what’s up with BB! Puddleshine? been having thoughts about him recently lol. i find it funny that rowanstar grabbed this random child from the nursery and was like ‘bam here’s our brand new doctor and spiritual leader everyone’
(*shaking twelve year old in the background*)
You know what's pretty cool about AVoS, buried underneath the slog of it all? The thing I keep going back to about this arc, in spite of how annoying it is to be forced to say in ThunderClan as everything interesting happens off-screen?
The way that so, so many young warriors are horrifically traumatized by both the structure of the Clans, and the Kin that they turn to.
It's a shame that the Erins were so committed to the idea of the Clan social structure NOT being the problem, because this whole arc is a perfect time to show how flawed it structurally is. LET these kids have a point, that maybe they were rebelling against something broken, but Darktail was a malicious actor who exploited their naivety to serve HIS ends.
A recap of what's happening in BB!AvoS before I explain my intentions with the Puddy Boy;
The big problem that I want Rowanstar to display is a problem that ALL the leaders of this time period also have. Commitment to Clan rivalry.
After Firestar was killed in AVoS by Dark Forest warriors, Bramblestar considers diplomacy secondary as a tactic.
"ThunderClan will not be bullied any longer. We have been too soft with the other Clans for too long; and they have humiliated us by taking advantage of our kindness."
(Note: Harespring and Breezepelt being part of the assassination patrol is not revealed until TBC. For MAXIMUM drama reveal.)
He escalated a border dispute that Firestar had worked closely and intimately with ShadowClan to resolve; a fight for a knoutberry patch on their border, just before Winter.
After Russetfur died in this painful battle, Blackstar backslid hard from his redemption arc. This caused the Thunder/Shadow alliance to dissolve towards the end of OotS, ending a friendship between the two Clans that had lasted through all of Po3.
He was open to Sol's manipulation, and while Tawnypelt was trying to fight the Dark Forest trainees who took over ShadowClan in the meantime... Rowanclaw became deputy by organizing a patrol of cats to remind Blackstar how much he means to them.
So Rowanstar inherits the Clan with this in mind. ShadowClan solves SHADOWCLAN'S problems.
"ThunderClan had a quarrel with WindClan, but decided that we were their enemy. Leaving ourselves open for betrayal was a mistake; if we cannot handle our own problems, we will inevitably succumb to them when our so-called 'allies' don't come to help."
(Note: he isn't completely wrong. His words are borderline prophetic for what's about to happen.)
Onestar has a smug chuckle at this. Since taking leadership, he's been appealing to the strongest, hardest members of his Clan. Those who once tried to kill him for his "weakness" in the Civil War. The "lesson" ShadowClan learned is one that he's known since the day Onewhisker died and Onestar was born, on the night of that sabotaged muirburn.
"That so-called peace was always a farce. We are warriors of the four Clans; it was always going to come down to honor, and putting ourselves first. My WindClan isn't foolish enough to pretend like ThunderClan ever acted in anything but their own, hidden self-interest."
And Mistystar respects the direction Bramblestar has taken his Clan in, and approves of the "honesty" that the Clans are now showing.
"As the branches of the honeysuckle fight and win the light for themselves, sometimes there are beautiful flowers that die in the shade. We can mourn the end of an era, and prepare for a future that will be made all the sweeter for our shared struggle. This is the way of the Clans, and StarClan's solemn light shines upon us all."
(Note: god I love writing Misty's speeches)
In the family tree reworkings, Rowanstar is now the brother of Littlecloud. Sons of Brokenstar, honor-sired for Newtspeck.
Littlecloud... is suffering from early onset Alzheimer's.
He didn't want to choose an apprentice after Flametail's horrible death, heartbroken and stressed out, especially when he couldn't reach his nephew through contact with StarClan.
He can't remember, anymore, that Flametail was freed. He keeps forgetting this, over and over
He keeps ending up in different times of his life, where he's best friends with Cinderpelt and still calling Leafpool by her pre-Honor Title name, where he's inventing a mobility device for Wildfur, where he's still escaping the plague and before he knew his mentor caused it, where he's on the Great Journey...
Rowanstar is in a lot of pain, watching his brother forget so many things, scared and confused half the time. He doesn't want to believe that this is really the end, or that... many of these cats are now so young they can't recognize the various eras that Littlecloud is finding himself in.
Puddleshine and Slatefur are going to remain in Pinenose's litter. Either Lion or Birch MIGHT get shuffled to another one; and ALSO the shuffler might survive the Kin.
(SO voice which one you want to survive, if you have a preference!)
SO, Violetshine has either two or three adopted siblings... plus another.
Pinenose's oldest surviving child is Happypaw. Happy is the half-sibling of Puddle/Slate-- the death of Weaselkit in the Great Battle caused his parents (Pinenose and Owlclaw) to break up.
(this is why I'm thinking about just reducing the litter to Puddle/Slate, so Violet has three major adoption-siblings to remember instead of four.)
And now we're ready to talk about Puddleshine.
He isn't the first young cat to be shoved into an extremely high-pressure position because of a Cleric becoming incapacitated. Kestrelflight was also forced to become the holy speaker of his people when he was far, far too young, after Barkface died in TNP. He dealt with this obediently, with only Jayfeather ever really being able to get him to think about it in a different light.
Unlike Kestrel, Puddlekit did voice that he was interested in becoming a Cleric, in BB. But he was too young to be properly making that choice, to know what he was getting into. He mentioned it practically offhandedly, and BOOM Rowanstar had rolled him into the position.
But Puddlepaw has a deep sense of responsibility. "Wise beyond his years"-- likely because of how tumultuous his home life was.
His mother's oldest child, Happypaw, was openly a bully of his half-siblings. Pinenose distanced herself from him as a result, causing Happy to be closer to Owlclaw, who was still not over Weaselkit's death.
But Puddle's Ba Spikefur is not a cat who handles his kit's emotions well. Instead, he encourages ambition, tells him to get back at his half-sibling by being more influential than that twerp could ever be.
Puddle will often go to Violet, the new POV, to vent about these things.
And one thing he mentions to her is how amazing Kestrelflight is, when he gets to meet him at the half-moon conferences. He learns SO MUCH from him, it's like he GETS what he's going through...
Puddle doesn't even feel sure that Littlecloud knows what he's doing anymore. If he's learning the right information at all.
But Rowanstar won't DO anything about Littlecloud-- and he CERTAINLY isn't about to let Puddlepaw go train under someone else's Cleric.
As a result of this, Puddlepaw becomes a VERY important member of Sleekpaw's little group. He wasn't one of their friends to begin with, buuuuut...
When he sits to chat with Sleekpaw and Needlepaw, with Happypaw good and far out of earshot, she makes a lot of sense.
A LOT of it.
ShadowClan is run by old men who don't know what they're doing. Rowanstar is too emotional to make good choices. Puddlepaw, barely even old enough to begin apprenticeship, is running all the medicine for an entire Clan.
And, sure, he doesn't have much in the way of a connection to StarClan, no, just a little more spiritual than the average cat...
But who can point this out? If Littlecloud is slowly losing his mind anyway?
"It's not right, how much pressure's on you," Sleekpaw growls, "And it wouldn't be this way if we could challenge Rowanstar. You should be training with Kestrelflight right now."
"But we're dealing with the shells StarClan dealt, and the Clan is looking to you now," Needlepaw points out on behalf of her friend, "You have much more sway than you know."
This time around for BB, Sleekpaw starts as a young hero. She's right. Rowanstar should be challenged, his emotions are affecting the ENTIRE Clan, and Puddlepaw is in a bad position because of it. Needlepaw is like her best diplomat, surely to become her deputy someday.
They would have made an excellent set of leaders for ShadowClan. But they trusted the wrong person, and were exploited. When Darktail and The Kin came to the lake, they were swept up by it, and WindClan began an embargo.
Puddlepaw eventually oversees the Yellowcough Outbreak, and at first just thinks it's Greencough. He has no idea about strains, or the special types of Color Cough that Clan cats have historically dealt with. Even when he finally does learn it's not JUST Greencough, he's powerless to do anything about it. A lot of cats die because of the lack of mullein.
After that, with ShadowClan so weak and the Kin so strong... he's one of the cats who calls for the merge. The most important one, in fact, leveraging his position to say that this is StarClan's will.
Sleekwhisker and Needletail were right all along, and he's happy to stick it right into everyone's faces. Onestar's tantrum of an embargo killed his Clanmates, Rowanstar stopped him from properly training, he's been under pressure from the time he was small with Littlecloud not fit to be a mentor, and he's ready to welcome in ShadowClan's new era as something that is not a Clan.
...unfortunately, it turned out to be the wrong choice. Not because his thought process was wrong. But because Darktail had other plans in-mind.
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💖 it's here, it's pink, it's sparkly, and full of fluff 💖
Hiiiiii and welcome to witness my attempt at an Olli/Allu Advent Calendar, in which I'll give you ~a cute little something~ about these two idiots in love almost every day until December 24! My plan is to use prompts from this list to either write a fic based on the prompt or just some good ol' delulu thoughts if all else fails. I cannot guarantee there'll be a post literally every day, but I'm really excited to try this out and I thank you for your support along the way in advance 💝
The biggest thanks and a million hugs go to one of my favourite human beings @kraeuterhexchen for making the adorable banner!! I mean helloooooo?? 😭 Go show them some love ❣️
For December 1, the prompt list is titled One True Pairing Moments, and the prompt I chose was 'calling just to hear their voice' 🥺 You can read the fic below, I hope you like it <3
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PS. Even though this is an advent calendar of sorts, I'm not planning on making this particularly Christmassy. I hope no one minds terribly!
~
Falling for Aleksi had, in a way, sneaked up on Olli, at least if he fooled himself a little. He could pretend he didn’t feel any different about the man than he did about, say, Joonas or Tommi, but that strategy only worked for so long – that is to say, approximately until Aleksi as much as smiled softly at him from across a room or bumped his shoulder into his jovially when walking down the street and Olli would feel his breath getting caught in his throat or stumble in his words, his tongue tangled like shoelaces, which was so unlike him as well and frustrated him to no end. It really took a special kind of fool to not only develop some level of feelings for a friend, a colleague, a bandmate for Christ’s sake, but also become so hopelessly enamored with him that you rolled awake in bed in the dead of night, grabbing your phone and tossing it back on the nightstand again and again because you couldn’t decide whether or not you should, on some erratic 2 o’clock impulse, call him to let him know he was the very reason for your insomnia.
Turning on his back, Olli groaned (only a little desperately) as he remembered losing himself in the lingering hug they had shared just before the arrivals lobby at the airport, inhaling Aleksi’s scent and wishing they wouldn’t have to go home just yet, even if Olli was more than ready to finally sleep in his own bed again. Ironically, ever since they had returned home from tour, Olli had spent night after sleepless night missing Aleksi terribly: his stupid jokes and playful banter that bordered on being flirtatious if Olli allowed himself the benefit of delusion; his quick, subtle smiles that probably meant nothing; his little touches Olli hoped meant something; his smell and his touch and the softness of his hair at the back of his neck, compared to which the blanket Olli was grasping in his fist was like sandpaper. (How he had come to know of the qualities of Aleksi’s hair in such detail, he preferred not to dwell on too much to save himself from the heartache, so let’s just leave it at ‘stressful, emotional week far away from home’ and ‘a little too much to drink’).
Above all, Olli missed Aleksi’s voice. He hadn’t even thought that was possible, until the other morning when Olli had woken up to a voice message Aleksi had left just hours earlier, rambling about a song idea he had gotten in the middle of the night – something he did from time to time – and Olli had spent the next several minutes replaying it over and over again as he had lied in bed procrastinating getting up and and instead closing his eyes to better imagine Aleksi lying there beside him, turned on his side to face Olli, talking to him sleepily like they often did when they shared a room on tour and were just too lazy to join others at breakfast. Much like the hug at the airport, Olli wished those moments would have lasted way longer than they did, often ending abruptly when either of their phones would go off with Santeri’s name on the screen, a passive-aggressive interruption to the soft, low tone of Aleksi’s early-morning thoughts. (Sometimes, when Olli was lucky enough, he had been blessed with the bliss of feeling the light touch of a fingertip tracing along his collarbone, cut short just as frustratingly by their well-meaning tour manager politely enquiring whether the two of them had plans of dragging themselves downstairs for some toast and coffee, or if they’d rather starve until lunchtime, for which he wasn’t at all sure they’d even have time that day.)
The lovesick idiot that he was, his thumb hovered over the ‘play’ button of Aleksi’s voice message, probably for the millionth time that week. The chest-carving hesitation turned into a heart flip when he noticed Aleksi was online.
Then Aleksi began to type, and Olli held his breath the entire time until a new message appeared in the thread, anticipation holding him by his throat.
You awake?
Olli exhaled and typed his affirmative reply, leaving out the reason why.
He blinked at the screen, waiting for Aleksi to ask him a random question that clearly couldn’t wait until morning, or perhaps talk about something related to another late-night Twitch stream (from what Olli had gathered, Aleksi had been doing a lot of those recently, and with his last remaining braincell Olli had managed to resist the temptation to watch every single one of them, because he knew that if he did, it would only dig his grave of pining and longing deeper, seeing Aleksi smile and giggle about but not being able to do that with him or snuggle up next to him when he was wearing that flannel Olli often used as a blanket in the tour bus). But instead of another text appearing on the screen, Olli’s phone began to vibrate in his hand, and it took him an embarrassingly long while to understand it was because Aleksi was calling him.
“Hi,” he sighed when he finally collected himself enough to speak. He prayed he’d be able to hear what Aleksi was going to say from the thumping heartbeat echoing in his ears.
“Hi,” a soft voice said. “Sorry, I know it’s late…”
“No, not at all,” Olli hurried to say, “I mean, I wasn’t sleeping. Not even close, actually.” Part of him hoped Aleksi wouldn’t ask about it, but in some foolhardy way the possibility intrigued him.
Nothing much, he would have likely said anyway, but what would happen if he told Aleksi how it really was? That he squeezed his pillow imagining it was him instead, or wailed into it because something had reminded him of a moment-that-was-probably-not-a-Moment™ they had shared? What would Aleksi say if he knew Olli sometimes touched himself the way Aleksi had touched him That One Night they never talked about? The only obstacle between Olli and that knowledge was a bottomless ocean of cold sweat and cowardice, and Olli had never been a great swimmer.
“So, ummm…,” Olli said when Aleksi’s end stayed silent. “What’s up?”
A short breath of laughter sounded through the phone line.
“Honestly? I don’t know, I… It’s just been a… weird week, I guess.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, like… my head’s just been so full of… everything and… I’ve been so busy and kinda tense and… fuck, this is going to sound crazy,” Aleksi laughed that brief laugh again, although to Olli it didn’t sound particularly cheerful. Tired, more like. Strained, somehow. Not sad, but definitely a little troubled, and Olli intended to find out why.
“I’m all for crazy, you know.” Olli hoped his sorry attempt to lighten Aleksi’s mood would work, and so he smiled in relief when he heard Aleksi chuckle at his comment.
“I know,” Aleksi said softly, in that tone of voice that had Olli melt against his bedsheets. “So yeah, it’s been a rough week, but… in between all that stupid shit, I’ve been thinking a lot about… umm… well, the tour and– and… about you, for some reason,” (the troubled laugh made its return) “and… yeah. That’s sort of helped me a lot recently.”
Olli listened to the words carefully, not fully believing what he was hearing, yet clinging on to them until they were all but swirling around in his otherwise empty head like dry leaves in October wind.
“And tonight I just couldn’t fucking sleep for some reason and nothing I did seemed to help and so I thought I’d call you. And I’m–” If it hadn’t been dead silent otherwise, Olli wouldn’t have heard the shaky breath Aleksi paused to take, “I’m sorry I’m calling you at this hour and bothering you with this all but I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. To see if that would help.”
“Does it?” Olli asked. Aleksi’s confession had made him clasp his blanket close to his chest, as if that would do anything about his rapidly beating heart.
“Yeah. It does. So maybe just… keep talking?”
Despite his mind living a life of its own, completely unfit to form a single coherent thought, for Aleksi’s sake Olli tried his best to think of something to say, but everything he came up with was something he was not ready to tell him quite yet.
“Uuummmm…” he said to buy himself some time, but while he waited for his useless brain and mouth to form any actual words, Aleksi spoke again.
“Fuck, I’m– I’m sorry, this is too weird, I shouldn’t have– I’ll let you go back to–”
“I miss you,” Olli blurted before Aleksi would hang up on him. He squeezed his eyes shut when Aleksi went silent, too silent for too long for it to mean any good.
The line stayed open, however, which Olli took as a positive sign, even if the seconds during which all Olli could hear was Aleksi's quiet breathing seemed endless.
“And I you,” Aleksi finally replied. “A little too much, probably, or at least that’s what it feels like,” he chuckled. Olli almost missed the quiet sniff that followed.
He had to steel himself for his next question.
“What do you mean?”
“Just… forget it.” Aleksi said quietly. Contrary to Aleksi’s request, Olli knew he was going to all but ‘forget it’ for the next 3-5 business days; mentally he booked all his evenings as well as most of his mornings and noons for pondering what exactly had been in Aleksi’s mind in that moment or why he had sounded so sombre, almost disappointed. He’d probably never come to any satisfactory conclusion about it though, at least not without a little help from Aleksi himself.
A ridiculous idea popped into his head, and before he could stop himself, the words flooded out of his mouth.
“Do you wanna come over some time? To hang out? When your schedule’s a little less tight, I mean.” He sucked on his lips and closed his eyes as he waited for Aleksi’s answer, ready to hang up the moment he’d decline the offer on some obvious and logical reason for why Aleksi couldn’t possibly make nor want to take a trip to the north to see him, such as ‘didn’t we just spend over two months on the road together?’ or ‘damn, buddy, I miss you alright but not quite that much, I’ve done enough sitting in public transportation for one year, thank you very much lol’ or ‘what about Rilla?’
“You could take Rilla with you, you know.” Olli hurried to say, just in case, the deranged part of his brain thinking there might be a chance Aleksi might be at least considering it.
“Oh! Well, umm… I actually might have time next week? If– if you’re actually being serious about this.”
Funny you should ask, Aleksi; I’ve actually never been more serious about anything in my entire life than I am about having you here with me so that I can hold you and be held by you and see your face when I wake up in the morning and say goodnight to your annoyingly cute face instead of via text message and maybe, if the stars are in position and the northern wind won’t discourage me too much, I might actually be brave enough to torment you with the knowledge of just how miserable I’ve been since we last saw each other.
“I think it would be cool,” he said, because he had a feeling what he wanted to say would’ve been a tad too much and sudden. “I mean, if you’re up for it, of course. I understand if you can’t make it though, I know you have all those side projects.”
“No, I think it might actually do me some good to get out of the capital area for change.” Then there was a muffled ‘ouch’, followed by a laugh that sounded much brighter than any of the other ones Olli had heard from Aleksi that night. “Sorry, correction, it might do us some good. Rilla just told me she’s most definitely coming too. Rilla, stop nibbling on my toes!”
Olli smiled tiredly at the mental image that was painted in his mind of Aleksi and Rilla cuddling in bed, both minding their own business from what it seemed while still minding each other as well, very much indeed.
“I’ll be sure to set up a bed for her in the guest room.”
“The guest room? Do you not know her at all? If she’s not getting the master bedroom, she’ll ruin all your rugs and most of your shoes. Probably also gossip about you to all the neighbourhood dogs. And she’s brutal.”
Olli held his stomach as he laughed, tears almost forming in the corners of his eyes. In his defence, it was late and he was finally becoming tired, thus too far gone to help himself, let alone feel embarrassed about being in stitches about something Aleksi had said that was only mildly amusing. (It wasn’t the first time that had happened either, and likely not the last time.)
“So yeah, ummm, I can take a look at some flight options for next week and let you know, alright? I’m gonna let you sleep now and… I should get some myself too.”
Olli wanted to tell Aleksi he’d love to stay up chatting until dawn, but the yawn he let out when he opened his mouth to speak implied Aleksi had a point.
“Yeah, let me know. And… thanks for calling, I… you have no idea how much I needed this tonight.”
That was as close to a confession as Olli was able to get as of now.
“Probably not half as much as I did.”
Olli chuckled at Aleksi’s response, mostly to hide his own agony.
If only you knew. If only I knew how to tell you.
It didn’t take long for Olli to doze off after they hung up, and when he woke up to the kids from next door having a snowball fight under his window in the morning, he noticed new messages from Aleksi, sent half an hour after their phone call had ended, complete with screen captions of airplane schedules.
Would these days work for you? I might be free all week actually 😇
Olli cuddled into his pillow while typing his reply, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Aleksi.
yeah I’m free as well. I’ll pick you two up from the airport 🖤
From then on, Olli started counting the days until he’d see Aleksi again.
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(One thing I find peculiar and unfortunate in current fandom business is the seeming lack of pointed discussion, so here is a humble attempt to spark a conversation and I more than welcome commentary.)
I came across someone in the notes to a post somewhere talking of how Jillian had been better styled in season two than in season one and I agreed, already seeking the justification for it in my mind. My observations are as follows:
S1 Jillian is Arq-Tech's mastermind and public face. Even though we first meet her in Morocco, in her explorer, Indiana Jones-like garb, it's the image of her running her company that sticks with us, her statements to the press, her corporate persona opening metaphorical fire upon the Church. A "powerful woman" as mainstream media constructs for us everyday, in subtle but visible makeup so as to diminish the effects of age on her face, in heels so as to peek at the rest of humanity from above, with controlled gestures meant for the inherent theatricality that comes with introducing life-changing technology to society. It is a role she plays—well, but a role nonetheless.
The scene she shares with father Vincent is worthy of mention, for while he sits without taking up much space, his body restrained to the side of a couch, his legs crossed in what is deemed a more "feminine" posture, Jillian takes up the traditional "masculine" attitude: she commands the room, her body expanding upon her seat, in the broad pose where an ankle rests upon a knee, complete with a generous glass of alcohol in hand and talon on foot. Yet this is also for show—it's a little too calculated, a dance that was so perfected in exhaustive practice that it lost its dynamic.
Our glimpses into the more authentic Jillian come in the scenes with Michael—not only because (coded in white and blue as the Virgin Mary of immaculate conception) she plays the part of mother, but because, in her intimacy, far from journalists and employees and the public's prying eyes, she can be more herself within the areas where she conducts her studies. Starting from when Ava asks Jillian to "science her", we never see the doctor in uncomfortable shoes again, as she retreats from entrepreneurial life and into the lab.
This is clearer in season two, for, as Kristian says, she is on sabbatical, thus isolated from general view; S2 Jillian has nobody around her, nobody to impress. Locked away in her Spanish villa, consumed by her son's disappearance, she need not wear a mask. There are no more tellingly feminine accessories, no staged stunts; her clothes and footwear are even more practical, her movements less grand but more human, more expressive (here, of course, we owe it to Thekla Reuten's underrated range). Even as the OCS invites itself into her house, making it a makeshift HQ, she doesn't fall back on the act we saw in the first season.
Jillian's stepping back from the head of her company is not just in name and contract, but in body, too; she leaves the CEO role in her office and comes home to her science and her cause, to her limited inner circle of which only Michael was privy to and into which the OCS nuns end up finding their way.
Colours also indicate a shift—we begin the series seeing her associated with light hues such as white, beige and baby blues, but when season two comes in, Jillian's striking all-white attire is nowhere to be found. The Holy Mother parallel is in shambles after Michael has gone through the ark's portal, the intangibility of this "saintly", aseptic rich genius broken down, her person brought back to Earth after flights of fancy trying to open a gate to Heaven.
We see her in a darker palette, in greys with dashes of white, yes, but never again in full white. It is not just the authorisation to be herself rather than her company's face while in her private world, but also the reflection of her inner darkness and her loss upon her very appearance.
What a more definite loss could mean, now that her son is gone for good, remains a mystery.
For instance, unlike the nun who served as her superior, our Suzanne rejects the characteristic blues of the Order of the Cruciform Sword to don a heavy all-black outfit, more reminiscent of Orthodox priests than it is Roman Catholic nuns; her resurrection through Ava does not lighten her habit, if it does lighten her burden, so we can only assume, going forward, should there be any relation between how each character expresses their inner workings through clothing, that Jillian Salvius would keep the mixture of white and grey that season two brought along... Or go darker still.
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