#myrtle speaks

[myrtlebroadbelt]

I was like, "A cat named Dennis? What a weird choice." So I looked it up and 😭😭😭

[ask-myrtle]

You’re in her dms, my blood is ALL OVER her boyfriend’s car.

[yooniesim]

I would only be impressed if the new pack includes a dirty little tourist beach town and lets me make an overpriced condo to sit empty 70% of the year while the homeless population increases exponentially and is constantly ignored. now thats realistic gameplay

[cappurrccino]

man, wild shape is where it's AT 👏

[ask-myrtle]

LIGMA NUTTTTTTSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!! GOTTEM!!!!!!

Hello Daisy,

You don’t know me but I would like to inform you of this DEADLY disease your husband has given me. Its called ligma, I suggest you get tested IMMEDIATELY!!

Sincerely,

Ya girl Myrtle

Oh! That sounds rather serious! I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of it before… what are the symptoms?

[whollyjoly]

today i learned that the actress who played moaning myrtle also is babu frik and i cant fucking handle it

[bravenew-what]

IT’S MOTIONLESS IN WHITE DAY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[myrtlebroadbelt]

Helly: So I talked to this gardener...

Irving:

[ask-myrtle]

I love you too alternate universe Myrtle

Dearest Tom,

I told everyone I pegged you

Sincerely,

Myrtle xo

@ask-myrtle

...I think everyone already knew.

However, that was long in the past- and I'd prefer if you didn't threaten my current relationship. God knows Chester will take any excuse to yell at me.

[frznkingdom]

🎵 Myrtle :3

Send “🎵“ and I’ll reply with a song that’s related to my muse and I’ll explain why

Waiting on the Sky to Change by Starset ft. Breaking Benjamin

I mainly see this as one of the songs when Myrtle finally starts to gain more confidence in herself and her capabilities. She's not going to hide and be a coward anymore, she'll stand up and fight for what she believes in and those who care about her.

[elrondss]

Thorin would def be the type of parent/guardian who goes through every single name he knows before he lands on the person he’s actually trying to speak to. like in a bagginshield shire au he’d be trying to call for Frodo and it’d go like “Fili! wait no- Kili- fuck- Dís- what? Gim- oh come on- Myrtle- Mahal that was the pony. What’s his name? FRODO!”

[xoxochb]

⋆·˚ ༘ * like flowers in your hair

warnings: none pairing: percy jackson x daughter of demeter a/n: I’ve been on such a percy kick recently 😕

“here”

you pick a blue flower from the ground and tuck it in percy’s hair, his cheeks flush a light pink hue

“what kind?”

“periwinkle”

percy laughs, you glare at him in response before searching your book for the flower. when you reach the page you turn it to show percy

“they’re also known as myrtles. they bloom in april and may. It’s the flower of sad remembrance and are often placed beside graves”

percy’s smile drops. “that took a turn”

now it’s your turn to laugh. you take another flower from a nearby bush and hand it to percy

“what’s this?”

“hyacinth. do you know the story?”

percy ponders before his answer. “wasn’t he fucking apollo?”

you gasp and hit his head. “perseus! that’s not the story, dumbass! hyacinthus and apollo were dating, yes- but zephyrus was jealous of the relationship because he loved hyacinthus. so one day while him and apollo were playing with a discus the wind was averted, striking hyacinthus in the head, therefore killing him. apollo used his blood to turn his corpse into a flower, creating the beautiful hyacinth”

“why are all the flower stories depressing”

“I’ll find a happy one”

percy throws the flower to the side as you search your book for a happy story

“this one” you point to your book “a carnation. pink symbolizes motherly love and white means good luck”

“I like that one. which flower is your favorite?”

you bite your lip and turn the pages again

“lilacs. they symbolize innocence and purity”

“oh” percy frowns “I think that’s ironic because we’re not-”

“you better not finish that sentence”

“yes ma’am”

you sigh and return to your book. percy continues to speak

“when we get married we should use white carnations”

it’s now your turn for your cheeks to turn pink. “married?”

“of course we’re getting married, flower”

you smile again, this time meeting percy’s sea green eyes. “I think white carnations would be perfect”

[jijournal]

LOVE ME AGAIN | D.M

Part 2 of Love Me Loud

Summary: After walking away from the boy who couldn't choose you, fate brings you face to face with Draco Malfoy once more. The feelings are still there, truths remain unspoken, and the question lingers—was it ever really over?

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Just get your tissues ready.

A/N: Part 2 of 'Love Me Loud' is here!! Hope everyone love this! 🫰

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Draco Malfoy had always believed silence was safety.

Until you walked away—and the silence screamed louder than anything he'd ever known.

The morning after the Quidditch match, the castle moved on as if nothing had happened. Students buzzed in the corridors, gossiping about the game, praising Draco’s win like it was a badge of legacy. But he didn’t hear them.

All he heard was your voice, raw and trembling in the cold air of the Astronomy Tower.

“I needed you to fight for me.”

He hadn’t.

And now, you were gone.

The weeks that followed were hollow.

You avoided him effortlessly, without making it obvious. You didn’t speak his name, didn’t glance his way in class, didn’t even acknowledge the shared air between you anymore.

Draco thought the silence would kill him.

Every hallway he turned into felt like a trap laid with memories. Every classroom you both shared was colder without your warmth beside him. Even the dungeons, once your quiet sanctuary together, felt empty.

You’d sit in Potions now with Ernie Macmillan. He laughed too loud, made too many mistakes—but he looked at you the way Draco wished he still could.

With pride.

With ease.

Without shame.

Draco still passed you ingredients sometimes, his fingers brushing yours like they used to—but now you didn’t flinch or look up. You just thanked him softly. Politely.

Like a stranger would.

By sixth year, the war outside had begun bleeding into the castle’s stone walls. The tension was no longer whispers—it was screams, in shadows, in headlines, in conversations that stopped when professors walked by.

And then came the Mark. Branded into his skin like a brand on cattle. Like ownership.

He hadn’t been asked.

He’d been chosen.

Because Lucius Malfoy had failed. Because the Dark Lord was cruel. Because Draco still hadn’t learned how to say no.

He stopped smiling after that. Not that he had much to smile about anymore.

He was losing weight. Losing sleep. Losing control.

You still hadn’t looked at him.

Not once.

Until that night in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

The door creaked open and you stepped inside. Your wand was drawn, expecting trouble, ready for a duel.

You weren’t expecting to find Draco—collapsed against the porcelain basin, his breathing uneven, eyes vacant and glassy.

Your heart stopped.

“Draco?”

He didn’t look at you, his voice low and almost brittle as he muttered, “Go away.”

But you didn’t.

Instead, you knelt slowly, cautiously. Your movements were deliberate, as if you were approaching something fragile—something broken. Because that’s what he looked like. Broken. Wounded. Not dangerous.

You reached for his arm, your fingers brushing his sleeve. He flinched, jerking away, but the movement was weak, like he didn’t have the strength to push you away. His face was pale, and his eyes were distant.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, but his sleeve was soaked in blood—a clean, straight cut running across it, crimson staining the fabric.

“No, you’re not,” you whispered, your voice gentle, steady despite the shock twisting in your chest. “Let me help.”

For the first time in months, he looked at you. Really looked at you. His gaze met yours—raw, vulnerable—and suddenly, everything that had been buried came rushing back. The way you always saw through him, the way your eyes softened when everyone else turned away. Even now. Especially now.

You didn’t hesitate. You healed him in silence, your magic warm and soothing. It was steady and sure, but your hands shook slightly from the nerves you hadn’t known you still had. His gaze never wavered from you, as if he couldn’t tear himself away from the girl who had once cared for him. Who still might.

When you finished, you set your wand down, the soft glow fading as you sat beside him. Your knees were pressed to the cold stone floor, but you didn’t move. You both sat there for a long while, the silence thick between you.

Finally, he broke the stillness, his voice quiet, rough. “You shouldn’t be here.”

A faint, tired smile pulled at the corners of your lips, bittersweet and full of something both old and new. “Neither should you.”

His eyes dropped to the floor, guilt weighing him down. “I never meant for it to end like that.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. The hurt was still too fresh, still too close, and words would only cheapen it.

“You saved me today,” he said, almost as if he were speaking to himself, his voice thick with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “Why?”

You glanced at him, your heart pounding in your chest. And then, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, you answered.

“Because I loved you once,” you murmured, your words fragile and broken, “and part of me still does.”

There were no more words between you after that night.

But something shifted. Something that neither time nor silence could undo.

The next time you passed him in the hallways, he didn’t look away.

And for the first time, neither did you.

⸻

The Battle of Hogwarts came without warning. The night burned with fire and fury.

Spells crashed through stone and air alike, the world split between blinding light and crushing darkness. Screams echoed down the corridors, and the floor was littered with dust, broken wands, and shattered pieces of the castle that once felt like home. You ran, lungs aching, heart a thunderous drum in your chest. Every turn of the hallway was another battlefield, every corner another gamble.

You hadn’t seen him since he left for Easter Holidays.

You told yourself you were over it. That the war had made you stronger, sharper. That you’d let go of the boy who let go of you.

But it wasn’t true.

When you rounded the corner into the Transfiguration corridor, wand raised, ready to fight, and you saw the Death Eater turn on you, his wand already mid-curse—you knew this might be the end.

“Avada—”

“Protego!”

A body slammed into yours, sending you both crashing to the stone floor as green light flew over your heads. The world tilted. You scrambled to your elbows, heart hammering, wand still clutched tight.

And then you saw him.

Draco.

Panting. Pale. His robes torn and smeared with ash and blood.

He stood between you and the masked man like a barrier—trembling slightly, but steady, wand raised.

The duel didn’t last long. Draco’s spells were fast, relentless. And when the Death Eater finally fell back, fleeing into the smoke, you were left staring at him, breath caught in your throat.

“Why did you save me?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He turned to face you slowly, his face raw with emotion. “Because I still love you.”

The words struck you like a curse—sharp and unrelenting, rattling everything inside you. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as the weight of his confession pressed down on you. For a moment, disbelief swallowed you whole, and all you could do was stare at him.

“Then why did you let me go?” your voice cracked, just barely.

Draco's gaze dropped to the broken floor beneath him, his shoulders sinking as if the weight of his words was too much for him to carry. He seemed smaller, fragile.

“I…” His voice wavered, breaking on the single syllable, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was admitting this out loud. His fingers clenched into fists at his sides, and for a long moment, the only sound in the room was the your steady breath and the distant chaos of the battle raging outside.

“I wasn’t brave enough,” he said, his voice rough and raw, a confession soaked in regret. His eyes closed briefly. When he opened them again, his gaze met yours, and there was something different in it now—something that wasn’t the cold, distant shield he had worn for so long. It was filled with a sorrow so deep that it felt like it could swallow him whole.

“I wasn’t brave enough to fight for you,” he whispered, his voice a strained breath. “I thought I could hide behind my family, behind my name, behind all of it... I thought it was easier to keep my distance—to push you away.” His eyes flickered with a flash of pain, and he exhaled shakily, as if the words had physically hurt to speak.

You watched him closely, your own heart aching at the sight of the boy you’d once known—strong, proud, full of arrogance. This Draco, though? This Draco was fragile. He was broken in ways he hadn’t let anyone see before.

“I let fear control me,” he continued, his voice barely audible now. “Fear of my father’s anger. Fear of losing everything I thought I needed. And I let that fear keep me from fighting for the one person who I actually needed.”

His chest rose and fell rapidly, like he was fighting to breathe through the weight of his admission. He took a hesitant step closer, as if testing whether the distance between you would close the space in his chest, too.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with something unspoken—something deeper than the apology he couldn’t seem to finish. “I’ve spent years regretting it. The silence. The things I didn’t say. The things I never had the courage to do.”

The silence between you stretched, thick with everything unsaid. You looked at him—really looked at him—and you saw it. Not the boy who sneered across Potions class. Not the son of Lucius Malfoy. Just Draco. Scared. Honest. And completely undone.

But before either of you could speak again, voices shouted down the hallway—calls for help, orders, spells. Another part of the castle was collapsing.

Draco’s eyes flickered to the danger, then back to you. There was a moment—one second where it felt like maybe, just maybe, you would run together this time.

But he took a step back.

And you did too.

No words. Just that one last look.

And then the war tore you apart again.

⸻

It had been three years since the war ended—since that night of fire and silence, since the last time you saw him disappear into smoke and rubble. Life had moved on, though not without effort.

Draco never reached out. Not once in those three years did he spare a moment to write you a letter. You, on the other hand, wrote to him every month for a year after the war—letters filled with things left unsaid, with questions you were too afraid to ask. But you never sent them. Fear held you back—fear that he didn’t want anything to do with you, that the silence between you was deliberate. That was two years ago. You haven’t written since. You stopped letting yourself hope.

Now, you stood in the quiet warmth of your flower shop—your sanctuary, your dream since the first time Herbology had made you feel like something in the world could grow just for you. The air was rich with the scent of lilacs and lavender, sunlight spilling through the windows like a blessing, and for once, everything felt steady. Peaceful. Almost enough.

The bell above the shop door chimed softly.

You looked up from your counter, hands still wrapped around a freshly tied bouquet of pale hydrangeas. The scent of eucalyptus drifted through the air, mingling with the gentle charm you’d enchanted to keep the daisies from wilting. Sunlight filtered through the window, casting golden stripes across the polished floor.

He stood there. Like a ghost you’d tried so hard to bury.

Draco Malfoy.

No longer the boy with the haunted eyes, but a man. Taller, a little older. His hair shorter, his face sharper, more composed. But the storm in his eyes? Still the same.

“I didn’t know this was your shop,” he said quietly, stepping inside. “I was just passing through.”

You looked up from the bouquet in your hands, the ribbon still dangling between your fingers. For a second, you thought the air left the room. “It is,” you said, voice careful. “Been open for a while now.”

He nodded, slowly taking it in—how the light fell on the mahogany shelves, the soft hum of magic keeping the roses from drooping, the handwritten labels tucked into tiny pots. His gaze lingered on the charm above the door, the one that softly sang when someone entered.

“This place…” he said after a beat, “It’s beautiful. Feels like you.”

Your fingers tightened around the ribbon. “That was the idea.”

He moved further in, his footsteps soft against the wood, like he didn’t want to disturb anything. His eyes traced the petals of hanging lavender, then drifted to the tiny jars of Baby's-breath that floated just above the shelves. His fingers hovered near a jar, brushing the side, barely touching.

“I always thought you’d end up somewhere like this,” he said. “Somewhere gentle.”

You raised a brow. “After everything? I wasn’t sure I could be gentle anymore.”

He looked at you then, eyes heavy. “You always were. Even when the rest of the world wasn’t.”

The quiet between you stretched, weighted and warm. The scent of jasmine curled between the silences, familiar and almost cruel.

He took a deep breath. “I passed by here last week,” he admitted. “Saw the window. Saw the name on the sign. I wasn’t sure it was really you.”

You managed a small smile. “It’s me. Just… older. Wiser, hopefully.”

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but didn’t quite know how anymore. “You always had a thing for violets. Still do?”

You gestured to the arrangement in your hands. “Some things don’t change.”

He moved a little closer, standing just across the counter now, where the distance felt both unbearable and too much all at once.

He was quiet again. His fingers tapped the wood of the counter once, then stilled.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he admitted, his voice barely a breath.

You nodded. “I didn’t think you’d want to.”

“I didn’t think I deserved to.”

Your throat tightened. You looked away, pretending to fix a petal that didn’t need fixing.

And then—so softly it was almost a thought more than a sentence—he said it.

“I missed you.”

You felt the words catch in your throat. The familiar ache of longing twisted inside you, but it was quickly smothered by the armor you'd built over the years.

You tried to keep the walls up, but the weight of his confession shattered something inside you. Your hands shook slightly as you set the bouquet down, the soft scent of the flowers mixing with the tension in the air.

You forced your gaze back to him, meeting his eyes—eyes that seemed to have never fully left you, despite everything.

For a moment, you almost said nothing. You almost pretended you hadn’t heard him, hadn’t felt the weight of the years between you. But the truth was, his words had cracked something open inside, something you’d buried deep for so long.

You exhaled a shaky breath. “I missed you too, Draco,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. It wasn’t just the words, but the way they felt—the vulnerability in them. A rawness you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge until now.

For a moment it felt like nothing had changed. Like the years between the war and this tiny shop had never happened. Just the two of you. The ache still there, the words still fragile.

“Do you want to, maybe go with me to the Leaky Cauldron?” His voice cracked just a little, like he didn’t quite believe he had the right to ask. “We could—”

You cut him off, gently but firmly. “If you want us to get back together, I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

His face drained of color. “What? Why not?”

You didn’t flinch. This time, you met his eyes without wavering—calm, resolute, and heartbreakingly sure.

“Draco… I’m getting married.”

He froze.

His mouth opened. Closed. And for a second, he looked like that boy again—lost, undone, silenced by the weight of a moment he wasn’t ready for.

You turned, reaching for a small arrangement of daisies and forget-me-nots you made earlier that morning—soft blues and whites, bound in a silk ribbon.

Forget-me-nots, for the memories that clung to your soul—enduring love that had once burned quietly between you. Daisies, pure and bright, symbolized release. Letting go. Letting go of him, and of the life you once imagined.

They were your way of saying goodbye without words—of embracing a future without him in it.

You turned back to him, eyes soft but resolute, and held the bouquet out.

“I made this today,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “It reminded me of us. I didn’t know why, until now.”

He took it slowly, his hand brushing against yours. The contact was fleeting, but electric with unspoken memories. His fingers trembled as they closed around the stems—his walls cracking under the weight of a thousand things he never said.

“I hope you’re happy,” he said at last, his voice low, hoarse. Strained. He couldn’t meet your eyes.

“I am,” you whispered. “I had to learn how to be.”

Your words weren’t meant to wound. But they did. You saw it in the way he blinked too slowly, as if keeping tears at bay. You saw it in the way his shoulders tensed—like he was preparing himself to carry the pain away with him.

Draco nodded once, slowly. His lips parted as though he wanted to say more, but no words came. He turned to leave. The silence between you felt heavy, sacred.

He reached the door, then paused. You could almost hear the battle in his chest, the weight of everything he couldn’t undo.

And then—he looked back.

And this time, you didn’t look away. You met his eyes, steady and brave.

You weren’t angry anymore. You weren’t lost. You were just… finally free.

Because this time… you weren’t the one who walked away.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

A/N: I hope the ending wasn't too disappointing. I went for a more realistic approach. I hate to say this, but I feel like this is what Draco would realistically do. Hope you liked it!

masterlist!

taglist: @ladycaramelswirl @kammafffffff

[splinterclan]

One of my favorite things in Clan stories, Warriors and otherwise, is the set of language and rituals that develop to reflect Clan events. I love the wording of this warrior ceremony. It's markedly different from Warriors' "Do you promise to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?" and I think this different wording reflects Whorlstar and SplinterClan's values really well! Can you talk about the thoughts that went into this ceremony wording, or other SplinterClan culture language-y things that have developed? Does SplinterClan have their own formal code, religious practices, or regular events akin to the monthly Gatherings?

(Side note: I was going back through the comic and found another AUGH foreshadowing moment I don't believe I've seen submitted yet. The consequences 😩)

this got long so under the cut fff

This is a really interesting question! I had a thought when I was writing the scene that I should go back and read a canon warriors ceremony, but then I actively decided not to. I think my goal with Splinterclan is to make them feel a little less dictatorship-y? Like obviously if someone wanted to leave the clan it'd be allowed, and they allow anyone to join so it makes no sense to make cats pledge their lives in service - and if running away meant living better Whorl would want any of them to do that.

Also giving room for the "code" and values to grow and change as the clan does. And, while she is their leader, it's much more of a community decision what they decide to do and Whorl very rarely "pulls rank". I kind of showed/said this when Myrtle wanted the clan to wait and see if Cedarheart would come back after he was taken away - Unless Whorl could get Myrtle to agree the clan likely would've stayed where it was since she's the matriarch of the clan basically jsjs

Otherwise my cats differ from canon in that Starclan is very hands off - Only Whorlstar can contact dead cats, only at the moonstone, and only ones who have given her a life (so currently only Silverspeck). So while everyone could theoretically receive a prophecy or sign, there's a lot more faith involved with believing it bc they get no real confirmation it exists besides a leader's nine lives until after death.

I haven't shown it, but the vigil after becoming a warrior is still a thing, and I assume if there were any other significant groups of cats living around they'd try to be on good terms with them and have meetings like a gathering. Also I've had the idea that Whorlstar goes to the moonpool after every cat's death and speaks with her guide to make sure they made it safely - also something I haven't shown bc I haven't had a good prompt in clangen to use and it technically wouldn't further the story. It's nice to think about though!

Other than that they communally raise kittens as I've shown (as in every single adult in the clan is expected to help clean/feed/watch them after their weaned, not just their parents) and it's probably been easy to tell that they live in and dig tunnels under/around the rocks of their camp, though I think Windclan does that? And idk what else is different bc it has been too long since I've read official warriors content jsjsj

[lightningant]

I don't think enough people really grapple with the ramifications only 1 of Voldemort's horcruxes seems capable of fully independent thought, it's his first one, it captures his existence at age 15-16, and if his self-description is to be believed, seems to be structured on what was in the diary at time of his creation

he knew what happened in Little Hangleton, so Voldemort had to have written to him. that means lord Voldemort had a partial amnesiac teenage version of himself that was completely dependent on him, and he abandoned him on a shelf as an unspecified Dangerous Dark Object at the Malfoys for appx. 40 years until Lucius needed Arthur Weasley's family to get caught with a dangerous dark object.

Really re-contextualizes the way he talks to Harry, who completely forgot he existed after he outgrew his usefulness to the case, despite the fact he spent all year wanting to speak to him and had a fucking paragraph alibi locked in and ready to go at the slightest prompting. Tom did not seem ready to use Ginny as bait until she stole the book back after he was ignored by Harry for TWO FULL MONTHS and the first thing he did that very same evening was personally attack Harry's closest muggleborn friend. He was pissed as fuck and yet when he baited Harry to the chamber, he tried to highlight the way their fates seemed intertwined. Symptoms disorders of the agonizingly lonely chuunibyou

(And he WAS the first horcrux, created before Little Hangleton. Myrtle died in June, as the fallout of her death played out on June 13th, at the end of the 1942~1943 school year. His birthday is in December, so he was 16 in June of 1943. The first term of the 1943~1944 school year, after the "summer of his 16th year", he reappears to Slughorn with the ring asking about multiple horcruxes. Pretty unambiguous.)

[fallenclan]

Would you like to explain more what is behind those reactions in the latest comic? I mean those panels with Littleleaf ect. What are they feeling and why?

(Love the expressions btw)

sure :)

-Kestrelfeather (61 moons, he/him) He's happy for Wolfbite! That's his best friend and he was probably let in on a lot of the information that Wolf got regarding Ravenstar's murderings, so he's not only happy that Wolfbite succeeded her mission, but also that Ravenstar is toast lol

-Ospreyswipe (113 moons, he/him) Very similar reasons as Kestrel, he's Feathersight's mate and he knew most of what was going on, so he's happy that Ravenstar isn't leader anymore and he's also happy that Feathersight finally completed the mission he'd been on for years

-Myrtleclaw (112 moons, any pronouns) & Juniperfoot (113 moons, she/they) Myrtle and Juniper were Sandsnap's mates. Not only are they filled with a mix of grief and joy at seeing Sandsnap's murder avenged, they're also feeling a lot of emotion seeing their daughter, Wolfbite, be the Big Hero. They probably weren't let in on what was happening, but they're relieved she's okay nevertheless.

-Littleleaf (83 moons, he/him) His brother, whom he dearly loved, who was only ever loving and kind to him, just died. How do you think he's feeling?

-Darkstone (38 moons, he/they) Overjoyed. Darkstone has always had a bit of a mean/slightly bloodthirsty streak, so while most of the cats watching this have an undercurrent of "oh shit that guy just died horribly", he's just kind of laughing about it. If he could hold pompoms he'd be doing a little dance about it

-Honeysong (53 moons, she/her) She's in pain and exhausted but she's also very happy that Ravenstar isn't leader anymore. She's also a pacifist and somewhat disturbed by Ravenstar's gory death, so she's hiding her face in Darkstone's fur as well as using him as physical support.

-Feathersight (112 moons, he/she/they) Relief. He's known something was wrong since Ravenstar became a warrior and he's carried the burden of Poppyfeather, Cherrystar, & Sandsnap's murders with him for so long, knowing that he's been one of the main forces bringing Ravenstar down has made him more stress-free than he's been since he was a young cat. He will be breaking down in tears later that night.

-Flamefall (72 moons, he/him) Shock. Awe. Grief. Ravenstar was his friend for longer than he was his enemy, so there's a definite feeling of sadness within him at seeing that cat die, but he was afraid of Ravenstar for a long, long time, and seeing that cat be taken down is. Really something. He's felt irredeemable for many moons, and knowing that this wouldn't have happened without him is bringing a new light into his life.

-Mistlefrost (107 moons, he/him) & Inkynose (40 moons, she/her) Mistlefrost and Inkynose were two cats who were punished for speaking up about Ravenstar's actions. They both have a little bit of a vengeful streak, so they're reveling in seeing a cat who made them suffer suffer. They're also both extremely loyal to Fallenclan, so they're overjoyed to see the world realign itself.

-Patchback (105 moons, she/her) Patchback was one of Ravenstar's most loyal followers. She was kicked out of her old clan for being too cruel, so when she joined Fallenclan she kept it all on the down-low. Then comes Ravenstar, a cat with the same ideals as her who praises her for her strength. Her ability to put her clanmates in their place. Now that cat is gone. She's grieving and furious.

-Levi (109 moons, he/him) Levi is a cat that follows power wherever it goes, and he just watched his chance at leadership get thrown out of the window. He was loyal to Ravenstar, sure, because that was his best option of getting to where he wanted to be. He saw Ravenstar die, adjusted, made an attempt, and realized very quickly that without Ravenstar to back him up, he wasn't much of anything.

-Sleepydawn (74 moons, he/they) Sleepydawn was resistant to Ravenstar's loyalty at first, but a little manipulation brought him right around. Before he knew it, he was doing whatever Ravenstar told him, desperate for the validation and ignoring his family as they tried to pull him away. Ravenstar was his pillar of support--Sleepydawn did what he said because he was the clan leader. It was the right thing to do because he was the clan leader. Now, he wasn't the clan leader anymore. What does that mean for Sleepydawn?

-Bearspring (56 moons, she/her) After her mother, Cherrystar, died, Bearspring was left with a gaping wound. She was bitter at the loss, and angry, and Ravenstar, who had always been a good friend to her mother, took her under his wing and taught her ways to get that anger out. She was loyal to him, unfailingly, and then her mother's ghost appeared and said that she was murdered. And then Ravenstar died in front of her. There's a lot going on inside her head right now, but the largest emotion is probably guilt. She thinks she's been betraying her mother all this time.

-Marshjump (56 moons, he/she) Marshjump is Bearspring's brother. He never fell under Ravenstar's paws, always too soft-hearted and relying on his father more than anyone, but he saw how his sister did. He didn't know the extent of Ravenstar's cruelty until now, when he saw his mother's ghost. Now, not only does he see that, but he sees his sister, trembling in guilt and rage and grief, and knows he has a chance now to bring her back to him. He's grieving, but he also feels shock and joy and terror.

also bearspring. lmao