw meowed. “They're not attacking… but I don't like not knowing what's happening.” She led them through the reeds and into camp.

Right away, Firepaw noticed the ShadowClan patrol sitting in the middle of camp. The air was even more tense than usual. RiverClan warriors sat at the edges of camp, glaring suspiciously at the outsiders. Whiteclaw, Voleclaw, and Skyheart sat right outside the nursery. It was clear they were guarding it.

Silverpaw and Weaselfoot were on sentry duty, having been seated along the reeds. They both pricked their ears at the apprentices’ arrivals and approached them.

“What's going on?” Shadepaw demanded.

Weaselfoot glanced at the ShadowClan cats out of the corner of his eye. “Brokenstar decided to ‘stop by’,” he growled. “He brought some of his strongest warriors. He’s clearly trying to intimidate us.”

Firepaw examined the patrol for a moment. They were all muscular, tough-looking cats. One, a silver tom, was simply massive—probably even bigger than Thistlestar or Tigerclaw. A stocky black tom meticulously cleaned his long claws, clearly putting on show with the whole act. Two mollies talked in low whispers, and glared at any cat who passed them.

Well, Firepaw thought, gulping. The intimidation thing is working.

Silverpaw bristled. “I'll be glad when they're gone. I can't believe Crookedstar is entertaining them here after what they did.”

For once, Firepaw agreed with Silverpaw. They killed at least one ThunderClan kit, Firepaw thought. How can he even let them sit around here?

The silver ShadowClan tom rose suddenly, and headed for the nursery. Hisses rose from all around.

“You stop right there,” Whiteclaw snarled. “We know what you lot did to ThunderClan!”

The tom blinked, but seemed unfazed by the hostility. “I just want to see Brambleflower,” he meowed. “We’re good friends. It's been a while since I've gotten to see how she's doing.”

“Back off, Boulder,” Skyheart hissed. “Or I'll rip your nose off. I don't care if Crookedstar said you were guests, you're dead if you take another step towards the nursery.”

Boulder? Firepaw wondered. That doesn't sound like a warrior name. Is he one of the rogues they recruited? The tom felt himself bristling. They're right to keep him away!

A soft voice came from the nursery. “Boulder?”

Voleclaw glanced over his shoulder. “No, Brambleflower, Crookedstar said the queens aren’t supposed to—”

Suddenly, the tabby molly shoved her way through the warriors. Brambleflower beamed. “Boulder!” she purred. “I've missed you!”

Boulder let out a laugh. “I missed you, too. How are those kits of yours coming along?”

Their pleasantries felt out of place. Whiteclaw lashed his tail. “Get back in the nursery,” he growled. “Didn't you hear that ShadowClan kills kits now?”

“Oh, Boulder would never lay a paw on kits,” Brambleflower replied breezily. “How is Dawncloud?”

Firepaw glanced at Shadepaw. “How do they know each other?”

It was Weaselfoot who answered. “Brambleflower was rogue-born, but she was found as a kit. Boulder joined ShadowClan as a rogue seasons ago. I guess they figured they had something in common and bonded over it.”

Firepaw blinked. Brambleflower wasn't born here either?

“I still wonder who the father of her kits is,” Beechpaw whispered. “She's not really close to anyone… other than Boulder, I guess, but they'd never have kits.”

Weaselfoot fixed the apprentice with a glare. “This is hardly the time for gossip. Just… keep an eye on them like everyone else.” He turned away to return to his original spot. Silverpaw sniffed and did the same.

Beechpaw rolled his eyes. “It's not like they're going to do anything with that size of a patrol and everyone here.” He swiped his tongue over his lips. “We might as well eat.” He headed for the fresh-kill pile.

“I'll stay here,” Firepaw replied. He sat down and turned his gaze back to the patrol. Shadepaw and Minkpaw made no move to leave for the pile, either. “Who’re the rest of those cats?”

Shadepaw twitched an ear. “The black one is Blackfoot. He’s ShadowClan’s deputy. Doesn't talk much and isn't very friendly. The same could be said for Russetfur… the ginger molly. She was rogue-born too. The other molly is Fernshade, a senior warrior. Don't know much about her.”

There seems to be a lot more cats who were born outsiders, Firepaw thought. By the way cats act, it sounded like I was the only one.

They sat about and continued to wait. No one was eager to move about. Those who hadn’t been called to Crookedstar’s den continued to cast their hate-filled stares at the ShadowClan patrol. Firepaw hardly blamed them. The longer the outsiders sat there, looking relaxed as can be, the more angry he grew. They killed kits, he thought, beginning to bristle. And now they’ll just lounge about our camp pretending nothing happened?

A screech made nearly every cat jump. Brokenstar came tearing out of Crookedstar’s den, bristling like a hedgehog. His nose was split open and bleeding. Crookedstar came running out after him. He parted his jaws in a ferocious hiss. Brokenstar whipped around, arching his back.

What on earth? Firepaw’s tail whipped about. It had bushed up on its own from the shock of the leaders’ confrontation.

“You come into my camp and think you can make these demands of me?” Crookedstar roared. “We know what you did in ThunderClan, Brokenstar! Our hunting grounds will never be used by your Clan of rogues.”

“Be very careful, Crookedstar,” Brokenstar hissed. “You wouldn’t want to make rash decisions that you’ll -”

“Careful?” Crookedstar scoffed. “You should be lucky I don’t rid the Clans of your filthy existence right now! Begone, or I will.”

Brokenstar took a step back. The tom was a large brute, and it was likely that he could match Crookedstar in a fight. But the RiverClan warriors were rising and edging closer, and the ShadowClan leader saw this. His eyes flitted about nervously. For a moment, he stalled as he stared towards the medicine cats’ den.

Yellowfang was sitting in the mouth of the den. Her eyes were narrowed to slits. She said nothing.

“So,” Brokenstar hissed. “You’ve been hiding out with the fish-faces.” He lifted his chin. “Come, ShadowClan,” he snapped. “RiverClan has made their choice.”

The patrol rose. Boulder, looking unsure, whispered a goodbye to Brambleflower and hurried to join them. Brokenstar spun around and headed for the reeds.

Neither Shadepaw nor Minkpaw moved, so Firepaw held his ground. Brokenstar padded right by him. He glanced down at Firepaw once, snorted softly, and went out of camp through the reeds.

A few moments of silence passed. Then Sedgestream lifted her head and smirked. “Well done, Crookedstar!” she shouted.

“He sure showed that fox!” Agreed a grinning Skyheart.

Voleclaw nodded. “He won’t come crawling back here.”

Crookedstar shrugged off the praise. “He will.” Without much explanation, he turned to go back into his den. “We will resume our meeting. This is only another element to consider.”

#chapter twenty #warrior cats rewrite #warrior cats au #warrior cats #wc #warriors: fire and water

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theoddcatlady · 7 years

Text

The Miracle of Life

“Daddy! The robins laid an egg!”

I chuckled as my daughter ran inside beaming from ear to ear. “Is that so?” I said as I lowered my book.

Amber nodded, her pigtails bouncing about. “Two eggs! They’re so small and pretty! Do you think they’ll hatch soon?” She asked.

I reached forward and ruffled her hair. “Probably, but you’ll have to be patient. You wouldn’t want the baby in the egg to come out too early, right?”

“Nope!” She shook her head, the pigtails now smacking her face. “I’ll be patient, Daddy! I hope there will be babies soon though- I wanna see the baby birds!”

Amber was crazy about animals, but especially birds. Probably because her mom had a few parakeets. I didn’t own any pets, but I figured I should encourage Amber’s interest in watching baby birds develop. A way to learn about the miracle of life, I suppose.

When Amber was at Sarah’s that weekend, I strung up a ladder that sat next to the bird’s nest. Even my heart fluttered as I saw the blue eggs nestled together. When Amber came back from her mom’s, she nearly screamed with joy when she saw what I had set up. But of course, I had a rule.

“You can only check once per day, Amber. We don’t want the birds to get frightened off. If they decide not to come back, the babies won’t hatch.”

Amber nodded seriously as I told her this. I trusted my daughter to listen to me, she wanted to see these birds hatch with all her heart. After kindergarten on the days she stayed with me she’d go up the ladder and take a quick peek. Afterward she’d run inside and tell me all about it. Of course, nothing much really changed. But Amber noticed every little thing, down to the position of the sticks and the amount of feathers. And she let me know every day.

On a Monday after a Mom weekend though, Amber came in sobbing, her cheeks patchy red and her eyes filled with tears. She just held out the broken eggshells in her hand and managed to tell me in between wails that the babies were nowhere to be found. The robins were still there, but the babies were gone.

I remembered seeing Ms. Green’s cat stalking across my yard the day previous, but I hadn’t paid it much thought. The eggs must have hatched and when Fluffy heard the cheeping, well, he decided to have a nice breakfast of baby birds.

Amber was inconsolable. I tried to comfort her, telling her that maybe they went somewhere else, a white lie to hide her from the cruelty of the real world, but there wasn’t much I could do. She went to her room and cried into her pillow. Even her favorite dinner, mac n cheese mixed with chopped up hotdogs, didn’t bring her out of her slump. I made sure to call Sarah and let her know that Amber might be a little depressed when she saw her Wednesday.

Thursday I saw a complete turnaround in Amber.

“Daddy! The birds laid more eggs!”

She shouted this as she ran indoors, her smile from ear to ear. I tried not to seem like I didn’t believe her, as I didn’t think robins laid more than once per season. Course, I don’t really care much about birds, so what do I know. “Really? What do they look like?” I asked.

“They’re like chicken eggs!” She pointed at the ones I was whisking in a bowl for breakfast. “Maybe a lil bigger! Are they special robins, daddy?”

Aha. I figured out pretty quickly this was Amber’s new coping mechanism. She’d had a few imaginary friends, what was a few imaginary eggs? “They might be, Amber, they just might be,” I said. I decided against discouraging her, I didn’t want to have her all sad about the dead babies again.

Amber came up with more and more unique stories about the eggs. How their shells were so smooth. How the mother robin could barely fit upon it to keep it warm, but of course doing her best. How the eggs would twitch and sometimes roll around the nest. It was pretty funny. Sarah would tell me about other ‘egg tales’, and I could just imagine her shaking her head as she recounted them.

“Daddy! The eggs grew fur!”

That was the hardest one to swallow. I was talking over video chat with a woman I’d met on a dating website. Marla did a much worst job than I did of hiding her amusement, but even I snorted a little. Amber and her egg tales. What would she think of next?

“Is that your daughter? What eggs are you talking about, sweetie?” She asked, smiling broadly.

Amber thankfully didn’t seem to realize why we were laughing. “The eggs the robins laid. They jump around and they have fur and they’re gonna hatch soon! I know it!” She chattered.

Marla hid her smile behind her hand. “Well, isn’t that sweet,” She said before turning the conversation back to where we should go out to dinner on Saturday. This helped me warm up to her a little more, seeing how she was nice to my daughter.

I really, really should’ve checked on the eggs myself. I never really thought to. After all, it was just my daughter’s imagination working overtime to entertain herself after the tragedy that happened to the first batch.

I really should’ve looked.

Sarah had come over for brunch today, planning on taking Amber for the afternoon because of a sleepover she was having with her friends tonight. The ink on the divorce papers had long since dried, we were much better friends than we ever were married. Amber had gone to check on her ‘eggs’. I’d just made a comment on how beautiful the weather was today when we heard Amber scream.

Not just a scream of accidentally tripping and scraping her knee, either. A high pitched, blood curdling scream that didn’t stop.

Sarah dropped her cup on the ground, the mug shattering. I nearly slipped on the spilled coffee, catching myself last second and barreling out the door.

Amber was running up, her face soaked with blood as she continued to scream. I had never seen so much blood in my whole life. I’d never wanted to see it spurting from the head of my daughter.

It looked like something had ripped off half her face, her cheek and lower eyelid completely gone. I could see her bottom most baby teeth. Blood had soaked half her dress and covered in dirt like she’d fallen on the ground.

Sarah screeched and grabbed Amber, cradling her in her arms as she bolted back inside, screaming at me to call 911.

I was dialing as I walked up to the tree. The ladder had toppled over, the ropes that once connected it frayed, no, chewed right through. I climbed up the tree and peered into the nest.

It smelled like burnt shit and was covered in blood. And inside were two little critters. Probably smaller than my hand, but not by much, covered in black fur and with several pairs of legs. Like giant tarantulas. Except they were still chewing on my daughter’s flesh.

I heard more screaming from indoors and my heart stopped.

Amber said there were three eggs.

#horror stories #scary stories #creative writing #sixpenceee stories #writers on tumblr #my stories

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