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brindlestorm · 4 years

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My Truth or Yours?

CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5

“I never thought I’d say this; but the best thing I can prescribe for you, Dustpaw, is more battle training!” Spottedleaf chuckled.

Dustpaw’s head shot up looking shocked, and Ravenpaw twitched his whiskers in amusement. Who ever heard of a medicine cat telling a cat to fight more often?

“You were definitely onto something when you told me that you sleep better after a battle training session than hunting. Poppy seeds can only do so much for growing pangs, what you really need is to stretch your muscles in different ways to keep you from getting stiff, hunting does the opposite of that.”

Redtail flicked his tail over his apprentice’s ears, “You’re almost bigger than me y’know. I’ve taught you how to be quick and clever in a fight because I thought you and your brother would end up the same size. I think it might be best to have Tigerclaw take over your training in that area, you’ll probably be as big as him!”

“Maybe even as big as Lionheart!” Ravenpaw teased as well.

Dustpaw flattened his ears and looked away, “No one could be as big as Lionheart,” he mumbled.

“Okay, as big as Whitestorm then.” Ravenpaw said, “Though I’m pretty sure they’re both smaller than they look, not by much, but have you seen how much fur they have? Without it they’d be tiny!”

“Are you looking to test that theory?” Growled a large yellow tom as he squeezed himself into the already crowded den. His voice sounded annoyed but one could still see the twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

Ravenpaw ducked his head in embarrassment, “N-no thanks! Sorry Lionheart!”

“Alright, the rest of you need to leave now so I can deal with Lionheart. Let me guess, you stepped on another thorn?” Spottedleaf said as she shooed the other three cats out of her den.

“Three actually, all on the same paw” Lionheart’s voice faded away as the three padded back into the clearing.

“It's been a long day for the both of you. You two can take the morning off and sleep in a bit, I’ll speak with Tigerclaw about a joint training session tomorrow. You did well, so rest up!” Redtail told the brothers, scanning the clearing for Tigerclaw.

“C’mon Ravenpaw!” Dustpaw chirped, “Do y’think Sandpaw wants to hear about how I caught that massive hawk?”

The pale molly’s head jerked up as she was leaving the nursery, “Hardly! You’ve been gloating all evening about it, why don’t you tell Graykit instead? I’m sure he’d love to hear about how the mighty Dustpaw saved the deputy from a hawk!”

Dustpaw’s face fell for a moment, but perked up at the thought of telling the kit about his heroic feat. He trotted into the nursery as Sandpaw left, not caring that Ravenpaw didn’t follow after him.

Ravenpaw instead followed after Sandpaw, trying not to let the fur on the back of his neck rise as he felt the deputy watching him from afar.

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Tigerclaw narrowed his eyes as he watched his apprentice spar with his brother. Ravenpaw was being rather tight-lipped about what happened during his assessment a half moon ago and Tigerclaw feared the worst, his pacifistic apprentice attacked the deputy and got lucky when the hawk showed up.

Great Starclan though, if Dustpaw kept gloating about it he’d get more than a few clouts this session.

“And then I jumped up just like this!” Dustpaw said excitedly, rearing up on his hindlegs to come crashing down on his brother.

Unfortunately for Dustpaw, Ravenpaw was actually focusing during this session, and took the opportunity to swerve to the side and shove his brother over. Watching Dustpaw flail to the ground, Tigerclaw couldn’t help but share a chuckle with Redtail as Dustpaw shook the sand from his pelt and glared half-heartedly at Ravenpaw.

“No fair! I was showing you how to catch a hawk, you should be grateful I’m even trying to help you!” Dustpaw sniffed.

“I thought this session was about battle training, not hunting. Didn’t Spottedleaf tell you not to hunt too much this moon?” Ravenpaw teased back. “I think catching hawks counts as that, if you ask me.”

“I still can’t believe my sister told you that, and during leafbare as well.” Redtail muttered.

Tigerclaw rolled his eyes and padded over to the apprentices, nosing Dustpaw into a neater crouch than what he started with.

“Keep your paws tucked and in line with each other, Dustpaw. If that’s the stance you used to take on a hawk, I’m amazed that you even managed to keep it down.” Tigerclaw said gruffly.

Dustpaw nodded and shuffled his paws into place, checking for Tigerclaw’s reaction to make sure he had done it right. Tigerclaw schooled his expression to not give it away, Dustpaw would have to learn by instinct to fall into the correct position.

He flicked his tail signalling to Ravenpaw that he should return to the edge of the clearing. “Attack me.” Tigerclaw ordered simply.

“I thought I was fighting Ravenpaw?” Dustpaw asked, confused.

Tigerclaw gently swatted his paw over the apprentice’s ears, making him duck and jump back. “I said, attack me.”

This time Dustpaw reacted without hesitating, hurtling for Tigerclaw’s flank. The warrior easily sidestepped him just as Ravenpaw had, but this time he found the apprentice tangling himself in his paws, trying to trip him from beneath. Had he been any other warrior, that method would have worked immediately.

Unfortunately for Dustpaw, Tigerclaw was still much bigger than the other, and he swiftly dropped his weight onto the apprentice. Of course he held back enough to not smother him, but had it been a true battle he would not have received that mercy.

Dustpaw clawed his way out from under Tigerclaw, gasping for breath. He spun around on unsteady paws and tried to jump on Tigerclaw again, but the warrior just held a paw in his face to keep him from moving forward.

“You fight like a cat much smaller than how you’ll grow up to be, it's good to not rely on strength alone but you do still need to learn to use it to your advantage.”

“While we’re at it, how about I take Ravenpaw for some training as well?” Redtail suggested. “I can’t teach Dustpaw to fight like you can, Tigerclaw. But I imagine Ravenpaw can learn a thing or two from me.”

Tigerclaw eyed the deputy for a moment but nodded quickly, it wouldn’t do to deny the deputy such a logical request. As long as they stayed in the clearing it should be fine.

Redtail beckoned Ravenpaw to the other side and crouched. Tigerclaw caught the fearful expression on his apprentice’s face but forced himself to focus on Dustpaw. Surely Redtail wouldn’t try anything with two other cats to witness, right?

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A moon had passed and the weather had turned worse, they had already lost Poppydawn, a death Longtail seemed to be taking personally, and Tigerclaw feared that his grandfather Adderfang may be next to go.

“We should take a patrol past our borders,” Tigerclaw suggested. “Not too far, but enough to scout out possible hunting spots. Perhaps upriver along the Riverclan border?”

Bluestar nodded slowly, exhaustion making her eyes appear dull. Like many leaders before her, she had refused to eat until everyone else in the clan had a chance to have at least a mouthful of what little prey there was to go around, even the warriors and apprentices came before her. Spottedleaf found herself jumping constantly between her leader and her former mentor who was sick with greencough after taking care of all the patients himself.

“That may be for the best, Tigerclaw. How about you lead the patrol since it was your idea? Take the three fittest cats you can and catch whatever you can find on the way back.” The blue leader rasped, fluffing up her pelt in the cold.

Somehow, it only made her appear smaller.

Tigerclaw considered his options, Darkstripe and Longtail seemed to have enough energy most days, and it wouldn’t hurt to take Thistleclaw as well. Maybe he’d be a little less tense if he could do something worthwhile for the clan, for all his faults, he knew his old mentor couldn’t stand by and watch the clan starve.

“Tigerclaw if you don’t mind, I’d like to take Ravenpaw hunting with me today. You can have Dustpaw tag along with your patrol, it’ll be a good experience for him.”

“What do you want my apprentice for?” Tigerclaw asked, genuinely confused. After a whole moon of joint sessions, Tigerclaw assumed that Redtail had no interest in Ravenpaw beyond training, but why would the deputy want to take him out alone?

“He has a peculiar method in hunting, he hardly touched the ground during his assessment. I doubt he learned that from you, Tigerclaw, no offense. If he’s that good at tree hunting, we may be able to track down some squirrel nests higher up.”

Bluestar answered for him, “That sounds like a good idea Redtail, but I don’t want you hunting any of the squirrels you two may find.”

“I thought the whole idea was finding more prey for the clan?” Redtail asked, perplexed.

“When I was an apprentice, my sister came up with the idea of baiting the mice with cobnuts. Ravenpaw seems to have a similar mindset, I heard him earlier talking to himself about leaving nuts near prey-holes to feed them. It's an odd idea, but if we make sure the prey in our territory can survive Leafbare, we’re sure to have a good supply of food by newleaf.”

Tigerclaw blinked, he never would have thought of that himself. It still sounded like an inane idea to him, feeding the prey that’s meant to feed the clan, but the surety of having food when the cold passed sounded too good to pass up.

Redtail stood up, “I’ll take Mousefur and Runningwind, they’re not the best climbers but they can scout the tree roots for other prey-dens. If we both leave now, we may be done by sun-down, there’s no time to lose!”

Bluestar flicked her tail in dismissal, closing her eyes tiredly. The two warriors got to their paws, leaving their leader to rest.

Tigerclaw hurried to the apprentices den, asking Redtail to summon the warriors while he gathered their apprentices.

“Dustpaw, Ravenpaw! You two are on patrol, Ravenpaw you’ll be with Mousefur, Runningwind, and Redtail. He’ll explain along the way, Dustpaw you’ll be with me and a few other warriors as hunting scouts. We’re going beyond our borders today so be on your guard.”

The pair hurried out of their nests where they had been sheltering from the worst of the cold. Sandpaw was out doing some light hunting with Whitestorm, finally able to start training again. A good thing too, Spottedleaf was adamant that Dustpaw be relieved from hunting duties until his growth spurt hit. Tigerclaw couldn’t remember getting special treatment like that when he was an apprentice, but there was no arguing with a medicine cat, and Sandpaw could more than make up for Dustpaw’s absence on patrols.

Thistleclaw scowled as he trudged out of his den, Mousefur, Darkstripe, Longtail, and Runningwind blinking wearily as they trailed behind.

“What’s this about scouting?” Thistleclaw growled to Redtail. “I suppose Bluestar’s perfect deputy will be leading?”

“Actually, I am.” Tigerclaw mewed smoothly, guiding the cantankerous senior warrior aside, flicking his tail to let Darkstripe and Longtail know that they had to follow as well.

“Redtail will be leading a patrol to scout for prey-dens to leave nuts and seeds for, we’ll be going beyond our borders to bring back food for the clan.” He explained.

Thistleclaw let out a hearty chuckle, “They’re off to feed our prey? Who’s hare-brained idea was that! Bluestar must be about to lose her mind with this next life if she supported something as stupid as that. Must run in the family.”

Tigerclaw had to keep himself from biting back with more than just words, “It was my apprentice’s idea, and it’s hardly hare-brained. Didn’t your mate, Bluestar’s sister, have a similar idea in your youth? Are you calling Snowfur hare-brained as well?”

Thistleclaw flinched at the sound of his late mate’s name, baring his teeth as he remembered how she died. Tigerclaw knew it was a low blow, those types of old wounds never heal well. But Thistleclaw seemed to get the message he was trying to get across and kept quiet as the patrol continued on it’s way towards the border.

Tigerclaw opened his jaw to take in the scents and grunted. “We may as well mark the border while we’re here. Spread out, Darkstripe and Longtail can see to the border from the twoleg-bridge to Four-Trees. Thistleclaw will take Sunning Rocks. Dustpaw and I will continue making our way up-river, I expect to see you all by Sunhigh at the furthest reaches of our border.”

“Isn’t that near Twolegplace?” Darkstripe sneered.

“There are woods still left on our side of the fence, that’s where we’ll be going.” Tigerclaw replied shortly. “Go, now.” he ordered.

The three warriors nodded and sped off, there was a gleam in Thistleclaw’s eyes that Tigerclaw didn’t like, but there was nothing he could do but keep going forward with Dustpaw.

“I don’t care what Spottedleaf says, if you spot any prey while we’re moving, I expect you to at least try and catch it. Understood?”

“Yes Tigerclaw.”

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Ravenpaw was shaking in his paws as he followed Redtail to the Great Sycamore tree.

Mousefur and Runningwind were already given their orders, gone to collect seeds and any nuts they could find that weren’t needed by Spottedleaf and leave them in front of prey-holes or common foraging spots in the forest.

“Let’s see how high you can climb, Ravenpaw.” Redtail said, tail curled over his paws as he watched the apprentice with glittering eyes. “Stop when you hit a branch that you feel is connected to a neighboring tree and I’ll come join you.”

Ravenpaw nodded, stomach churning at the thought of what Redtail would do when he got up beside him. Would he be pushed from his perch? If he went too high he could snap his neck on one of the branches on the way down, he’d have to make sure that that couldn’t happen.

But then, it wasn’t called the Great Sycamore for nothing.

Nervously, Ravenpaw began to scale the great tree, not daring to look down at what Redtail might be doing below. Once he reached a branch that looked to be almost interwoven with a tree nearby, he called down to Redtail to report it.

In a few heartbeats, Redtail was next to him, peering around to get a good look. “Good work Ravenpaw, I don’t see any bird nests up here but there could be a few squirrel-holes nearby. Let’s get moving, be on the lookout for any nuts you can grab along the way.”

And so on they went, deputy and apprentice, balancing along the branches scouring the trees for anything prey-related. They stocked a few empty bird nests with seeds for when the birds returned and startled quite a few squirrels that were sleeping in their dens. Had Ravenpaw not been so nervous being next to Redtail, he would have been tempted to at least catch some of the older squirrels. But Bluestar’s orders rang in his mind so he held back.

It wasn’t until the scent of pines hit his nose that Ravenpaw realized something might be wrong.

“Stop.” Redtail ordered suddenly.

“Why are we at the border?” Ravenpaw breathed, fur bristling as he recognized the clearing below as the place he had so foolishly challenged the deputy not too long ago.

“I have some business to attend to, and you’re going to help.” Redtail replied simply, nosing the apprentices towards the trunk of the tree.

“You... what? You think I’m going to help you betray our clan even more? That’s insane, I won’t-”

“Yes you will, and when we’re done I promise everything will make sense.”

“I’ll run!” Ravenpaw threatened. “I- I’ll run and tell Bluestar right away what you’re doing, she’ll banish you forever!”

“If you were going to tell, you would have done it already. Now be quiet and do as you’re told. They’re here.”

And just as Redtail said it, a huge white tom with jet-black paws emerged from the bushes, followed by two brown tabbies.

“Hello again, old friend.” Blackfoot purred, padding up to the Thunderclan deputy with confidence. “Is this the little helper you promised?”

“Yes Blackfoot, I’m sure he’ll be of great use today.”

Ravenpaw gulped as he took in the three Shadowclan warriors before him. He would have to play along with whatever Redtail had planned, one claw out of line and he’d lose more than just his pelt before sun-down.

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The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon when Tigerclaw, Longtail, Darkstripe, and Dustpaw returned to their own territory. Thistleclaw never showed up, though Longtail said Thistleclaw was going to try hunting at the base of the rocks. Tigerclaw could only shrug as he was focused on catching a pheasant a few fox-lengths ahead. Dustpaw had managed to catch a mouse but preferred to softly call out prey locations and give directions on how to catch them.

Darkstripe almost shredded the apprentice who had unknowingly given orders to warriors his senior. Tigerclaw stopped him though and told the pair to listen to whatever Dustpaw said, if the apprentice wanted to feel like he was in charge then Tigerclaw would treat it as another assessment. It would be good to know if the tabby’s ego matched his actual abilities, and being able to lead a patrol was one of them.

Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly to some, Dustpaw did well and the patrol managed to return home with three mice, a squirrel, and one fat pheasant for the elders to share. Dustpaw even made sure to let Tigerclaw know where he had spotted a few burrows that could be rabbit warrens. Longtail had wanted to check them out until Tigerclaw pointed out that they could just as easily be fox-dens.

As they were walking beside the river, Darkstripe’s head shot up. “I hear fighting! It sounds like it’s coming from Sunning Rocks!”

Tigerclaw froze, wracking his mind to remember the border patrol schedule for the day. Redtail had set dawn and dusk patrols to do the full route each to make room for more hunting patrols. Which meant....

“Thistleclaw must be fighting them alone.” Tigerclaw breathed, eyes wide with worry.

“He doesn’t really think he can reclaim the rocks on his own, does he?” Dustpaw asked, ears flattened.

“Of course not! The patrol probably attacked him because he was alone.” Tigerclaw scoffed, though in his mind he had to wonder the same thing.

Tigerclaw shook his head and pelted downriver, his patrol following close behind, but what they saw shocked them all.

Crookedstar stood on the Thunderclan side of the border, his jaws clamped around Thistleclaw’s neck as his eyes burned with hatred. Oakheart, the Riverclan deputy, was trying to soothe a soaked young apprentice who looked to be in shock. Blood dripped into her eye as she sat there shaking, a paw occasionally coming up to touch her neck. It didn’t look to be bleeding, but the poor molly could barely sit up straight without the help of her deputy.

“What happened here?” Tigerclaw snarled, leaping down mouse-lengths in front of the Riverclan leader.

Crookedstar dropped Thistleclaw like a stone, his broken jaw agape for a moment when he saw the patrol behind him that were inching around to close off their access to the river.

“He attacked my daughter.” Crookedstar defended. “She’s barely nine moons and he attacked her, tried to hold her underwater until she drowned.”

“I thought you fish-faces could hold your breath long enough, you lot never hesitate to try that with our warriors.” Tigerclaw replied coolly.

He bent low to press an ear to Thistleclaw’s chest, though he already knew what he would find. No pulse, his eyes were already as dull and clouded as his mother’s were not too long ago.

Is that why you felt the need to fight? Tigerclaw wondered to himself. Did I miss you hurting, hiding it away only to reopen the wound myself when I brought up Snowfur? Forgive me old friend, you will be missed.

“And he is dead.” Tigerclaw said flatly. “I was taught that an honorable warrior doesn’t need to kill to win a battle unless in self-defence”

“I know the code!” Crookedstar snapped. “Perhaps he was the one who didn’t know it, he tried to kill her!”

“She’s alive, isn’t she?” Tigerclaw shook his head. “Longtail, Darkstripe. Let them pass and help me get Thistleclaw onto my back. You three will have to carry the prey yourselves.”

Crookedstar blinked, “You’re letting us go?”

“He was fighting to take back the rocks on his own, wasn’t he?”

Oakheart nodded as he helped the apprentice to her paws.

“Bluestar wouldn’t have supported this, though I doubt she’d support the death of a clanmate as well. We’ll report this to Bluestar, and if she decides to start a war over it at least there’ll be a more equal battle when the time comes.”

Longtail moved aside reluctantly, but Darkstripe stood where was, leveling a glare with the three trespassers and spitting at Crookedstar’s feet as he passed.

Dustpaw just sat crouched where he was, shaking. It was then that Tigerclaw noticed the pool of blood forming at his paws, it was almost never-ending. He may not have felt too squeamish about it, but he understood that the apprentice would be. Silently, Tigerclaw went over to the nearest tree root and clawed off some moss to stuff into the wound. It wouldn’t last for long but hopefully it would stay until they reached the camp again.

Dustpaw took the mice and went ahead, stuttering that he would inform the elders to and Spottedleaf to prepare them while Tigerclaw and the others took a slower pace so as not to let Thistleclaw’s body slip off his back.

By the time they reached the gorse tunnel, Redtail and Ravenpaw were just returning looking disheveled.

“What happened?” Redtail mewed in shock.

Longtail, who had been carrying the pheasant, stopped to explain the situation quietly. Redtail’s gaze darkened when he heard the news, looking as outraged as Tigerclaw wished he felt.

But instead he just felt empty, hollow.

He trudged forward, not looking at Ravenpaw as he went past. Heading straight to the clearing where the elders were waiting to help get Thistleclaw down. Spottedleaf was nearby with lavender and more moss.

While she attended to the body, Tigerclaw went to Bluestar’s den only to be called back down by Spottedleaf.

“Best not to go in there, Bluestar is sick and it might be whitecough. I don’t need it spreading around the camp.” She told him quietly.

Tigerclaw stared blankly at her but nodded. Instead he went to take the mice to the queens. Goldenflower and Willowpelt must be hungry, he could tell them what happened while he was there.

He had barely taken two steps into the warm den when he saw the look on Goldenflower’s face. It was full of heart-wrenching sympathy and part of Tigerclaw wanted to turn away, deny the comfort she was ready to offer him.

But he couldn’t.

He sank down next to her, not letting his legs buckle until he knew he wasn’t about to fall on top of her. She would be kitting soon and he didn’t want to hurt her. Instead he just let himself lay beside her with closed eyes as she gently washed his flank, cleaning off the blood that had stained it from carrying Thistleclaw by himself for so long.

Just for a moment, he told himself as he let himself be lulled to sleep. Just for a moment he’d let himself forget about the worries and troubles of his clan while he silently grieved for his mentor. When the sun had fully set, he would go out and grieve with everyone else, but for now he would stay with his, hopefully soon to be mate, friend and listen to the oblivious chatter made by Graykit as he bounced around the den.

Maybe, if he had stayed in the clearing, he would have heard Ravenpaw speaking in hushed whispers with Redtail, eyes gleaming as they spoke of their day.

Maybe, he would have noticed how his apprentice was drenched in the scent of ferns attempting to hide the stench of marshes.

But he didn’t, he was spending some much needed time with Goldenflower after the shock of finding his mentor dead in the jaws of the Riverclan leader.

For now, Tigerclaw let himself believe that one day the sun would shine a little brighter on his clan, and that was enough to bring him peace for the night.

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AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ITS DONE

Also, please let me know if you feel this fic is starting to cross a line! I want to explore an au where Tigerclaw was still in the wrong but his backstory is more than just Ambitious Brown Tabby Who Is Strong And Wants More Power.

But like, not at the expense of offending others, y’know?

Hope you all enjoyed!

#warriors #my truth or yours #chapter four #tigerclaw #ravenpaw #redtail #darkstripe #longtail #dustpaw #thistleclaw

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jonah-aesthetic · 4 years

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Patronus Jonah Marais/ WIP

Jonah Marias X Harlow Darling

Plot: Having mutual friends doesn't mean they're friends. Although after helping his sister out of an unfortunate situation. Jonah offers her a deal she couldn't give up.

A/N: Since the only thing on my Tik Tok fyp is Draco Malfoy. I thought of continuing this fic. although the Why Don't We boys are on hiatus at the moment so I dont know if I should.

The corridors of this ancient school gave me a sense of safety and home. At least I think this is what home felt like. My black robe flowed around me in almost angel like wings, as I carried out my Prefect duties. Night patrol Just past curfew to see if anyone dared to disobey the time.

Both of my parents came from wealthy pure blood families. Because of it my family has been well known throughout the wizarding world. The name Darling had been carried out for centuries. It didn't exactly mean I despise the name, just that I wasn't proud to have it. For decades it has been an excuse to gain disgusting power.

The name Darling meant I had to chose every decision I make carefully. I usually keep my image clean for my family, but for some damn reason it’s hard for my younger brother to do so. Hunter needed a leash quick or we might just end up on the daily prophet soon.

With the way my father had presented our family you would’ve thought we belonged to a Slytherin family. Pure bloods who were overly formal and sleek, who happen to have high jobs and connections with in the ministry of magic. I didn't enjoy portraying myself as one of them but at the end of the day I am one of them. It ran through my blood with each heart beat.

Night patrol was a fairly easy job, make sure no students we out after curfew and reported anything out of the ordinary to professor Mcgnagall. On a good day it took an hour to cover the school grounds with my best friend Jack who just happened to be the 2nd prefect. Now it took 30 minutes since we decided to split up, cutting patrol in half for us. After the Griffindor prefects complained we were goofing around and not caring enough about prefect duties.

I didn’t see the big deal, there wasn’t much to patrol. Unless you wanted to yell at some mice who most definitely belonged a couple Hufflepuffs. Gabbie was a high tailed pure blood who should’ve been in Slytherin anyways. Well it’s that or she’s jealous of how close me and Jack are, after all she does fancy him to a great extend.

Although I think it’d be easier to ask Jack and Daniel, the first prefect from Griffindor to switch places. Slytherin and Hufflepuff swap quidditch players often for practice when one has class or detention I don’t see the harm in it.

Hearing younger voices grabbed my attention, with quick feet I walked towards the commotion. Coming up to the corner I block myself from view trying to get a better sense on the situation, peeking around I could see 4 younger students cornered a timid girl with wands held out towards her. They smiled with confidence as they watched her tremble.

“..It’s funny how you think you're one of us mudblood.”

“You know it’s unheard of for Slytherin to have non-magical parents right?”

What surprised me most was the ones holding the wands were ravenclaws. I remembered them from the ceremony and I’ve seen them around here and there. This behaviour was an automatic detention, students were forbade to threaten each other with magic.

Pulling my dark mahogany wand from my boot I uncovered myself. shouting “Expelliarmus!” an almost effortless defence wand cast. Several sparks ignited from the end of my wand, knocking theirs out of hand and clanging to the other side of the hall. startled, squeaky gasps fell from their lips right before the attention was on me. I watched as the potential alpha’s eyes flicked from villain to victim in 0.2 seconds.

The thing with self-absorbed pure bloods was you had to hold higher authority or they’d eat you for breakfast. I know because I was one. I held that high-tailed blood in my expression before. I only had acquaintances then, most students feared me. After awhile I began to dread the feeling.

“We know the rules, we’re defending ourselves.” One of the Ravenclaw boys spoke up, his eyes holding so much promise I almost believed the kid. The timid Slytherin looked at her shoes not daring to look at me. Telling me that the boys got away with this often.

I laughed at them humorously, “Detention all of you, I don’t believe your pity act. I witnessed what you did and frankly I’m not gonna let it slide.” I said with smooth tongue as I shrugged my shouldered at them.

Their faces dropped as they looked at me in shock. “B-but we didn’t-”

“Drop the act, remember your blood Isn’t gonna take you that far. 50 points from Ravenclaw for each of you. Don’t bother arguing and head back to the common room.”

The shock was noticeable through their body language. One opened their mouth and then closed it again not daring to say anything. One soon scurried to their wand and took off into the direction of the Ravenclaw's common room. The rest followed in a matter of seconds. I smiled to myself, mission accomplished.

The Slytherin girl finally looked at me, Her eyes full of fear. “I get detention as well?” her voice was so soft and timid I almost didn’t catch it. With a warm smile I shook my head gently. “Oh god no, Honey you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her expression was soft as a small smile reached her lips, as she breathed in a few sniffles. She had been previously crying, causing her green eyes to dull.

“What’s your name?” I asked her with a brighter smile.

“Svea Marais” Her tiny voice more audible then before.

“I’m Harlow Darling” I responded.

Her eyes lightened up, matching the colour on her headband. “Like the Darling Royal Family?” She asked with fully curiosity. I kept smiling at her even though I was reminded of something I wasn’t fond of sharing.

“Yeah” I replied knowing she was getting more comfortable with me. Letting her focus on me rather then the Ravenclaw’s words.

“You seem different then them.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I ask her playfully, knowing the answer

"Definitely good." She responded with tiny giggle that made me adore her.

I continued to smile at her as a comfortable silence came over us. We looked at each in an almost admiration. I felt the need to be someone she would look up to, like I couldn't let her down. As if she were a younger sibling.

“Come on Svea, I’ll walk you to Slytherin dungeon.” I spoke softly after awhile,

“Okay” She had said following behind me. Slowing my steps slightly so she would catch up and walk beside me rather then behind me. The corridors of this massive castle were long and dark, lit only my torches on the sides of the walls. Our detestation wasn’t too far from where we had been.

“Wanted to thank you Harley, for not choosing their side. It happens often you know, being a mudblood and all.” Looking at Svea I caught a sad smile graze her lips. My heart wrenched at the sight.

“Svea It’s not right nor was it okay what they said to you. You’re a witch just as much as I am, your blood doesn’t make you anything less.”

We were coming up to the dungeon quickly, as she stopped a few feet away. “Thank you, I appreciate what you said.” Her green eyes sparkled as her frame became less timid. “Don’t be a stranger, come to me if you need anything.” I started stepping away, putting distance between us.

“I will.” and with that I turned away, heading back to Ravenclaw tower. Which had been across the castle, but at this moment it didn’t bother me.

Walking into the common run I come to discover my best friend since we were five, Jack. He sat on the royal blue couch his head rested on the back of it. His attention on the charmed ceiling. Which represented a set of constellations somewhere in the world. The stars would instantly connected after he named them off silently. His Corgi Companion Lucifer was fast asleep in his lap, light snores emitting off him. I couldn't but awe at the small pooch.

“Hey dork” I spoke playfully. He whispered a startled ‘Vanish’, and the charmed ceiling began to scramble for a fresh collection of constellation. He looked at me in relief, “What took you so damn long?” It was more of a whine more then a question. As if he was bored for the last hour rather them 20 minutes.

I sat down on the left of him as the right was already taken. I sighed, “Well lets see, I gave detention to a few Ravenclaw boys. As well as took their wands out of the kindness of my heart.”

“Finally putting your foot down huh?” He teased raising his eyebrows at me.

“Hey I Can bite back, for your information”

“I know, I remember that time last year. All I’m saying is you don’t like to, because you're the Ravenclaw princess.” I rolled my eyes at him cause I wouldn’t exactly use that word, but he was right nonetheless.

“What was so ‘horrible’ that made you go all Royal blood?”

“They were threating a Slytherin Muggle-born, wands held to her throat. Poor girl was trembling, I would never stand for anything like that.” I said my breath a little shaky as I was raddle about it.

“Hey It’s okay.” Jack says reassuring me, his eyes go soft as he reaches for my hand and squeezes a pulse. He’s done that ever since I could remember every time he senses my nerves going haywire. which wasn’t too often. It never failed to put me at ease.

“You did every thing you could.”

“I know, I just feel like I could do more, I mean they called her a mudblood for god sakes.” He pulses again, his hand in mine was comforting and warm. More platonic than romantic.

A beige blob in the distance take my attention from gentle brown eyes. It was Denrick my Siamese cat, my companion, and my support. a tiny meow rumbles through this body after I make eye contact with his piercing blue eyes.

“What was her name?” Jack’s voice become more tender towards me.

“Svea Marais.”

Jack is quiet for a little bit after that, like I had done something wrong. The feeling of Denrick’s soft paws in my lap made me jump a little. He wasn’t fazed by it was her curled up and began to purr. I petted him subconsciously, It’s almost therapeutic.

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked cautiously, Jack looked away suddenly entertained by a bookshelf.

“No, Um She’s Jonah’s younger sister.”

Of course she is, how the hell did I not put it together? They had the exact same eyes, the bright green intensity.

“He’s gunna come and look for you.”

I swallow Thickly, “I Know”

--------------------

All I could remember was the red bird that caught fire. Flying over head screeching before soaring through the sky graciously. spreading it’s wings full and bursting into flame.

It was a dream, because I was sudden heaving in bed as Christina, one of my first friends at Hogwarts. Looks at me with full concern and worry. “Phoenix” My voice raspy.

“I don’t understand.”

Catching my breathing, I choked a little. “I saw a phoenix in my dream, I think it was a sign or a symbol. Do you know anyone with a Phoenix Patronus?”

Patronus guardians take the shape of an animal the castor shares the most resemblance with. In a sense it’s kind like a spirit animal. If the castor had the skills to become an animagus their form and patronus guardian would share the same animal. Which is by far the best part of being a witch.

“At the moment, I have no idea. Although I do know we definitely should prepare for breakfast.” She holds out a hand for me to take, “What time is it?”

“6:50″

“Guess you were right.” I said placing my hand in hers as she pulls my tired ass out of bed.

--------

Christina walks ahead of me into the great hall as I fall behind fixing the blue and bronze tie. The loud chatter from inside made me miss my bed. Although the delicious scent of pancakes made my stomach growl.

“Darling what the hell is taking so long!” It wasn’t a question, but a demand.

“Calm down I’m fixing my tie, it was lose.”

Christina looks at me un amused and rolls her eyes at me dramatically. I shrug at her before grabbing her arm and began to kidnap her to the Ravenclaw table where I saw a certain curly headed boy. “Sucks you can’t sit with your boyfriend today.” I say taking a seat in front of Jack.

#jonah marais #harrypotter #jonah marais imagines #whydontwe #wdwwallpapers #why dont we fic #daniel seavey #jack avery #corbyn besson #zach herron

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demiromance · 5 years

Text

“Thankful” (happy ending AU Reddiefic, Secret Santa gift!)

Hi there @pawprinterfanfic! I’m your secret santa for the @itfandompromptssecret santa gift exchange! I’m sorry its almost midnight, I was at a holiday event with my family, but I had such a wonderful time writing this for you and I hope you have an absolutely blessed holiday season! With all of my love and warm wishes, enjoy! Summary: The Thanksgiving after Pennywise finally goes to wherever evil killer clowns go, The Losers have a lot to be thankful for, Richie and Eddie most of all. (Happy ending AU where Stan went back to Derry, and because of that, they all lived.) Rating: T, because Richie has a mouth on him.

It snows on Thanksgiving in Derry. Richie Tozier forgot how much he hated that shit. He’s sulking around Mike’s (admittedly incredible and way more spacious than he’d realized at first,) apartment over the library, and he can feel two pairs of eyes on him - Eddie, from his now customary, since coming home, finally, from the hospital, place on the window seat by the round window that looked out over the town square, and Sprinkles, the cat that Richie was unsure if Beverly had actually adopted from the shelter in town for Mike, or had merely found on the street and claimed as theirs. Ben would be the first to tell you, she definitely had a way of taking in strays.

“What exactly are you two doing to that poor thing?” Eddie calls, book long forgotten, and Sprinkles, who has made herself comfortable in his lap, makes a quiet little mrrrr noise of curiosity of her own.

Still squinting at the cookbook open in front of him, one hand menacingly clutching an entire stick of butter that’s melting rapidly in the heat of his hands over the turkey, resting on a bed of potatoes and carrots in what he’s been told is called a ‘roasting pan.’ Richie is not, nor has he ever been a great cook, but he and Bill will be damned if they can’t figure out what Martha Stewart called the “idiot proof” turkey earlier that day on television while the others are rushing about doing the rest of the things required for the day to be perfect. And the day would be perfect, damn it, if it was the last thing Richie did: they had so much to be thankful for. He felt the familiar flood of emotion in his chest when it hit him again, just how grateful he was. Pennywise was gone, for good, and Eddie’d lived. He thought he’d known fear before they went into that cistern, or when he saw those massive spider legs, or what he saw in the deadlights, but he had never known fear like the blur of minutes of carrying Eddie from that awful place, turned to the hours of sitting on the floor in a hospital hallway, Eddie’s blood darkening on the front of his shirt, turned to the days of waiting for him to wake up. He also thought he’d, at least at some point in his life, known happiness, and relief, but he hadn’t, until finally he was roused from sleep by the hand he’d held for so long, wishing and hoping and even praying, curling around his.

That’d been July, it was the end of November now and everything between that was a blur. That first night, everyone slept on chairs in the hospital, but eventually bags were collected from the Townhouse and migrated to Mike’s. “No friends of mine are going to keep living in that shithole for god knows how long,” the librarian had harrumphed at them, making up his sole guest room (never used,) pulling out his couch, and sending Ben to buy air mattresses. If Richie was smuggled there, ‘home,’ to sleep in those early weeks, he doesn’t remember. He remembers being absolutely unwilling to let Eddie out of his sight, lest he disappear, lest this not actually all be real, lest this be some fever dream in the deadlights, but then eventually he remembers waking up with the golden light of a late summer sunset falling over him, bundled under a pile of blankets in that guest room, Beverly sitting next to him, watching tv.

“I need to get back to the hospital,” he’d rasped at her, reaching for his glasses.

“You need to go back to sleep,” she’d murmured, brushing his hair out of his eyes with sisterly affection. He had.

The weather grew cold, and the leaves turned the brilliant colors of fall in Maine, something else Richie had forgotten, and forgotten that he’d loved. One day, between the hospital and home, when Stan’s wife, Patty, who he’d begun to think of as the group’s tiny little blonde guardian angel, ushered him into a Halloween store to find Eddie “something seasonal to brighten that room up!” Richie realized that…none of them had gone home.

“Wait!” he surprised Patty by how quickly he sort of…grabbed her. She responded by turning and giving him a tight hug, to which he replied, feeling like a dunce, with “Don’t you all have lives?”

She blinked up at him, “Hm?”

“You flew all the way up here the second Stan called you. Audra came out. None of you have gone home. What about your jobs? Your houses? Your lives?”

“You’re family. Eddie’s family. You all need us.”

“Yes, Patty, and we love you very much, but the logistics-”

“We all figured, we’re…established, enough,” she shrugged, “We’ve all done well, Trashmouth. We’re in a position to be here, so we are. And besides,” she giggled brightly, “Ben is loaded.”

He laughed. She laughed. They left with a stuffed monkey dressed up as a mummy. Eddie would hate it.

The week before Thanksgiving, they sprung him. Until you really got to know Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie explained, he was a charming son of a bitch and had somehow convinced the nurses that that was his true nature.

Eddie, seated on the edge of his hospital bed as Richie stooped to tie his shoes for him, groaned, “Yes, Richie. I love you, too.”

Eddie got the guest room after that, which meant that Richie, who’d insisted on an air mattress and that someone else take that bed, was back in that cozy room, and for the first time since that awful day on Neibolt Street, since the nights before, hiding, sneaking from one room to another, Richie slept with Eddie in his arms, the cold sweating of nightmares gone, beaten back by the warmth, the solidity of the other man. Eddie was there, Eddie was real, and Eddie was alive.

So yes, even as he stood there, holding a half melting stick of butter that he was pretty sure that he was about to unceremoniously shove up a turkey’s ass, Richie Tozier was grateful.

“Rich? Hellllloooooooooo. Earth to Richie,” Bill waved a hand in his face, “Psst. You in there?”

Richie shook his thoughts clear, “Yeah, uh..yeah. I’m here. Sorry. Shit. What do I do with this?”

Bill looked back at the cookbook, then at the butter, then back to the cookbook, and sighed with relief, “Thank fuck. We rub it under the skin-”

“It puts the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose again!” Richie couldn’t help himself, voice and all.

“Jesus Christ, Richie.”

“It’s so the turkey doesn’t get dry!” Eddie called from the window seat, “Please don’t make me get up and come over there.”

“The turkey is not going to be dry, Eduardo!” Richie called back, and passed the now slippery stick of what surely was not butter but felt like pure grease, and was probably, in all actuality, the margarine that Eddie tried to convince them caused cancer if eaten literally ever at all, unceremoniously to a very confused Bill. “Here, you handle this, Big Bill,” he said, and wandered off to entertain Eddie and the cat before the former could offer any more unsolicited advice. Bill blinked at him, and sighed - some people never change, not even almost three decades and a murdered clown later. He was definitely going to need a drink.

+++

It was margarine and the turkey was dry (due, however, more to Bill getting a little tipsy and not setting his timer for the right amount of time after he stuffed the turkey into the apartment’s small-ish oven, than to any lack of comprehension from two grown men of at least above average intelligence but very little usable kitchen skill about what to do with butter on Thanksgiving when cooking,) but they were all too wrapped up in the warm glow of the occasion to notice once they all finally sat down to eat, Mike doing the honors of carving the bird expertly for someone who, the night before, had confessed that he not only hadn’t done a real Thanksgiving in twenty seven years but was also a vegetarian. Patty led the table in a round of applause as he took a small bow before sitting down, his grin wide and bright.

Everyone looked expectantly to Bill, at the head of the table, always their leader, who looked, lost to his wife. Audra chuckled and gave his hand a squeeze under the table, “Should we say grace?”

“I will! I will!” Richie offered, to only mild protest, “Everybody hold hands, c’mon, pretend like we like each other, c’mon, c’mon.” The Losers, and their now honorary members, Audra and Patty, obliged, and Richie cleared his throat, bowing his head, “Dear Lord, we uh…thank you for…this day and these people and stuff and for that time that Jesus kid was…in Turkey and he…did some stuff-”

“Richie we’re Jewish why are you talking about Jesus,” Stan muttered.

Richie, unfazed continued, “Or maybe today we just have turkey, maybe he wasn’t in turkey, wait…is that why we have turkey, is it-”

“Heeeeeeeey, I have an idea,” Ben interjected, “Instead of…whatever that was, why don’t we all just say something we’re thankful for? It’s been one hell of a year, and I have a lot I’m thankful for now.”

“Great idea!” Bev lit up, smiling up at him, “I’ll go first. This year, I’m thankful for all of you, and I’m thankful for Ben, and,” she peeked under the table at Ben’s large German Shepherd, his bowl already emptied between his paws, waiting for table scraps, “Scout down there, and Sprinkles, wherever she got to.”

“Same,” Ben seconded, “All of you and Bev and…our freedom.”

Patty raised her water glass, “I think that’s worth toasting. No more clowns!”

To the clink of glasses, they echoed, “No more clowns.”

“I’m thankful for Mike!” Bill went next, “I mean, yes, I’m thankful for all of you. Audra, Stan, all of you, I mean that. But Mikey…dude, you st-stayed here f-f-for us. You remembered.”

“And then you took us all in!” Beverly added. Mike ducked his head, “Thank you. I’d do it again. I’m thankful you all came back.”

“I’m thankful that Bill called me, after Mike did,” Stan said softly, “I was in a bad place and…about to do something drastic,” his voice was barely audible at the other end of the table, “And I would have never gotten to see us all this happy.”

Patty wrapped her arm around his and kissed his shoulder, “I’m thankful for that, too. And that you’ve all let me be a part of this family.”

“Same here,” Audra offered. A chorus of ‘we love you’s and ‘of course you’re part of this family’ went up to the both of them.

“I’m thankful to be alive,” said Eddie, “I’m thankful that I get to…actually live my life now. I feel like I went from my mother to Myra and-”

“I’m thankful for divorce attornies,” Richie muttered.

“Beep beep, Richie,” Beverly muttered.

Eddie continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted, “Like, yeah, I almost died which is extremely fucking weird to say or even…think about…but…I get to live now. I’m not under mom’s thumb. I’m not under Myra’s thumb-”

“You just have me wrapped around your little finger,” Richie’s smile, for once, wasn’t wry or sardonic, but warm, and gentle and his eyes were so soft as he looked at the other man.

Under the table, Eddie slipped his hand into Richie’s and squeezed it three times: I love you. “You love it.”

“I do.”

“And what about you, Rich?” Stan asked, beaming, “What are you thankful for? Besides Eddie’s divorce attorney, I mean.”

“A lot,” Richie was surprisingly quiet, and reverent, “Everything? All of you? That…I finally get to spend the rest of my life next to this weird little gremlin-”

“Hey-”

“Who I love more than anything in the world. Who I never stopped loving, not for a second. Who my heart always remembered.”

Their eyes met, Eddie’s filling with tears.

Ding, ding, ding! Patty tapped her spoon on her glass, and soon the others joined her, “Kiss! Kiss!”

That cold, snowy Thanksgiving night, in a warm apartment in Derry, Maine, filled with love and friendship, Richie Tozier kissed Eddie Kaspbrak, and everything was absolutely golden.

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antiquecompass · 5 years

Text

Untamed Winter Fest Day 2: Ornament

Wherein there is a tree, of a sort, and the start of a new tradition.

(Also on Ao3).

The Lans didn’t celebrate Christmas for the most part. Outside of a few adjacent-Lans and some married-ins, they weren’t Christian. They did try to incorporate as many holidays as they could for their vast student body over the winter break. And living in America it was impossible not to be slapped in the face by everything Christmas even before Thanksgiving, but Lan Xichen had never had a Christmas tree inside his house until now. Or a wreath on his door for that matter, but he’d come home to a package from L.L. Bean yesterday containing a live wreath. Sent from Madame Yu. He took it as her approval, but part of him still wondered if it was some sort of pine-scented threat.

The Jiangs weren’t Christian either, but Madame Yu loved the holiday. Almost notoriously loved it. Her normal understated classic taste apparently disappeared as soon as December hit. Xichen had seen the pictures. The woman loved multi-colored, borderline garish, Christmas decorations. And her children had grown up with that tradition. He’d seen the small tree Jiang Cheng kept his condo. Xichen wanted him to have that here as well.

So last night he went to the local grocer and bought one of the trees they sold. It was just a little one in a pretty gold pot that could be planted once the season was over. It came with its own packet of ornaments, but Xichen frowned down at them. They were too generic, not personal, and Xichen had purchased this <i>for</i> someone.

He looked over at the cats who were staring at him from their window-seat beds.

“I’m going to need to go shopping, aren’t I?” he asked.

Nutmeg just turned her back on him and started licking herself, but Pepper trilled and came over to him. She hopped from the floor to the chair to the counter. She rubbed up against his hand, ran her face there, once, twice, then sat back and with one her massive paws, knocked the tiny pack of ornaments to the ground.

“Clearly someone has an opinion,” he said. He still dropped a kiss on her head and fished out a treat for her.

He already planned to go out for a tiny set of lights, he could easily find some ornaments as well.

*********

“If you get him a bunch of fancy-ass ornaments, he’s going to get pissy. We can just go to Target.”

“We will go to Target,” Xichen said to his best friend. “And quench your apparent thirst for a, what do they call it, Target Run. But first, I’d like to try and support a small business.”

Nie Mingjue sighed. “I can’t even make fun of you for that.This is why they want you to run for mayor.”

“I’m very happy as headmaster,” Xichen said as he pushed opened the wooden door of Mountains and Mole Hills.

“Do you at least have a theme?” Mingjue asked. He unconsciously hunched his broad shoulders, trying to make himself smaller in the small, overpacked store.

It was very much like trying to watch a bull tiptoe through a Christmas-themed china shop.

“Animals, nature, and the like,” Xichen said. “But...natural looking. I want it to be unique to us.”

“Holy shit, you’re going to make him a dog themed christmas tree,” Mingjue said.

“Not just dogs,” Xichen said. “Birds too. Deers. And cats. Maybe.”

Mingjue grabbed something and put it in their basked. Xichen said nothing as he spotted the small, cloth fox.

“Not a fucking word,” Mingjue said as he put a wolf and a pig in there too.

“Don’t you need one for Xuanyu as well?”

Mingjue looked around the store. “Do you think they have unicorns?”

“Go,” Xichen said, waving him off.

He wandered over to the wall of ornaments, looking for something that grabbed him. Despite what the’d told Mingjue, he really didn’t have a theme. The tree wasn’t that big, so he didn’t need that many, but he wanted something for them.

A collection of agate ornaments caught his eye, so he selected one purple and one blue. Predictable, yes, but it was still them. A badger in a scarf, for their Hufflepuff jokes. A cabin ornament for Maine. None of the cat ornaments quite represented their cats, so he just grabbed the cutest one, same with the dog ornaments. Lastly he grabbed a small collection of mini ornaments. He looked over his basket and nodded in approval at what he’d collected.

He found Mingjue with a stuffed unicorn under one arm and a set of his own ornaments.

“Not a single fucking word,” he hissed as Xichen smiled at him.

**********

Xichen was just shutting down his computer for the weekend when the familiar commotion that signaled the start of his weekend began outside his office.

“How is she extra fluffy today?” Maria asked.

“Just picked her up from the groomers,” Jiang Cheng said.

“And look at her little bow!” Ali said.

“She smells sweet too!” Maria said.

Xichen laughed to himself as he pulled on his coat and scarf. He closed and locked his office and joined the group gathered around Sugar.

“Hey, babe,” Jiang Cheng said, giving him a quick, soft kiss. The best kiss to start the weekend. One that promised more.

“Good afternoon, my love,” he said.

“Cats didn’t kill you, I see,” Jiang Cheng said.

“They’ve been perfectly well behaved,” Xichen said.

They had to have a discussion about the orchids and Xichen had to google how to keep cats away from an area that involved him having to figure out how to make a peppermint spray, but they’d all survived in the end, even with the overwhelming smell of peppermint. It was festive, he supposed.

“You’re such a bad liar,” Jiang Cheng said.

“They’ve been mostly well behaved,” he corrected.

After they pulled Sugar away from her admirers, Xichen relaxed for the drive home, his hand reaching back between the seats to scratch Sugar’s head. Such a small part of his weekend, but one of the best parts.

At the house they let Sugar run free and Jiang Cheng went to greet his cats. Xichen lingered in the foyer as he took off his shoes, coat, and scarf. He lingered and waited and was soon rewarded.

“Xichen?”

His boyfriend’s voice sounded soft, tremulous, in awe.

Xichen smiled to himself. A job well done then.

Xichen wrapped his arms around Jiang Cheng’s waist. He was frozen in front of the tree, Nutmeg cradled in his arms.

“I figured,” Xichen said, kissing the soft skin behind Jiang Cheng’s ear. “I figured we could have our own tradition. We’ll plant this one when the season’s over, or when the ground is soft enough, and get another one next year. And the year after that, and so on and so forth. And then one day, when we’re old and grey, we’ll look out our bedroom window and see the roots of our personal forest.

A shudder went through Jiang Cheng. He carefully placed Nutmeg down and turned in his arms.

“I love you so fucking much,” Jiang Cheng said.

“I love you too,” Xichen said.

Xichen was all for making new traditions, their own traditions. And he was happy to start here, in their kitchen, with their pets around them, and a tree representing years to come beside them.

#untamed winter fest #day 2 #xicheng #the untamed #verse: lahl #fic: hold me like you want me #fandom: the untamed #my ridic writing

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goldensimisage · 4 years

Text

There had definitely been a lot of chaos around over the past few weeks, but where some pokemon took advantage of it, others chose to stick to the shadows and lay plans more carefully. One such group took an old, isolated storehouse as their gathering spot to lay low in while more and more of them arrived. But while their numbers were growing, there still weren’t all that many...

In the run-down building’s biggest room sat a handful of pokemon who had been there longer than the general riff raff. Leaning against the wall was a tall, lanky Krookodile, generally avoiding eye contact with anyone while she munched on some canned food, in the corner napped a fluffy, wide-shouldered Delcatty, and on a worn out couch sat a tall, beefy, battle scarred Pangoro with an eye patch, his head tilted back as he guzzled down something from a flask. After several days, the room had filled with less uneasiness and more plain old boredom while they waited to finally be given something to do. They wouldn’t have to wait much longer!

The shudders on the window closest to the door suddenly slam open, and in hops a tiny purple cat with a shiny coin stuck to her forehead and a tightly sealed box in her arms. The sudden crash of wood against sheet metal got the attention of everyone in the room, with the Krookodile jumping and almost dropping her meal in surprise while the Delcatty stirred from her sleep and lifted her head, and both she and the Pangoro glared daggers at the feline who’d interrupted their quiet.

“Hope you’re all ready to roll, because I got a job from the big man!” The cat yells out as if she was completely unaware of the looks she was getting. She hops up onto the table in the center of the room, drops the box she’d been carrying, and unlatches it to let it swing open while everyone else has to get up to gather around her and see what their assignment was. And so, when the box is opened up, the Meowth had plenty of bigger pokemon looking over her shoulder as she slowly pulled items from the box.

“Lesse, two scarves, two stolen silver rank badges, an expensive looking bag... Why? This looks like explorer stuff...” Beneath all of that laid a letter sealed with an image of a bird pokemon’s foot, with four talons planted into the wax and a raven colored feather stamped onto the front. She reaches down into the box for it... And it’s immediately snatched up in the claws of the Krookodile behind her.

“Heyyyy! Do you not trust me to read it right or something?” She asks in an exaggerated whine, swiping at the letter to try and get it back.

“No. I don’t. You’ll no doubt joke around instead of telling us what we need to hear.” With such a massive size difference, it didn’t take a lot of effort for the ground type to hold off the angrily swiping cat while she tore open the seal and began to read the letter aloud for everyone present.

If you’re expecting a formal greeting here, you won’t get it. You’ve all worked for me long enough to know I don’t care about any of that, so let’s cut straight to the point. I’m sure you can tell our numbers are running thin since a certain thief woman started forcing out our businesses, so I need two of you to do some recruiting work! One of our old associates looks to have gotten back into the streets recently, and has been getting himself involved with company I would rather not have him near. I want to know where he is, where he works, where he sleeps, and who he cares about.

Under no circumstances are you to fight or draw attention to this, so I’m only sending those of you I trust to snoop around: Nia and Dutchess, take these badges to keep the heat off your back while you ask around.

“Really? I gotta tag along with the loud mouth?” The Delcatty was fully awake now, but she did not look happy with those orders. But would she complain? Not with a Krokorok staring her down for cutting her off, she wouldn’t. A sigh from the older cat, another moment of quiet, and the taller pokemon continues.

Remember, GATHER INFORMATION, DO NOT FIGHT. If you come across any actual explorers, keep out of their path. The last thing we need with our lack of resources is suspicion. I expect success.

-Carlo

“Sounds like my usual thing!” As frustrated as her partner for the assignment seemed, Nia wasn’t all that bothered. In fact, she looked excited to be doing something with a purpose for once! She starts to say something again, but a bit of color in the bottom of the box caught her eye... A photo! And one with somebody they all knew tagging along with a bunch of guild pokemon.

“Say, big guy,” Those words came with a nudge on the much larger panda’s arm while she held up the picture for all of them to see. “This monkey look familiar to you?” Her question and poking brought the panda’s eye back to the table, but what he saw in her paws clearly did not sit well with him.

“Oy, really!?” The bear shot up to his full seven foot height, his fists clenching at the sight of that green simian. Nia was right, he was familiar. Painfully so. “What’s the crazy old Honchkrow plannin’ that he’s bringing THAT sunnuvabitch back for?!”

“Guess we know why you’re not getting sent out!” At this point Nia was just trying to get a rise out of him while she slipped one of those blue scarves around her neck and pinned the shiny badge to it, before standing on the table with her chest puffed out and her paws on her hips. “Think I’ll blend in with the fuzz?”

“Long as we put a muzzle on you, you might.” By now the other feline pokemon was pacing around the table, waiting for Nia to stop showing off already and get a move on! “Now help me out with mine so we can go. We don’t want to keep the don waiting too long.”

#drabble #long post

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canid-slashclaw · 5 years

Text

Pocket Raptor Surprise

The heat from the midday sun beat down relentlessly upon the parched soil of the Dry Step Mesas. Off in the distance, massive vines snaked their way up from a ravine that looked as if the surface of Tyria itself had cracked open releasing some ancient and malevolent force. For a certain pair of intrepid (and over fashionably-dressed) bounty hunters, such trivial things were the least of their concern.

Amalthia tilted her head back as she raised a metal canteen to her gaping maw then shook the container a few times before giving her human husband an apprehensive gaze.

“Kal?”

“Yeah, babe?” Kaleb replied as he noticed a decidedly scolding look on her face.

“Did you, like, happen to forget to bring some extra water rations after knowing full-well that we’d be trouncing around in a godsforsaken freakin’ desert?!”

“Um, no,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, wasn’t that your responsibility? You know-- taking care of provisions and all?” He, then, gestured to her with a pistol finger and wink.

His action only enabled his wife in unleashing both her inner, as well as outer, charr. “My responsibility? Are you freaking kidding me!? You damn know good and well that it is my job to maintain all the weaponry and your job to handle the other logistics… like keeping us fed and hydrated. After all, you are the chef de partie of our little outfit, right?”

“Woah, woah. Stop right there, miss pissykitty! Just ‘cause you have fangs, horns and a furry tail doesn’t automatically make you the only master-at-arms here. We’re a team, remember? It’s both our jobs to watch each others’ backs.” He stepped closer towards her offering his hand.

She looked away, bowed her head, sighed for a moment before looking back into his eyes then letting out a subdued growl. “Gah! You’ve got a point. Sorry, love. It’s just this heat is really putting me in a pissy mood.”

He gently clasped hold of her paw then gave her a kiss on her lower right ear. “I’m sorry too, babe. For being an idiot and all. Yeah. The forgetting the water thing? That’s totally on me.” Amalthia leaned her head into his, gave him a gentle nuzzle under his chin then licked him on the face. “Why yes it is. But I suppose I can find it in my heart to forgive you... this time. But piss me off again and you’ll find yourself greasing your own piston for at least the next six months.”

“Well that’s comforting to know. At least we can cling to each other until we succumb to dehydration and someone eventually finds our mummified remains lovingly wrapped in each others’ deathly embrace,” Kaleb said with a smile as he began to massage the back of her thickly muscled neck.

She looked lovingly into his brown eyes as a fangy smile flashed across her face. “Mister Grimwald – you have got to be the most wonderful bundle of human weirdness that I’ve ever come across. Okay… I think the heat is really getting to me now.”

“Why’d you say that?” Kaleb looked at her puzzled.

Her ears began to twitch. “Don’t you hear it? Oh wait… your hearing isn’t as sensitive as mine.”

“No. I do hear it. Oh wait… look!” He swung his head around suddenly then pointed towards what appeared to be a chicken-sized velociraptor. She turned and saw it as well.

“Hey little guy.” Kaleb reached into his coat pocket then pulled out a roll of dried meat as he began waving it at the small creature. The raptor cautiously backed away from him while making a high-pitched chirping noise. “I’ve got some jerky. Wanna try?”

Amalthia shook her head. “Um. I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kal.”

“Aww. C’mon, Ama. How bad can a little fella like this be?” Kaleb said as he pointed towards what appeared to be the creature’s nest. “Hey look. Eggs. If we take one each to nourish ourselves and save the rest, then maybe we can hatch them. Katie always wanted an unusual pet.”

His charr wife let out a more forceful growl this time. “No! We are not hatching anything that comes from this awful place. Remember why we came here -- for the bounties, right?”

Her husband huffed. “For the bounties. I got it. But, dammit Ama, we could raise a clutch of these and sell ‘em in Lion’s Arch for a fair amount of coin. I mean what kid wouldn’t want one of these for a pet?”

Shaking her head, Amalthia promptly reached into her husband’s rucksack then pulled out a field guide titled, Tyria’s Field Guide to Native Flora and Fauna Vol. IX. Using her long clawed index finger, she quickly thumbed through the pages until found what she was looking for.

“Let’s see. Raptors… raptors… Big, mean teethy, poison clawed… Oh. Here it is!” She looked up only to find that her husband had suddenly darted off towards one of the nests. As she watched him snatch up the eggs then put them into his rucksack, she began to read aloud what was in the guide. “Pauxillum fiken talus admorsus – or more commonly known as the Pocket Raptor, is a diminutive subspecies of the common featherbeak raptor and is almost exclusively found in the Heart of the Magumma Jungle and is… oh for Scorchgazer’s sake... are you even paying attention to me, Kal!?”

Her husband gave her a thumbs up even though he was still engrossed in gathering up more eggs from the nest.

“It says pocket raptors are vicious creatures that will bite your face off if half given the chance. So you’d better put those eggs back now before mamma comes back.” She angrily snapped the book closed then shoved it down into her pants pocket.

The mesa suddenly became alive with dozens of high-pitched chirping noises. As Kaleb stowed away the last of the eggs, he was immediately greeted by three more of the tiny raptors. Each of them tilted their heads trying to get him into their field of vision as they began moving towards him at an alarmingly brisk pace.

“Back away from them, Kal. Now!” Amalthia yelled just seconds before the trio lunged at her husband.

With reflexes rivaling those of a cat, Kaleb dodged the assault as the three little beasts leaped just inches above his face. Whirling around as fast as he could he pulled forth his revolvers, Sweet Pea and Lulu, then leveled the barrels at his attackers making sure that his wife was not in the line of fire. The bore of each pistol erupted in a plume of red-hot gas as two of the critters exploded into grizzly globs of flesh and guts; the demise of the third followed a split second later.

Amalthia drew a holosmithing sword from her waistband as her entire body became aglow in a brightly lit shroud of charged energy. Scores more of the creatures appeared from practically every nearby nook and cranny as they began swarming the couple from all angles. A series of deft swishes from her alighted blade reduced several of the vicious attackers to piles of dust as more of the ravenous critters quickly emerged to take the place of their fallen littermates.

“We’ve got to get the hell out of here!” His wife said as her energy shroud began to take on a faint red glow. “Either this asuratech, or my temper is gonna blow at any moment. And when it does, I promise it isn’t going to be pretty.”

Kaleb holstered his pistols then drew forth the greatsword that he had slung on his back. “Bob – time for some action!”

With a series of lightning fast strokes, Kaleb and ‘Bob’ managed to cleave dozens of the little beasts in two as he re-positioned himself in a back-to-back stance with his wife. Moving with an unspoken synchronicity, the husband and wife bounty hunter team hacked and slashed their way through the onslaught until they reached the relative safety of a nearby natural bridge.

Amalthia pointed towards a bluff in the distance. “Hey, look. A downed airship. I’m willing to bet there are some supplies up there, including water.”

Kaleb shook his head. “An airship? Damn, we must have overlooked it the first time around. How could we have missed seeing something that obvious?”

Amalthia laughed. “Because you, dear husband, were too damn busy picking up raptor eggs for your little pet menagerie.”

As the couple wandered closer, several figures began to emerged from atop the bluff. Clad in black and silver armor, the pair quickly realized the individuals were Pact soldiers who were most likely survivors of the airship crash.

“Ho there, stranger,” yelled the tallest Pact member who obviously looked to be a norn and, was in all probability, the leader of the group.

After they met up with the surviving Pact members, Kaleb and Amalthia pitched in to help set up a makeshift camp complete with a mess hall and cooking station. As Kaleb sat down and began guzzling down a huge stein of fresh water, the Pact leader sat down beside him and chuckled. “Word has reached my ears that your cooking skills are the stuff of legends. Thanks to you and your amazing, and also most unusual wife, my troops will enjoy the first good meal they’ve had in a good long time.” Kaleb smiled at the compliment. “Your ears wouldn’t be wrong. But the misses? She’s one helluva cook too, yanno. Not that I had anything to do with it, mind you.” The Pact leader let out a boisterous laugh as he gave Kaleb a hearty slap on the back. “By the spirits, you must be part norn. At least in heart anyway.”

“Chow had better be ready soon. Moog has been staring at me for the last hour. It is not that his staring alone that has me concerned so much as when he starts staring at the salad condiments then back at me that gives me some pause for concern. Not that I think he would actually do anything, mind you, but...” a sylvari Pact member said as he casually pointed towards his asura comrade.

“Oh please. Just looking at you gives me indigestion. Where is our sustenance?”

“Say please.” Amalthia’s voice chimed throughout the tent as she walked towards the table carrying a pan of what appeared to be full of some type of fluffy yellow substance. “Be careful. It’s very hot.” Kaleb looked at his wife and beamed. “Damn, babe! I can’t wait to try it.” She smiled back, her fangs showing. “And I can’t wait for you to try it, my love.”

Once the portions were doled out, everyone in the camp ate heartily then thanked Amalthia for the delicious meal. She sat down beside her husband and nestled her chin atop his head.

The norn Pact leader looked at the unusual couple and commented, “that whatever it was, was absolutely amazing! What did you call it, again?”

Both Kaleb and Amalthia said in union, a frittata.

The norn looked dumbfounded. “Oh. It tasted just like eggs.”

“That’s ‘cause frittatas are made with eggs,” Kaleb pointed out. Amalthia just nodded with a smiling closed-eyed grin.

“Oh. I see. That meal must have been truly magical because during the crash, our only container of poultry products was smashed against the rocks.”

Then it suddenly dawned on Kaleb. He turned around then looked his charr wife in her eyes then asked, “Ama?”

“Yes, Kal?”

“What did you use to make that frittata?”

She rolled her amber eyes, put a clawed index finger to her pursed lips then looked up for a moment before looking back at Kaleb. “Just what was on-hand. Why?”

“Eggs. Where did you get the eggs?” Kaleb demanded. The norn butted in. “Yes. Such a meal is deserving of a special name. Something memorable, something legendary!”

Amalthia scratched her chin for a moment before responding. “Something memorable... something legendary. Hmm. Let’s see -- I suppose the only thing one could possibly call it is...

...Pocket Raptor Surprise!”

#gw2 #gw2 fanfic #gw2 writing #guildwars 2 fanfic #guildwars 2 writing #the outliers #kaleb grimwald #amalthia steelblade #gw2 humor #gw2 fanfiction #tyriaslibrary

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twilights-800-cats · 5 years

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<< Allegiances | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | From the Beginning >>

Chapter 33

It wasn’t long before another opponent found Tinystar – claws raked down his side and he whirled to face his new foe, charged with determination despite the screaming of his muscles. He reared onto his hind paws and slapped the tall tom in the face before falling onto him and raking his shoulders.

The tom wiggled beneath Tinystar’s belly and dug his teeth into one of Tinystar’s hind legs. Grimacing, Tinystar had to let go before too much damage was done. Blood roared in his ears as the tom tried to grapple Tinystar by the shoulders in a maneuver that could easily cause a cat to black out.

Tinystar struggled, digging his hind claws into whatever part of his foe he could manage. Blood bubbled between his toes and the tom on top of him grunted in pain. Finally Tinystar could wiggle just enough to clamp his jaws down on one of the tom’s forelegs, biting hard until he tasted fur and blood.

The tom screeched and Tinystar let go – the tom whirled and limped away, tail between his legs. Tinystar got to his paws and attempted to assess his new injuries – but he had no time. Another cat, a massive tabby, was barreling at him full-tilt, and Tinystar braced himself to meet yet another foe.

I won’t die here! He thought, mustering all his strength. I won’t let anyone else die here!

A black-and-white blur crashed into the oncoming tom before Tinystar had to face such force – Barley!

The soft barn tom wrestled with the big tabby. Claws flashed and bloody scratches soon lined both cats’ bodies. Ravenpaw appeared like a shadow and bit down hard on the tabby’s ear, making the BloodClan attacker cry out.

Barley scored his claws down the tabby’s side before letting the cat go free. Ravenpaw spat and hissed after them, bristling to the ends of his fur – a warning that they shouldn’t come back. The tabby disappeared into the throng quickly, eyes wide with shock at the ferocity of such soft-looking cats.

“That’ll teach them!” snorted Ravenpaw.

Barley was panting. “It’s… been a long time since I had to fight like this…”

Ravenpaw brushed his muzzle against Barley’s. “I’m not leaving you,” he promised quietly. The small tom’s eyes caught on Tinystar. “Are you all right?”

“All thanks to you,” Tinystar breathed. “That tabby might have blown me off my paws!”

“There’s no time to rest,” admitted Barley. The barn cat looked hard and determined. “The longer we hesitate in this battle, more of our friends will die.”

Tinystar swallowed, picturing Mosspaw’s death-stunned face. You have no idea, he thought grimly. “Go where you’re needed,” he rasped. “Support any cat you can.”

Barley and Ravenpaw both nodded before haring off into the fight. Ravenpaw screeched a warrior’s cry as Tinystar watched him leap onto a shocked tortoiseshell rogue. Tinystar shook the ringing from his ears and steadied his paws, looking around for any cat who might need aid.

He quickly spotted a small ShadowClan apprentice - Rowanpaw, he thought – and wove through the battle to meet them. Two large BloodClan cats – both black-and-white toms almost identical but for their eyes – were harassing the poor young apprentice, who must have gotten separated from their mentor or the other apprentices somewhere in the middle of the fighting.

I might not be able to take them both, Tinystar thought, blood pounding in his ears, but I have more lives to spare than that little cat – StarClan help me, I’m not going to watch another apprentice die today!

He sprang onto the green-eyed patchy tom and raked his claws through his thick fur. The cat reared, hissing, trying to shake Tinystar off. Tinystar clung hard, digging all four paws worth of claws into the tom’s spine. He was about to take a hunk of white fur in his jaws when he felt claws raking down his haunches. That moment of pain made him loosen his grip, and Tinystar was flung off of his opponent easily.

Tinystar landed hard on his back, gasping for air as spots danced before his eyes. His muscles didn’t respond for a long moment – long enough for the green-eyed tom to plant his paws on Tinystar’s side.

“Little pest!” he hissed. “I’ll gut you like a fly!”

Tinystar swallowed a gulp of air and forced himself up, lashing out with a claw. He caught the tom in the eye, and the responding screech was more than satisfying. The green-eyed tom backed off, giving Tinystar time to get to his paws. Now he had both black-and-white toms’ attention, though blood leaked from the green-eyed tom’s eye.

“Rowanpaw, run!” he yowled.

The tiny ginger cat bristled, but bolted. Tinystar swallowed, bracing himself for another attack, eyes shifting to try and keep both black-and-white cats in his vision.

Why was there a third, suddenly, Tinystar wondered. Was he truly growing so dazed from battle?

But it was quickly made clear that the new cat was on his side – especially when, with sharp jabs of his paws, Swiftfoot managed to topple one of the black-and-white toms. Eyes burning with determination, Swiftfoot pinned his enemy, latching his jaws into his throat.

Tinystar felt fur brush up against him. Brightheart was there, suddenly, her eye narrowed at the green-eyed tom.

Hissing and bristling, the green-eyed tom spat, “What’s this, a cripple? You’ll be easy!”

“We’ll see about that!” Brightheart hissed back. “Come at me, fox-breath!”

Tinystar watched as Brightheart remained steady and still as the squinting black-and-white tom began to circle her. Her tail and whiskers were twitching, and Tinystar realized that she was reading every movement that her foe made, even if she couldn’t see him.

He was even more impressed when the black-and-white tom sprang at her from behind. Brightheart rolled onto her belly, quick as a snake, and, like a rabbit, flung the big cat away with her hind paws. The tom fell right into Swiftfoot’s range, and, growling furiously, Swiftfoot raked him with his claws until he screeched.

Thoroughly trounced, both black-and-white BloodClan cats fled, screeching about vicious and horrible Clan cats.

Tinystar swallowed, looking at the two once-crippled warriors before him. “That was astounding!” he purred.

Swiftfoot shrugged. “We do what we can.”

“Where’s Cloudtail?” Tinystar asked.

“With Sandstorm,” Brightheart replied. Tinystar must have looked worried, because she added: “They’re okay – Dustpelt and Cinderpelt are with them too.”

“Good,” Tinystar breathed. He wanted more than anything to be by his mate’s side, but he had more lives than she did – though the thought of losing one of his lives filled him with a terror he could not describe. He was much more useful supporting those who needed it. “Look out for one another.”

“Always do,” Swiftfoot grunted. “For as long as we can.”

The two bounded off through the battle together, pelts brushing. Tinystar swallowed and tried to get a read on the fighting, craning his neck to look over the mass of fur and claws to spot any cats he could recognize.

He spotted Sandstorm and Cloudtail fighting together, like Brightheart had promised – but Dustpelt was being dragged off the battlefield by Cinderpelt. Dustpelt’s jaws were moving, likely in protest, but blood trickled after him. He wouldn’t be in the fight for a while.

The more Tinystar looked, the more scenes like that he saw. Deadfoot, WindClan’s deputy, was dragging himself to the medicine cats, blood pooling after him. A RiverClan cat was lying still on the ground, covered in dust and torn earth, unmoving. More and more Clan cats were retreating, and less BloodClan cats were sent screaming out of the clearing. More bodies littered the ground, and too few of them were BloodClan.

Tinystar swallowed against a lump in his throat. This has to end, he thought. Soon. Or there will be no one left to fight.

This battle had raged for so long, it felt, and the Clans had barely made a dent in BloodClan’s forces. Tinystar dug his claws into the earth. He had to find Scorch – he had to end this. Barley had been right – these cats would fight and fight until they had nothing left to fight for. So long as Scorch lived, the Clans would lose this battle.

It was easy to spot Scorch now that the cats had thinned some. The flame-colored tom was in the shadow of the Great Rock, battling with… with…

Whitestorm!

Dread filled Tinystar. He surged to his paws and flung himself towards the Great Rock, terror filling his body. There was no way the old white warrior could kill Scorch – Whitestorm was a great warrior in his own right but he was old, he was tired…

Before Tinystar could reach them he saw Scorch’s claws flash. A burst of red followed.

Whitestorm fell, limp, to the earth, redness staining his pure white pelt.

Tinystar skidded to a halt beside his deputy’s body. No, no, no! he thought, looking down at the old white warrior, who was gasping for air. Tinystar tried to stop the blood with his paws, emotion ringing in his ears until he wasn’t quite sure he was in full control of his body anymore. Blood sucked at his paws, turning even his black fur red.

“You can’t die!” Tinystar screeched, his mouth dry. All his time with Whitestorm was flashing through his eyes – the old white tom had been with him since the beginning, supporting and offering his advice. A world without him felt like it would spiral out of control – if Tinystar could only just stop the bleeding, the medicine cats could…

“No medicine… cat can… save me now,” Whitestorm coughed.

Tinystar didn’t know how much of his thoughts he was jabbering aloud. “We… we’re going to lead ThunderClan together,” Tinystar sobbed. “I can’t do it without you, Whitestorm!”

Whitestorm’s yellow eyes had a little clarity and wisdom left. He looked fondly up at Tinystar. “You can,” he whispered. “ThunderClan will live on… and I will watch… you…”

Tinystar couldn’t respond. He buried his muzzle into the white tom’s fur, not caring about the blood, not caring about the battle raging all around him. It didn’t matter right now – a piece of Tinystar’s world was ending, and there was nothing he could do.

“Tigerstar…?” Whitestorm breathed, hope and love in his faint mew. “My love… is that you…?”

Whitestorm jerked twice, and then was still.

The sounds of the battle roared in Tinystar’s ears. Slowly, he pulled his muzzle away from Whitestorm’s body. With a red paw, he closed the old white tom’s eyes.

“Go with StarClan,” he murmured, trying not to choke on his words. “I will miss you, old friend.”

“He fought well,” a voice meowed through the din. “For an old-timer.”

Tinystar went rigid. He turned his head to see Scorch standing paces away. The ginger tom’s fur was speckled with blood. Whitestorm’s blood. Other Clan cat’s blood. His green eyes were level and emotionless as they looked on Whitestorm.

“An old cat like that shouldn’t have been fighting,” Scorch went on. “He held out longer than I thought.”

Tinystar’s only reply was a screech of rage.

Fury bubbled under Tinystar’s fur. Fury like fire, fury and anger and hatred that he had always tried to stamp down. The temper that Bluestar had tried to nuture for her own gain was bursting forth, filling Tinystar with white-hot energy that burned to the ends of his claws. Any cat who saw him would say that they were looking at a totally different cat, something horrifying and filled to bursting with hatred, with ice-blue eyes narrowed to cold slits.

Scorch’s whiskers twitched. “You were always quick to temper,” he muttered.

Tinystar lunged at Scorch. Blood roared in his ears like an ancient cat, and he slammed into Scorch with what must have been the force of a cat thrice his size. Each strike was aimed for Scorch’s throat or belly or face, anything vital that might end his life once and for all – but Scorch was dodging his blows easily.

“You were always sloppy when you were angry,” Scorch grunted, dodging a blow aimed for his ear. “You got so single-minded! I’m sorry that the Clans didn’t change that about you.”

Scorch stunned Tinystar easily with a blow to the head. All of the energy and rage and fury suddenly fled him, and Tinystar was left shaking and exposed.

“I’m sorry I have to kill you, brother,” Scorch mewed.

The blow came quick. Tinystar barely felt it. A slight tugging at his throat. Why did Scorch’s paw come away so wet and red? Why was everything suddenly spinning, growing fuzzy and hard to see?

Tinystar looked down and saw blood beneath him. He was dimly aware that it was his own. He tried to move out of it – he tried to move anywhere, really – but his paw slipped in the puddle. With a splash, he landed on his side.

The impact blackened his vision. Tinystar tried to claw his way back to the light, tried to breathe – why was it so hard to breathe, suddenly? – but the light grew smaller and smaller no matter what he tried…

… and then there was nothing at all.

#tb au #tb the darkest hour

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the-captains-ayebrows · 7 years

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Le Cirque Noir

For the 2018 CS Little Bang! Word count ~13,400; Also on AO3

* Let’s say 17 year old Emma got away from the cops when Neal set her up. * Let’s say the Brothers Jones joined the Circus instead of the Royal Navy. Let’s also say they can shape-shift into big, black jaguars. * What kind of antics can teenage!CS get into in a modern world where magic is real? Can a lost girl find her home among the “Circus Freaks”?

Grab your popcorn - the show’s about to start!

Rating/Warnings: T for swearing, sexual innuendo, brief non-graphic description of character/animal injury

Other pairings: Jewel Queen (Liam/Regina) and slight mentions of Ruby/Mulan

Many (MANY!!!) thanks to the wonderful people I worked with on this project: my beta @blackwidownat2814 who was so encouraging when I wanted to throw my laptop out the window, and artist @amorecolorfulmoniker who made such beautiful, beautiful pictures for the story! {artwork link coming soon} You have both been a pleasure and a delight.

Special shout-out to @lenfaz and @businesscasualprincess who came up with the original idea for this story which Lena made into a Halloweek edit. Ladies, I hope this story makes you smile! And, of course, to @captainswanbigbang for organizing this whole she-bang!

“Have you actually attended one of our performances, Miss…?”

“Swan. Emma Swan. And no.”

“Miss Swan. This Circus is unique. It’s a safe haven for individuals with unique abilities.”

“You mean freaks and weirdos?”

The Ringmaster scowled. “Not quite. More accurately, our performers are not exactly of this world. Sometimes they come here knowing what they are, sometimes the talent is latent, and yet this place draws them like a beacon.”

Emma held up a hand to stop the monologue. She’d heard people talking in town about this amazing circus where the magic almost seemed real, but she didn’t need a sales pitch. She needed a place to hide.

“Nice story, lady, but what the hell does it have to do with me? Or the job?” The Ringmaster’s steely-eyed scrutiny gave Emma the creeps. She quickly tucked her hands back into her jacket pockets to keep from fidgeting in her seat.

“Everything, Miss Swan,” the woman replied, cool as ice. As if this was a perfectly normal conversation to be having. At Emma’s unimpressed huff, the Ringmaster crossed her arms and arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Let me ask you something: have you ever felt out of place? Like a freak, as you say?”

Emma kept her mouth shut and her body tensed, fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. She didn’t know what the hell this woman’s angle was, but she didn’t like the way this conversation was going. She just- she needed a job and to get the hell out of town. Sure, running away to join the circus was like, the biggest cliché ever, but it was the best solution available for her very immediate problem. Apparently her silence spoke volumes.

The Ringmaster narrowed her eyes and leaned forward over the old spindle-legged table serving as a makeshift desk. “Has anything strange or unexplainable ever happened when you were frightened or upset?”

For a second, Emma’s heart stopped. Her memory flashed to that parking garage two days ago. The officer’s gun pointed at her chest. Her back flat against an ugly yellow wall. The loud crack that for a blinding moment of terror she thought was gunfire until she saw the rain of sparks cascading down around her from a ruptured security light above her head. Just enough of a distraction for her to run. But that wasn’t anything, right? Just dumb luck. Besides there’s no way this Ringmaster lady knew about that.

Feigning indifference, Emma rolled her eyes. “I swear to God, if the next words out of your mouth are ‘You’re a wizard, Harry’, I’m running out of here and calling the cops.”

The Ringmaster gave her a patronizing smile. “I think we both know you won’t do that, Miss Swan. Now you said you needed a job. Do you want it or not?”

Emma bit the inside of her cheek. She really didn’t have any other options. She could deal with the crazy lady and her freak show for a while and when the heat died down, she could always ditch them later.

She nodded her head quickly. “Yeah, I want it. I don’t really have a talent or anything, but I can sell tickets or popcorn or whatever.”

The Ringmaster smiled, almost genuinely this time, though there was still an edge to it that Emma didn’t understand. “Oh, I’m sure we can do better than that. How do you feel about animals?”

Emma shrugged one shoulder. “They’re okay, I guess.”

“And you seem like the hard-headed sort.” The Ringmaster tapped an impeccably manicured fingernail on her desk for a moment then chuckled to herself. “Oh, yes. I have just the job for you. Welcome to Le Cirque Noir, Miss Swan. You may call me Regina.”

--/--

“Beast tamer? Are you kidding me?” When Regina said she’d be working with animals, Emma pictured mucking out stalls or at worst walking around the ring with a snake draped around her shoulders. Not sticking her head in the mouth of a freaking panther. Yet here she was letting Regina lead her into the center ring where not one, but three massive black panthers awaited them.

“I do not kid, Miss Swan.”

Okay, upon closer inspection it was two massive panthers and one slightly-smaller-but-fully-capable-of-biting-her-arm-off panther. They seemed well-trained at least, each perched calmly on his own small circular platform. Still, there was something eerie about the trio beyond the lethality of a jungle cat. It was their eyes, Emma decided. Each panther had eyes that nearly glowed in the dim lighting of the tent. An iridescent, unnatural blue.

As she and Regina approached, those eyes all turned toward them, and Emma would’ve sworn the middle panther was staring at her. It cocked its shiny black head to the side and showed its sharp white teeth in what Emma had the weirdest feeling was a grin. Did panthers grin? That made no sense at all. It licked its chops and Emma had about decided that she needed to get the hell out of there before it ate her alive when the largest of the panthers hopped gracefully down to the dusty floor and loped toward them.

The approaching predator immediately drew Emma’s attention. She knew better than to think she could outrun it, but maybe Regina could slow it down since it was her damn cat after all and -

Emma gaped as the panther sidled up to Regina, rose up on its hind paws, and licked the Ringmaster’s face. Regina made a garbled noise of disgust and dabbed at her cheek with the cuff of her sleeve.

“Liam, we have talked about this.”

The panther, Liam apparently, settled back down on all fours and Emma must’ve gone completely insane because the low rumbling sound the cat made distinctly sounded like laughter. It nudged it’s head under Regina’s hand until she scratched it behind the ears then trotted back to its post, sitting at perfect attention and looking immensely pleased with itself.

Regina rolled her eyes at the big cat, then turned to Emma, gesturing for her to step forward. Without waiting to see if Emma had complied, Regina addressed the three panthers, her voice booming and authoritative.

“This is Emma Swan. She has recently joined the cast of our show. She’ll be acting as your new beast tamer and I expect the three of you to be on your best behavior.” Though the instructions were directed at all three animals, at the last comment, Regina appeared to be focusing her attention on the middle panther who blinked at her as if he were bored and turned his head away.

Regina turned her back on the cats, ready now to give Emma her orders. “Liam will teach you the act. I expect you to be ready for a full performance by the end of the week. You can meet with Mrs. Lucas this evening about fitting you for a costume and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Emma interrupted. She’d figured Regina was just theatrical. Like one of those performers who stays in character all the time. But this was above and beyond. Talking at animals was odd enough. Expecting an animal - even an apparently affectionate and weirdly expressive one - to actually teach her a circus act was too much. Of course the person willing to take Emma in was a nut job. Of course she was.

“Liam is going to teach me?” She pointed at the panther in question. “That Liam. The one with giant paws and a tail?”

“You remember what I told you before?” Regina appeared unperturbed, as though she expected Emma’s reaction.

“All that junk about people with special abilities? I figured that was just something you told the locals to drum up business.”

“The truth can be stranger than fiction, Miss Swan.” She raised her voice, but didn’t turn around. “Boys! Come introduce yourselves.”

Liam raised his head and roared. Emma looked past Regina’s shoulder in shock as immediately all three cats’ eyes flashed blood red. Their bodies began to sort of vibrate - blurring, twisting and contracting. In the space of a few (now racing) heartbeats, three young men stood before Emma where the panthers had been, all three with dark hair and startling blue eyes.

“What the hell!” Emma skittered a few steps back, unable to process what she’d just seen. Slowly, the three stepped forward as Regina had instructed. The tiny part of Emma’s mind that hadn’t completely short-circuited found it ironic that they were treating her as if she was a cornered animal when not ten seconds ago, they’d been the ones with fur. A hysterical giggle bubbled up at the thought, but she swallowed hard to stifle it.

Regina stood aside as the youngest - apparently the small panther - reached out to shake Emma’s hand. He looked maybe thirteen years old. Thin and gangly rather like his panther self, he had the makings of a kid who would grow up to be a looker someday. When Emma didn’t immediately accept his handshake, he ducked his head and looked up at her shyly, his longish mousy hair falling over his eyes. Wide-eyed, but not knowing what else to do, Emma shook his hand (because it's a hand now, not a paw holy crap) and he grinned exuberantly.

“Name’s Liam, miss. Nice to meet you.” His voice had that adorable adolescent crackle to it, not to mention a slight accent.

Disarmed by this not-so-fearsome beast, Emma smiled back. “Nice to meet you, too. Wait, I thought the big guy was Liam?”

“He is.” Another voice broke in, lower and smoother than the first. Emma turned her head, finally getting a good look at the young man in the middle. Her breath caught in her throat. Messy, ‘I woke up like this’ hair. Heavy, dark eyebrows cocked in an ‘I know you’re checking me out and rightfully so’ kind of way. Sculpted cheekbones. A hint of reddish scruff along his sharp jawline. Tall and lean with jeans that fit just so. He couldn’t have been a more picture perfect stereotypical bad boy if he tried - and everything about him screamed ‘I expect you to believe I’m not trying’ - but damned if it wasn’t working for him. His pose bespoke a casual arrogance, the hand hitched on his belt buckle, the curl of his lips as he spoke- wait. What? Too caught up in her ogling, Emma almost didn’t realize he’d continued speaking.

“... father was an unoriginal arsehole, but that’s another story. We call the runt here, Lee, and I must say I’m glad to see him showing such good manners to a lady.” He rustled Lee’s hair, laughing as the boy smacked his hand away. “Speaking of manners, I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. Killian Jones, at your service.”

Killian offered Emma his hand as Lee had done, but when Emma took it, he turned her wrist gently. He raised their joined hands, dipping his head, but before he could bestow the kiss to her knuckles that was so obviously coming, the third man who must’ve been Liam hip-checked Killian out of the way.

“You’ll have to forgive my brother, Emma. He fancies himself a ladies man.”

Emma chuckled, caught somewhere between nervousness and admittedly a little bit of disappointment. Liam smiled warmly at her, ignoring Killian’s huff of annoyance from beside him. He was the tallest and broadest of the three, obviously the eldest. His posture and bearing suggested maybe he’d been in the military or a cop or something, but at the moment way too many other questions were swirling through Emma’s mind for her think much about it.

“As you may have gathered, I’m Liam and I’d be happy to show you the ropes around here.” He squeezed Emma’s shoulder reassuringly, then exchanged a glance with Regina that shed a little bit of light on their earlier interaction in his panther form. Emma filed it away as something to ask about later.

“Thank you.” Regina nodded at him with a barely concealed smile, and as he stepped back into line with his brothers, she turned to Emma.

“So you see, Miss Swan, taming the beasts should be simple enough. Taming the Jones Brothers, however…” She glared at Killian again who replied with a sarcastic smirk. “Well. Good luck with that.” Business completed, Regina turned and walked out of the tent without a backward glance.

“Wait! You can’t- I don’t-” Emma spluttered as the reality sank in that she was now alone with three panther-people and she was expected to learn a circus act. She didn’t trust Regina by a long shot, but shit - at least she was some kind of buffer between Emma and the unbelievable situation she’d stumbled into. Literally unbelievable. As in she couldn’t make herself believe it even though the proof was (respectively) standing awkwardly, smirking and furrowing its brow right in front of her.

Emma’s heart pounded. She raised one finger and opened her mouth. No words came out. Now all three Jones brothers looked concerned. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. She tried again.

“I need a minute. I’ll- I’ll be right back.”

Emma ran.

Huddled behind the snack bar seemed as good a place as any to process the last few hours. This morning she’d been running from the cops, hiding in plain sight amongst the bustling crowd at what she had thought was a regular circus midway. The sensory overload of voices and music and buttered popcorn and bright colors worked wonders to numb her broken heart. When she saw the “Help Wanted” sign on one of the trailers, she’d knocked on that door without hesitation.

Now she’s what? What the hell even was this place? Magic was real. Freaking were-panthers were real. What about vampires? Zombies? Witches? Regina was probably a witch. Was Emma a witch? Holy crap, would she turn into some kind of animal, too? Emma’s pulse pounded in her ears. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead against them, her breaths coming faster and faster until she was well and truly hyperventilating.

Footsteps sounded off to her right. Emma sat up and tried to get her breathing back under control. Moments later, Killian Jones’ head peeked around the corner.

“Ah! There you are, Swan. I’ve been looking everywhere.”

He sounded far too chipper for her liking. Emma cut her eyes to him then quickly looked away. “I’m fine.”

He rounded the corner and walked over to where she at. “Never said you weren’t. Sitting in the fetal position in the dirt behind a concession stand is exactly what people do when they’re fine.”

Emma finally looked up at him and shoved her long, blond hair behind her ears. “Ha. Ha. What do you want, Jones?”

“It’s not what I want, love. It’s what you want.” He sat down in the dirt beside her, using the building as a back rest. “Bit of an orientation perhaps? I expect you have a few questions.”

Yeah, just a few million. “Not your love. But…” Emma sighed. “I am kinda having trouble wrapping my head around all this. Is, like, everything in every story and horror movie I’ve ever watched real? Am I a- a-”

“Circus freak?” His voice held more understanding than teasing, and it gave her prickles under her skin. Emma didn’t want some cute guy acting all understanding. She knew how that played out.

She huffed and turned away from his searching blue eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Look, Regina must think you’re something or she wouldn’t have brought you on, but you can’t think about it like that. It’s too much at once. You’ll go bonkers. Start with one simple thought. Magic is real.”

“That’s a simple thought, huh?”

“Trust me, Swan, if you can convince yourself to accept that, the rest gets easier.”

Trust. Ha. Trust was out of the question, but as Emma considered his words, he did make a certain kind of sense. Baby steps or whatever. And maybe she didn’t need understanding but she could probably use an ally. “I don’t trust anything about this place, but fine. I’ll try it your way.” Emma took a deep breath and looked Killian straight in the eye. “Magic is real.”

He nodded encouragingly and she tried again. “Magic is real.” After repeating the phrase aloud a few times, she closed her eyes and let the words play in her brain over and over again until they sounded slightly less crazy. She opened her eyes to find Killian watching her, a tiny smile tilting up one corner of his lips. When their eyes met, his smile widened making the dimples in his cheeks deeper.

“You move your lips when you’re thinking.”

“I do not!” Emma shoved his shoulder. It only served to make him laugh, but his expression sobered quickly at her frown. “It’s just- it’s a lot to take in, you know?”

“Aye, that it is. I grew up knowing what I was and even so, the first time I changed…” Killian let his gaze drift at the memory, then shook his head. “Well, I was very lucky to have Liam around.”

“And your father?” As soon as the question came out of her mouth she wished she could take it back. Why was she asking personal questions of this guy? God only knew she wouldn’t want him asking her anything about her family. Or lack thereof. Emma’s cheeks warmed as she awkwardly muttered,“You said something about your father before.”

A muscle ticked in Killian’s jaw before he answered. “My father left us a few years before that. It’s been just Liam and me for quite some time now.”

“What about Lee?” Geez, what is wrong with her? She’s prying now. This definitely counted as prying.

Still, at the mention of the youngest Jones, Killian’s expression lightened. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “Lee came along a bit later. He’s our half-brother. We actually didn’t know about him until the circus stopped at this little seaport town and a great sodding panther cub comes running into the tent hissing and swiping at everybody. Poor little bugger was scared out of his wits. It was his first change, you see. Liam and I shifted straight away and we got him calmed down. Next thing we knew, there was a third member of the Magnificent Brothers Jones.”

Okay, so she was really on a roll with the 20-Questions thing, but this - hearing Killian’s story - was helping. Her curiosity overcame her anxiety. “How‘d you know he was your brother?”

That earned her a raised eyebrow and a wry smile. “Besides the fact that he shapeshifts into a melanistic jaguar?”

Melanistic? Who the hell talks like that? He even said it with that British pronunciation so the word came out like jag-you-are. Emma snorted. “Yeah, besides that.”

“When he reverted to his human form, he managed to tell us he was looking for his father. He showed us a picture of the man and it turned out to be our father. Apparently the bastard had left Lee behind, too.”

“How the hell was he carrying a picture if he was in panther form? Wait, where do your clothes go when you’re a panther?”

Killian laughed outright. “I shapeshift into an animal, but you’re asking about my clothing? Not even what’s a Brit like me doing turning into a South American jungle cat? You’re an interesting lass, Emma Swan.” His features shifted into a lazy smirk and there went those prickles under Emma’s skin again. “You know, if you’d prefer I reappear naked, I can certainly-”

Emma smacked him in the chest, but a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Tsk. Such violence!’ he teased and Emma’s smile grew brighter despite herself. Killian’s expression softened, his eyes doing a sort of twinkly thing. “Never thought I’d see one of those.”

“What?”

He scratched behind his ear, the tips of which had turned ever so slightly pink. “A smile.”

Emma rolled her eyes at the cheesy comment, but her grin lingered until another question occurred to her that made it fade. “Am I going to change? Like you do?” She hated how brittle her voice sounded. “Regina said something about people with latent talents.”

Killian furrowed his brow. “How old are you, Swan?”

“How old are you?” she snapped back with a scowl.

“Nineteen. But my point is, most shifters have their first change around age ten or eleven.”

“Oh.” Emma nodded in understanding. “I’m seventeen. Just turned.”

“So there you are. If you haven’t changed yet, you likely aren’t a shifter. Which begs the question, just what are you, Swan?”

Emma raised her eyebrow, attempting to mimic the smirk she was coming to associate with Killian. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She nudged his shoulder teasingly with her own, but the movement brought their faces within inches of each other.

“Perhaps I would.” His eyes held something a little too earnest. His body a little too warm beside hers. Their knees brushed. His breath caressed her cheek. Too close, too close, too close. No, she didn’t need him making eyes at her. She didn’t need the stupid fluttery feeling in her stomach. She just needed an ally. Someone to help her navigate this strange new place. That’s all.

Emma straightened and cleared her throat. “Yeah? So would I…” She stood, half-heartedly dusting the grass off her butt, her legs a little shaky from sitting down too long (and maybe from this whole moment she was having with Killian). She held out her hand to him and he took it, pulling himself to his feet. “Hang on, why does a Brit like you turn into a jungle cat?”

He gave her a grin that was likely intended to be mysterious, but came off a little goofy. “Magic, Swan,” he replied as if that answered everything, and at least for the moment, she supposed it did.

--/--

After what felt like hours of walking through the routine with Liam and the younger Joneses, Emma had a good handle on all the blocking at least. Liam had been kind and patient with her even when she got frustrated and huffy and, you know, let her mouth get away with her a little. Looking over at Lee and Killian, Emma decided Liam must have had a lot of practice dealing with stuff like that. Probably a big brother thing. Not that she knew anything about brothers.

The guys had all stayed in human form throughout rehearsal - likely to keep Emma from having another panic attack. She appreciated that. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad. It was weird, sure. A definite shock to her system, but still… maybe it could be kind of okay here. For a while at least.

At the end of rehearsal, Emma asked Liam to point her to Mrs. Lucas’ trailer for wardrobe like Regina had told her, but after an embarrassingly loud growl from her stomach, he directed her to the cook house instead. Since there was no show that night, the grounds crew left the bright outdoor flood lights off, but the strings of small globe lights which criss-crossed the lot produced enough light for Emma to find her way.

It should have been scary. Her first night in a strange place with some very strange individuals, but there was a vibe to this place. She couldn’t put it into words. It made her feel… not at home, exactly, but like this was where she needed to be.

If Regina had been telling the truth about the circus (and Emma had just spent the last several hours with were-panthers, so yeah), then that meant the whole ‘beacon’ thing must be true, too. But that shouldn’t apply to Emma, right? Just because Regina believed she had magic or hidden abilities or whatever, that didn’t make it real.

Emma wasn’t special. Just some orphan no one gave a damn about - not her parents, not even the one guy who was supposed to love her. He’d made that pretty clear. Dammit, she didn’t want to think about Neal. Not now. Her brain was already scraped raw by everything she’d seen today.

Halfway to the cook house, a soft sound behind her caught her attention. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Without moving her head, Emma glanced around her. She couldn’t see anyone, but the shadows on the ground looked wrong somehow and she knew.

She was being followed.

Emma’s blood ran cold. Cursing herself for being too far inside her own head, she slowed her steps, trying not to give away the fact that she knew someone was behind her. Heart pounding, she crouched down pretending to fix the laces on her thrift store Doc Martens and subtly pulled her small pocket knife out of her sock as she stood back up. Thumbing the blade open, she spun on her heel only to come face-to-face, er, muzzle with a blue-eyed panther.

As soon as the animal caught sight of her knife, its eyes widened in alarm and glowed crimson as the creature shifted into Killian Jones.

“Easy there, Swan. I come in peace!” He held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, love.”

Emma narrowed her eyes, not lowering the knife quite yet. “Then why the hell were you sneaking up on me?”

Killian lowered his arms and frowned. “Not sneaking, just trying to catch up. I can’t help it if I’m naturally stealthy as a panther.”

Emma huffed and put her knife away. “Fine. Why were you trying to catch up with me, Catboy?”

The epithet earned her a raised eyebrow, but he seemed to be trying not to smile. “Catboy? Really, love?”

Emma shrugged. “I’ll stop calling you ‘Catboy’ if you stop calling me ‘love’.”

This time it was Killian’s turn to roll his eyes. “Very well. At any rate, I was following you because I thought you might appreciate a familiar face at dinner. I know it can be difficult to be the new kid.”

As much as Emma’s hackles were still up, she could tell Killian was being sincere. Something about his open expression and the way he scratched behind his ear. And yeah, she supposed it might be nice to have someone to sit with.

“Oh. Okay.” Her posture relaxed and she let one corner of her mouth tilt up just a little bit. Killian brightened immediately. Maybe a little too much. She jabbed a finger at his chest. “But cool it with all that stealthy panther crap or I’m gonna put a collar with a bell on you.”

“Kinky.”

Shit. Now he was waggling those stupid eyebrows and beaming at her, and why did that make her feel all squirmy inside? Just annoyance probably.

“Shut up.” Emma groaned and shoved his shoulder, and why exactly did she feel the need to touch him every time he was being irritating?

Killian just laughed. “Come along, Swan, before the Dwarves eat all the pie.”

--/--

Dinner with the cast and crew of Le Cirque Noir was, to say the least, an experience. Killian hadn’t been kidding about the dwarves. There were seven of them and they had, in fact, claimed all the pie from the dessert table before Emma and Killian arrived, but he somehow managed to snag her a chocolate chip cookie. With Killian close by her side, she also met an honest-to-god mermaid, a giant, two people who could talk to animals and one very friendly werewolf who would apparently be her bunkmate.

“I’m Ruby!”

Emma had barely sat down with her food before a beautiful brunette approached her, all white teeth and red lipstick.

“Um, hi?” Emma mumbled around the bite of food she’d shoved in her mouth.

“It’s Emma, right? So nice to meet you. I’m a werewolf, but don’t worry. I don’t bite. Well, I do bite, but I won’t bite you. Promise. Regina told me you’d be staying in the trailer with me and Mulan and hey where’d Mulan go?” Ruby finally paused for breath, looking around the tent full of long tables that served as a makeshift dining hall.

Killian spoke up. “I saw her talking to David over by the drinks, but honestly, Red. Give Emma a chance to get some food in her stomach before you chew her ear off. If you want to chew something, I think there’s a squeaky toy around here somewhere.”

Ruby gave Killian an unimpressed glare, her eyes flashing red for a moment. “Why don’t you go find a ball of yarn to entertain yourself and let us have some girl talk?”

“I think I hear a squirrel outside. How about you go chase it?”

Ruby scoffed. “You’re just cranky because you haven’t had your supper. You want a little saucer of milk? Can of tuna?”

“Bitch.”

“Pussy.”

“Are you two seriously gonna fight like cats and dogs?” Emma had been growing more and more concerned by the second, but to her surprise Ruby and Killian both burst out laughing.

Killian patted her on the back. “Nice one, Swan. And no worries, just a little shifter humor between old friends.”

Emma looked between the two of them, utterly bewildered. “Whatever you say, Catboy.”

Ruby grinned at her, wagging a finger. “You’re gonna fit right in here, Emma. Mulan needs to meet you. I’ll go get her.”

Ruby stood from the table and as soon as her back was turned to them, Killian called out, “You mean you’re going to go fetch her?”

Ruby cast a narrow-eyed glare over her shoulder. “Can it, Catboy.”

Killian turned his attention to Emma, who was trying hard not to choke on her dinner while laughing under her breath. “Oh now, love,” he scolded playfully, “just look what you’ve started.”

--/--

Emma’s first few days at the circus flew by in flurry of sawdust and sequins. Under Liam’s tutelage, she learned her act quickly. Really, most of what she had to do was wave her arms around dramatically while the Jones boys did all their tricks. Occasionally she’d crack a whip in their general direction. It wasn’t exactly brain surgery, but, if Emma was being honest with herself, it was fun. The music, the lights, the getting to boss certain were-panthers around. Speaking of certain were-panthers…

Emma had acquired a shadow. Starting with that very first rehearsal where he’d sought her out behind the concession stand, Killian fell into a habit of just sort of following Emma around. Sometimes as a human, sometimes as a beast.

At least as a panther, he was quiet. In human form he was always trying to tease and banter with her (she wouldn’t let herself think the word flirting). Him, with his smirking lips and expressive eyes and that thing he did where his tongue traced the corner of his mouth. It made her feel… things. Things her freshly broken heart wasn’t ready for.

When she told him she preferred him as a cat, he shifted into animal form and butted his furry black head against her side until she scratched him behind the ears. He was surprisingly soft, actually, the silky strands of his coat slipping beneath her fingertips. Not to mention, it was pretty funny to watch the way his powerful jaws hung open, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head at her touch.

“Yeah, yeah. You better enjoy this, Jones. There’s no way in hell I'm giving you a belly rub.”

The bastard had the audacity to purr.

He’d picked up a couple of other habits as well. Like how at their second rehearsal he accidentally discovered Emma was ticklish and thereafter took every opportunity to flick the tip of his tail under her arm to make her jump. Or, well, he did it until Liam got annoyed and growled at him.

Or how now that she was comfortable with the act, he’d sometimes not do whatever trick he was supposed to do just to mess with her. Then he’d stare at her all innocent as if he were some dumb animal. As if. Of all the words she’d use to describe Killian Jones (funny, snarky, hot as all hell, her brain unhelpfully supplied), innocent was not one of them.

On Saturday, the day before her very first performance, Emma walked to the wardrobe trailer to pick up her finished costume for dress rehearsal. Killian, as usual, trotted along beside her in panther form. She decided finally, if he wouldn’t leave her alone, she might as well talk to him. Surely she could handle a little teasing from one pesky panther. She just needed to shore up her defenses a bit. God only knew she was good at that.

“Hey, stalker. Why exactly are you following me again?” He swished his tail at the back of her knee, and Emma yelped as goosebumps spread up her leg. She fixed him with her best scowl. “Is this why your last beast tamer quit?”

Killian shifted back to human again and continued walking beside her. “I’ll have you know our last beast tamer was Regina, and she quit because it got awkward when she and Liam started shagging. You ask me, he liked it a bit too much when she cracked the whip at him. They’d always run straight back to her trailer after a show.” He scrunched his nose in distaste, and Emma bit back a laugh. “The hilarious part is they both think they’re doing a stellar job of keeping it under wraps, but everyone knows.”

Emma gave him a wry smile.“So what I’m hearing is if I want to keep my job, I should never ever shag anyone in my act.”

That stopped him in his tracks. Killian’s mouth fell open like a codfish, and he had to jog a few steps to catch back up to her. “Hold on now, Swan. I never said that.”

Emma pressed her lips together trying to maintain a poker face. See? She could do the banter thing, too. “Mmhmm.”

Killian huffed. “Anyway, Regina’s working up a new act now. A sorceress duel between herself and a Norwegian lass we picked up a few weeks ago. Sort of a fire and ice thing.”

Emma stopped in front of the door to the wardrobe trailer, her eyes wide. “So, Regina is a witch! I knew it!”

Killian stood facing her and tilted his head. “I don’t think that’s her preferred terminology, but aye. Quite powerful. Her signature move is throwing fireballs.”

“Of course it is,” Emma deadpanned. “Hey, don’t you need to go get ready for dress rehearsal?”

Killian smirked in amusement and leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Swan, I am my own costume.”

Emma felt a blush rise on her face, flustered by her own faux pas, and certainly not because Killian was so near to her that his cheek brushed hers as he straightened his posture. She was a dumbass. Of course he was his own costume, but now the side of her face was probably all red and blotchy from the scratch of his stubble and she needed to get inside the trailer right now and put on her costume and fix her makeup and-

“See you later, Swan.”

While she’d been gawping like an idiot, Killian had turned to leave. Ugh, he just had to get the last word in, didn't he? Emma stood there scrabbling to come up with something snappy to say as she watched him walk away. Swaggering smirky-face with his stupid tight jeans. Sooner or later she’d figure out a way to shut him up.

--/-

“Hey! How’d the final rehearsal go? Did Killian ever pick his jaw back up off the floor?”

Exhausted after a long day, Emma staggered into her trailer wanting nothing more in life than to flop face first onto her bunk and pass out. Her roommates, apparently, had other ideas.

“Ruby…” Emma warned, but it lacked any real threat. Proper threatening required too much energy.

“Oh, don’t ‘Ruby’ me. You didn’t see him when you first walked in the tent in that costume. Granny really outdid herself. I could practically see the hearts shooting out of his eyeballs.”

Emma slumped onto her bed and tugged the elastic out of her ponytail. “That’s not exactly how I remember it.”

No, Emma remembered hiding behind the tent flap feeling self-conscious as all hell because her body had been poured into a getup that covered slightly less than a one-piece bathing suit. A really fancy bathing suit. Pitch black satin edged in feather-like swirls of beaded lace framed a blaze of creamy white down the middle of the front. Ruby’s Granny, the official seamstress and head cook for the circus, had truly outdone herself as Ruby said. As little as there was of it, Emma had never worn anything so beautiful.

She heard Killian call out, “Come on, Swan. Let’s get a look,” and begrudgingly complied, but kept her eyes down on the costume, tugging at where the corset-like bodice pinched her waist. She’d complained that the outfit felt like a sequined straight-jacket. He’d informed her cheekily that her discomfort was a cross he was willing to bear. She glared. He grinned. It was nothing more than their usual back-and-forth shtick.

“There were no heart eyes,” Emma concluded.

“Mmhm. You know wolves can smell pheromones, right?”

“You did not just say that.” Blood rushed in Emma’s ears and her cheeks burned and she wasn’t even sure if Ruby was talking about Killian’s pheromones or Emma’s and that somehow made it worse. Thankfully, Mulan came to her rescue.

“Must you alway be so crass?” Mulan scolded, but to little avail. Ruby grinned brightly and scrunched her nose at Mulan who took a seat beside her wayward roommate on the bunk opposite Emma’s with a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t mind her, Emma. But seriously, how did rehearsal go? Are you excited about your first show?”

“Yeah, I guess. Sure.” Excited was… one word for it. The reminder of tomorrow’s performance hit Emma like a bucket of ice water. When not two minutes ago, she’d been ready to sleep for days, now a buzz of nerves spread from the pit of her stomach to the tips of her fingers. A familiar tingle built up in her palms and she rubbed them against her thighs to make the feeling go away. Some people carried their stress in their shoulders or back, but for Emma it had always been her hands.

Sensing her unease, Mulan leaned across the narrow space between the bunks and placed a hand on Emma’s forearm. “Sure you’re okay?”

Emma looked between Ruby and Mulan’s concerned faces. This was new. This thing where people seemed to care how she was feeling. Who actually asked how she was doing. But from day one at the Circus, everyone had accepted her. No questions asked. Like, “Oh, you’re here. Good. We’ve been saving you a seat.”

It felt foreign and strange and Emma refused become accustomed to it. But it was kind of nice? Maybe it would be okay to have friends. Just for now.

Emma pressed her lips together and focused on her hands. “I’m not really used to being the center of attention, I guess. All those people in the audience staring at me kinda freaks me out. And what if-” Emma stopped herself, afraid to voice the fear that niggled at the back of her mind. After a beat, she looked up and saw nothing but genuine compassion in her roommates faces. “What if I screw the whole thing up? Would Regina kick me out for ruining her show?”

“Of course not!”

“Oh, honey, no.”

They both quickly reassured her. Ruby stood and pulled Emma to her feet. There wasn’t much space in the sleeping area of the trailer, so Ruby tugged on Emma’s hand to move her into the kitchenette. Mulan followed them.

“Here’s the secret: whatever screw ups happen -” Ruby shook her long dark hair back from her shoulders and gestured as broadly as the limited space allowed. “- you pretend like you did it on purpose and it’s part of the act. Watch this.”

Ruby grabbed a pair of oranges from a bowl on the counter and began to juggle them. Grinning, Mulan picked up a third orange and tossed it at Ruby. For about two seconds, it looked like Ruby would catch it and keep going, but she fumbled, tossing one orange into the air too soon so that all three were airborne at the same time. In the blink of an eye, Ruby threw out a now magically clawed hand and took a fierce swipe. Three sliced oranges fell to the table with a wet splatter.

“Ta-da!” Ruby beamed, gracefully flexing her now human-again fingers.

Mulan laughed lightly and reached for an orange slice, but Ruby’s party trick hadn’t convinced Emma. “That’s pretty cool and all, but what about those of us who can’t mutate into a fruit ninja?”

Ruby sat down at the tiny kitchen table and patted the seat next to her for Emma to join her. “No, no, no. The point is that if you’re gonna screw up, go big and really sell it.”

Mulan pushed herself up to sit on the counter, her feet dangling next to Ruby’s shoulder. “She’s right. The audience doesn’t know what you’re supposed to be doing, so as long as you look like you did it on purpose, they’ll never know the difference.”

Emma exhaled slowly. “I think I can work with that.”

“Besides,” Mulan added, “if you really screw up that badly, Regina can just put a memory spell on the whole crowd and they’ll think they watched the greatest show on earth.”

“Has that ever happened?”

Mulan kept her face completely impassive. “Not that I recall. But then I guess I wouldn’t, would I?”

Emma’s eyes widened in alarm.

“She’s joking.” Ruby reached back to flick Mulan on the knee. “You’re so deadpan. No one ever knows you’re joking.”

A small smile broke through on Mulan’s face and Emma finally relaxed enough to smile back. Mulan hopped down from the counter. “How about I make you some tea to help you sleep?”

Emma cocked an eyebrow at her. “This isn’t some kind of potion, is it?”

Mulan shook her head. “Nah. Just Sleepytime Tea. From a box with a bear wearing a nightcap on it.” She opened a drawer and scanned the contents. “But now that I’ve offered it, looks like I left the box in the main kitchen. I’ll run over to the cook house and get it. Ruby, you want anything else from over there?”

“Not unless you find the old lady’s liquor stash.”

Mulan rolled her eyes, but smiled at her friend. “Be right back, guys.”

Ruby’s eyes followed Mulan out the trailer door, and as it snicked shut a tiny sound like a hum escaped her lips. When Ruby finally turned around, Emma fixed her with a smirk. “What was that you were saying about pheromones again?”

For the first time in the week Emma had known her, Ruby Lucas actually blushed. “Oh, that’s nothing. Just a little crush.” She flicked her hand in front of her as if to wave the idea away.

“And here you were giving me grief about Killian Jones! So, what’s the deal with you two?”

Ruby sighed. “There’s no deal. Mulan’s still hung up on someone she was in love with before.” Her exaggerated pronunciation of that final word made it sound heavier somehow.

“What do you mean before?”

“Before she joined Le Cirque Noir. Everybody here, we’ve all got a before. Some tragic origin story. It’s why no one here judges. We’re all misfits and losers, but at least we’ve got each other. Just one big wacky family.”

Ruby offered her a grin that seemed to say, “...and it can be your family now, too.”

The words hung in the air between them. Emma’s hands tingled again and the feeling seemed to spread to her chest. This was dangerous ground. Families and homes - even as non-traditional as this one - those things were for other people. Not her. And yet no matter how hard she tried to pluck it out, the tingle in her chest became a tiny seedling of hope.

She couldn’t deal with that - didn’t want to anyway - so she shoved the feeling behind all of her usual defense mechanisms and redirected the conversation. “So what happened in Mulan’s before?”

“I don’t know all of it. You might’ve noticed, Mulan isn’t really one to talk about herself - kinda like someone else I know.” Ruby pointed raised an eyebrow at Emma. “Anyway, what I do know is that it involved her getting her heart broken and the woman she loved moving on without her. She isn’t ready to let go yet.”

Shit, that hit close to home. Redirect, redirect, redirect. “Is it hard to be friends with her when you…” Emma gestured vaguely “You know?”

Ruby shook her head, a self-deprecating smile curving her red lips. “Nah. Like I said, it’s just a little crush. I’m convinced that the girl of my dreams is still out there somewhere over the rainbow.”

--/--

Emma placed the last of about two dozen bobby pins holding the intricate crown braid together. Ruby had helped her plait her hair before heading off to the Big Top to make sure her Red Riding Hood costume was ready backstage. In Le Cirque Noir’s version of the story, Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf were one and the same. More of that shifter humor, apparently.

One more shot of hairspray, a tug at a loose bead on her bodice, one more coat of lipstick - Emma couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting. Everything will be fine, she told herself for the thousandth time. Ruby and Mulan had been very reassuring before they left to warm up for their own acts, but still… Emma squeezed through the louvered doors of the tiny bathroom, and paced up and down the length of the trailer, hands waving through the air as she reviewed her routine in her head. A knock on her trailer door snapped her out of her downward spiral.

She opened the door and her mouth went dry, one foot sort of hovering half-way through a step it forgot to finish. She tried to say “hi”. Couldn’t think of the word “hi”. Could really only think two words on repeat: holy shit holy shit holy shit. Killian Jones stood on her front steps dressed in a long, black leather coat, blood red brocade vest and barely-buttoned black shirt. Half steampunk, half swashbuckler and completely devastating. He held a single long-stemmed rose in his hand and offered it to her with a courtly bow.

“You look stunning, Swan.”

Emma blinked a couple of times, finally managing to shake off her stupor. “You...look…”

“I know,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

“What happened to the whole, ‘I’m my own costume’ thing?” Emma stepped aside to allow him into the trailer. Emma accepted the rose and turned away from him to get a glass from the kitchen cabinet to use as a makeshift vase. Not at all because she needed a moment to collect herself.

“This-” Killian made a sweeping head to toe gesture once Emma faced him again “-is my costume for the grand entry parade. I’m a showman after all. Might as well dress the part.”

You could’ve warned me. “Well, it looks like you went all out.”

“As did you. The audience won’t be able to take their eyes off you, love.”

Emma looked off to the side, her earlier anxiety curling its tentacles around her lungs and squeezing. “That’s kind of what I’m afraid of, but um…” She met his eyes again. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” Killian pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning against, leading with his hips. He offered her his arm. “May I escort our newest star to her debut performance?”

It was such a cheesy thing to do, but his exaggerated chivalry helped to shake loose the grip of her nervousness. “If I say no, are you gonna follow me anyway?”

Killian’s eyes did that twinkly thing again and crinkled a little at the corners and it was all just completely unfair. “Aye. Probably.”

Emma laughed, finally feeling ready to face a Big Top full of spectators. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Then lead on, Catboy.”

“As the lady wishes.”

--/--

Much to her surprise, Emma’s first performance went off without a hitch. All three Jones brothers hit their marks with practiced ease. Killian behaved himself, no headbutting or tail swishing at her. She didn’t drop her whip even once. And the crowd…

Emma had never experienced anything like it. People - hundreds of people - cheering for her. She’d heard about the allure of the spotlight and the roar of the crowd, but now that she’d actually lived it, the feeling was beyond anything she could have imagined holed up alone in her room at a group home. By the time the music went into its final chorus, Emma wished they could do an encore.

And so it went week after week. Emma settled in to the rhythm of the Circus: travel, rehearse, perform, repeat. Some nights the younger cast members stayed up late around a bonfire laughing and passing around a bottle of cheap wine. Other nights it was just Emma and her roommates trying to get a good enough wifi signal to stream Netflix. Everybody pitched in when there was work to be done. Everybody came together for dinner.

They bickered, as family does, with the occasional outright fight. Some combination of two or more of the seven dwarf brothers ended up pummelling one another at least once a week. Emma generally avoided the worst of the drama, but one night she’d seriously considered skinning Killian’s furry self alive and hanging his pelt on her wall.

It had started small - a few of his earlier panther shenanigans creeping into the actual show instead of keeping the nonsense to rehearsal. He’d refuse to do a trick here and there unless she tossed him a treat or petted his ears. It irritated her but she could handle it. So, of course he had to escalate.

For one entire performance, Killian did nothing but rub his head against her and roll around on the ground on his back at her feet until Regina stepped up to the microphone to play it off as part of the show. She asked the audience what they should do with this ferocious beast and they unanimously demanded that Emma rub his belly. Emma threatened him under her breath to use the whip for real, but he only looked up at her with those big, blue cat eyes and licked his chops. The audience went nuts over it. Emma seethed behind her brightly painted smile.

That is, until he showed up at her trailer the next morning with an apology and a box of bear claws.

“How did you know these were my favorite?”

Killian tilted his head, eyes wide with false innocence. The affectation reminded Emma so much of his panther-self, she nearly laughed. “A little birdy told me? Actually,” he continued, making himself at home at her kitchen table, “a little bird told Mary Margaret, who then told me.”

Emma sat down next to him and snatched a pastry from the box. “The bird-talker. Right. That’s… not creepy at all.”

“Creepy bird factor aside, am I forgiven, Swan?”

Emma bit into a bear claw, practically moaning at the sugary goodness. “You’re forgiven, Catboy,” she answered around a mouth full of food. “Just don’t do it again.”

--/--

Emma actually liked life at the Circus. She’d lived in tolerable places before. She would even go so far as to say she’d been happy once. With Neal, during their “Bonnie and Clyde” run before everything went to hell. Even then, though, the life itself wore on her. She knew they couldn’t keep going that way, sleeping in a car, showering at truck stops, eating burritos stolen from a convenience store. She just thought when they decided to quit running, they’d settle down together.

Life at Le Cirque felt stable. Surprisingly normal considering the extremely not-normal circumstances. Only a month ago, the idea she could be some kind of freak terrified her, but now… now that she had gotten comfortable, a new fear started to creep in. What if she wasn’t?

Weeks turned into months, and no ‘latent abilities’ surfaced for Emma. Not a single sign of any powers whatsoever. It bothered her. Worried her. What would happen if she never got powers? If she turned out to be nothing more than a regular human?

“Emma!” Liam’s voice broke through her dark train of thought. “You missed the cue again.” He crossed the sawdust strewn ring to where she stood, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. Liam ducked down into her line of sight, encouraging Emma to meet his eyes. “Is everything alright, love? You look a bit peaky.”

Emma forced herself to drop her arms, and shook out her hands. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been clenching them. “I’m fine. Sorry. I just got distracted.”

Liam studied her for a moment, a worried frown marring his features. “Perhaps we’ve all had enough rehearsing for one morning. You run along, love. Besides, I believe Regina said she’d like a chat with you.”

Icy dread wrapped its fingers around Emma’s heart. This was it. She was about to get fired. Emma walked out of the tent on auto-pilot, not looking back when Killian called after her.

--/--

Killian found her eventually. He always managed to find her, but then again, this time she hadn’t exactly made it difficult.

“I’m not sure about your choice of thinking places, Swan. Is there something about the smell of grease and burnt sugar that calms you?”

Several hours had passed since Liam had dismissed rehearsal, and Emma sat in the grass behind the snack bar, arms wrapped around her knees. “Did you seriously come back here to critique my hiding place?”

Killian sat down next to her, nudging her shoulder with his until she raised her head. “No. I came back here because I was worried about you. What did Regina want?”

“Magic lessons. She wants to give me magic lessons, or tried to, actually. We looked through books and incantations and magical objects and - did you know she speaks Elvish? Elvish! And nothing worked. I’m never gonna be able to do this. I don’t know why she even thinks I have magic.”

Killian pursed his lips, considering his answer. “Regina has been doing this for quite some time. Her instincts are usually correct.”

“I think her instinct by the end was to toss me off a cliff and see if I could poof myself a bridge.” Emma huffed. “She’d have been fine with either possible result.”

“Do you believe you have it?”

His gentle tone soothed some of the bitterness in her thoughts. Emma sighed heavily, dropping her head back onto her arms. “I don’t know. How could I possibly know that?”

“It tends to run in families?”

No point in hemming and hawing. Killian was a smart guy. The squeak in his voice when he asked the question told her he already knew the answer. “I don’t know anything about my family. Next.”

“Bitten by a radioactive spider?”

She actually heard him smirking that time. Emma turned her head enough to glare at him, but a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Nope. No spidey-sense. Next.”

“How about this: has anything unexplainable or overly coincidental happened to you when you were in a heightened emotional state?”

Emma raised her head fully, and narrowed her eyes at him. “Regina asked me that.”

“And?”

“There was this one time. It’s actually kind of why I’m here. I got into a bad situation and I almost got arrested. I was supposed to meet someone in a parking garage, but they didn’t show. They called the cops and tipped them off, so I’d get busted instead of them. So there I am in this garage with a stolen watch on my wrist and the cop has his gun pointed at me. But then the light above my head exploded and there were all these sparks. The cop looked away from me and lowered his gun to duck and I just ran.”

“How were you feeling when that happened?”

“How the hell do you think I was feeling? I was scared out of my mind!” And hurt and betrayed and...

“I don’t know much about how magic works, Swan, but I do know it’s rooted in emotions. It could’ve simply been a coincidence. Or, it could be that your fear in that moment caused the light to blow, thus giving you the chance to escape.”

“Great. So I need to be held at gunpoint to get my magic to work?” Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Maybe Regina really is going to push me off a cliff.”

“It needn’t be anything that dramatic.”

“So what are you going to do? Sneak up on me and yell ‘Boo’?”

“Tried that once and very nearly got myself stabbed for my trouble, so no thank you. However, it’s not a bad plan to try to provoke an emotional response.” He eyed her for a moment, his tongue tracing the edge of his teeth. “I can be quite provocative, you know.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but noticed her pulse had picked up a little bit. Was he sitting closer than before? “Oh, you provoke me alright.”

“Magic needn’t come from fear or anger. Perhaps I could stir up some other, more pleasurable feelings for you.” Killian reached a finger back to scratch behind his ear and smoothly traced it down his cheek to tap against his lips.

Was he actually suggesting-? “Please,” Emma scoffed, “You couldn’t handle it.” He was definitely closer now and definitely looking at her lips and maybe she didn’t mind that as much as she should.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Oh, but no. This was her chance. To finally wipe that smug smirk off his face. To finally render Killian Jones speechless. Her pulse raced, her stomach fluttered, her eyes zeroed in on his tempting, teasing mouth and she pounced. Grabbing him by the front of the shirt, Emma hauled him to her, kissing the living hell out of him.

It took him the space of a heartbeat to realize what was happening, but as soon as he did, he joined in enthusiastically. A low gutteral sound of pleasure rumbled through his chest, and she could feel it more than hear it because of the way their bodies pressed together. She wasn’t sure how she’d ended up sort of in his lap, but she couldn’t find it in her to care because his stupid messy hair was so soft between her fingertips and his lips were just as warm and supple as they looked, and he was holding her so, so tightly as though he never wanted to let her go.

A quick break for air, their chests heaving in unison, and they dove back in. Swaying together, exploring each other, the rest of the world a distant memory. Somewhere inside her, something shifted into place. Emma felt lighter than air, as though the only thing keeping her grounded were Killian’s strong arms around her. Her skin hummed with energy. She was flying, she was glowing, she was… oh holy shit she was kissing Killian Jones!

Another break for air. Her lips chased his against her will, but she forced herself to pull back, keeping her face as neutral as possible.

Killian on the other hand… There was nothing neutral about him, with his eyes glazed, and his hair a dark riot from Emma’s fingers. His nose traced the curve of her cheek, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to lean back into him at the ragged sound of his voice. “That was…”

A terrible idea? The best idea ever? Everything? No. Dangerous is what it was. Emma cleared her throat and stood awkwardly.

“It didn’t work.” She held up one hand, wiggling her fingers in demonstration.”Still no magic. Now come on, we need to get back to rehearsal.”

Emma walked away without looking back. She couldn’t bear to see him so beautifully wrecked. Couldn’t bear the thought that she might look the same. But, as usual, he caught up to her. “You know, love, one of these days I’m going to stop chasing after you.”

Though the admonishment lacked any real heat, Emma’s heart stuttered. She drew up short, but before she could form a response, Leroy, one seventh of the dwarf acrobatic squad and part-time handyman, stomped up to them.

“If you’re headed back to the Big Top, sister, don’t bother. All practices are cancelled for this afternoon.”

“Why?” Emma asked.

“I’ve gotta go fix the breaker box. There was some kind of weird power surge a few minutes ago. Didn’t you guys see the lights flicker? It happened all over the whole lot.”

Stunned speechless, Emma merely nodded her acknowledgement at the man. Meanwhile, Killian was grinning at her like the were-panther who ate the canary.

“Still think it didn’t work, Swan?”

Emma couldn’t think, couldn’t get enough air in her lungs. She needed to get away. To be alone for a while to process. “I'm going back to my trailer. Don’t follow me.”

For a guy who just a second ago was bursting with smugness, there was a striking note of longing in his voice when he answered, “As you wish.”

--/--

It couldn’t be. For so, so very many reasons, it couldn’t be. The power surge couldn’t have been her. And it sure as hell couldn’t have been because she was kissing Killian. Because that would mean…

No. It’d less than a dozen weeks since Neal. She couldn’t be developing feelings for someone else so soon. Shouldn’t be having feelings for anyone at all. Hadn’t she learned anything? Her brain kept telling her to get a grip. Shore up her defenses. Her heart though - all it wanted to do was beat next to Killian’s.

Emma couldn’t sleep that night. Every pop and creak in the darkness of her trailer, every light that flickered through her window - it made her wonder. She felt like hell the next morning and barely even had to fake illness to convince Regina she couldn’t rehearse or attempt any more magic that morning. Blessedly Ruby and Mulan backed her story. She knew her roommates heard her tossing and turning all night, and god knows the entire cast had seen the power surge the day before, but they didn’t press her for information. They just snuck her some breakfast from the cook house, and told her they’d check on her at lunch. The idea that she had real friends in her corner, well… that messed with her insides as much as anything else.

When she emerged the that afternoon, twenty four hours post-kiss, she found Killian sitting outside her trailer to greet her. Sleek and whiskery and right by her side as always. He didn’t shift into human form and try to talk to her. He just nuzzled her hand and looked up at her with glowing eyes that seemed to say, “I was worried about you.”

Emma told herself things could and should go back to normal. She tried over the next few days to act as though nothing had happened. That was what she wanted, right? If she could get her head on straight where Killian Jones was concerned, then maybe - maybe she could get a handle on the whole magic thing. So why did her freaking heart have to flutter every time she looked at him?

Pretending wasn’t cutting it. The situation required full-on avoidance.They needed to work together for the act, but outside of performances and rehearsals, Emma did as much as possible to lose her ever-present feline shadow.

“Swan, the Circus grounds aren’t very large, you can’t keep avoiding me forever.”

Emma kept walking. “I’m not avoiding you. I’m just dealing with stuff.”

“Right. Of course. Go ahead. Don’t tell me you’re not avoiding me anymore because I’m actually quite perceptive and this-” he gestured between them “-this is avoiding me.”

“Killian, I’m not in the mood.”

He caught her arm, spinning her to face him. “Look, if this is about the kiss-”

“That’s what you think this is about?” Emma interrupted, shrugging her arm out of his grasp.

“Is that not what it’s about? Swan that kiss meant something to me and if you’re honest with yourself, I believe it meant something to you, too. But I don’t expect anything from you. I won’t press the issue. There’s no reason we can’t even bloody talk to each other. We have to work together, love. At some point you have to trust me.”

“Trust is… not really my thing.”

“And why is that?’

“Because everyone I’ve ever cared about has left me behind! My parents, foster families, the guy I-” Emma froze. She hadn’t meant to mention him. She hadn’t meant to say any of this.

Killian nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. “And the guy, eh? I’m assuming this would be the person who was supposed to meet you in the parking garage.” Emma looked down at her boots and that apparently was confirmation enough. “Did you love him?”

“Killian…”

“Humor me.”

She snapped her eyes up to meet his. “Yes. I loved him. And I got my heart broken. That enough humor for you?” Emma kept her voice completely flat and finished with a sarcastic smile.

His whole demeanor softened. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’re glad to hear I had my heart broken?”

“If it can be broken, it means it still works.”

The heartbreaking gentleness in his face and voice knocked something loose inside of her. Emma opened her mouth but no words came out. No clever retort. God, how did she get here? He’s right. On some level she knew he was right, or at the very least he’s not wrong. For all she’s been through in her seventeen years on this earth, she can’t quite kill the hope inside her that home does exist. That there are people she can trust. That she can find someone to… But no. What if she was wrong about him? About all of this? She can’t - won’t take that chance.

She didn’t belong here. She couldn’t make her magic work, if she had any to begin with. She needed to get the hell away from Killian Jones and his eyes that could see right through her, no matter how loudly her heart was shouting at her to stay. What did it know?

Thankfully at that moment, Mulan walked up to them. “Emma. There you are. Regina’s looking for you. She said she found some new spell book she wants you to try.”

With a heavy heart and a tight-lipped smile at Killian, Emma walked away.

That night as she lay in her bunk, Emma made up her mind. She’d been here too long. She was getting too attached. All of Regina’s attempts to coax her magic out had failed, and it was only a matter of time before Regina gave up on her. Tomorrow night was a full moon. When Ruby went out for her run through the woods and Mulan went to sleep, Emma would leave Le Cirque Noir.

--/--

Packing didn’t take long. All Emma’s worldly possessions consisted of one sad little backpack and an old cigar box with a few keepsakes. She knew she was a coward for sneaking out, but it was less messy this way. No goodbyes. More importantly, no one to try to talk her out of it, and she really, really couldn’t handle someone trying to talk her out of it.

“Swan, where are you going.”

Emma nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. “Geez Killian, you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing out here this late?

“Couldn’t sleep.” His smile was tight and didn’t reach his eyes. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Emma tightened her grip on the strap of her backpack and tried fruitlessly to keep her tone casual. “I was just looking for Ruby.”

Killian narrowed his eyes as he approached her. “No. No, that’s not it. It’s a full moon tonight, Ruby’s probably out in the woods hunting rabbits right now.” He stopped right in front of her. “I know you’re new to this shifter business, but even you know better than to go traipsing off after a werewolf on a full moon. You’re running away.”

Emma planted her hands on her hips. “So what if I am?”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“I don’t want to talk to you about this.” Emma shook her head and moved to walk around him, but Killian kept talking.

“Think of what you’re leaving behind, Swan. Your family-”

That got her attention. Emma whipped her head around. “I don’t have a family.”

“That’s nonsense and you know it. You keep trying to run. What are you looking for?”

“Home.”

“This is your home, Swan. Here. With all of the people who-” She saw a flicker of hesitation cross his features before he finished the thought. “- who love you.”

God, it was all there. Everything she was afraid to face was right there looking her in the eyes. He held himself back from her, but she could see every emotion coursing through him in every clench of his jaw, every twitch of his dark brows. How could he do that? Open himself up like that? Look at her like- like-

Emma scoffed. “Look around Killian. I don’t belong here. I don’t see my family. I see fairy tales. I see magic and monsters and everything wonderful and special and it’s just… it’s not me. I’m not special. My magic - if I’ve really even got it - doesn’t work! I was never a part of this.”

“Then what are you a part of?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been a part of anything. I’m just a lost girl who never mattered. I always get left behind sooner or later.”

“So you run away before you can be left behind again. You’d rather leave everyone else behind. Don’t you even care about - about anyone here?”

“Of course I care. But I have to do what’s right for me and-”

The report of a shotgun pierced the night followed by a howl of agony. Emma and Killian’s eyes locked, their argument forgotten.

“Ruby!”

Even without a shifter’s enhanced hearing, Emma clearly made out the pitiful yelps and followed the sound into the trees. The sounds grew steadily louder until they crashed through the underbrush into a clearing to find an unnaturally large wolf with silvery eyes sprawled on its side. Blood matted Ruby’s dark, shaggy fur and her breaths came in shallow pants. Her cries of pain weakened into helpless whimpers, but as she caught sight of Emma and Killian she gave a whining cry of acknowledgement.

Emma knelt on the ground beside her friend and lifted Ruby’s head into her lap. “It’s okay,” she whispered, “It’s going to be okay.” But the words sounded hollow even to her own ears. Nothing about this was okay. Terror gripped Emma’s heart. Her friend - God, one of the only friends she’d ever had - was dying right in front of her and there wasn’t anything Emma could do about it.

Emma looked to Killian, her eyes pleading with him for a better answer than what she knew he could give. “You’re sure she can’t just shift and heal herself?”

He gave a small shake of his head. “It doesn’t work that way. Maybe if I shift, the panther would be strong enough to drag her back to the Circus lot?”

Emma surveyed Ruby’s broken body, tears pricking at her eyes. “I don’t think she’d survive the trip.”

Killian nodded. “You’re right. I’ll call Regina.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, glanced once at the screen then dropped it on the ground, growling with frustration. “No bloody cell signal out here.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and took a deep breath. “Alright Swan, it has to be you and it has to be now.”

“It has to be me what?” He wasn’t making any sense or maybe Emma just hadn’t heard him right over the rush of blood in her ears.

“You have to try to heal her. It’s her only chance.”

“But I don’t - I can’t-”

“You can, Swan. You have magic. You know you do. Stop running away from who you are. Think about how much you care about her, or how scared you are or - bloody hell, how angry you are at me! Whatever you have to do. Find that emotion and use it to save her.”

His eyes bored into hers and Emma couldn’t look away. The intensity of his gaze - no, the intensity of his belief in her grounded her. Broke through the haze of panic. He offered her his hand and she grabbed onto it like a lifeline.

“Now focus. You can do this, Emma.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Reaching deep within herself, Emma opened the floodgates of her guarded heart and allowed herself to feel how much she cherished Ruby’s friendship, how much she would miss her if she lost her, how much she’d miss everyone she had been planning to leave behind only an hour ago. You don’t have a home until you just miss it.

In that moment she knew. She had a home. She had a family. With that knowledge came a spark. A white-hot point of light, and Emma held onto it, pulled it up, up to the surface until it spread across her skin, accumulating in her palms and the tips of her fingers. A surging, radiating force just waiting to break free because a member of her family was dying and she’d be damned if she was going to let that happen.

Emma’s eyes sprang open and the first thing she saw was Killian’s face, a look of absolute awe across his handsome features. “What?” she murmured, a self-conscious smile tugging at her lips.

He bobbed his head in the direction of her lap. “Look down.”

Emma looked to find her hands glowing. Actually, literally glowing with bright white swirls of magic. She’d never wielded it before, not intentionally anyway, but some instinctive part of her knew exactly what to do.

“Killian, trade me places.”

He complied immediately, taking Ruby’s head into his lap and placing a hand on her shoulder to hold her steady. Emma took his place at Ruby’s back and extended both hands, fingers spread and palms down over Ruby’s side. The glow from her hands grew in intensity until it was nearly blinding. Emma had to close her eyes against the glare, but it didn’t matter. Some sense she never knew she possessed could feel the buckshot lifting from the wounds, the bone and flesh and fur knitting itself back together again, the blood returning to vital organs.

As suddenly as it had come, the light from her hands vanished. A loud yelp was the only warning Emma got before she found herself flat on her back on the ground, a paw larger than a human hand pinning her chest and a big, wet, rasping tongue licking her face.

“EW!” Emma squealed, giggling with relief. “Get off, ya mutt! You have dog breath!”

Ruby bared her wolfish teeth in something that looked (if a bit disturbingly) like a smile, and retracted her paw so Emma could sit up. She shook out her coat, rose onto her hind legs and shifted into a very much alive and whole human. She offered Emma a hand to get up from the ground and as soon as she was standing, pulled her into a bone crushing hug that Emma was more than happy to return.

“Look who’s a witch after all!”

“I guess I am.” Emma discreetly swiped a thumb under her eye before leaning back where Ruby could see her face.

“The bitch and the witch. Sounds like a pretty good band name.”

Emma laughed and shook her head, too relieved that her friend was okay to even bother with a sarcastic response or eye roll.

Killian hung back to give the girls their space, but Ruby waved him over and as soon as he was within reach, pulled him into a hug as well.

“Thank you. Thank both of you,” she said when she finally released the two of them from her death grip. “I was so focused on the prey I was chasing that I didn’t even smell that poacher.”

“We’re just glad you’re alright, Red,” Killian answered. “But if you’re feeling like some gratitude is in order, I know you know where Granny hides an extra pie. I certainly wouldn’t turn that down.”

“Done.” Ruby spun on her heel and headed out in the direction of the Circus lot with Killian following her, but Emma hesitated.

“Um, Ruby? Can we catch up with you in a minute?”

Emma was such a stew of emotions in that moment, that she didn’t even scowl at Ruby’s lascivious smirk. “Oh, take your time, honey.”

Ruby disappeared from their line of sight and Killian took a step closer to Emma. “If it’s privacy you're looking for, you know she can still hear us. Wolf senses and all that.”

“Oh I know. I’m fully expecting the third degree when I get back to the trailer later.”

“Back to the…” Killian tilted his head in bemusement. “Hold on, are you actually staying?”

“Why did you think I wanted to talk to you?”

“I assumed you were simply saying goodbye.”

“I do have something I want to say, but it isn’t goodbye.” Emma took a step toward him. “I want to thank you, Killian. For believing in me. No one has ever really done that before.”

He smiled broadly. “You’re a bloody hero, Swan. A marvel. Believing in you is as easy as breathing.”

Blushing, Emma glanced away needing a respite from the earnestness in his eyes. “I wanted to say something else, too.”

“Aye, what is it?”

“That you were right.”

“Well, a man loves to hear that, darling, but what exactly was I right about?” Some of his customary swagger had returned as he stepped closer.

“That this is my home. This Circus, these people.” One more step and they were toe to toe. Emma lightly rested her hands on his chest, feeling the wild beat of his heart beneath her hand. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she looked up into his face, his expression so full of hope and promise, and she wasn’t afraid anymore. “You.”

He searched her eyes even as his hands found her waist, gripping there as if convinced she would try to run again. “You really are staying.”

Emma smiled and curled her hands around the lapels of his jacket. “I really am staying.”

“Then allow me to be the first to say, welcome home, Swan.” Or, at least that’s what she thought he was trying to say. Impatient half-way through the sentence, Emma hauled his mouth to hers and the last few words had been little more than a murmur against her lips.

Her hands found their way under his jacket and around his back, his tangled into her hair cradling the back of her neck. They swayed together in the moonlight as with each brush of lips and tongue the kiss grew deeper and sweeter. Determined and slow and steady as the stars shining down on them in the clearing.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Emma knew that eventually they would have to stop. To go back and join the others, probably to the soundtrack of a few catcalls and wolf whistles when they showed up in the cook house hand-in-hand. But right now she couldn’t bring herself to care. Right now everything was perfect and right and good. Emma Swan had finally found her home.

End Notes: I have never done a magic AU before so this was a little outside my comfort zone, but it was so much fun to write! If you made it this far, thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear what you think! I have a multitude of headcanons about this 'verse. Hit me up if you'd like to hear about anything. Please be sure to check out all the fantastic stories and artwork in this year's CSLB. That's what I'm doing right now ;-)

#cslb #cs ff #cs magical circus au #shapeshifter!Killian #cs au ff

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hazbinextgeneration · 4 years

Text

Down The Rabbithole Ch7

The clear and crisp day made it where anyone would be happy to go outside and play all day in this lovely spring whether, but that did not comfort the girl under the covers of the bed at ALL as she curled up and under the blanket more away from the sunlight that threatened to wake her up. She did not want to brace the day or even bother to get up and go anywhere at all. She was perfectly content with staying right where she was and not going anywhere but her home. ....But this wouldn't be her home for too long. You see. A man came, a man in a fancy suit and tie came in a big fancy car and knocked in her door. She had never seen him before but had stood at the top of the stairs and listened in when her granny sent her upstairs to play. She watched as the well dressed man was invited in by her granny and sat down in the living room by the fire place and offered some tea by her granny. She still remembered what the man had said to her.

"Ma'am. I'm with Social Services and lately we've gotten record of a young girl in your care?"

"Yes. Allison's been living with me since her parents ran off to lord knows where," her granny crossed her arms and rose a brow, "Do forgive my bluntness, Sir. But what business would you have with me now?"

"No offense taken, Ma'am. But...We are concerned for her educational and social needs."

"And what concerns are those? She knows how to read and write, and other basic math and science things I learnt. And it's not like she's being left alone in the middle of the woods!"

The man held up his hands. "I'm not discrediting what you've done for her, Ma'am. It couldn't have been easy. But the fact of the matter is, your time and this time is different. She's going to need a better education and social skills for later in life, and by law she's supposed to have started school last year when she turned six. Our records say she's seven now and hasn't been enrolled in any online or public schools. And with your age and living so far from any civilization, along with our records,....we have to do what's best for the child."

"...What are you saying then?"

The man sighed. "What Im saying is that the child would be better off in the care of another realitive. The agency found an older cousin of yours." He made a shrugging movement. "Nice small town with low crime rates, the school is a nice one with a decent average score rating, and said realitive has a decent track record herself and has children of her own. It'd be the perfect place for her."

"You can't just take her from me!"

"Can you supply her a sufficient home? Ma'am you're already in your sixties, if something were to happen to you it would leave her in a state of unknowing on her own which would lead to an even harsher outcome. How can you gaurentee her safety?" Her granny remained silent....and the man sighed and stood. "It's not my choice to make anyways. I'm only here to deliver the message, but the court has decided. Miss Allison Gale will be removed from your care within a week's time. I suggest you have her ready by then. Mrs. Gale."

All she remembered was the sound of her granny crying and the next week after that her granny being very clingy towards the small seven year old her. The child barely got to spend anytime with Chesire or play that week because her granny insisted on having her spend time with her baking things or reading her stories, to even sitting down and playing with her. Of course the young cat was always just out of sight of the old lady, peeking around the corner or floating near the ceiling watching annoyed and curiously at the old lady playing and suddenly spending so much more time with her granddaughter and spoiling her for a few days. Allison could only spend a little bit of time with him right before she fell asleep but the cat was angered and annoyed.! How dare they try to take her away!? She was perfectly fine where she was! Those last nights were spent with her crying and hugging him and begging her granny not to let her go and making a promise to her friend she would come back and they would play again. But that morning....That fateful morning would be her last time there. As footsteps approached her bed the blanket was yanked off her and the child didn't react as the face of her granny was standing there in tears. She didn't react when she was made to get out of bed and get dressed. Went to her Granny's hold as she cried her eyes out over her departure, nor when she was taken down the steps and to the front door. A blue head poked out of her bedroom doorway as soon as the two were outside and he zoomed to the window to watch.

A shiny black car was sitting in the dirt driveway and a different man in a suit was standing there already putting Allison's suitcase into the back of the car as the crying old lady hugged the tiny child goodbye before the man took her and put her in the back of the car. The seat belt clicked into place before the door was closed and the young girl stared out the window as the engine started up. First she glanced at the crying grandmother as she cried her heart out as the car pulled away. But the child caught another person staring at her through the window as she was taken away for years.

A young chesire cat. Looking down from her bedroom window as fat tears rolled down his cheeks-

"Miss Allison?"

Red eyes blinked open from the world of sleep and blinked tiredly as two pink blurs were looking down at her. The human woman groaned as she laid on their floor, before she slowly sat up and stretched. Yawning as she did before reaching up to rub at her eyes. The polka dot blanket fell off of her as the blurs slowly turned into a small clown and small rabbit....Who-? Where was-?...OH! Right. She could've sworn all of yesterday was a dream by the way that dream was, but nope! The two were smiling at her before Marsh held up a small tray to her with a smile.

"It ..may not be healthy for a human." He set the small tray on her lap. A small plate of tea cakes and mini sandwiches were on it, with a cup of what smelt like English breakfast tea. "But it's all we have. And it'd be unwise for you to venture on such a long journey with an empty stomach. I don't think you have any gold coins or jewels to trade for food in town, so it's best you eat up before you set on your way."

.....Oh. Right. Her next long trip to find these Twiddle Sisters. "T-Thank you." She said and she grabbed one of the chocolate looking macaroons as the two smiled.

"Of course. It'd be very unkind of us to let you leave with an empty stomach! And Chesire would've been saddened if we didn't treat a friend of a friend with hospitality!"

She blinked and swallowed the coco macaroon. "....I wonder where he is? He hasn't shown up has he?"

Both shook their heads before Hatter spoke. "He's prolly just wondering around doing cat things! He'll show up eventually! Don't worry! You remember how to get to your destination right?" ....Allison blinked her half tired brain at him and hummed. "Go back to the fork in the road and travel to the second fork. Go right at the second one and walk straight ahead until you come to Enchanted Vil. and look for the building called Granny's Cottege! You can't miss it!"

".....Walk down. Second fork. Go right. Granny's Cottege. Got it!" She smiled a little bit before popping another in her mouth. "...I wonder what that cat's doing now?"

"Trust us! Whatever it is, We're sure he's just fine!!"

***************************************************************************************************************

HE. WAS. NOT. FINE!!

Thunder and lightning lit up the sky as rain poured in gallons as it still stormed outside, but thankfully the more dangerous thunder had passed. But that didn't matter tiny paws held a secpter out and directed it as a conductor would a baton stick to lead the band. Only this thing was directing a whole clump of glass shards and the cat wielding the magic gritted his fangs as he pushed his magic to it's limits and formed the few pieces back into one. Cracking sounds sounded out as the pieces of the reflective puzzle were put back together and forced backwards towards the massive mirror that was leaned and reinforced to the wall as to not let anything knock it over this time. It had a few pieces of it's once shiny magnificence already put back into place, not even half of it yet. The new big glass fragment crackled more as it joined the fixed glass already on there as his body shook forcing it to fix. Once it crackled fully back into place he stopped and let out a groan. Letting his arms drop to his sides. ....This was the problem with magic mirrors. They worked GREAT as portals and for spells, but once they broke it took a HECK amount of magic to be put back together again. And unfortunately it took a lot out of him. Thankfully the magic portal would still work perfectly once he put it back together, but he needed to rest now for a few hours before he could move onto the next few pieces.

His panting body looked back down to the amount of mirror shards he still had to put back together and meowed pathetically. Dropping the scepter in favor to start pacing his mind started racing with questions. Where was she? Did anything bad happen to her? Did she get hurt from the fall? Was Allison ok? It's already been a full day and night and she had no idea of the dangers of his world. If the Queen of Hearts found out a human landed in her kingdom-...He growled as his eyes turned into slits. Allison would be forced to battle for her freedom and if she lost, she'd be forced to be enslaved or locked in the dungeon for the rest of her life, and he COULDN'T allow that. Not when he just got his old friend back and spent only a month together! He lost her once and by fur he wouldn't let it happen again.

But for now he would rest and work as fast as possible. And hoped to the mighty Mother Goose that she was alright.

0 notes

junker-town · 5 years

Text

Every animal face-off in the BBC’s new nature documentary, rated

Sylvain CORDIER/Gamma-Rapho via Getty Images

David Attenborough’s new show is epic ... and sports.

We continue our extremely important mission to conduct a scene-by-scene review of the BBC’s new nature documentary, Seven Worlds, One Planet, in order to see how sports it is. We determined that Episode 1, which focused on Antarctica, was reasonably sports. Asia was very sports. Time for ...

Episode 3 South America

Scene 1: Puma vs. Guanaco

Feeding a family of three is hard, especially if you’re a single mother who is also a Patagonian puma. Mountain lions, the Americas’ second-largest cat, don’t get the reputation they deserve: their glory is stolen overseas by African lions and tigers and at home (at least in South America) by the jaguar. But all big cats are worth our attention, because they’re designed to kill you. Yes, you personally.

Possessing murderous grace, strength complimented by rending claws, surprising stamina and teeth optimized to clamp around one’s neck just so, a puma is a serious predator. And, perhaps unfortunately for Patagonian pumas, they hunt serious prey: guanacos. They’re built for the mountains, with the ability to breathe very thin air. They’re also built for puma attacks. Thick skin around their neck helps protect them from the fatal bite, and their height and heft — over three times that of a mountain lion — does too. A guanaco is not an easy hunt.

But hunt them mother puma must. There’s the family to think of, after all. So we’re treated to a series of puma-guanaco battles, closely matched and extremely well-fought, on scrub and in snow.

youtube

Over a bruising few days, the mother, injured from an earlier attempt, finally makes a kill, sprinting to catch her foe, wrestling it to the ground, suffocating it with a bite and then dragging it over a mile back to her territory. Sometimes you just have to play through pain.

Aesthetics 10/10

Everything about this scene is beautiful, from the shapely mountains that backdrop the hunts to the limpid pools enjoyed by the cougar cubs. And both animals featured are lovely, too — we’ve discussed the murderous beauty of the puma, but there’s an elegant majesty to the hunted guanaco too.

Also, this dude makes a brief appearance:

BBC Earth

This is a dirty look that almost transcends perfection. Well done, grumpy old man puma.

Difficulty 10/10

The puma’s kill was difficult enough without having to drag a corpse a mile across the Patagonia scrubland while injured. That’s some good mothering.

Competitiveness 10/10

Guanaco are pretty spectacular things, and they gave the mother puma almost more than she could handle. An incredible battle.

Overall 30/30

Running to rodeo to wrestling to, uh, dragging? We’ll call this the puma tetrathlon, and it is definitely sports.

Scene 2: Turd Penguins

The Pacific coast of South America is shaped by the Andes above and the Atacama Trench below, where the Nazca Plate subducts under the continent to fuel its belching volcanic spine. The trench, and the Humboldt Current which flows above it, drive nutrients into the surface waters offshore, which attract some of the world’s largest concentrations of seabirds. And, therefore, also the world’s largest concentrations of seabird poop.

Guano has an incredible history. Seabird manure is extremely good for fertilizer, but in most areas of the world, many of the nutrients are washed out by rain. On the Peruvian coast, however, it doesn’t rain, so high-quality guano collects. And collects. And collects. When Alexander van Humboldt, who gave his name to the current (as well as a particularly disgusting species of penguin, whom we will be discussing later), brought back news of the Peruvian deposits, he sparked a massive guano boom.

For years, guano mining was the foundation of the Peruvian economy. Control of guano islands was so important that wars were fought over it, and the United States’ push into the Pacific was at least partly due to the search for new, uninhabited guano sites. The use of guano across the world has even been blamed — how credibly I’m not well-equipped to assess — for the particular strand of blight that caused the Irish Potato Famine. Until synthetic fertilizers were produced in the early 20th Century, guano was vital for world agriculture. Now it’s where some very awful penguins dig their disgusting little nests, coating themselves in the process.

My friends would describe me as dirty, but cute #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/TrsLBX0Y7c

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

NB: If you watch the full episode, be prepared to watch a penguin take a dump. Consider yourself warned.

Turd penguins, like their less smelly cousins, need to get to the sea to eat. And this is a more challenging affair than usual during breeding season, as the rich waters off the coast attract more than seabirds. Blocking off the penguins’ access is a full colony of sea lions.

I like to imagine (probably definitely incorrectly) that these sea lions are normally fairly chill animals. But when your nice, quiet beach is invaded by a shrieking mob of penguins LITERALLY COATED BEAK TO TAIL IN SHIT, it’s hard to be chill. And when those penguins ignore your warnings to go the fuck back to whatever shithole they came from and instead CROWD SURF OVER YOU, it’s even harder.

When you go into a store and the shop assistants pounce #SevenWorldsOnePlanet #amistakehasbeenmade pic.twitter.com/bI8DfPdAcL

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

Actual footage of life throwing me curveballs #SevenWorldsOnePlanet #oopsiedaisy pic.twitter.com/h5dn54cu5G

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

Turd penguin don’t give a fuuuuuuck.

Aesthetics 2/10

I’m the father of two small children and so consider myself fairly immune to whatever horrors bodily fluids might attempt to inflict upon me. But this is enormously gross, and not even some sassy sea lions can rescue it.

Difficulty 9/10

Running through a pack of angry sea lions who desperately want you to go away and could kill you quite easily is one thing. Using them as a jungle gym is another. Don’t try this at home. Actually, don’t try any of this scene at home.

Competitiveness 10/10

Humboldt penguins weigh somewhere around 10 pounds. An adult male sea lion can be as much as 20 times as heavy. Being willing to barge your way through/over a wall of angry muscle and blubber like that takes some incredible bravery.

Overall 21/30

Surfing is a sport, even when it’s done by unbelievably dreadful birds. Goodbye, turd penguins. I hated you.

Scene 3: Nerd Bears

There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd. Some of my best friends are nerds, after all. So when I say that the spectacled bear is a nerdy-looking bear, it’s out of affection. And accuracy:

Photo by Blick/RDB/ullstein bild via Getty Images

Cool glasses, nerd.

The spectacled bear is only found in the cloud forests of the Andes, and is correspondingly rare and vulnerable to habitat loss. But, like millennials, who do things like watch the world burning around them and yet spend their time shitposting about nature documentaries rather than actually doing anything useful, these bears love avocados. Even when those avocados are 30 meters off the ground.

These nerds aren’t as heavy as the polar or brown bears we met in the Asia episode, but they’re still reasonably heavy, and the thin branches that the avocados grow on are nowhere near big enough to support them. So the smart bears just bite into the branches so that they dangle down low enough for them to reach. The less smart bears bite them off entirely and have to climb all the way back down. Most fast and break things. That’s the nerd way.

Aesthetics 7/10

I’m mostly giving this a good score because there aren’t any penguins in it. But also these bears have some pretty good vibes:

Me living my best life #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/WMreQHmzww

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

Difficulty 5/10

That’s a pretty big tree to climb, and a pretty big body with which to climb.

Competitiveness 7/10

In the battle of bear and bear, all it takes is a little bit of technique and know-how to get the upper paw.

Overall 19/30

On the surface, the avocado hunt is not exactly the stuff to stir one’s blood. But there’s an important, if unspoken rule about sport-assessing, of which I am now a professional: if you watch cheating, there’s a pretty good chance that it’s sports.

Scene 4: Look at this monkey’s hair!

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These Cotton-top Tamarins are critically endangered, which is a big shame because they have cool hair. Their habitat is being destroyed for all the traditional reasons, and it’s depressing. You know the drill.

Aesthetics 10/10

Someone get me their stylist’s number ASAP. I can only assume Carlos Valderrama was inspired by these little dudes.

Difficulty 10/10

This was going to be a bunch of monkeys sitting around and looking cool while their home is being razed around them, like a primate version of the ‘This is Fine’ dog. And then one did an absurd tree jump, which would kill 100 percent of the humans that tried to match it.

Competition 0/10

Monkeys vs. praying mantis? No contest. Monkeys vs. the inexorable tide of ‘progress’ that is slowly grinding their entire species away. Also no contest.

Overall 20/30

If everyone doing long jumps at the Olympics had these haircuts they’d get way better sponsorships. Sports.

Scene 5: The Very Horny Bird Squad

Birdsong is one of the joys of spring, and it’s only improved by the knowledge that it’s a bunch of tiny dinosaurs loudly expressing their desperate need to make some babies. Cheep-cheep-sexnowplease-cheep. For many birds, mere song is not enough. Bright, ostentatious plumage is a sign that a male is healthy and thus that his courtship attempt is worth responding to. And sometimes, the female bird wants to see some dancing.

Bird courtship routines are a staple of natural history programming, but in the Amazon we’re treated something rather more curious: the Blue Manakin team dance.

youtube

The lead male bird somehow wrangles a squad of subordinates to help him do his *ahem* dirty work. Attenborough claims that “by supporting [the leader] now they may themselves eventually become leaders and get a chance to mate,” which sounds dubious to me. It’s basically a bird sex pyramid scheme, little buddies, so don’t fall for it. The leader’s out to screw you.

This scene is made much better by the fact that the female bird is completely uninterested.

Aesthetics 10/10

Beautiful birds, beautiful dance moves. I particularly love the synchronized shuffle-hop, but the final flap-your-wings-while-screaming routine might need some work (its target seemed to think so too).

Difficulty 8/10

I can’t even dance by myself, let alone in a group. How many hours of practice went into this routine?

Competition 7/10

This very good dance not being good enough strongly implies that there are other, more capable bird squads around.

Overall 25/30

Team dancing is sports, even if in this case it’s extremely horny sports.

Scene 6: Poison Dart Frogs

Living in the rainforest is a pretty good deal for poison dart frogs. It’s nice and damp, there are some great trees to hang out in, and since almost everything that touches you has an unpleasant experience they get a fairly stress-free time.

But there is a problem: standing water. With some deeply weird exceptions (don’t google the Suriname toad if you have trypophobia), amphibians need water in which to lay their eggs. There aren’t too many ponds to be had, up in the canopy. So they have to make use of the tiny pools of water that collect in bromeliads, one per egg. Sometimes they choose badly and the small pool in which the egg has been placed dried up before their tadpole has finished developing:

Blob fish or tadpole? You decide#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/DUr5hn8tbm

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

That tadpole is in trouble, and the only way to help is to get it to a real pool of water. That means relocation via piggyback ride, perhaps even to a new tree, and then a summoning of the tadpole’s mother to lay another (unfertilized) egg to serve as food. Yum yum.

Aesthetics 3/10

Poison dart frogs have bright and flashy coloring to warn predators not to eat them. These yellow-and-black ones are particularly smart-looking. But bright colors alone aren’t doing it for me.

Difficulty 6/10

When you’re less than an inch long, searching through the forest with a baby on your back for a new place to stash it must be very hard work. Remembering where exactly you’ve dumped all your children seems like a tough task too.

Competitiveness 2/10

I’m guessing that there are a bunch of other poison dart frogs looking for egg pools in this forest, so I guess they can have a couple points here.

Overall 10/30

Not sports.

Scene 7: Scarlet Macaws

Parrots jostle and fight for position on the banks of a particular stretch of the Amazon. Are they after food? Not exactly. Parrots’ diet is low in salt, and their chicks need salt to develop, and here, at the edge of the river, is salt-laden clay. So the parrots squabble to grab a chunk of mud, fly up to 50 miles (!) back to their nests, and feed it to their children.

Aesthetics 5/10

Scarlet macaws are pretty birds:

Nothing more romantic than a cheeky head scratch and a chest peck #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/kgea0ciCCg

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

And we get to see more than just them. There are plenty of blue-and-gold macaws (my favorites) battling it out for the mud too, plus a sizable squadron of what I think are probably Amazon parrots in their greens.

Difficulty 4/10

This is more annoying than difficult, apart from the very long distances the birds have to fly.

Competitiveness 3/10

If there was a real free-for-all this would have scored quite high, but there appear to be just enough rules in parrot society to keep the clay harvesting from descending into an all-out brawl.

Overall 12/30

Nope.

Scene 8: Un-diving

This is more like it. A thousand miles south of the parrot clay feast, a troop of brown capuchins is moving through the trees, looking for breakfast. Staring up at them, following their every move, are ... fish. The piraputanga are able to see the monkeys clearly because Bonito’s Rio da Prata is fed by freshwater springs, naturally filtered by the underlying rock.

Are these fish on the hunt for monkey meat? No. Like dogs following a toddler, they’re hoping for their scraps. When the monkeys find ripe fruit — impossible to spot from underwater — they stop and eat. Plenty drops into the river. But an anaconda soon interrupts breakfast, attempting to ambush the capuchins from underwater.

Fortunately, that’s not the end of the piraputangas’ meal. Now that they know where the fruit is, they have schemes of their own:

...Try, try again #SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/WEGJHlB1sm

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

I have to admit that I did not see this one coming.

Aesthetics 9/10

This is a beautiful scene. While none of the animals themselves are that attractive, the environments, particularly the crystal-clear waters of the Rio da Prata, are sublime. The anaconda’s slither through the mud carries with it potent, barely-seen menace. And then there’s the piraputanga jump. They have surprisingly good form, for fish.

Difficulty 8/10

Trying to jump several times your body height to grab something you can only barely see would be tricky enough if you were able to use your hands. Now imagine you have to do that with your teeth.

Competition 8/10

These fish mean business, and there’s not enough fruit to go round. After the monkeys are done with their handouts, the highest and best jumper is literally the one which gets to eat. A bonus point for the anaconda hunt.

Overall 25/30

Diving is sports. Un-diving is also sports.

Scene 9: Waterfall Skimmers

Norberto Duarte/AFP via Getty Images

Great dusky swifts will do a lot to protect their chicks. Harried and harassed by falcons, they have a perfect hiding spot for their nests: behind the thundering curtain of the Iguaçu Falls. The falls, on the border between Brazil and Argentina, are the biggest waterfall complex in the world, and the wet rock behind them is all that the chicks know before they take their first flight. Which is right through the pouring water and to the other side:

These great dusky swifts are able to fly right through the thundering torrents of water.#SevenWorldsOnePlanet pic.twitter.com/txtjP3mOFo

— BBC Earth (@BBCEarth) November 10, 2019

Birds nesting in challenging places gives their chicks a great chance in the earliest days but creates a terrible bottleneck later on. This trial by waterfall isn’t the worst thing nature does to baby birds, but it’s an impressive challenge to get past. Blind and bedraggled, these tiny, barely-fledged swifts have to force their way through the falls and out into the open air for the very first time. Their reward is some pretty damn good scenery, and probably getting eaten by a falcon or something.

(Bonus video!) Here is the worst thing that nature does to baby birds:

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Aesthetics 10/10

Lovely. While great dusky swifts aren’t very pretty on their own, especially when wet and flummoxed, the Iguaçu Falls are one of the planet’s most spectacular sights, and watching these 8-inch birds take them on is unbelievably cool.

Difficulty 10/10

This is another thing that would definitely kill you if you attempted it. Well, all flying would, but especially this one.

Competition 9/10

Little birds vs. enormous waterfall is a David-and-Goliath sort of deal.

Overall 29/30

Extremely sports.

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nrdynarwhal-blog · 7 years

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The Only Porchlight in The Abandonment

I’ve taken to calling the stretch of land surrounding our house “The Abandonment.” It is an ever-expanding space– three adjacent abandoned lots, two garages, a barn, three houses on our right and five houses on our left. It stretches two blocks behind our house, one to the right and three to the left– surrounding our house with overgrown, falling-down, litter-covered property beginning its re-wilding.

The Abandonment is far from deserted– abandoned by the humans that created it, but far from devoid of life. My daughter Tristen, our dog Gemma, and I have taken to exploring this space and documenting the goings on here.

Presently, the list of tenants is a little short. Feral cats live in the empty houses. Rats have colonized the barn and garage. They dart and dash between old tires and smashed television sets to avoid us on our weekly walks. The cats are braver. A big yellow and orange tom cat adopted us last summer. We called him Walter and he stayed with us for a few weeks before moving on. Our feral cats are a transient bunch. We never see the same cat more than three times. Winter has been particularly harsh (changing from cold to warm and from rain to snow as if flipping a coin) driving these urban animals to their breaking point. A wind storm in August destroyed my sunflower garden and with it went our flock of birds. Without all those seeds, there is a calorie deficit in The Abandonment– there is nothing for the birds, mice, and rats to eat. Our troop of scavengers: raccoons, groundhog, skunks and opossums don’t leave much for the smaller animals. These guys have a monopoly on our garbage. If it’s not in the metal can, its fair game. If it is in the metal cans, it’s for the raccoons.

In our almost-three-year tenure on 10th Street, I have only ever seen these raccoons on two occasions. The first was late one night in June or July right after we moved in. My husband, Justin, and I were sitting on the porch (with Gemma) having a late-night cigarette, when this portly creature came stumbling out of the abandoned lot next door. He waddled into our yard. Blinked at our porchlight. Looked slowly around at us and the dog. Made eye contact with Gemma then slunk along the shadows until he disappeared under our porch. Because he took us by surprise, my husband and I laughed as his striped tale vanished under the sideboards. But in truth, this raccoon made me uneasy. I was glad we had seen him at night so I could be almost sure he wasn’t rabid but not totally sure so we quickly retreated into the house and vowed to put the trash bags into the cans.

Stowe Township (out in the far west extremities of the Pittsburgh area, down by Mancini’s Bread) sits between McKees Rocks and Kennedy Township. Our neighborhood has the look of memory– most of the houses have been forgotten about. Once they were nice, but now they have fallen into a state between functional and abandoned: peeling paint and rotted wood stay so long as they do their jobs. While McKees Rocks was once a thriving machinery and railroad town, now it is mostly the temporary houses made for steel and railroad workers that have been bubble-gummed-and-duck-taped into lasting until 2017. When the jobs left, most of the people left too– the people that remain are a mix of hardened old-school Italian, Polish, and African American barely-middle-class working folks simply surviving. From the Italians we have bread and pizza, from the Polish golden churches (and pierogis), and from the African Americans the small businesses that maintain our micro-economy.

The second time we encountered this raccoon was right at dusk as we were unloading groceries. Coming up our walk way, we heard scurrying over in the lot. As I got to the porch with the first load of plastic bags, the portly raccoon came wobbling out from under a chair. His front paws were out in front of him, cupped, and filled with cat food. He didn’t even look at us as he wobbled off, his buddies chattered in the darkness at the top of our street where the side walk ended and turned to grass. I remember thinking how ballsy he was, but I was also impressed with his brazen ability to survive. He knew that cat food was there. It was almost as if he assumed that it was for him and his buddies. He was just like Yep, this is mine now. Peace. I guess urban raccoons need attitude to be able to survive in this wasted town.

Raccoon chittering has become one of the characteristics of Stowe Township– alongside the hourly train whistle and the smells of fresh bread and pizza … and skunk (maybe on some streets it’s marijuana, but on 10th Street it is a real, flesh-and-stink skunk). Not just one skunk though, a troupe of skunks. At least four skunks. Maybe a mama and pups. Maybe just a gang of hood skunks. All I know is that they live under our porch. Eat our garbage. Furrow grubs out of our grass and emit odors.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike the skunks– even if they did cause us to be without a house for four days because their odor correlated with a major problem with our furnace. I just wish they would relocate. I don’t like the risk involved with our dog. Gemma is way too nosey to be a good skunk-neighbor. It is just a matter of time before they spray her for getting too close. They probably think the same of us though. We leave lights on. Drive cars. Don’t buy canned cat food anymore.

Gemma doesn’t have a good relationship with most of The Abandonment tenants– she chases the opossum, groundhog, and feral cats up and down our yard. Sometimes the groundhog will try to out run her and make a dash for his burrow on the side of our house. Sometimes he fails. That is why this groundhog is Henry 3.0.

Before the house directly next to ours fell empty, the guy who rented it would shoot bow-and-arrow off of his porch. He used a target block on top of five huge bales of hay to stop the arrows. Henrys 1.0 and 2.0 used to eat the clover and wild strawberries that grew in his yard. His dog, a massive cream-colored pitbull, did not approve of this invasion of his territory. Henry 1.0 liked to sunbathe in the mornings when our back yards were filled with sun. One morning, poor Henry didn’t perk up soon enough and the dog got him– full force teeth to the side and Henry was no longer. Henry 2.0 was a little thing. But he was still a groundhog and still had a weakness for wild strawberries. I guess our neighbor was sick of his dog barking and growling at the back door every morning, but I am only assuming. I was only made privy to the situation when 2.0’s corpse was out with his garbage. Henry 3.0 should be safe from such assaults as those people have moved out. Plus, I have been smuggling him wrinkled potatoes and carrots all winter. Gemma sometimes chases him up the fence line to his hole, but for the most part, this groundhog chooses to avoid all contact with us. Which is probably for the better. He should share his idea with the rats and opossums. But maybe rooting out tasty bits of wrinkled tubers will entice him to stick around and continue to put up with our nonsense.

Our interactions with the rats– I think it might just be one particularly daring brown rat– and opossums have been much more personal. And much more invasive– like slinking up our laundry drain and climbing up the inside of our walls kind of invasive; there might be more opossums in my house than people invasive; my husband killed his brother with a hammer and left his body as a warning, but he still came back invasive. Now, I am not advocating for sharing space with wild animals, but there is no need to remove them if they are not hindering our way of life. They are living beings too and were probably here before we moved in. Just because humans made this structure, doesn’t mean we have sole rights to inhabit it. But that is enough about the rights of vermin – honestly, I find it hilarious that the opossums moved into our space. They, with their thumpings and scufflings, are just one more way nature is reclaiming our house and urban space.

Before we had Tristen, my husband lost his job and we were forced to leave 10th Street for about 4 months. The previous two summers left The Abandonment teaming with life– wild flowers, grasses, mystery plants that seem to need no water and cannot be killed with Round-Up, butterflies, bees, wasps (huge, mean black wasps), flies, spiders (Larry the living-room-ceiling-spider, Bartholomew the bathroom-corner-spider and several others from the wolf spiders currently squatting in our basement to tiny little spiders that make delicate webs in the hall corners), snakes, mice, rats, raccoons, skunks, opossums, feral cats, things that wondered in from the rail road tracks. Life was in that lot.

Life that depended on our cast-offs, on the changes we made to their environment.

We re-rented the same house in the end of September of this year and came back to a surprisingly void of life lot. Our sunflowers had been ransacked by wind and rain. We did not plant our garden. We did not supply any garbage to pick through, lick calories out of yogurt containers, scrape calories from tin cans. The life left with us.

We are the only porchlight surrounded by abandonment. We are their cash-cow. We have influenced their evolution.

Now, I toss carrots, potatoes, and sketchy-left-overs over our fence into The Abandonment in an effort to tempt them back– as if to apologize for leaving, as if to say: come, share our prosperity. Come back to The Abandonment.

Our Marsupial Overlords

We still do not know how they got up there, but we know there are more than two of them– opossums. They have made the space above our bathroom and back hall their home.

We hear them playing in the evenings: a thump, thump, scuffle on the drywall that rattles our light fixtures.

I can only imagine what Gemma hears when she and our two cats are home all day.

They have no shame– they sleep in our house, pluck the grubs from our grass, lick all the goodies from our trash then re-decorate The Abandonment with it when they are done.

And honestly, it amuses me more than it bothers me.

Or maybe it’s just the temporary way that I see this house that makes these things so funny: It’s only a rental, nothing to worry about. We’re moving soon. Let’s all just get along.

I commend the opossum who figured out how to get up there. Justin went out to investigate when we first heard them– there are no external entrances to this spot. And if there were, she (mama opossum) would have to climb a barely attached gutter or use a tree down the block to gain access to the roof then run the length of the rowhouses to get back to ours and still figure out how to get into the space under our roof.

I have a theory: our bathroom and back hallway were an addition, part of this addition was a really crappy crawlspace for lawn supply storage. This space has a door, but it is only a wooden box built to connect the back wall of our house and the addition. There is no access to the inside of the house from this little storage space, but there is access to the inside of the walls. My theory is that this mama opossum found her way into our storage space and realized that she could get up into the heated part of the house by climbing up the walls. That makes it fairly earned. She can raise her brood above our heads.

These opossums aren’t hurting us– far from it. Actually, we are benefiting from hosting these marsupials. We have not seen nor been bitten by a tick since they moved in. By having so many of them so close to us and our pets, they probably have saved us more than they realize– just by being opossums and eating ticks. The New York Times even dubbed them “environmental vacuum cleaners” stating that they also eat mice and other nuisance critters. The National Opossum Society describes these guys as having 50 teeth, excellent climbing abilities and as being nonconfrontational. Justin calls them our Marsupial Overlords (our unmentioned roommates).

Surrounded by (Black) and Yellow

When we first started dating, Justin, would never use or carry a yellow Bic lighter. He claimed that they were bad luck – every time he was in a car accident he had a yellow lighter in his pocket; flipped his car doing donuts on a gravel road: yellow lighter on the floor board; found out his parents had euthanized his childhood dog in secret: yellow lighter in his pocket– every bad thing that has happened to him was attributed to the color yellow. And as I sit on our porch with Tristen and Gemma enjoying this fluke moment of sunshine, I am starting to think he was right.

The Abandonment is surrounded by yellow– the rowhouses that create its left and front most sides are made of yellow brick, our sunflowers cast their golden reflections on the cement, tattered yellow caution tape still flutters in the burnt-out house across the alley to our right, graffiti reading “Cory” glitters warmly golden on the garage facing our yard, the grassy areas will soon be stippled with fluffy dandelion heads, 10th Street is paved with yellow brick, even the tiny flowers that will bloom on the tangled mess of American bittersweet nightshade swallowing our house have yellow centers. Yellow fills up this rewilded space.

As if to complement all this yellow, someone has added a new piece of graffiti to the rowhouses on our left, on their side facing one of the many paper streets that break up The Abandonment– I am not sure it if says “goRe” or “EoRp” or something, but it is black and yellow. The characters appear to be filled with turbulent holes and are surrounded by a black bouncy-looking cloud-shape. I hope it says “goRe” because then it would at least provide a commentary for the burnt-out house which it faces. The same house they removed three bodies from and have not been back to since that day in December. “goRe” complements the caution tape and the too-decayed-to-be-of-any-use buildings that inhabit The Abandonment and its un-killable plants that form its jungle groundcover in the summer months– a four-foot high welter of arrow-head shaped leaves, red-purple thick stalks with knobbed joints and deep roots, sprigs of green vine, ruffled purple leaves, burs, skunk cabbage, thorns, wild strawberry, coal, concrete, broken glass, railroad rocks, scratched marbles, brown-black city dirt.

On a whim, I decided to investigate these plants– to see what species inhabit this brown-black coal strewn dirt. Jimsonweed seems to have taken over the rocky section towards the middle– it reached six feet high that summer we barely had any rain. Its reddish stalks stand tall with barbed triangular leaves and spiky seedpods. London rocket with its tiny yellow flowers and thin rocket-ship-leaves grows towards the pool and out by the television grave yard. When its dry, the only color is the rusty-red stalks of jimsonweed and the purple leaves of something that looks like rhubarb with short stalks and oblong ruffled leaves. When it is dry the ground stays brown-black and sun baked, letting only the jimsonweed grow.

When the ground stays wet mustard, pinweed, clover, milkweed bloom yellow, pink, white and the nightshade berries turn red and stink adding to the dankness coming from the ever-flooded marshland that will soon support McKees Rock’s entire mosquito population, landscape of scattered tires and liquor bottles, the rare shopping cart.

The Abandonment owns “goRe” as if a fragrance. With the weather warming, I cannot help but remember the summer smells: cat poo (its mostly cat poo) and dirt and decay and that moist rotting smell and mud and green– that smell that foliage has that just smells green and alive– and stagnant water and rust and wet wood and alcohol and marijuana and cigarette smoke and pizza and baking bread and car paint and spray paint and car exhaust and concrete. It is nature in the city. It is city in nature. The Abandonment is where they meet and eddy together like how the Allegheny meets the Monongahela to form the Ohio– blue churning together with brown to form turbulent green waters. Here the city churns together with nature to create this brown-black dirt– this mixture of what humans made and what made humans.

The Truce

Yesterday night, I was awake in the odd hours between Tristen’s hungry cries when I saw his tale slither behind my crockpot. Our nightly marauder– a common brown rat. Rattus norvegicus, the most common rat species in North America thrives in urban areas and on ships. Rattus norvegicus seems to have evolved beyond their Asian-plains-origin to live alongside us, or rather this brown rat has. He chose our home for his foraging ground. Locked in our silent agreement, we are participating in one of the oldest human-animal relationships: we gather surplus food, he eats off that surplus, and eventually our cats will eat him. But right now, he wants to eat their food.

Our kitchen was dim– lit by a nightlight shaped like Darth Vader’s head– but I could just see the outline of his round body and two little ears. He was definitely hiding behind the crockpot. Probably waiting for me to sleepily wander past him.

Maybe I have done this before. Maybe he has waited me out countless times this winter. Waiting in the snug little space behind our crockpot and next to the heater vent; tucked up underneath our butcher rack and away from the cats’ reach. Just soaking up the warmth and waiting for his chance to dart across the kitchen.

I imagine his little belly is grumbling and that he is cussing me out for delaying him.

Or maybe he is a worrier and is doubting his whole plan. Thinking that darting back into the basement and making a run for the drain pipe is a better option than waiting me out.

But then I remember we are talking about cat food here– carbs, protein and fat– he cannot pass this up. It is too cold outside to go back with an empty belly. So he waits.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t know I have seen him. He doesn’t know that I know he has visited before. He comes in through The Abandonment – the two-inch drainage pipe from our laundry room pokes out of the concrete block and out into the mess of jimsonweed and garbage. He climbs up rusted metal, lifts the drain cover, scurries up our stairs and into our kitchen.

He doesn’t know that we have chosen not to poison him. That my husband and I are allowing him into our home. We have come to an agreement with this urban nature. This wildness that seeks us out.

We have drawn a truce with nature. Once cities sought to conquer the natural world with their brick and glass and metal industrialization but with each drop in our economy, in the housing market, in the job market, in the value of the US Dollar, nature takes a little back. She sinks her tendrils deeper into that rotting wood, wriggles her roots further into our sewer systems, pummels paint from siding with rain and wind. Broken windows let her into old homes wetting their dry-walled and plastered ceilings, caving them in to let birds and squirrels nest in the rafters. Urban re-wilding is as natural as a fallen tree turning to mold. Nature conquers all that is put before her. Why should McKees Rocks or Stowe Township be any different? Why should concrete divide what is human with what is natural when humans came out of nature. These animals have adapted and overcome the harsh environment humans have put before them. They are evolution at its most basic.

We are the bridge between survival and defeat. We destroyed the natural habitat, the rich riverlands, and put up our concrete-and-wood dwellings poisoning the land so we must to pay restitution: the choice not to poison our little marauder, in letting the opossums share our space, in planting sunflowers, by tossing wrinkled potatoes over our fence, by being lazy with our trash we participate in our ecosystem and contribute to the urban wild. We are the only porchlight in The Abandonment.

#The Abandonment #urban decay #creative nonfiction #blacknyellow #catpoo

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