#tom cat x bright eyes

[twisting-echo]

Romantic moodboards of Tom Cat (Tom and Jerry) x Bright Eyes (Pound Puppies 1986) with the themes of childhood friends to lovers.

The first moodboard has an adult Tom Cat from the classic Tom and Jerry cartoon and an adult Bright Eyes from season 1 of Pound Puppies (1986). The second moodboard features a child Tom Cat from Tom & Jerry Kids and a child Bright Eyes from season 2 of Pound Puppies (1986). (They decided to make Bright Eyes way younger than she was in season 1.)

Inspired by - Timothy meets Bright Eyes by MartoonSzucsCartoons.

[alessiasfreckles]

fasching (georgia stanway x reader)

you've had a crush on georgia for a few months after meeting her at a party in munich. now it's fasching, and you're determined to show her the intricacies of the german holiday - i.e. getting drunk.

warnings: alcohol, fluff

a/n: wanted to write something about georgia and fasching/karneval since, y'know, it's fasching (which is a german holiday at the start of lent where everyone wears costumes and gets drunk, basically)! short and sweet x

----

“Well, can I just wear the dirndl I wore for Oktoberfest again?” Georgia asked, frowning. 

“No!” you exclaimed. “You need a real costume.”

“What if my costume is an FC Bayern footballer?” she grinned.

“That’s not a real costume. Or at least, it would be if it wasn’t just basically your work uniform,” you said, rolling your eyes. You got out your phone and started swiping through pictures. “Look, one year I went as a cat. Oh, this is when I went as a clown- but, like, a sexy clown. Ugh, this one year we walked in the parade with my grandad’s political party and they were going as sewage workers for some reason? I was like, 13. I was so embarrassed.”

“So it’s basically like Halloween except with a parade,” Georgia said, an eyebrow raised.

You shrugged. “Kind of, but don’t let anyone hear you say that. Germans take Fasching very seriously. Oh, and if anyone tries to tell you it’s called Karneval, ignore them. It’s Fasching.”

“Right,” she nodded slowly, arms folded. “I still don’t really get the point.”

“Do Germans really need an excuse to get drunk and party?” you asked with a grin, and the English player laughed. “Nah, I think it’s to do with lent, but no one really cares about the origins.”

“Oh, like pancake day!” she said, brightening up.

“Oh! Yeah, I guess. I forgot about pancake day,” you shrugged.

“How could you forget about pancake day? It’s the best holiday.”

“English holidays are weird.”

She hummed. “So, what are you going to go as this year?”

You thought for a minute. “I’m not sure yet. Usually it’s something sexy, because if you can’t pick up girls at Fasching when can you, you know?” you said, not meeting Georgia’s eye. You’d had a crush on her since the two of you had met at a party a few months ago. You had hit it off instantly. Since you were half English and had lived there as a child, and she was new in Munich, meeting another English person felt like a breath of fresh air. 

She laughed, cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. What d’you think I should go as?”

“Hmm,” you tapped a finger to your chin, eyeing the footballer. “Well, it depends. Do you want to be hot or funny?” 

Now her cheeks were bright red. “Uh, I dunno,” she said, laughing nervously. 

“Well, we could do a costume together, if you want. That’s a little more fun than just by yourself,” you suggested, and she nodded eagerly. 

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

By the time Georgia found you at the parade, you’d already had a drink or two and were decidedly on your way to feeling tipsy. 

She saw your costume before she saw you. The two of you had spent a while deliberating on what to wear, going back and forth between ideas, before finally settling on Tom and Jerry. You were going as Jerry (although you felt more like Karen from Mean Girls), wearing a grey dress and mouse ears, and Georgia was wearing a cat onesie, with a nose and whiskers painted on her face. 

Seeing your mouse ears from across the busy street, she hurried over to where you were waiting with your friends. 

“Gee!” you exclaimed when you saw her, pulling her into a hug. “Hi!”

“Hey!” she said, cheeks pink, and nodded to your friends, who were all eyeing her curiously.

“Aha, also sie ist die Fußballerin, in der du schon seit Monaten verknallt bist?” one of your friends said, looking Georgia up and down.

“Klappe!” you said, glaring at her. 

“Was? Sie spricht doch eh kein Deutsch, oder?” the friend asked. 

Georgia wasn’t sure what you and your friends were talking about. All she really picked up was ‘Fußballerin’ and ‘Deutsch’, so she figured it was about her. Feeling awkward, she tapped your arm. 

“Hey, um, I can head out if you want to hang out with your friends a bit,” she suggested, making your heart drop.

“No, no!” you insisted. “They’re being rude. I’d rather hang out with you anyway. I’ve been to plenty of Faschings with them before, this is your first one! Come on, let’s go. Tschüss, Leute.”

Your friends whooped and whistled as you left, making you roll your eyes. 

“Sorry about them. I swear they’re really nice, usually. They’re just protective of me,” you explained. “And I’m sorry about the German - they do speak English, it was rude of them not to.”

“Protective of you? Do they see me as a threat?” Georgia laughed.

You shrugged, cheeks pink, not wanting to say that they knew about your huge crush on the footballer. As you headed into a big square filled with people, you quickly changed the subject.

“Okay, so, rule number 1 of Fasching: bring your own drinks,” you told her, pulling a bottle of premixed juice and vodka out of your bag. “There’s places you can buy them, but they’re always super expensive and watered down.”

Georgia nodded seriously, listening intently. “I’m not really meant to be drinking, but I think I can make an exception today,” she admitted, smiling. “At least, I know a lot of the other girls are. I didn’t bring anything with me, though.”

“That’s okay!” you said brightly. “You can share mine. Rule number 2 is don’t get lost. There’s so many people that it fucks with the phone signal, making it impossible to contact people if you get separated.”

She bit her lip, frowning, and you took her hand in yours. “Just keep holding my hand and we’ll be fine!” you said with a grin. Normally you wouldn’t just take her hand like that, but the drinks you’d had were starting to take some effect, giving you a confidence boost. 

“Okay,” she laughed, blush rising to her cheeks. “Any other rules?”

“Hmm, not that I can think of,” you said, “Just let me know if it’s too much, okay? I know it’s a lot of people.”

You squeezed her hand and she nodded, taking the bottle from you and taking a swig. You cheered her on, and when she gave you the bottle back you took a drink as well, trying not to think about the fact that your lips were where hers had just been. 

“Ready?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

“Ready.” 

-----------

2 hours later, you were well and truly drunk, and Georgia wasn’t far behind you. You had watched the parade for a while before getting bored and wandering around together, giggling about people’s costume choices. After an hour of trying to squeeze through the masses of people, you decided to cut through some back alleys, and had ended up staying in one of them, drinking and talking.

“Usually I don’t really like Fasching,” you admitted, hopping up to sit on a brick wall and swaying slightly, holding out your hands to steady yourself. “Woah.”

“Careful,” Georgia giggled, putting her hands on your waist to help ground you. “Why not?”

“Too many people,” you said, voice slurred, waving a hand towards the noise of the parade, which you could hear streets away. “Too loud.”

“That’s fair,” she nodded. “I don’t really like crowds either.”

“What!” you exclaimed. “Why did you come with me then? I wouldn’t have taken you if I’d known. Fasching is awful if you don’t like crowds.”

“Because you asked me to,” she said simply, smiling at you. “It’s not so bad with you.”

“No?” you asked, blushing. You realised Georgia was stood between your legs, her hands still on your waist from steadying you, making your heart flutter. 

“Nah,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s, I dunno, easier with you.”

You smiled widely at that, taking another drink from the nearly empty bottle to try and hide how hard you were blushing. 

“Hey, what was your friend saying, before?” she asked, wondering whether you were drunk enough to tell her.

“Oh, that,” you said, rolling your eyes, any kind of filter you had gone. “She was asking if you’re the footballer I’ve had a crush on for months.”

You clapped your hands over your mouth when you realised what you’d said. Georgia’s eyebrows were raised, a look of surprise on her face that was quickly replaced by a teasing smile.

“And, am I?” she asked, hands tightening a little on your waist. 

You swallowed, trying to think of something clever to say, but the alcohol was making it hard, especially when all you could really think about was the feeling of her hands on your waist and the fact that she was stood between your legs, close enough to kiss you. 

“Maybe,” you said, biting your lip. 

“Oh, just maybe?” she asked, all the alcohol giving her a boost of confidence. She watched your eyes flit from her eyes to her mouth and back, and leant forward slightly. 

You nodded shakily, heart racing as she leant towards you. She paused just short of your face, giving you space to back away if you wanted to, but you leant in enthusiastically, your lips meeting hers. 

You were a little too enthusiastic, your mouths bumping into each other, making you both giggle and pull away. Georgia was undeterred, and cupped your face with one hand, steadying you, before leaning in to kiss you. 

She tasted sweet, like fruit juice and alcohol, her soft lips perfectly melding against yours. You gasped when her tongue swiped against your bottom lip, and she took the opportunity to kiss you deeper, the hand that was still on your waist moving to your back to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, jumping when you felt the soft onesie. 

She leant back. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, I just forgot about the onesie,” you admitted with a laugh. “Wasn’t expecting it.”

“You mean, the cat costume isn’t doing it for you?” she asked with a wink, and you wrinkled your nose. 

“I mean, the costume is cute and all, but if I’m honest, I think you’re the one doing it for me. After all, you are the footballer I have a crush on.” you said, making the brunette blush. The painted on nose and whiskers were smudged slightly from your kiss, and you giggled at the sight of her. 

“What?” she asked. “Is there something on my face?”

“Nah,” you shook your head, and pulled her in for another kiss.

[aloysiavirgata]

Prompt: candlelight concert, jealousy, ust to msr. Thanks so much, big fan here😊.

It was the kind of hotel where you could have set The Shining if it had any charm or ambiance. It had only desolation to recommend it to Kubrick and storm-downed trees across the lonely highway to recommend it to the X-Files division.

***

It was the kind of hotel you wouldn’t even have an affair at because it was too depressing to be salacious.

It was the kind of hotel where the homeless lived by the week, where alcoholics were subsumed, where mid-level corporate managers in short-sleeved button downs killed themselves. There was cheap wood paneling, shag carpet, and a desk clerk named Rabbit.

Rabbit smelled of Marlboros and Olde English 800. Mulder bet there was an El Camino, lovingly cared for, under a tarp next to a double-wide.

Mulder was a snob at times.

“We got a room each for you and your pretty niece,” Rabbit said, winking at Scully like he was Tom Jones in Vegas. “Unless….?”

Scully slapped down her badge like a royal flush, also in Vegas.

“Room each,” she said, tight-lipped and terse.

Rabbit folded.

***

Mulder found the piano when they were hunting for a laundry room. It was in a forlorn, moth-eaten event hall with swags of sun-faded velour curtains; cobwebs frosted with neglected dust.

He sat down at the decrepit thing, white keys like a smoker’s teeth, and he limbered his fingers. There was a candelabra on the top, a sad object filled with half-melted candles the color of old bones.

Scully lit the candles with the Zippo she’d carried since the Apalachicola National Forest. “You don’t play, Mulder.” She paused, cocked her head. “Or do you? Fox Mulder, do you play the piano too?”

He had the stab of jealousy that he always had about Ed Jerse. Ed got her to ink her body after a few hours, and she didn’t know he’d taken fucking piano lessons from 4 to 17.

He played her Clara Schumann’s Piano Concerto even though he knew she wouldn’t recognize it. He played it because Scully and Clara might have been friends.

Scully’s mouth was a blooming peony as she watched him, eyes the Star of Bethlehem. Scully watched him like oysters watch the tide.

“Agent Scully is already in love,” he heard again, and played as though he were auditioning for Julliard.

***

Scully went to the hallway in the thundering dark. The storm gods had been aroused and the night was such a lonely place, especially by flashlight. A cold Coke would be something to do, at least. Something to roll between her palms.

He thought the same - a Lipton iced tea in hand.

“Hi,” she said, looking abashed. “The thunder was -“

“The storm,” he said, at the same time.

They smiled. They looked away.

There was nothing else, there was nothing, just the shapeless silken lines of her pajamas and the foxy silk of her hair and the smiling Cheshire Cat slice of a waxing moon.

***

The moon was so bright and the universe was so big and forever is a long, long time to be alive and alone.

***

She followed him so she could leave later, he knew that. He’d learned her the way he learned everything - intensely and entirely and in a way that consumed him, piece by piece.

He made love to her like an acolyte at a shrine. He made love to her the way flowers make love to the sun.

Fish do not know they are in water.

***

He felt her stir at 3 AM. “Scully,” he breathed, a prayer hastily invoked.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, I-“

He heard her blushing, somehow, in the dark. He heard the blood rush to her good cheekbones, to her beautiful, lopsided mouth. Her capillaries plumped, lush with hot blood. Everywhere, everywhere.

“Please,” he said. “Scully don’t.”

Scully froze, her shoulder blades tensed, ready to unfurl. Ready to let her fly. “It wasn’t-“

He touched her spine like the Western Wall. He touched her spine like a rosary.

***

She never unmade her hotel bed and she didn’t care who knew it and she knew he was jealous of Ed or maybe Padgett and she was jealous of Diana and possibly Phoebe but Fox Mulder had a mouth like the last ripe plum in October. Fox Mulder kissed her throat like a man in the desert kisses an oasis.

They stayed three nights, for the storm and then the pancakes and then the burnt-orange solitude.

Mulder’s fingers were restless and searching and eternally wanting someplace firm to settle. He kissed her by Bolero and he made love to her by Giazotro and he fucked her to Bizet.

Scully had learned Hot Cross Buns on a keyboard, Scully had learned the recorder in 4th grade. She had learned from Mulder that money can’t buy you happiness, but it can buy opportunities and access and mitigate risk.

She started dressing like she’d been raised with it - silk lingerie and a good stylist and Chanel Brown Sugar lipstick. She saw the way society responded and doubled down. Her heels were high and thin and clicked like distant gunshots.

***

She cupped her hand over his at the steering wheel. He had beautiful hands, the color of graham crackers, with bones from an anatomy text. If she could draw she would draw them, and then his strange mossy eyes and the way his lips kissed themselves.

She would draw his back and she would laugh and say “Fox Mulder, you vain thing.”

And then, because she could, she would drag him on top of her. His body was hot and heavy and dangerous and safe.

***

Her hand cupped his and it was an eggshell, so tiny and pale and fragile. He wanted to kiss her little white knuckles and say I love you, I love you.

He wanted to crush her house-sparrow bones into a powder and drink them.

***

They drove into the east, into the east, and they were tenderly, tremulously, alive

[cryptidclaw]

Berrynose! he's a short furred version of his mama!

I decided to give him lass stripes than Daisy, but other than that they have very similar markings! I did give him a darker colored nose for a more "berry" color!

I love Berrynose he's so dumb and annoying, he's such a silly guy

Idk what to do with him in RoC... I pretty much want to keep him the same, but I dont like him with Poppyfrost, I do like Berry x Jay tho just bec they would be so silly together hehe. I could go with them as a ship but Idk....

I also might have him and some of his siblings get with some cats in other Orders, most likely Blood Order since they and Thunder have a close allyship!

[Image ID: a digital drawing of Berrynose from warrior cats. He is sitting with his right side showing and his left paw raised. He has a silly, cocky expression on his face with his mouth wide open like he is talking loudly. He is a short furred, chubby, creamy white tom with cream/light orange color point markings and bright blue eyes. His nose is a dark pink color, and his inner ears and mouth are pink./End ID]

[cherrielip]

lemon lollipops and salt

pairing: tom grant x fem!reader

summary: when a misterious girl comes to Cornwall Tom’s life turns upside down and her, frankly, too. maybe, just maybe, Tom hopes he could be happy this time…

warning: this part is minors safe but be aware that next one won’t be! technically this part could be read as a separate piece.

re blog if you like the story, that’d make me happy :)

Tom closed his eyes, lips curling into a Cheshire cat-like smile. He leans back, the coolness of the pub stone wall feels pleasant on his heated skin. He hears the crackles of ice in his Gin & Tonic. Something he’d never normally choose over a pint but today he felt rebellious. Taking a sip, he feels his mouth explode into millions of stars as the drink slides over his tongue. The lime bites his tastebuds. Tom cautiously opens one eye to peer around the crowded room. The pub is warm and dimly lit, buzzing like a beehive with the sound of conversation, laughter, glasses clinking and slow indie songs rolling off the speakers. Outside, it’s still boiling hot, the passersby hold onto their cold drinks, surfboards and towels as the heatwave refuses to leave Cornwall.

Inside, it smells of cigarettes and well-worn aged wood. The air is heavy. It makes the soft curls at his nape stick to the skin. It’s a rare occasion for Tom to have a day off. The hot summer temperatures are in full swing and it's hard to get out of bed in the morning. Tom Grant never thought of himself as a lucky guy. Just a regular Cornish lad with a tedious summer job at the beach inn. But he grew to love the place over time even with the lingering memories of Ruth that he could still taste at the tip of his tongue.

Tonight he doesn’t dwell on it too long as he sees you coming back from the bathroom. It is still a mystery to him how just the sight of this girl makes his edges soften and a tight knot appear in his belly. Tom takes another sip of his G & T, feeling the bubbles roll between his lips causing a prickle in his mouth. He is lost in thought, considering how he doesn't like mysteries. But you are a mystery and he chuckles at how cheesy his thoughts are.

The first time he notices you the sun is set high up on the horizon. The waves crashing against the rocks like a thunderstorm. The salty sea air is warm and humid to Tom’s nose as he folds his arms on top of his head to shield himself from the sun to get a better look at this stranger girl.

Ripped denim hangs low on your hips exposing a sliver of skin just under your striped tank top. He reckons no one actually wears such jeans anymore. Is it still 2003? Or maybe Earth made a full circle back and he didn’t care enough to notice. Your feet in dirty Vans stumbled over a trailer step, a suitcase falling over. Somehow Tom can’t help himself but chuckle softly when your glossy lips mutter ‘shite’.

He stares at his own well-worn Vans, hands in pockets when he gathers enough courage to crack a joke (which is not funny at all, but hey, he at least tries).

‘Happens to me all the time’ he squints his eyes from a bright sun.

You give him a side-eye and laugh. Suddenly he finds himself helpless. He feels lost in the face of feeling that somebody finds him funny. He watches as your lips, delicate pink and inviting, curl into a smile.

‘Yeah, right?’ your voice is bright and sickling sweet like honey on his morning toast.

Fuck him.

Later he curses himself for not actually helping you with that bloody suitcase.

Next days his mind wonders to you more than he’d like. Tom thinks that he probably is going crazy, he’s overreacting. For sure. Love and touch starved that’s what it is. But Christ he can’t help himself but hope to see you again. And again.

On a Tuesday evening, he readies himself to go back, surfboard tucked under his arm, towel hanging over his neck. Tom freezes when you walk out of the water, body slick with salty droplets. Your skin glistens under the rays of the setting sun and fuck, there is so much skin for him to see. It might be lulling rush of the waves sounding like an angel's wings. Or the glimmering sun that kisses the skin in the most secret places where your bikini hugs your body but he’s dumbstruck and doesn’t realise you had spoken to him, waving a hand at him.

That’s when he learns your name. He rolls it on his tongue as if to taste how it sounds when he says it.

It sounds good. Heavenly.

His voice quivers just a tiny bit when you offer him your hand, eyes big and bright, smiling like that at him.

‘I’m Tom’

He squeezes your fingers between his and shivers. You’re hot to touch.

The next time he notices you, the night with its soft paws slowly comes down onto the resort covering the space around with a feather-like inky coloured veil. The air was filled with the laughter of people, smoke from the cigarettes floating around, intertwining with the salty ocean breeze. It felt as if clouds fell in love with the moon, roaming around the night sky that offered the best view of this starry canvas above sleepless tourists. You sat outside your trailer on a lounge chair, bare feet propped up on the little table. There’s an open bottle of beer and a book in your hand. A cigarette between those pretty lips. He almost dies when you smile at him. His feet carry himself to you on their own accord when you summon him.

He looks boyish and slightly flustered. You try to hide a smile feeling the tips of your ears burn. You hope he feels the same but your heart skips several beats and you can’t really think straight.

‘It’s a crime to be working on such a lovely evening’ you salute him with your beer bottle.

Tom mumbles something extremely dumb under his breath, trying to hide a blush that creeps up his face. Still, your giggles explode into laughter. Your smile could burn him from inside out and Christ, he would not mind being reduced to ash.

You laugh. You’re laughing at his stupid jokes and it makes his belly burn with earning heat. Tom thinks he’s a fucking creep eyeing you like a lemon lollipop on a sunny day but he can’t help himself staring at you.

Your voice is gentle, it is full of light and it reminds him of carefree childhood days. His chest swells and he’s afraid it’ll explode because fuck, he could just eat you up.

Oh, get a grip.

‘You want one?’ you point to a beer bottle and he only manages to nod.

You smile in response and it warms his cheek with a grin. You disappear inside your trailer.

He’s sitting opposite your lounge chair when you hand him his bottle.

‘Here you go, good sir’ fingers brushing against his.

He stumbles over his words, blushing profusely. ‘Thank you, my lady’

My lady.

When beer bottles are half empty your conversation drifts into discussing one another day, the unpredictable weather, and how good this beer is. You mention the documentary you saw recently on BBC and Tom shares his love for Paolo Nutini’s music. You both agree that the guy is a bloody genius.

Tom wonders if could this be any more perfect and can’t stop himself from remembering that day on the beach and your bikini.

He rambles about his favourite Nutini songs, you looking at him with those big, shiny wet eyes that make his heart flutter. That night he dreams of you.

So now when he sees your figure walk over to the bar he watches you intently.

You gather your hair, thick and dry from salty water, and secure it in a loose bun. You feel the droplet of sweat rolling down your nape, tickling the softest skin on your back. It disappears behind your summer dress, following the route of your spine. Daisies on your dress flutter as you walk, hugging your thighs with its silky touch.

He calls out for you.

And god, your name never sounded more perfect than now.

[bonefall]

Can we ask about Bonefall Dustpelt? I always liked his arc going from kinda shitty bully to a responsible and supportive clan mate

[ID: Dustpelt from warrior cats. He has diamond-shaped markings on his chest, feet, and the end of his tail, with a large, flat marking on the top of his face. The background is the genderqueer flag colors.]

Since I made genders, BB!Dustpelt's story is coming together in my mind.

He's AMAB, or, ATAB. Assigned Tom at Birth.

Dust and Raven's entire family died a horrible death of plague about 6 months before TPB started. Dustpaw was one of the few who managed to not catch it; Ravenpaw survived with stunted growth.

That traumatic experience definitely prompted Bluestar to want to give them the strongest and most loyal warriors in ThunderClan as mentors.

Redtail is transgender and very disciplined, so he was given Dust who was pretty obviously gender-nonconforming and lashing out in the hopes they'd figure it out together.

This is how he got so close with Sandstorm! Her and Longtail are the kits of Redtail and Runningwind, from two different litters.

They're besties. It's completely platonic.

The mentorship wasn't perfect but it WAS working. Dustpaw was close with his mentor, but had a long way to go.

...And then the plot happened, of course.

He was really lost when he didn't have Redtail anymore, and associated poor Firepaw with that loss. It was made worse by his new mentor being Darkstripe. Him and Longtail became very close with Tigerclaw, supporting him and even joining the rumor mill about Ravenpaw.

Dustpelt regrets that pretty deeply now, that he did that to his own brother. It's something he did when he was young and susceptible, and he can't really make it right.

He was still trying to figure himself out through TPB, generally being antagonistic towards Fireheart out of anger and jealousy and dissatisfaction with himself

Sandstorm even started losing her patience with him

And yet, when the time came for Tigerclaw's plot to be revealed, Dustpelt didn't waver and proved his loyalty.

Even Fireheart's mentorships of Cinderpaw and Cloudpaw were both unfair because of his age and inexperience, AND ended disastrously. Fireheart knew when he was picking mentors for Fernpaw and Elderpaw that Dustpelt would need to be rewarded in some way.

But he wouldn't repeat Bluestar's mistake. So he had a solution;

Frostfur would mentor Elderpaw. Darkstripe would mentor Fernpaw. And for Dustpelt-- what he really needed was some way to put his paws to work.

One-eye came out of retirement for a while to grant him a third mentorship, as she had once been a nearly legendary builder and no one was ever truly able to pick up her skills.

He didn't need to connect with tom-gendered traits like patrolling and passivity. This felt right, and it felt good. THIS was what he needed.

And so, Dustpelt came into his own. He is genderqueer! After TPB, he becomes an important background character as the head of the Construction Patrol.

His surviving children are Spiderleg, Birchfall, and Lilyheart, and his grandchildren are Spotfur, Duststripe, Rosepetal, and Toadstep.

Foxleap and Icecloud are no longer his kittens; those are Bright x Cloud kids; in return, Lilyheart and Seedpaw are now his. Shrewpaw is Shrewface in StarClan and a guardian angel of Squirrelflight. Hollykit and Larchkit die similarly to how they do in-canon.

[wuxianxkexing]

Back on my Mu Qing shit with a Mu Qing x Goddess Reader fic! I haven't written anything in like a decade so hopefully this doesn't suck. Lol Part 1 of Stop Fucking With My Cat.

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

Mu Qing sat in his office doing paperwork from his latest mission. It wasn't anything special, just some ghost fires that kept leading villagers astray in a small remote village, never to return. Normally he would've sent one of his deputies to handle the issue, but honestly he was so tired of the politics and endless stupidity of the other Heavenly Official's that he just needed to desperately get away from it all for a while. So he took the incredibly low ranking mission so he would have an excuse to go far away from this place and see some majestic sights that isolated places like that village always had. Of course Ling Wen was now up his ass wondering why such a low ranking mission took him a month and he was scrambling in his head for an even somewhat valid excuse. God's don't get vacations and he can't say that he got hurt and needed to rest. He would become the new laughing stock of the Heaven's if he got that injured by little ghost fires.

He let his hair down and massaged his scalp. Why does it even matter that he was gone a month? Nothing important had happened while he was gone, he was still reachable via the communication array if something had happened and no one had even noticed he was gone until he went to pick up his merits for completing the mission. He noted to himself to start having one of his deputies pick up his merits from now on, that was the only misstep he had taken on his unauthorized "vacation". He sighed and rolled his eyes before softly banging his head on his desk.

He laid there for while just staring into nothingness when the sound of the cat door rousted him. He looked over and saw his beloved black tom cat Echo enter the room. He instantly frowned. What the absolute fuck was he wearing!? Echo happily sauntered over to his owner and head butted his leg. Mu Qing picked him up and stared at him incredulously. Echo's nails were painted a bright pink and he wore, an albeit cute, collar made out of lotus flowers.

"Who did this to you?" Mu Qing questioned, as if Echo could tell him. Echo just slowly blinked at him and began to purr. Mu Qing rolled his eyes and removed the flower collar before hugging Echo to his chest to give him all of the pets. It was probably just one of his junior officers, however he would have to have a word with them over painting Echo's nails.

The next morning Mu Qing called all of his officials together for a meeting. "OK, I don't care who did it and I don't mind you ladies and gentlemen playing with Echo, but do not paint his nails or put anything else on him that may hurt him. Echo came to me last night with his nails painted pink. Nail polish is not acceptable to put on a cat and this is your only warning. If it happens again you will be subject to disciplinary actions. Am I understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Came a chorus response.

"Good, you are all dismissed." Mu Qing strutted away, figuring that would be the end of the issue. It was dumb that he had to address it at all, but it seemed even in his own palace he couldn't escape the stupidity of others. At least that was the worst thing his palace got up to while he was gone. He sighed. Now it was time to head to a meeting of the upper court.

Mu Qing walked back to his palace with a pensive look on his face. He still hadn't come up with an excuse for being gone for a month and he had to avoid Ling Wen like the plague during the meeting. What could he possibly say? The villagers loved him so much that they wouldn't let him leave? That he got lost? That he ran into more trouble but didn't report it because he didn't think it was important? All terrible excuses. He was beginning to wish he had never went at all when loud mewing broke him out of his thought. Right there in front of the entrance to his palace was Echo throwing a fit, urging Mu Qing to hurry his ass up and come pet him already. Mu Qing's left eye twitched. This time his beloved cat was dressed up in a very feminine pink robe? Who the fuck puts clothes on a cat? Was his first thought, and why would they put girl clothes on a male cat? was his second. He walked over and picked up the mewling Echo, once again giving him an incredulouse look and asking "What are you wearing? Who did this to you?"

Mu Qing examined the outfit more closely. It HAD to have been one of his female officials, probably one that took care of his clothes. No man would dress a cat like this, and they had to have skill to sew such well fitting robes for a cat. He huffed and made his way to the laundry department with Echo in tow.

"Ladies, which one of you did this?" Mu Qing asked while holding out Echo for all to examine. Squeals sounded all around him.

"Aw, he looks so cute!"

"Little Echo thinks he's person, doesn't he!" The women fawned over Echo, but they all denied having any knowledge of who dressed him.

"He comes home with cute little outfits like this all of the time here lately!" One of the ladies told him. The lady smiled and squeezed Echo's paw. "You like these little outfits don't you Echo?"

"Mreow."

Mu Qing frowned. "You act like you're dying every time I try to brush you but you let some weirdo dress you up like a woman?" Echo and Mu Qing stared at each other until Mu Qing relinquished with a sigh. "Whatever, just spread the word that no one is allowed to dress my cat up like this. He is a cat, not a person, and certainly not a girl." He whipped around and accidentally almost hit one of the ladies with hair. He was going to take this stupid shit off, it was practically animal abuse.

The next evening Echo showed up wearing something strange again. Mu Qing was bathing when Echo walked his happy ass into the bathing room and sat down to stare at him. Mu Qing stared back. Upon Echo's neck was a beautiful pink pearl collar. Mu Qing furrowed his brows and frowned. This collar would take forever for any of his palace officials to afford and he strongly disapproved of them using their own money to buy HIS pet shit. Mu Qing reached his hands out of the tub towards Echo but he moved just out of reach and flicked his tail, as if to say don't touch me with your wet hands you are gross. Mu Qing rolled his eyes and leaned back into the tub. Whatever, I'll take it off later and try to find the owner tomorrow.

The next morning Mu Qing once again made an announcement to his palace. "Would the person who bought Echo a collar yesterday please come see me at your earliest convenience? You aren't in trouble." He tried to say as nice as possible. Really they weren't in trouble, but coming from poverty himself he just could not let others buy him or his pet expensive stuff like that when he has more than enough money to buy things like that himself. It was a flattering gesture, but doing good work for him was all he wanted. He looked out at the crowd with what he hoped was a friendly face but he didn't see any obvious suspects. Most either looked bored or looked around in confusion. That was alright. He had a long day of studying medical scrolls ahead of him, so he would be at the palace whenever whoever decided to step forward. He retreated to his private study, forcing Echo to keep him company so he wouldn't get anymore weird things put on him. Thus he sat there late into the night, with the only interruptions being Echo occasionally demanding attention and servants bringing him his meals. It wasn't until the dark night sky started to lighten that Mu Qing decided to call it a night. Apparently whoever was responsible wasn't in his palace after all. He trusted that they would've revealed themselves by now if they were. He neatly stacked away his scrolls and left for his room. He didn't want to wake Echo who was peacefully napping on his cat tree so he left the study door and his bedroom door cracked so Echo could join him whenever he felt like. He changed into his most comfortable pajamas and threw himself onto his bed, glaring up at his ceiling. It was one thing if it was someone from his own palace who kept on playing dress up with Echo but now he was sure that it was someone outside of his palace and that kind of pissed him off. Everyone knew that Echo was HIS cat, who would dare fuck with him like this? Probably that dumb Shi Qingxuan, he was always trying to get everyone to dress like a girl and knowing him he probably gave up trying to convince the other Heavenly Official's and decided to force his will upon whatever lesser creature he came across. Plus he was very generous with his merits, he probably would spend it on girly outfits for a cat. Mu Qing put both of his hands to his face and pulled them downwards to his chest. He couldn't be rude to Lord Wind Master, but he wanted it to stop. This had apparently been going on for over a month and now all of the other Heavenly Official's probably thought that he was a weird cat guy, which might be true but he still didn't want them to think that.

The next morning Mu Qing rose and got dressed early. He wasn't really sure when the Wind Master started his day but he was sure that his brother would be up this early at least. He grabbed the pink pearl collar and made his way to the Palace of Wind and Water, mulling over what he was going to say. An average looking lady in simple blue robes greeted him upon his arrival. "General Xuan Zhen, what a welcome surprise!" She greeted as she welcomed him in. "What does the Palace of Wind and Water owe this honor to?"

"I'm just here to speak with Lord Wind Master, if you could fetch him for me when he is available."

"Of course!" The servant set him up with snacks and a drink before disappearing off to find her master. Mu Qing took this time to look at his surroundings. Plainly put it was tacky. Pink and flowers covered everything, including the tea he was drinking. It was a nice looking porcelain tea cup, painted white with pink petals floating through the wind. Inside the tea was pink with red flower petals of some kind floating on top. It was a light, sweet drink. He kind of wished it was a simple strong black tea, but he did arrive without notice and he did say just bring him whatever, so here he was feeling like he was getting ready to have a tea party with a princess. Soon enough the Wind Master arrived with the Earth Master in tow, both in their female forms.

"Hi General Xuan Zhen!" The Wind Master waved at him cutely and gave him a big smile before sitting down across from him at the table. The Earth Master tried to sneak out of the room but the Wind Master wasn't having it. She jumped up and grabbed the Earth Earth Master by the waist and made her sit beside her at the table. "Ming Yi don't be unfriendly, say hi to General Xuan Zhen!"

Ming Yi turned her head away. "Why? He's your guest, not mine." After a bit more prodding from Shi Qingxuan Ming Yi finally gave Mu Qing something of a greeting. Mu Qing gritted his teeth but otherwise let it go.

"Sorry to bother you two so early in the morning. Was I interrupting something between you and Lord Earth Master? I can come back later if that is more convenient."

"You are no bother at all!" Shi Qingxuan beamed and started talking to Mu Qing as if they were friends even though they had probably never said more than a few sentences to each other the entire time he had been in heaven. "But anyways what brings you here today? I hardly ever get to see you!" She grinned widely.

"Well I came to return this." Mu Qing began awkwardly as he pulled the pink pearl collar out of his robes and handed it to Shi Qingxuan. "I'm afraid Echo is too much of a shithead to be worthy of such beautiful and generous gifts. I really appreciate the thought though!" Shi Qingxuan grabbed the collar but tilted her head to the side in confusion.

"This is the most beautiful collar I have ever seen! But I'm afraid it's not mine. I mean I didn't get it for Echo. Did you Ming Yi?" Shi Qingxuan turned to ask her with wide, innocent eyes. Mu Qing also turned to the Earth Master giving her kind of a weird look. He didn't think that the Earth Master was behind this, but who knew since he was the only Heavenly Official that would play dress up with the Wind Master.

Ming Yi gave them both an icy stare before speaking. "Why would I buy a cat something like that? If I was to gift General Xuan Zhen's cat anything it would be leftover fish bones or something that it would actually like, not prized jewels."

Mu Qing cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ah, my bad. I had assumed that only Lord Wind Master would have such good taste to purchase this. I really can't accept this gift though, do you have any idea who it may have belonged to?" The women both shrugged.

"Why don't you just keep it? Whoever got it obviously wanted Echo to have it and I think it would look really good with Echo's sunset outfit!" Shi Qingxuan offered. Mu Qing gave Shi Qingxuan a hard look. Sunset outfit? "You know, the one you put on him a couple of weeks ago? Everyone loved it. He looked so cute!" Shi Qingxuan squealed.

Mu Qing gaped. "I did not dress him up in anything! It's animal abuse to dress up a MALE cat in cutsey outfits!" Shi Qingxuan shrinked back a bit. Mu Qing mentally kicked himself. He was supposed to be nice right now. He hoped that he hadn't offended Lord Wind Master.

Ming Yi interjected. "He's a cat. If he didn't want to wear cutesy outfits no one would be able to force him to. It's not like anyone is hurting him."

Mu Qing gave Ming Yi an incredulous look. "So it was you?"

"No, but I don't see what the big deal is. Why do you care about this so much that you would come all the way over here just to accuse us of dressing up your stupid cat? If you don't like it then just stop letting him outside."

"My cat should be able to play outside without anyone fucking with him!" Shi Qingxuan shrunk farther back as their argument escalated. Before it came to punches being thrown she suddenly shoved the pink pearl collar back into Mu Qing's hands.

"Here's this collar back. I'm sorry that we couldn't be of more help but I promise that it wasn't either of us. It was probably one of the other female officials, maybe ask around in the communication array?" Before he knew it Mu Qing had been gently escorted to the door by Shi Qingxuan. "It was so nice getting to chat with you again General Xuan Zhen but I forgot that we are really busy today! We need to do our laundry and it's going to take forever. I'll talk to you later, ok!?" Shi Qingxuan smiled apologetically at Mu Qing before closing the door in his face. He stood there for a few seconds with an unamused look on his face. If she wanted him to leave she could've just said so.

[cealesti]

"The Benko Gambit"?

That's a chess move, isn't it? I feel like this is either Tom centric, or Ron centric. I have my bias, obviously, because I did so enjoy how you portrayed Tom and his relationship to chess in "with eyes like these", but I would be curious anyhow cause I love chess in general.

As a gambit, it's rooted in the sacrifice of pawns, right?

Wonder what that might say about the focus character. If it's not Ron or Tom, I'm betting on Dumbledore.

oooh, what to say about "The Benko Gambit"?

edit: Right off the bat, this is a fic that's sort of a love letter to a bunch of fics I adore. The idea of Harry as Senior Undersecretary, for example, is straight out of "All For Show". The Snape & Hermione dynamic is something I only thought of after reading Hauntingly. You get it.

This is one of the WIPs I'm most excited about, definitely the one I've written more for, and probably my next big project after the "anybody else" series is eventually done with. This isn't really centered around a specific character, there's an ensemble cast to focus on, but Ron is a very important piece of the puzzle and yes, that's part of the reason I chose to go for a chess-themed title. The objective would be for every chapter to be named after chess manouvers; think "x opening, castling, y defense, check" so on and so forth.

The general strategy [of the Benko Gambit] is to sacrifice your Queen-side pawns in order to gain advantage (...) If the gambit is accepted, some of the lines that can develop are complicated and difficult to play.

This fic follows a back-and-forth structure; we go back between the trio's fifth year and the present moment of the fic, a good five years later. They're drastically different timelines: after all, in the present, Hermione, Snape, and Kinglsey are leading the Order of the Phoenix; Vee is playing at Government with Harry as his Senior Undersecretary and Ron and Draco as his Junior Undersecretaries. Susan Bones is an Auror, Luna is an Unspeakable, and this is very convenient, because Sirius Black has just popped out of the Veil, for reasons still unknown.

You may be asking: how on earth does any of that happen?

Here's a "for want of a nail" scenario: what if, in OotP, Ron doesn't throw Percy's letter away? What if - stick with me here - what if he answers it?

Wouldn't that be a hell of a gambit?

Snippet under the cut!

(September, 1995)

Tell me if you’ve heard this one before.

Three friends sit by a fireplace, late at night in their Common Room. The room is empty but for the three of them and a large ginger cat, who’s content to lay on his owner’s lap and purr up a storm. The rain pelts against the glass windows of the tower, wind whistling sharply, and though the room is warm and cozy and familiar, there’s a whisper of unease in the air.

Something that creeps under the skin, like disease. Like rot.

They’re living through a war, though many would not call it that. Many would rather call a fifteen-year-old orphan a liar, ridicule him in the papers, as quick to turn on him as they are to seek his favour, in a maddening media circus that speaks to the fickleness of public opinion.

You’re sixteen years old. You’re bright, and you’re driven, and you’re scared. You’re a target yourself, too muggleborn and too clever by half, but that’s not even the half of it, because one of your best friends has a target on his back as well, and the rest of the world is more than happy to pretend that it doesn’t exist.

Your other best friend has a letter clutched in his hand. His knuckles are white, ears red with fury and a little grief, for that letter was penned by a brother that he hasn’t seen in months. A brother who walked out on their family, blind to their reason in the face of his pride, and who now urges your friend to do the same.

Tell me if you’ve heard this one before.

The three friends ridicule the letter and the one who sent it. They sit in their fury against an establishment that was meant to protect them. They go through the school year and form a rebellion, a resistance, jump through hoops and outsmart older and more experienced wixen with little more than their guile and their will. At the end of the year, they fall headfirst into a trap. They lose the first of many friends.

This is not that story - though it might not be obvious at first.

In this story, they still fall headfirst into a trap after a misguided attempt at rescue. They still lose a friend. They still form a resistance, outsmart their watchers and all of those who would see them condemned for speaking the truth, and they do it with little more than their wits and their heart and their conviction.

But in this story - they don’t dismiss that letter.

In this story, your best friend, who is proud and brave and selfless, the epitome of what a fairytale hero should be -

In this story, he raises his head, green eyes flashing with something shrewd. Something new.

In this story, he pauses, and says:

“We can use this.”

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 10: Red Right Hand

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Tommy makes his thoughts on singing at the Garrison more than clear, and a situation develops with Danny Whizz-Bang.

Word Count: 3,477

Notes: Warnings for depictions of blood, smut, drug use, PTSD, and violence.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 3: Singing in the Garrison

“Are they singing?” Lucy gawked, eyes widening at the sounds emitting from the Garrison. Tommy’s eyes narrowed, shoving open the doors with a slight creak. The moment they stepped inside, with their obvious caps and her hair, bright as a beacon, everyone in the bar quieted, turning away to their drinks.

Well, everyone except for one.

Grace remained standing straight, eyes focused straight ahead on Lucy and Tommy. There was a quiet defiance in her eyes, and something else, too. Like she was assessing them as she finished singing her song.

She really did have a very beautiful voice. The kind that could make you cry, if she wanted you to. Tommy was leaning against one of the pub’s golden beams, eyes wide and focused firmly on Grace. Lucy smirked and elbowed him lightly.  

Once the song was over, Grace’s eyes darted somewhat nervously about, as if realizing that she had just done something taboo. Harry approached Tommy very, very cautiously. 

“We haven’t had singing in here since the war,” he commented with a shaky smile. Tommy looked at him with a face like stone, cold and unmoving.

“Why do you think that is, Harry?” his eyes snapped back to Grace, who looked down at her shoes. Great. Now he’d gone and hurt her feelings.

“Buzzkill,” Lucy whispered in his ear as they made their way towards the snug. 

“I don’t like singing,” he grumbled.

“Yes, love, I think you made that abundantly clear.”

He shot her a look that was about as close to apologetic as she knew she was going to get. Sliding into a seat across from him, she pulled a stack of cards from her pocket.

“You can make it up to me by letting me kick your ass at poker.”

Settling into a seat across from her, he snorted. But his smile was fond as she started to deal out the cards. 

They were just starting to play their first hand when the door to the snug opened, Grace stepping in with a bottle of whiskey and some glasses clutched in her hands. She set them down silently on the table, not meeting either of their eyes. 

“Hullo, again,” Lucy smiled at her, unable to help herself. Grace finally looked up at her, eyes a shade darker blue than Tommy’s, but no less beautiful. 

“Hello, Miss. Winters.”

“Just ‘Lucy’ is fine, Grace,” shooting a look at Tommy, who was very pointedly staring at his cards, she rolled her eyes at his rudeness. “How are you settling in?”

“Oh, um, good. Good. Harry’s been very welcoming.”

“Good,” nodding, she glanced back at her cards. “We’ll let you get back to work, then. Thanks for the whiskey.”

Grace looked for a moment like she wanted to say more, looking nervously over at Tommy. But she evidently thought better of it; closing her mouth and just offering Lucy and little nod and a tiny smile before disappearing out the door. As soon as it was closed, Lucy gave Tommy a light kick under the table. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You could at least try to be nice.”

“Ugh,” he grunted, making a face like the idea was entirely foreign to him.

“You were nice to me when I first showed up here.”

“That was different.”

“Why?”

Finally looking up from his cards, he sighed, setting them face down onto the table. “Well, for one, I had copious background checks done on you before we even spoke,” the smoke from his cigarette rose and twisted within the air. Lucy waited for him to say more, eyebrows raising when he didn’t.

“And two?”

“Hm?”

“You said ‘for one.’ What was the other reason?”

When he blinked, it was slow, like a cat. “You know why.”

She felt heat rise to her cheeks, trying to hide it with a smirk. “Aw, Tom. Were you smitten with me?”  

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” he grumbled, with absolutely zero bite or conviction behind his words. If anything he looked like he was fighting back a smile as he scooped his cards back up again. Lucy cackled gleefully.

“Me!? You’re the one who’s grumpy and scowling all the time,” she nudged his shin with the toe of her shoe lovingly.

“Okay, you know what? I was gonna be nice and let you win–” he ignored her indignant squawk at that, “but now I think I’ll take all your money and make you walk home.”

She giggled. “Your threats are empty, Shelby,” they both knew he’d never leave her to walk home alone in the dark. 

“Just play your fucking hand, Lucy,” but he was making that face that meant he was biting the side of his mouth to keep from laughing.

Still giggling, she tossed her cards onto the table, opening the bottle of whiskey and pouring two glasses.

Neither of them was really able to help the glances that they kept shooting towards the door Grace had disappeared through.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Oh,” Lucy moaned, gripping tight to his shoulders, face pressing into the side of his head. Tommy growled, the hand on her bare thigh squeezing as he felt her walls fluttering around his cock. He held her tight, thrusting into her deeply and making the bed beneath them squeal in protest. Her nails scraped pleasantly along his skin, and in retaliation he nipped lightly at her shoulder. “Don’t stop.”

As if he’d ever want to. She felt so good it made his head spin; so wet and tight around him, the little sounds she was desperately trying to keep quiet only spurring him on. 

Her walls squeezed around him even tighter when he slightly adjusted the angle of his thrusts, so that with every stroke he was rubbing right up against the spot that made her eyes roll into the back of her head. 

Tommy watched in wonderment as her beautiful face contorted, head falling back with her eyes closed, mouth opening in a moan. And then her walls were squeezing around him in a vice grip, orgasm gushing out around him, and he couldn’t keep back his own groan of pleasure. Pressure was building in his balls, tingles shooting up and down his shaft while the head of his cock swelled. Wrapping both arms around Lucy, he buried his face in her shoulder, pressing his mouth to her neck to muffle his groan as he finally snapped his hips forward one last time into her, holding himself there as he came explosively inside her. 

Lucy made a happy little sound in the back of her throat, clinging to him tightly while he finished. Every one of his instincts was aching and begging for him to get somehow closer and deeper into her. 

As if he wanted to merge them into a single being. 

Final shockwaves of pleasure leaving his body, Tommy sighed pleasantly, lifting his head from where it was still nestled in the crook of Lucy’s neck. Her green eyes were heavy-lidded, satisfied and sleepy.

“Mm,” with a little hum, she rested her hand on his cheek, thumb rubbing his cheekbone. Tommy leaned into it, the coolness of her hand soothing against his warm skin. When he ran his fingertips across her lips, she turned her head to kiss them, then angled her head to caress his lips with hers, feather-soft. 

He pulled out of her gingerly, wincing at the sensation on his now oversensitive cock, adjusting himself to lay beside her. The bed was so tiny that they were still squished together, Tommy’s arms remaining looped around her while she laid her head on his chest. 

“Should get cleaned up, soon,” she mumbled, still sounding a little pleasure-drunk.

“Yes,” Tommy agreed, though neither of them made any such movements. They were both a little bit of a mess, hair rumpled, clothes tossed all over the room, and the bedsheets half thrown to the floor. 

They laid there for a long time, the silence comfortable around them, until finally Lucy made a face and sat up.

“Right, seriously. Before I fall asleep.”

Tommy fought not to pout as she rolled over to give him a quick, not-quite innocent kiss before slipping out of his arms. Sitting up, he watched her move about the room, grabbing clothes and folding them carefully.

“I can do that,” he offered, pushing himself up. Lucy shot him a grateful look, pulling her knickers back on and stealing his shirt from where it was deposited on the floor near the window. 

“I’ll be right back,” she promised, stretching up on her toes to kiss him, pulling his shirt on and opening the door a crack, peeking out and then tip-toeing into the hall towards the washroom. 

Sighing, Tommy set to work collecting the remainder of Lucy’s clothes, folding them meticulously and setting them in a stack on the dresser. He pulled back on his underwear and trousers, taking a clean undershirt from a drawer. He knew better than to try to get back the one Lucy had just nabbed. It wouldn’t be until laundry day that he would have the chance to steal it back from her.

Finished dressing and tidying, he pulled out the little kit hidden under his pillow, opening it slowly. 

The door made an almost inaudible creek as Lucy snuck back in, closing it behind her with a click. She rolled her eyes fondly at the sight of him once again almost completely dressed, but kissed his cheek with a smile, sitting down next to him and cuddling into his side.    

The match snapped as he struck it, carefully holding the flame to the wick until it caught. With careful, controlled movements, he unrolled the pipe from the fabric he kept it wrapped in. He rolled the little brown dollop of the drug between his fingers, hooking it carefully onto the pin before holding it over the flame until it smoked. Then it was settled into its spot in the pipe, a steady line of smoke still rising from it, the scent filling the small room. Settling on his side, he took a long, slow drag from the pipe, letting the smoke fill his lungs and his mind.

“Can I have a hit?” already, Lucy’s voice sounded very abstract and far away. He just nodded, passing the pipe to her. She took a lazy drag from it and handed it back, settling in beside him in the tiny bed. Tommy sighed as she curled up against his back, an arm falling to wrap loosely around his waist. As she began to drift off, she mumbled something about how him sleeping with his shoes on was an affront to God.

“You don’t believe in God,” he grumbled back.

“Still.”

Sleep pulled him under before he could come up with a response.

The dream was the same as it always was. The tunnel. The shovels against the walls. Danny and Freddie beside him. Screaming. Blood bursting underneath his hands. 

He woke with a gasp, sitting up straight and panting. His face was sweaty when he rubbed his hands over his eyes. A pained sound left his lips. Something between a whimper and a groan. He wasn’t even sure how long he had actually managed to sleep for.

The sound of voices, outside, alerted him. He stretched across the bed to pull back the curtain. It was just two coppers, chattering to each other as they walked down the street. Taking a deep breath, his heart still pounding in his chest, he laid down slowly back on the bed.

“Tommy?” Lucy stirred, likely roused from all the moving.

“Sorry, love. I’m all right,” he whispered. She shifted, tugging on his shoulder until he turned to face her. They should have gone to her flat, instead of his. Her bed was much more comfortable.

His lashes fluttered as she cupped his clammy cheek with her small hand. She never pressured him to talk about it; and she already knew what haunted him in his dreams, just as he knew what it was that had her sometimes waking up beside him, screaming and clawing at phantom enemies.

“Come here,” she coaxed, pulling him closer until his head was settled against her chest, arms looped over his shoulders. A sigh left his lips, the smell of her perfume enough to lull him. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get back to sleep, but at the very least he was comfortable and content there. Her fingers ran carefully up and down his back. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” he wrapped his arms around her waist, snuggling closer to her.

“‘Kay. Just try to relax, love,” her eyes slipped closed as she settled back against the bed. “And take off your damn shoes,” she complained a moment later. That drew a breathless laugh from his lips, shoes falling off the end of the bed with two loud thumps as he kicked them off.

“There. Happy?”

“Mhm,” she purred in approval. And with her fingers running lazily through his hair, he let sleep claim him once more.     

∗ ∗ ∗

Stepping away from his conversation with Charlie, he headed for the stables. Lucy was cooing quietly to the chestnut horse in one of the stalls, stroking her nose and feeding sugar cubes to her from her palm.

“How’d it go?” she asked as he moved to stand beside her, hand reaching out to stroke Sin’s red fur.

“Fine.”

The look she gave him was deeply knowing. “You’ve decided to keep the guns.”

“How do you know that? I didn’t know until just now.”

She shrugged. “Could see it in your eyes,” clearing her throat, she sighed. “We have a problem,” her voice was solemn. He raised an eyebrow. Giving Sin one last pat on the flank, she turned to him, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I just heard from our people in Little Italy. This afternoon, Danny Whizz-Bang killed a waiter outside a restaurant. He was having one of his attacks, the waiter came at him with a knife, things got out of hand…it wasn't intentional,” she jerked her head, to toss some hair out of her face. “But the man he killed had brothers who are in with the Italians. So…”

“So they’re threatening war?”

“Unless we deliver Danny Whizz-Bang to them.”

“Fuck,” he rubbed a hand down his face. Sin whinnied, as if sensing his distress. He stroked a hand absentmindedly through her thick mane. Danny was his friend. His comrade. Yes, the man was an undeniable mess, but that didn’t change what they’d gone through together, trapped down there in the tunnels, deep under the ground…

Maybe that was why he could never bring himself to truly discipline Danny, despite his constant public outbursts. Lucy stroked his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I should have done more to get him help.”

“How?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, unable to come up with an answer for her, running his hand once along the stripe of white fur that covered Sin’s nose.

“Do you think the Italians would accept it being me that does it?”

Lucy blinked. “I–maybe. I could get the word out to them, see if they’d be open to it.”

“Good. Do that.”

“Tommy…”

“Wait,” he said, turning to grasp her shoulders. Lucy looked up at him with worried jewel green eyes. “Just…listen to my plan, first, eh? I have an idea.”

Her brows furrowed, but he could see it, in her eyes. Always so trusting. So loyal. He couldn’t even begin to consider how thankful he was for her. How when everyone else was pushing against him, or questioning him, she was there, in his corner. 

“Okay.”

∗ ∗ ∗

The fog had settled thickly over the bank along the river. Across the water, the two Italians stared at her intensely. One held a cigar in his hand. The other had his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Lucy forced herself not to break eye contact, back leaned against a barrel. For all appearances the figure of casual nonchalance despite the tensing in her muscles. She only looked away at the sound of Tommy and Danny’s footsteps. Tommy was speaking softly, while Danny kept his head hung low, clutching his hat to his chest. 

“If I let the Italians do this, Danny, they’ll cut off your manhood and let you drain. That’s how those bastards do things.”

Pot, meet kettle, Mr. Shelby. She had to hide her snort. Though, she supposed, it wasn’t completely hypocritical. He just always had her do the castrating for him.

Lucy looked away to the ground, only half listening as Danny and Tommy continued to speak with each other.

And then Danny was looking to the sky.

“I suppose I ought to pray now.”

Oh, honey. Didn’t he know that it was not God that had looked after him all this time?

Danny gave Tommy his final requests, and they shook hands. Danny smiled, pulled his hat on, and turned his back to Tommy, so he was facing the river. The boat Charlie was seated in was just beginning to drift past them. The gun glinted in the sun as Tommy pulled it from his coat, clicking as it cocked.

“In the bleak midwinter.”

There was a long stretch of silence, and then the gun cracked, echoing as it was fired. Danny fell forward, to crumple in the center of the boat. Blood and brains splattered across Tommy’s face. The two Italians looked at each other and nodded, walking away to disappear into the fog. Tommy holstered his gun and turned, stepping away from the bank. Lucy straightened and moved to follow him.

“Here,” she handed him a handkerchief, and he grimaced as he wiped away the sheep’s brains sticking to his face. 

“Ugh.”

“How’s it smell?”

“Not great.”

She took the handkerchief from him, grasping his chin as she wiped at a spot on his forehead that he missed. “There.”

“Thank you.”

“You think they bought it?”

“We better hope so,” he began walking towards the exit of the yard. “Your brother is still willing to host him while he’s in London?”

“Yeah. He’s got a spare room. Said it’s no trouble, really.”

“Tell him I said thank you.”

“Already did,” she looped her arm with his. They shared a cigarette as they walked back to the betting shop, the door creaking as Tommy shoved it open and led her inside. He went to a table, throwing open a book, flattening his hands on the desk, hunching over it with an exhausted sigh. Lucy patted his shoulder, shrugging off her coat and hanging it on a hook, heading into their office and collapsing into the chair at her little desk. She could faintly hear Arthur bursting in, shouting something about Monaghan Boy winning the race. Just like Tommy had planned. She didn’t pay it much mind, unlocking one of the drawers in her desk and pulling out the documents inside, eyes scanning over them quickly as she set to work. Tommy vanished for a while, probably to go talk to Polly. Her pen scratched against the paper as she wrote down notes.

“What do you think of all of this?”

She looked up to find Arthur watching her with narrowed eyes, leaning against the doorframe.

“About what?”

“Him fixing races.”

Lucy shrugged, looking back down at her paperwork. “Tommy knows what he’s doing.”

“He’s going to bring Billy Kimber’s wrath down on all our heads.”

“We can handle Kimber.”

“How the hell do you know?”

“Tommy has a strategy.”

There was a long pause. “He tells you things that he doesn’t tell the rest of us,” there was a bitterness in Arthur’s voice. Lucy shrugged, putting the remaining papers back in the drawer and locking it before standing.

“Maybe, instead of being angry with me, you lot should take a moment to consider why that is,” she squeezed past him and out the door, heading for the kitchen. Arthur didn’t follow her. 

Tommy and Polly were talking in the kitchen. Whisking past them as she pulled on her coat, she ventured into the sitting room. A moment later Tommy followed her, and they stepped out the door and into the night. Soot hung heavily in the air, like snowflakes. Lights illuminated from the Garrison as they passed it, laughter and the clinking of glasses echoing from within. Lucy glanced to the side and promptly elbowed Tommy lightly in the ribs until he followed her gaze to where Grace was standing outside the pub. A red sweater was pulled over her shoulders, her golden hair like a halo illuminated in the otherwise dreary, gray scenery. Glancing away from the man she was conversing with, the barmaid’s eyes caught theirs. And for a moment the three of them gazed silently at each other.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

[dapplemoth]

Either Sorreltail x Brambleclaw hypokits or Squirrelflight x Rainwhisker?

Those are some interesting choices for ships..I've actually seen the bramble sorrel ship before funnily enough via a rewrite fanfic on deviant art I found ages ago. Rain x squirrel is completely new to me though.

Also fun fact for those of you who didn't know..bramblestar and Sorreltail are actually based on cherith baldrys real kitties Bramble and Sorrel..which was always super precious to me.

Anyway! Here are the kits. I hope you don't mind that I did both.

More info about the couples and kits under the read more

I think Brambs and Squilf never ended up dating in this universe. They still care for each other and the whole conflict with hawkfrost still happens but just plays out like watching your friend falling in with a bad crowd instead of what happened in the text.

Brambleclaw eventually forms a relationship with Sorreltail, having bonded briefly while they were both still apprentices and eventually reconnect upon arriving at the lake territories. He ends up training in the dark forest but only stays to try and look out for hawkfrost (which...doesn't work) and for the sake of time most things in canon stay the same aside from minor differences and motivation.

Their kits names are Stormkit(white tom) Wildkit(golden tiger striped she-cat) and Tawnykit(dark brown tom with light undertones)

Rainwhisker and Squirrelflight is a bit more tricky since..I don't know a whole lot about Rainwhisker tbh, his sister was always more of an interesting character to me. Its kinda fun to speculate however.

Squilf and Rain get together when Squirrelflight breaks up with Ashfur. At first they're just fake dating since Rainwhisker saw how creepy Ashfur was being and pretended to be her boyfriend so she would be more comfortable. Eventually though feelings blossom and soon enough Squilf has Rain padding after her like a lost puppy dog.

For awhile they raise the three together (Squirrelflight still has to lie to Rainwhisker about their parentage bc star clan sucks) and while the three are apprentices Squirrelflight becomes pregnant with Rainwhisker's kits and while she's excited she's also feeling conflicted because well..she was supposed to be barren. Yellowfang has to come down to awkwardly apologize to her for that like in canon, just a lot sooner than usual.

They only have one fluffy she-kit named Willowkit, but the couple couldn't be happier with her (besides, it would be a nice break than when they were raising three rambunctious kittens) You can't see her eyes here but I imagine she has some bright blue peepers under all that fluff. Since the story stuff is getting too long already, I'll move on to the kits personalities and warrior names:

Stormkit was a rather sickly kitten, and was confined to the nursery most of the time. His growth was a bit stunted due to his illness so he never got to be as big as his siblings. It took a long time for him to actually leave the nursery once his apprentice ceremony came since he was scared of everyone and everything. His mentor is Thornclaw, and while training with him he slowly becomes more confident and brash. He uses his relatively light frame to his advantage in battle, taking many cats off guard with his ferocity. His warrior name will be Stormstrike.

Wildkit was the biggest kitten and remained the largest throughout her entire life. She was a big daddies girl growing up. Alhough she also loved her mother, it was easier to get Brambleclaw agree to her whims. A bit spoiled from this, she was a bit of bully as an apprentice before her mentor Sandstorm made it clear she wouldn't tolerate that attitude anymore. She becomes humble and more reserved as she grows older, but never truly lost her competitive streak and constantly pushed herself to be better. Her warrior name will be Wildheart.

Tawnykit wasn't as big as Wildkit, but that didn't stop him from sparring with her. The two siblings always had a rivalry with each other even at a young age, often frightening poor Stormkit with their scuffles. He never seemed to be able to beat his sister in anything though, which frustrated the young tom. It wasn't until his mentor, Brackenfur, introduced him to different ways of fighting and new skills that could benefit the clan without the need for claws. Having found a new passion, Tawnypaw stopped comparing himself so much and appreciated his own talents that he brought to Thunderclan. His warrior name will be Tawnybrush.

Willowkit is a quiet, reflective kitten, and that didn't change very much as she grew up. She'll often stop and pause to appreciate the little details in life, which annoys her clanmates. Her mentor, Brightheart, was able to get Willowpaw to open up more and became someone Willowpaw could bounce ideas off of. In return for listening to Willowpaw, Brightheart would ask Willowpaw to perform a task for her, which she happily did without complaint. On the outside it may seem like not much has changed at all, but once you get Willowpaw talking its like she turns into a completely different cat. Her warrior name will be Willowsong.

[bethanymcsm]

Recently reread The Prophecies Begin and all I can think of is a Warriors x MCSM AU

Casting so far:

Bluestar: Gabriel/Foreststar

Rusty/Firepaw/heart: Toffee/M!Jesse/Sparrowpaw/pelt

Yellowfang: Ivor/Ivyfang

Ravenpaw: Radar/Smallpaw

Greypaw/stripe: Lukas/Dawnpaw/fur

Sandpaw/storm: Petra/Firepaw/claw

Dustpaw/pelt: Aiden/Blackpaw/wind

Princess: F!Jesse/Holly

Tigerclaw/star: Soren/Flameheart/star

Each character will have tweaked back stories due to either kits (Yellowfang having kits and Bluestar giving up hers not being possible with Gabriel and Ivor) or various other reasons and yes, there will be OCs to play small roles so here have some descriptions while I try do art

Foreststar: A broad shouldered, dark brown tabby tom with yellow eyes

Ivyfang: A skinny black tom with blue eyes

Sparrowpaw: A spotted brown tom with green eyes

Smallpaw: A small, dark grey tom with orange eyes

Dawnpaw: A light ginger tom with shocking blue eyes

Blackpaw: A lithe, black tabby tom with green eyes

Firepaw: A bright orange she-cat with yellow eyes

Holly: A black she-cat with bright green eyes

Flameheart: An orange tom with red eyes

[holdmytesseract]

The Cat is out of the Bag

Tom Hiddleston x fem!Reader

Request: "Hello! Hope you are doing well. Can you write something based off the news that Zawe and Tom are expecting their first child? Thank you and I love your work, it’s amazing :)" - Requested by a nonny :)

Summary: Baby Hiddles is on the way - and the plan was to keep it a secret for as long as somehow possible. But from one day to the next, the news are suddenly spread all over the internet, tabloids and social networks. The question? Who let the cat out of the bag...

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, a tad bit of drama - if you can even call it that

Word Count: 1,2k

a/n: I think I never wrote a request that fast. xD Ahhh I loved it! Thanks, dear nonny for requesting and especially for your kind words! I really hope you like what I came up with! 🧡

It was a beautiful summer morning here in London. The sun shone bright. Birds sang their songs and the sky was a clear blue. No clouds in sight. It was perfect, I thought, as I gazed out of the window. Just like life was at the moment. It couldn't be more perfect. My job as a theatre director was dreamlike. I lived in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The engagement ring around my finger was twinkling brightly underneath the rays of sunshine and when I looked down to see my cute four-month bump, I felt nothing beside pure love. Like I said... Life was perfect - and it couldn't be better.

I yawned and threw the blankets aside to get up. The empty left side of the bed told me, that Tom was already out, filming season two of Loki. The thought of that put a smile on my face. I was so proud of him and more than happy that this was actually happening. I stretched and slipped in my slippers, before I made my way over to the door, waking the chocolate brown fur ball on my way. "Bobby, you coming, too?" The Cocker Spaniel laid at the edge of the bed and opened his eyes to look at me, when I called his name. He lifted his head tiredly. "Come on." I tapped my thigh, in order to encourage him to follow me. His brown eyes scanned me. He was seemingly weighing his options. "So? Are you accompanying me now?" Bobby huffed, then lowered his head again and slept on. "Okay fine, you lazy bum. Sleep on." I giggled and scratched his head lovingly, before I made my way down to the kitchen for breakfast. That was the main thing on my mind, 24/7... Food. I had always been a food lover, but now even more since I was pregnant. So, I poured myself a glass of water, grabbed the milk carton from the fridge, a bowl from the cabinet alongside a spoon and last but not least the opened package of cornflakes and sat down at the kitchen counter. I poured the milk in the bowl and added the cornflakes, starting my breakfast. While munching on my food, I unlocked my phone, texted Tom, answered some other text messages and emails, before I went to check the news and browse through several tabloids - what turned out to be kinda a mistake... The moment I read the headlines, the spoon literally fell out of my hand and clattered loudly to the ground. I stared with an opened mouth at my mobile, shocked. "What?!" The headline was on every tabloid almost exactly the same...

'Y/N Y/L/N's pregnancy confirmed!'

'Marvel-Star Tom Hiddleston is going to be a dad!'

'Y/N Y/L/N and Tom Hiddleston: The rumours turned out to be true!'

'Tom Hiddleston and fianćee Y/N: Pregnancy confirmed!'

And my personal favourite...

'Baby News in the Marvel-Universe! Baby Hiddleston is on the way!'

I blinked rapidly; tried to process what my eyes saw.                  The rumours had been there. I couldn't deny that. This topic was heavily discussed on the internet, social media and in several tabloids as well for weeks. It seemingly was a worldwide speculation - and suddenly it was confirmed? How? That was the only thought cursing through my mind. Tom and I actually wanted to keep it a secret as long as somehow possible - not just for four months...

Groaning, I closed the Google app and opened my contacts. I needed an answer. Now. I didn't waist a second, tapped on Tom's contact, dialling his number. Luckily, he picked up immediately... "Darling! Good morning! How are my two favourite girls doing?" He sounded more than happy. "Hey, babe... We are doing wonderfully - but... Tommy, we need to talk." I decided to not beat about the bush. "What do you want to talk about?" His tone shifted immediately. Now he sounded alarmed. Concerned. "Is it something we should discuss privately and in person?" Tom was so caring, I could've screamed. I loved that about him. "No, it's okay. Can you talk now, babe? Have you got a minute?" "Sure, love. For you always. What is it?" I took a deep breath. "Have you already checked the news?" "No. I didn't have the time to do that yet. Why?" "Well..." I pressed my lips together in a thin line. "Then you should open Google now and check it out, babe." "I am already on it. Just let me take a quick lo- Oh..." "Yup..." He saw it. "I-I, uhm..." Tom stuttered, not knowing what to say. "Okay, I take from your reaction that you're just as clueless on how it happened, just like I am. Good." I sighed and stood up, starting to clean up my breakfast. "Y-Yes, I have actually no clue how this could've hap- Oh..." Tom's second 'Oh' caused me to stop in my motions. "Oh what?" Tom had become utterly quiet on the other end of the line. "Tommy?" "Uh... Did you, uh, saw the headline of the Daily Mail?" "The Daily Mail headline? I don't think so. Wait, I look for it." I went once again in Google and scrolled down, until I found the headline, Tom was talking about. "Found it."

'Hiddleston & Y/L/N: Acting Colleague accidentally drops the baby bombshell!'

Acting Colleague? Which acting colleague?! That could only mean one thing... "Babe..." I said in a warning tone. "Who did you tell it to?" "Uh..." Tom clearly sounded caught. "Not a lot of people… Ben... Chris... Uh..." "Yes?" I waited patiently for him to speak. "And, um, Tom." The last name made me prick up my ears. "Tom? Which Tom?" Tom sighed, defeated. "Holland." He muttered, barely audibly, but I heard it nevertheless. "Tom Holland? You told it Tom Holland?!" "I, uh, guess, yes." Tom's voice was barely above a whisper by now and I could've sworn that he was beet red in the face. "Baaaabe..." I practically whined. "I thought we wanted to keep it a secret... And then you are telling it little Tom? We both know he can keep secrets as good as a fish can fly – which means not at all!" "I know, darling, I know - and I am so sorry! It's just... I met him last week. A day after our visit at the doctors and I was just so excited a-and-" Tom sighed. "It just slipped my mouth. I told him to keep his mouth shut, but well... Like you said... Little Tom isn't the best in keeping secrets. I shouldn't have told him, I am sorry." His words tugged at my heart strings, making me soft. How could I be mad at him for that? "Hey... It's okay, Tommy… We can't change what happened. I am not mad at you for telling Tom. And honestly? We couldn't have kept it a secret forever anyways, so..." Tom sighed once again. "Yes, probably. But nevertheless... I should have been more careful." "Baby, it's not your fault. You were just happy and controlled by your father feelings and that's okay. Again, I am not mad at you. I am probably a bit mad at Spiderman, though." My words caused Tom to stifle a giggle, before he inhaled and exhaled deeply. "This is going to be one hell of a week... " "Yup." I agreed, popping the p. "Now that the cat is out of the bag..."

a/n: Sorry, little Tom!

[iamfabiloz]

Goosefeather x sagewhisker t4t manlet and tall wife writing prmopt

Also how do you feel that i made out with someone in your comment section on the poly leafpool vid

YEAA I wrote hurt/comfort thingie of them sorry I went insane and passed out like five times writing this LOL

also I think that u and the romance arc u had in my comments section was beautiful 11/10 :)))/j polyam leafpool isn’t the bane of my existence not all alll/j /lh

anywayz cw for nightmares it’s a little spooky

Hulking, contorting creatures blotted Goosefeather’s view. They shrieked and hissed, writhing around in the pitch black sky. Before long, They slowly disappeared into the darkness, clunking heavy round paws against the floor. At every corner there was a strange, unfamiliar cat, acting out some sort of scenario. There was a ginger tom engulfed in flames, a scarlet soaked tabby with a stake through his heart, a badger looming over the bleeding body of dark gray she-cat, all things Goosefeather had no context for. 

What did they all mean? How could he use any of this information for anything? Goosefeather turned away and ran hard, his paws skidding against the ground. Then he realized he wasn’t running on the ground at all. He was in a black void, images of events yet to come swirling around his feeble pelt. They crowded against his head, begging to be listened to. The noise boomed inside of the medicine cat’s skull, curling around his brain, and stabbing it agonizingly. Goosefeather howled in pain and terror, but when he swiped at the figures, his claws cut through their forms like mist. He couldn’t make them go away. He was powerless. He cupped his trembling paws over his ears, but the sounds slipped through the cracks. They sounded even more outraged. The noise reached a terrifying crescendo and Goosefeather screeched. 

“STOP!” 

Goosefeather’s eyes shot wide open and he wheezed out a shaking breath. The other medicine cats were still sound asleep, beside him. None of them looked to be having terrible dreams, they all looked completely at ease. It was only him. The ThunderClan healer sat up, his breaths coming in short bursts. Oh StarClan, why? Why are you doing this to me, specifically? Goosefeather wailed internally, knowing he would never get a reasonable response. I can’t do anything about my visions, what’s the point of sending them to me? Old anger bubbled beneath his pelt and he felt his fur begin to rise. 

He squinted as he turned to the Moonstone, the bright light dazzling his bleary eyes. He imagined it collapsing into a pile of rubble, its glow fading and reducing the cave to pitch black darkness. Well not complete darkness, Goosefeather thought spitefully, staring up at the ceiling hole above. The stars glittered coldy in the cloudless night sky. Moonlight seeped through the opening, and down into the cramped cave. Even if the Moonstone was gone, StarClan would still find a way to slip a sign into his normal life. It had happened before. 

They would always be watching him. He could never truly run from the star’s foul, vigilant gaze. Eyes would always prick his pelt, his paw steps would always have been foretold, and every hair on his pelt wasn’t his. 

He was the heaven’s plaything. 

Goosefeather wanted to implode in frustration. He wanted to march right up to whoever ran the rat-pit that was StarClan, and demand why he had been cursed.  Why he had to live like this, drowning in visions, when every other healer only got a dose of it. 

Why me? Why me? Why me?

Goosefeather tore at the floor beneath him, but there was nothing to shred, only cold, scuffed stone. His claws scraped painfully against rock as he rapidly flailed his arms, struggling to hold back his enraged hisses. 

After he got tired of that, Goosefeather sank to the ground defeatedly. He wanted to go home and curl up in his nest, but he had to wait for his apprentice, Featherwhisker. The tom was sleeping a few tail lengths away from him, his young face peacefully still. A pang of jealousy jabbed at Goosefeather’s heart as he glared at his snoozing form. 

Why cant I be like that? Why can’t I have normal dreams? He swallowed, trying to bury the feelings of envy towards his apprentice’s good fortune. 

It’s not his fault, StarClan doesn’t hate him. 

Goosefeather let out a hoarse sigh, and buried his face into his paws. His eyes watered and hot tears rolled down his cheeks, dampening the gray fur on his face. Little gutteral animal-like noises erupted from his mouth, and he pressed his paws over it, trying to keep quiet. He sobbed into his pads, his whole face contorting into an ugly cry. Eventually, the noises died down in volume, though his throat burned painfully from the outburst. He rubbed his paws at his face, trying to wipe away the tears and snot. I’m acting like such a fussy kit! He chided himself, though he kept on whimpering. 

“Goose?” A low, confused voice sounded from his left side. Goosefeather looked up with a sniffle. 

Sagewhisker, the ShadowClan medicine cat, was sitting up in her spot, her yellow eyes blinking as she adjusted to being awake. She was Goosefeather’s romantic partner, his mate. A tiny inkling of warmth stirred inside of Goosefeather’s belly. She stood up and padded over to him, her long limbs gracefully stepping around several of her slumbering companions. Her white fur glowed under the Moonstone’s light, making her look ghostly. Goosefeather shivered and tucked his paws beneath himself, blinking away the last of his tears. 

Sagewhisker curled up next to him, reaching out a sleek white paw. 

“Oh Goose, why are you awake? Did you have more visions?” 

“Isn’t it obvious? When don’t I have more visions!” Goosefeather grunted, flicking his tail irritably. Sagewhisker was silent for a moment, her ears twitching in response to his abrasiveness. Her paw lingered uncertainly in the air. A wave of piercing shame ran through Goosefeather’s pelt. 

“I-I’m sorry.” He meowed in a quieter tone, ducking his head. “I’m not over it still.” Sagewhisker’s eyes filled with warmth. 

“You don’t have to be. I understand.” She meowed softly, placing her paw on his shoulder. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” 

Goosefeather shifted in place for few heartbeats before nodding silently.

 “Okay.”

He inched closer to her, and leaned over to press against her pelt. She shifted her position, making it so Goosefeather could rest his head on her flank while she craned her neck to face him. Goosefeather felt immensely comforted by her presence. She was real and infallible. Sagewhisker wouldn’t harm or terrorize him. He was safe, even just for a moment. Goosefeather sucked in a laborious breath. He started telling his partner all about the wretched dream he had bore witness to. The visions of cats yet to be born. The awful noise of their stories  pounding inside his skull. The endless, dark void he thought he would never escape from. Sagewhisker listened patiently, her expression calm as he spilled out his woes.

“I don’t know why StarClan keeps sending me these awful nightmares! I can’t even do anything about it! No one will listen to me, and Cloudberry taught me to not meddle with fate! As if she knew anything about it!” Foam flecked at the corners of Goosefeather’s mouth as he ranted. Sagewhisker rasped her tongue soothingly behind his ears, nodding quietly. Goosefeather sniffled, pressing his head harder against his mate’s flank. 

“I don’t know what to do, Sagewhisker. The visions won’t stop. I can’t control them. Everywhere I turn, it’s foul omen after foul omen. I scare my clanmates. Even my own sister.” Goosefeather swallowed painfully, his eyes beginning to water once more. 

“I’m going to live like this forever.” 

Sagewhisker stopped licking the back of his ears. Her expression was steely as she looked down at him with her marigold-yellow eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, Goosefeather. You don’t deserve StarClan’s ire one bit. Whichever gaggle of spirit cats decided to give you this gift are bat-blind, and just as foolish in death as they probably were in life.” Her expression hardened with anger. 

“If they keep sending you these dreadful messages, I think you should have some sort of plan for calming down after the ordeal.“ 

Goosefeather tipped his head. “Like what?”

“Take deep, slow breaths after you see something. Don’t let it get a hold of and consume you. Another thing I’ve found that can distract you, is clawing pictures into the dirt. I know it sounds kit-like, but it’s helped me before. It takes your mind off things for a good while. Maybe chew on some honeycomb or drink moss water mixed with chamomile too, I’ve heard it’s good for unwinding. You could even ask Featherwhisker to help you get some. Or take a stroll in the forest and find it yourself. It sounds simple but, a good walk can really help clear your head.” 

Goosefeather blinked, feeling a smidge skeptical. “Are you sure those will work? I don’t know…” Goosefeather trailed off with a huff. Sagewhisker laid her tail gently on his spine. 

“Listen, why don’t you meet me at the ShadowClan border two sunrises from now? I can show you how to do all of these things. We can even test out other strategies. I know it can be daunting, believe me. I know. But it’s important to get into at least one of these habits so the stress doesn’t overwhelm you. StarClan can’t disappear, but we can find methods to help you accommodate and cope.” Sagewhisker nudged Goosefeather’s forehead with her muzzle. 

“Okay, I don’t see why not.” Goosefeather said in a gruff voice. “But you’ll help me with everything, right?” Sagewhisker nodded. “I will, I promise.” Goosefeather twitched his tail approvingly, but then he felt his face fall. 

“What about my clanmates? And my sibling, Moonflower?” Goosefeather’s voice began to tremble again. “They hate me.”

Sagewhisker’s eyes rounded. Goosefeather readied himself for more uplifting encouragement, but a snarl escaped the white she-cat’s jaws. “Then they are toad-brained crow-food eaters. How dare, they shun you without even bothering to listen to what you have to say? You’re the medicine cat for a reason! You’re a skilled healer, yet they all can’t see that past the bridge of their noses. I’m sorry about your sister, perhaps there’s still a chance to mend things with her, but the others… If they dislike you, than that’s on them. I know you, Goosefeather. Quite well. It’s a shame they don’t want to too.” 

Goosefeather felt his skin burn beneath his pelt,  jolts of surprise poking at his body. He twisted his head around to stare at Sagewhisker, who was huffing. She took a deep breath and let it out through her nose. After a minute, she looked back at Goosefeather, her shiny yellow eyes gleaming. 

“Anything you need, Goose, I’m there. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’ll always be a border away.” 

“Okay.” Goosefeather mumbled, his voice trembling with barely contained emotion.  Feeling as if the metaphorical clouds had cleared, he meowed quietly. “Thanks.” 

Sagewhisker touched her pink nose to his cheek. “Anytime. I care about you, Goosefeather. A lot. I want you to remember that.”

Goosefeather’s chest warmed and he pressed his muzzle into her fur affectionately. Gratitude and love for his mate swept through his body, flooding it with the first overload of positive emotion he had felt in weeks. “I know.” A weak purr rumbled in his throat. “I do too.” 

Sagewhisker brushed her thin muzzle along the side of his face. Goosefeather closed his eyes, trying to drink in as much of the moment as he could. He was safe and happy right now. Sagewhisker, the cat whom he loved dearly, was nuzzling him fondly. 

No visions, no spirit cats, no terrible things beyond his comprehension were plaguing his mind right now. Only comfort and genuine love. The warm, fuzzy thoughts bounced around inside his brain. It would keep him occupied, but only a for bit. He knew he would spiral again soon. But the thought was slightly less terrifying. At the end of the day, he would be reassured of one fact. He would always have someone in his corner that would help and support him; Sagewhisker. 

The ThunderClan medicine cat felt himself smile as Sagewhisker rested her head overtop his.  The warm weight made him feel like a kit again, bundled up in the nursery in piles of cozy moss. Goosefeather blinked, a strange feeling of bliss overtaking his senses for a heartbeat. His eyes darted toward the Moonstone. It seemed to burn even more brightly than before, and he squinted at the harsh glare. The light was seeming to rise in brilliance, though the moonlight wasn’t increasing; the glow within the stone itself was. Goosefeather blinked. When he opened his eyes, the excess rays and shine were gone. It looked normal again.

 Goosefeather felt like he had been drenched in ice-cold water. 

He turned away and buried his face into Sagewhisker’s neck fur, making her meow softly in surprise. Joke’s on you, STARCLAN. I’m going to keep being mates with her, no matter what you say. She’s cared for me more than you fox-hearts have. We’re happy together, and you can’t change that. I won’t let you. You can send me all the omens in the world, but I won’t let you ruin this for me!

Sagewhisker’s muzzle brushed his ear. 

“Are you alright, dear?”

Goosefeather looked up at her with a crooked smile.

“I’m more than alright, Sage. Thank you.” He pressed his snout back into her moss-soft pelt, making her purr. 

Don’t touch a hair on my pelt, StarClan, they all belong to Sagewhisker now. 

[cat-alyzing]

Tigerclaw to match Brindleface

Really debated if I wanted to give him some more Goose traits but decided not to. But here’s the evil man himself! The first one is Tiger at the start of TPB and then the second is him towards the end, before he gets sliced and diced.

(ID- Tigerclaw is standing to the left his back legs slightly out and his front ones straight, on each of his paws his claws stick out and he is side eyeing to the camera with a slight growl on his face. His tail is thick and goes up, and his ears point outwards with his sharp ear tufts sticking out. He’s a reddish brown with deep red stripes mainly on his legs, mane, face, and tail. Orangish cream is on his paws, bottom of his tail, muzzle, and mane with spots on the back of his ears. His eyes are very vibrant with yellow scelera, bright reddish orange eyes, and dark pupils. Scars on the left photo are down his chest in a lighting bolt like shape, front leg, and a nick in his right ear. On the right photo he has scars on his muzzle in a diamond like shape and a large x scar on his back leg. Striped down his back semi resemble claws and two striped connect to his center scar. He has very thick bushy eyebrows and a menacing face. End ID)

Personality wise he is brash. Tough on the outside and still sharp to even those closer to him. While some cats see a spark in the ambitious tom many also see the blood that would be spilled under his watch. None more so than Icestar. She tries to help him and get his anger under control but she’s seen what happens when he can’t stop himself, and when she learns he’s more far gone then she thought she refuses to let him in power. Waiting to claw his way into power he met a semi similar minded molly, Goldenflower. While neither really loves each other in any real romantic way they both want kits, even if she wants them for herself and he wants them to get a better image. For his plan to become deputy his already pretty dark relationship with Brindleface has waned even more. He wants to protect her though and he can’t help but pick apart all the wrongs she does. Meeting their runaway dad? Having kits with a kittypet? I mean surely she should’ve expected half of her litter failing with soft paw blood in them. If he didn’t have Darkstripe and Sparrowtail by his side he doesn’t even know what would’ve happened when she told him they were having kits with that pet. At least with them he’s sane and able to keep his cool.

Personality wise he is brash. Tough on the outside and still sharp to even those closer to him. While some cats see a spark in the ambitious tom many also see the blood that would be spilled under his watch. None more so than Icestar. She tries to help him and get his anger under control but she’s seen what happens when he can’t stop himself, and when she learns he’s more far gone then she thought she refuses to let him in power. Waiting to claw his way into power he met a semi similar minded molly, Goldenflower. While neither really loves each other in any real romantic way they both want kits, even if she wants them for herself and he wants them to get a better image. For his plan to become deputy his already pretty dark relationship with Brindleface has waned even more. He wants to protect her though and he can’t help but pick apart all the wrongs she does. Meeting their runaway dad? Having kits with a kittypet? I mean surely she should’ve expected half of her litter failing with soft paw blood in them. If he didn’t have Darkstripe and Sparrowtail by his side he doesn’t even know what would’ve happened when she told him they were having kits with that pet. At least with them he’s sane and able to keep his cool.

[greekstar]

shadowsight x rootspring hypokits?

I like this ship cause I’ve seen good things on it, but personally I have only read 2 of the books where these two are the main characters and don’t really know they’re personalities nor their characters a whole lot. So bare with me.

Also, lucky you Anon. I felt like doing a whole litter this big and they all survive lol.

Anyways. For the storyline ima say they became mates after a while? Sense I know their at least friends along with Bristlefrost. Anyways.

—

Bearstream- Bearstream is a big she-cat and the biggest of the litter. She is very mature and wise. And often is one to put down any dumb ideas. She lives with her father Shadowsight Shadowclan along with her brother Blackeagle. Being very close with him. Though she knows that she has two other littermates in Skyclan. She is a mostly black tabby and goldish tabby Tortoiseshell with green eyes.

Blackeagle- Blackeagle is a quiet tom. Mostly talking to his kin. He is a cat most call mysterious, though really isn’t. He just is shy and hates communicating, that’s why he gets along with the elders mostly. Listening quietly to their stories. He doesn’t know about his kin in Skyclan but is very close to Bearstream. He is a dark gray, almost black tabby tom with a lighter belly. He has dark green eyes.

Pebblesplash- Pebblesplash is the smallest of the cats. Being named after her great-grandmother.(Pebbleshine?) she is a very sweat she-cat and love hanging out with her brother. She often loves patrolling around the pines as she feels more connected to them and often runs into patrols with makes a lot of Shadowclan cats suspicious of her. Many cats think she also looks a lot like Bearstream except without the hight. She also is a fantastic hunter and often is praised for it. Being a very good tree-climber. She is a more of a goldish tabby and black tabby Tortoiseshell with dark reddish-amber eyes.

Sunshine- Sunshine is very chill. Though doesn’t mind getting into a fight or two with Thunderclan or Shadowclan just to get his blood running. He also loves hunting in the tree with his sister, Pebblesplash and also likes the pines. He does know about his father and siblings in Shadowclan but doesn’t know who they are. All Rootspring told him was that his father, or mother per-say was in Shadowclan with two of his siblings, but wouldn’t say more cause he didn’t want to put any of them in danger. In case of someone was listening. He is a bright golden tabby tom with amber eyes. Inherited by Shadowsight’s red eyes.

—

That’s it’s! If your wondering why I didn’t give the cats that looked the most to the other. I.E. Blackeagle(looks like Shadow but stays with Shadow) and Sunshine(looks like Root but stays with Root) and that’s because if cats were smart and noticed Blackeagle looked like Shadowsight but was Rootspring’s son that could make cats sus. So ya. That’s my reasoning and I feel Shadowsight would come up with that cause I feel like he’s smart. Also, he said he got pregnant by a dead Shadowclan warrior but no one could piece together who and with Tigerstar his father, and the only medicine cats, kinda of, he wasn’t exiled but he was kinda disowned for a while.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Rosefrost x Cricketclaw kits:

Copperkit: light brown tabby tom with a white chest and paws and dark green eyes (named after Rosefrost's mother Copperwing)

Whitekit: long-furred white tolly/jack (agender, uses xe/xem pronouns) with pinkish-red eyes (named after Cricketclaw's father Whitestar)

Finchkit: black and white she-cat with bright green eyes (named after Fallenfire's sister Applefinch - didn't want to leave them out!)

I LOVE the addition of the background names! Definitely didn’t forget about Applefinch

Speaking of Finch, her design may be my favourite design and may be a future mate for Fallen or Wasp

I’d find it funny if Wasp had a crush on her only for her to say “hey man, your sister’s hot”

EDIT: DIDN'T SEE 'TABBY' so now Copperkit is plain as a kit and the tabby markings grows more solid as he ages

—

ref by cryptidclaws