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dat-fandom-losertown · 4 years

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Happy NHPC Day!

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Chapter 1

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Spideypool / Peter Parker + Wade Wilson

Warnings: Non-graphic Violence, A paragraph or two of homophobia, A single homophobic slur

Word Count: 6,122

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Summary:

Peter and Wade have a tradition they've been following every Valentine's Day and National Half-Priced Candy Day for several years now. They patrol all day and night for Valentine's in their special "June-themed" suits, and on the 15th they spend their day cuddling, eating cheap candy, and napping to make up for the lack of rest from the day before. This year, though, Peter wants to do something slightly different for NHPC day. Something neither of them will ever forget.

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~> Next

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Hey guys! I know I haven’t written anything but D:BH here so far (and I may make a late Valentine’s thing for that fandom too), but it had always been my plan to be a multi-fandom account eventually, and I couldn’t miss out on the “Isn’t it Bromantic” Spideypool Discord server’s Valentine’s Day Challenge!

If Spideypool isn’t your thing, I totally get it and I don’t expect you to read this (and I’m gonna be making a post about what to do if you don’t want to see a ship or fandom you don’t like real soon), but if it is your thing, then Welcome! There isn’t much true fluff in this chapter, and this is kind of all over the place, but there absolutely will be tomorrow in the second part and things will tie together! So please hang in there, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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“Spidey-poo! Spider-honey! Web-darling!”

Peter quickly spots Wade’s bright suit and rolls his eyes as he quickly and sternly shushes him, knowing the other super can hear him even if he’s on the rooftop across the street. He swings over and meets Wade on the other side with practiced grace.

“‘Pool, it is five in the morning and normal people are still sleeping! You can’t just yell like that!”

Wade, as expected by this point, completely ignores Peter’s halfhearted chiding and instead sweeps him up into a large bear hug as if they hadn’t just seen each other thirty minutes ago.

“My baby boy’s looking extra bi for this valentine’s day!” He spins them around a couple of times for good measure, then sets him down, keeping his hands on his shoulders. “Did you upgrade the gay suit? Because this looks even better than it did in June!”

A few years back, Wade had jokingly made a comment about wearing pride colors on patrol during the month of June, just to rub it into the “old bigots’ faces” and to get a good laugh. After a day or two of not being able to get that thought out of his head, he figured that if cops can’t be at pride, then at least Spiderman and Deadpool should be able to join in to keep the crime at bay.

As soon as he told Wade this, the ex-merc went all out. He made an entirely new suit for the occasion instead of just taping a flag to his shoulders like Peter was expecting. He argued that “How are the people supposed to know we’re there to help and support if all they see is the usual red with black and red and blue?” and admitted he already had designs for their pride suits ready to go for ages. Wade’s was based off of his pansexuality with all the red parts turned bright pink, the black became bright blue, and all of his weapons (most of them being non-lethal now, thanks to Peter’s insistence) replaced with ones that are bright gold and yellow.

That first year, Peter refused an altered suit, mostly because back then their relationship was newer and he was worried about somehow paying Wade the favor back. Although, he allowed Wade to make it the next year since the design for it was much more subdued than Wade’s by far, and he seemed to have so much fun in his new get up. For Peter’s suit, the blue stayed the same, the red became magenta, and his eye-pieces and web designs became purple all in tribute to his own bisexuality.

The next February after that was when Peter (not Wade, surprisingly enough) came up with the idea to wear these suits on their annual Valentine’s day 20 hour watch, just to show the heteros that they still exist outside of pride month.

That, and “Bi-derman” and “Pan-pool” slash “Dead-pan” are kind of a big hit, so why the hell not?

Peter hasn’t done much altering to his suit beyond repairs, but since last June, he’s completely remade the suit in a tougher material and made the blue and magenta more vibrant and the purple web designs darker to help with the contrast. He also made his eye-pieces white because holy hell was it hard to see through those darker lenses.

“You have a good eye, ‘Pool. Do you like it?” He sticks his arms out and slowly spins as he continues, “I remade it with the extra money from that raise I got a while back.”

Wade quickly grabs Peter and pulls him close again, this time letting his hands roam over the fabric. He can feel the appraise Wade is silently sending him, and the part of him that was worried about making the protective padding on his chest and gut look more muscular rather than lean settles immediately.

“Mmmyes. Me likey this a lot.” He takes a step back and pointedly looks Peter up and down, “Where did you even hide this? I swear I looked in our secret closet and under the bed when I definitely wasn’t snooping for my Christmas presents again.”

Peter rolls his eyes, and he bets that Wade knows it even if his eyes are covered. “If I told you where then I’d have to find a way to erase your memory, because killing you isn’t an option.”

“I dunno, babe, you just might kill me with this damn suit.” He hesitates, then flops his head back with a groan, “Fuck, you’re right, I only get to see it on you for a month and a day a year. How did you even get this level of muscle definition to show through your suit? You look like you do in some of the comics! Clothes in real life don’t work like this!”

“Bullet-resistant padding thanks to Tony and a lot of neat seam-work to make it look like natural muscle.” Peter states matter-of-factly, “Get me the materials and I could do the same for your suits, since I don’t think Tony will offer to give you any.”

“Nah. I don’t need it, and I don’t want to distract from this gorgeous bod’–” he cups Peter’s face “–anytime soon.” Wade gently places his forehead on Peter’s, letting their masked-noses bump. He ruins the moment by murmuring “Is there anything I can do to make you wear this suit in the bedroom?”

“No.” Peter swiftly turns and walks to the edge of the building, waiting for Wade to hop on his back.

“But baby...” the man in question whines, “You wear your other one–”

“Only sometimes and only when you distract me before I can completely change, and I don’t want this one ruined before I can wear it this June.” He ignores Wade’s pout and says, “This fabric is much harder to wash.”

“Ugh, fine. At least I get to watch you flip around some baddies today” he wiggles happily.

“You won’t if you don’t friggin’ hurry up!” he sing-songs, casting a web out in preparation to swing away.

Wade doesn’t respond, but his spidey-senses tingle a warning of something incoming, so he braces himself as his boyfriend leaps onto his back. He loops his legs over Peter’s hips and his arms around his shoulders, then they’re off.

They swing for almost 45 minutes before the duo hear their first cry for help of the day.

Peter hastily swings over to where they heard the woman cry out, and from there it isn’t hard to find her being held hostage by a man in a wolf mask (seriously, why a wolf? Could he only afford a mask from the halloween clearance shelf?) while a well-dressed man shakily pulls out his wallet. Wade drops in, and Peter pretends he didn’t hear the crunch of one of his joints twisting wrong during the landing. By the time Peter drops in to help calm the couple down, Wade has already knocked out and tied up the perpetrator. The couple thanks the vigilantes, then hurry off to the subway, eager to get back to a safer part of the city.

As per usual on their Valentine’s day “event”, they personally drag the mugger to the police station themselves. The police usually have enough on their plate as it is without Spiderman and Deadpool calling them all day to pick someone up if the duo can just do it themselves. Besides, it gives the couple a chance to interact with the public, even if that’s sometimes less-than-pleasing.

Thankfully, they don’t run into too much drama on the way to the station. A young man on the way to work stops them for a picture, admitting that he’s been excited to see the pictures of them in their pride uniforms online later today while a stranger scoffs at them, but that’s hardly drama and is completely expected.

When it starts getting close to seven o’clock in the morning, things start picking up. By the time nine rolls around, they’ve stopped two more minor muggings and talked someone down from trying to commit a crime, which doesn’t successfully happen nearly as often as Peter would like. They buy an ungodly amount of breakfast and hand a chunk of it out to homeless people before they spot someone trying to break into a window on the fourth floor of an apartment building. Peter goes to take care of it while Wade skips away to pass out more food.

“Yo!” Peter calls jovially as he climbs up the wall, “You know, this is extremely dangerous for someone who doesn’t have spider powers, so if you could just–”

His spidey senses suddenly warn him and he jumps to the left, narrowly missing a metal skewer to the shoulder.

“What the hell?! Do you know how dangerous it is to carry those around–” he dodges another one “–normally? And, like, you’re on a rickety– woah!–” He twists his body in order to not get hit “–rickety old fire escape throwing them, so–” He narrowly misses the next one “–Damn it! Would it hurt you to stop for two seconds! Why are you even getting into this specific apartment? There are easier and sneakier ones to get into!”

“My ex wife lives here.” He confesses, throwing another skewer, “She cheated on me with two other people, then divorced me and is trying to take everything! See! I’m not some low-life criminal, so just leave me alone!”

Peter wasn’t actually expecting an answer, but he can try to make-do with this.

“Do you have evidence of her cheating?” he tries, and it must work on some level because the man stops throwing skewers. Just how many did he have, anyway? And why skewers of all things?

The man nods, still hesitating on the next skewer. Damn it, he needs to think of something fast. Well, he doesn’t need to, but he’d rather not send this guy to the cops. He seems like one of the dudes he can calm down.

“Okay, well, do you know if the people she cheated on you with knows she’s cheating on them?”

The guy ponders this for a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”

“So… Why not try getting together and form a mini mob to maybe, I dunno, publicly humiliate her? Instead of breaking into her apartment or hurting her? Or both? Instead of making yourself out as the bad guy?”

“Ooo! Who are we publicly humiliating!” Deadpool calls from the bottom of the fire escape. “I want in on the action! I’m really good at scheming!” he rubs his hands together like some kind of mad scientist.

“Deadpool, now is not the time–”

“So you’d help me get revenge on my cheating ex-wife?”

“Wait–”

“Oh hell yeah! We’re gonna blow her cover just like I blow–”

“Okay!” Peter shouts over what was undoubtedly about to be Wade bragging about their nighttime activities again. Or maybe he was actually going to mention one of the explosives or grenades he has back at home, who knows?

This scenario is one of the “If you can’t beat them, join them” type, isn’t it? Well, in this case it’s probably closer to “If you can’t stop them, leave and pretend that it isn’t happening for as long as possible, then deny it did for even longer.”

He sighs and mutters “I can not believe I’m about to do this,” before shouting down to Wade, “Since you’re apparently going to actually do this, can there not be any bodily harm or apartment destruction? If not anything else?”

“Aw, but baby boo, arson is the third best crime to commit…” At Peter’s stern look, he relents. “Fine, but if we’re gonna do this right, but I want a little fee for this amazing plan I’m coming up with!”

Peter takes that and the man’s positive response as his cue to leave and pretend his boyfriend isn’t plotting to cause a huge scene with three other people today. It’s much easier to do once he catches some asshole slipping his hand up some girl’s dress while keeping her at gunpoint in some alley.

A web here, a punch there, and another punch, and a kick. Then one last kick and punch just for good measure, along with another web, and the girl is saved and the wrong-doer is unconscious and tied up. In the not sexy way, Deadpool would probably add if he was here.

“Thank you, Spiderman!” he hears the woman sobs before she pounces on him with a hug.

“Woah, hey, you’re safe now.” He awkwardly hugs the stranger back.

“He’s been stalking me for a while and I’ve just been hoping that I could get close to a police station or something but then he disappeared and cut me off and I couldn’t run in these heels and he got me–”

“Hey hey hey, he’s gone now. He’s not gonna hurt anyone anymore, okay?” He pulls away from her, and she gives a shaky nod. “Okay, do you have anyone you can call–”

“Spidey!” he hears the familiar voice sing at the end of the alley, “You left without me!” The footsteps suddenly stop, and Wade’s voice becomes much softer. “Hey, you alright? No one important is hurt?” He glances over to the webbed up man briefly.

The woman shakes her head. Knowing that Wade will probably keep quiet for now, Peter restates his question.

“Do you have anyone you can call for now so you’re not alone?”

The girl nods again, “I was just on my way to meet my partner. They’d come right away.” She huffs a wet laugh, “They actually adore you two. You helped them from a bunch of bullies at pride two years ago.”

“I’m glad we can get to them in time, then.” Peter smiles.

“Hells yea! The world could do with more people who say “fuck you” to gender rolls!” He points to nothing as he continues, “And you read that right, readers! Rolls with two L’s wasn’t a typo, because gender rolls are the nastiest kind of bread. Yuck!”

The woman huffs a laugh then looks up from her ringing phone, tilting her head in sudden confusion, “Readers? Typo?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter cuts in, “It’s just a thing he does.” He doesn’t want to take the time to explain Wade’s weird habits of doing something called “breaking the fourth wall”, and how he addresses some things to readers and others to viewers or watchers and other to his two internal “boxes” named “Yellow” and “White”.

Peter hears the person on the other end finally pick up the phone and ask if something’s up. The woman asks them to go to a certain coffee shop to meet her instead of the fountain– wherever that could be in a place like this– to meet her. The other person immediately agrees. Peter is also mildly impressed and rather touched that they also asked for her to stay on the line until they meet instead of just hanging up in a rush like plenty of people seem to do. This person is definitely good for this lady.

They end up walking with the woman to the aforementioned coffee shop, and they chat a little with the person on the line while Peter keeps a very close ear out for anything odd that may need his assistance and pays close attention to his spidey-senses. They get a photo with one group of kids and their parents on the way, then a few more pictures once they meet up with Kasandra’s (they finally got the woman’s name) partner. After that, a group of teens on a triple date quickly came up for pictures and complimented their pride suits.

Peter’s spidey sense starts going off before the teens can say much else. With Deadpool quickly and securely latching onto his back, he climbs up a wall to safely swing away to the danger.

After that, it becomes a pretty normal day, as far as patrolling goes. Despite the fact that most of New York City knows that Spiderman and Deadpool patrol all day and night long on most holidays, the crime rate still rises on them. It makes Peter wonder just how many people they don’t get to whenever they patrol; how many people call out for them specifically when Peter is too far away to hear them or sense them being in danger?

He doesn’t want to know the answer to that, and Wade does his best to help Peter keep his brain from travelling down those dark paths once he figured out it made his depression and anxiety that much worse.

He honestly doesn’t know what he’d do without Wade. They’ve been together for so long that Peter can’t imagine a day where he’d be gone for good. Yeah, he still sometimes spends weeks or, very rarely, months away for some SHIELD job, but he always eventually comes back. He’s almost completely immune to his “Parker Luck” because he’s technically immune to death and injury. So the thought that one day Wade may leave and not come back because something between them just couldn’t be worked through?

It’s terrifying.

The thing about that last thought, though, is that Peter can’t imagine not being able to work things out with Wade. They always work things out. They’ve been living with each other for years now, so that was something they had to learn how to do a long while ago. Even their various friends agree that, as much as they banter like best friends, they also tend to argue and compromise over small things like an old, married couple. He and Wade never try to argue their observations either. Peter isn’t quite so sure about his other half, but he feels like they’re already a married couple. There’s just no rings or legal papers to make it official yet.

Yet.

He abruptly pauses at webbing a group of home intruders to the brick wall in front of him to watch Wade with wide eyes as the other chatters away, searching for a cell phone to call the police with so these guys can be picked up.

Wade’s self-esteem would probably never allow him to ask Peter to marry him, even though they’ve been dating for over six years now and living together for about the same length of time. Even if they had been dating for twelve or twenty years, he doubts Wade would be able to do it without backing out or panicking just because he’d probably feel like he was trapping Peter or something bizarre but sadly understandable like that, especially if his boxes are in a shitty mood that hnypothetical day.

He doesn’t doubt for a moment that Wade loves him deeply, even with all the shit they give each other. Hell, especially with all the shit they give each other. It means a hell of a lot when people can make fun of each other and poke at each other and can trust wholeheartedly that the other person knows that it means nothing or comes from a place of pure love, especially for people with backgrounds filled with anxiety like Peter and Wade.

It takes a lot of trust to open oneself up completely to another person, and Wade is the first person like that for Peter ever since he became Spiderman, and Peter hopes he’s close enough to being that person for Wade in return. It takes a lot of love and trust on both of their parts to deal with the somewhat common panic attacks, depression dips, and self-punishments and the less common hallucinations and serious depression dips and still stick around after all is said and done.

They’ve been together through thick and thin, through grave injuries and actual death (on Wade’s account, anyway). They’ve stuck together through sickness and loss, happiness and wealth (there was a few months where Wade was apparently secretly convinced that Peter would leave once he was no longer dirt poor, but that’s been proven wrong a hundred times over by now). They’ve been through everything the traditional wedding vows mention, and the “until death do us part” really only works on Peter, but his powers and trained skills don’t make him an easy target, either.

Peter knows what he wants to do, or rather, he’s just now realized what he’s been wanting for a long while. And now that he knows what’s missing, he’s going to take the first steps to get it. Wade took the first steps in starting their relationship, so it’s only fair that Peter takes the first step or two towards their marriage. Probable marriage, he corrects himself, because if there’s one thing he’s learned from being with Wade all these years, it’s that if something has even one percent chance of happening, it’s plenty of wiggle room for the ex-merc to do it. And Peter’s only 99 percent sure that he’ll say yes.

That just means he needs to make tomorrow the best National Half-Priced Candy Day yet.

“Spidey?” Wade snaps him out of his thoughts, sounding like that wasn’t the first time he called for him.

Peter shakes his head. “Sorry. Just got a bit carried away in my head I guess.”

Wade nods thoughtfully. Peter can practically see the concern dripping off of him. “You need a break? We’ve been at this for–” he checks the stranger’s phone still in his hand, “twelve hours now. Dang.” He pauses. “I know right? But you know what they say, time flies when you’re having fun, and I’m always having fun when our snookums is around!” Wade’s bright grin stretches the bright pink and blue fabric of his mask.

“I usually have fun when you’re around too, ‘Pool.” Peter grins and turns away. He hears a gasp behind him.

“Baaabe!!” he whines, “Only usually? You wound me! I am always fun, especially when–” He abruptly stops. When he doesn’t immediately respond to whatever his boxes are saying, Peter turns around.

Wade is looking at Peter with a strangely somber expression, one that’s obvious through his mask. Then he picks himself up in what Peter can now tell is false cheer.

“You know, Spidey, if you ever get tired of me–”

“Never gonna happen.” Peter walks towards Wade and puts his hands on his undoubtedly surprised face. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, ya doof.” He pecks a kiss to his masked nose then pulls away. “Come on, then! We have more criminals to stop and people to save!”

Peter hesitates just long enough for Wade to jump on his back before taking off. As he swings them through the city, he starts thinking of a plan of action for tomorrow.

If there was any chance that he was wrong about Wade’s self esteem not letting him pop the question first, what the ex-merc just said squashed it, which means Peter will have to be the one to do it. He could go the easy way and go about their usual NHPC day and get down on one knee when they’re back at home (because for as much as Wade puts on an act of shamelessness and seems to constantly overshare, he’s strangely a rather private person), but he doesn’t particularly want to.

A quick look to the left mid-swing and he thinks he has the perfect thing.

His spidey-senses guide him to the right, so he follows. It doesn’t take very long at all for the pair to spot the dark smoke in the sky directly ahead of them. They make it there quickly, taking in the apartment building that is almost overrun by bright flames, the two fire trucks, and the group of firefighters on the street trying their best to evacuate people and put out the worst of the fire. Wade points out that the fire escape must either be engulfed by flames or has broken off or something because he can see a couple through a window on the top floor.

Without stopping to ask what happened or what’s needed of them– mainly because they’d probably say something that basically means “go away and mind your own business”– they enter the building through a window on the top floor (“Wade! You didn’t have to break it!” “The entire building is basically broken! It’s fine!”) since they both believe that, with the get up most of them are wearing, the firefighters are working on evacuating the people in the thick of the flames now and haven’t reached anyone in the higher floors.

Besides, the materials Peter and Wade use to make their respective suits aren’t exactly heat and flame resistant, so this is how they can be helpful.

Inside the building is, predictably, hot and smokey from the flames, and Peter knows it will get louder too as they reach the floors that are closer to the majority of the fire. They split up and work through the top floor first with Peter safely lowering two small families, two couples, and several animals down one or two at a time while Wade searches for any others and gathers them to their chosen window. Once Wade says it’s clear and the civilians are safe, they move downstairs to the next floor and set up the same system.

This floor is proven to be a bit more difficult when Wade comes back with two cats and informs Peter that their owner is a business man that recognized Deadpool as the mercenary he hasn’t been in a long while and accused him of setting the building on fire while simultaneously begging for his life. So Peter has to leave his post at the window and let Wade lower the few remaining people down while he goes and talks to the business man.

Peter easily finds the middle-aged man cowering in the corner and tries to calm him down. Although, it very quickly becomes apparent that he isn’t having any of it because “Anyone who works with Deadpool only thirsts for blood, and you will not have mine that easily!” Peter just huffs and picks him up like a potato sack, ignoring his shouting and struggling while he carries him to the window in his kitchen. Peter casts a new web and makes a quick harness, gets the man– who had stopped struggling real fast once he realized he was no longer inside– and lowers him down faster than he had for the others.

He meets up with Wade in the hallway, who apparently cleared the rest of the floor while Paranoid Man was causing a fuss, and they move down again. They hastily clear out most of the apartments on the third-to-top floor when Peter hears a shout and a gunshot from down the hallway. The only people there to lower the two small dogs he has on the line now are three siblings, the oldest being no older than 16 and the youngest no older than 10. Another gunshot forces Peter’s hand, though.

“Hey! Do you think you could lower these pups down while I go check that out?”

The oldest sibling, a girl with a pixie cut, ripped jeans, and a black sweatshirt, looks out the window and nods. She silently and shakily takes the webbing from him and starts to lower them. Peter doesn’t waste any time in sprinting down the hall to the last apartment where he last saw Wade disappear. Inside he finds a woman in her forties or fifties holding a gun to Wade’s unmoving body. Whether he’s dead or unconscious, he doesn’t know, but that doesn’t matter.

“Hey! What the hell, lady! We’re trying to help!” Peter stomps towards her.

“I’d rather die than be contaminated by freaks like you!”

His spidey-sense suddenly screams at him, and Peter jumps and rolls to the side just in time to dodge the bullet that would have hit his chest.

“What the fuck?!”

“Get out of my damn apartment!” she screams, pointing the gun at him again.

“Lady, there is literally a fire–”

“And I will not be saved by faggots like you!”

Oh… How fun… One of those people…

But she’s still a civilian, Peter reminds himself, and he really shouldn’t web her up in the corner of the room just because she’d rather die than accept help from someone who isn’t straight. No matter how much he kind of wants to right now. The fire probably won’t even reach this floor, anyway… But he still can’t.

��This is a matter of life and death for you, what the hell–” He jumps to the left to dodge another bullet.

“And I don’t fucking care!” She screams, “You can all go and burn in hell! But I won’t let myself be swayed by your cursed ways!” she shoots once more, and she should have only one shot left at most, if Peter’s counting right.

She doesn’t get to shoot again, though, because Deadpool comes up behind her and knocks her out.

“Do you know how close I was to killing her? Do you know how easy it’d still be to? God sometimes I wish I was still a mercenary. I mean, look at this! She got blood on my gay suit!” He complains, staring down at the woman disdainfully and poking at the single bullet wound in his chest.

Peter, instead of praising him for not killing her or explaining why they should keep her alive, just nods and jogs out of the apartment. He has other people he needs to save, afterall.

He pretends to not hear Wade’s gasp and sinister chuckle behind him.

He gets the siblings down, and Wade comes back with a dog and two cats in his arms, and the unconscious woman being dragged behind him by Wade’s new, golden whip (“Now I can be just like Wonder woman!” “Like who?” “Wonder Woman! She’s from the DC Universe and she’s my hero! Besides you, of course!” “Whatever you say, Wade…”). If anyone notices that he lowers the animals before he lowers the human, then they can deal with it. And if they notice that she has “BEWARE: HOMOPHOBIC ASSHOLE” written on her forehead in permanent marker, then it’s not his fault that he can’t control his boyfriend.

Looking out of the window this time, they realize that the fire has gone down quite a bit. Wade comes running back down the hallway– when did he even leave?– cheering that the fire escape was just covered in fire, but now it’s safe to walk on. Before Peter has the chance to ask if it was safe for civilians to walk on or just supers, Wade jumps in and clarifies that he pretty much cannon-balled onto it and it didn’t bend, and it was only pretty warm through his ruined suit, rather than very warm.

With that news (and after Peter tested it for himself), they waste no time in telling the other tenants they find to put thick shoes on and go down the fire escape. By the time they finish clearing the few people and animals left in the building, it’s pretty much dark out and some news stations are gathered around outside reporting what happened here for the nightly news.

“Excuse me, miss,” He hears Wade say to his right. He turns and finds him talking to a young police officer. “How did this fire start? And why’d it get so big?”

The young woman scowls a bit and opens her mouth to speak, but an older officer behind Peter interrupts her.

“Someone was trying to make a romantic dinner on the fourth floor and started an oil fire, then tried putting it out with water. It got so big because traffic was horrible today, and we just couldn’t make it here as quickly as we needed.” he smiles ruefully.

Peter turns to properly face the officer, “Do you know if anyone was seriously hurt?”

He shakes his head. “But we know that so far there haven’t been any deaths reported so far. Animal or human.”

Peter nods as Wade speaks. “Thank you, officer! We appreciate the work you do ‘round here, but we should get going!”

Peter takes his cue and starts walking towards the building across the street to climb up and swing off of.

“Hey,” the officer catches Peter and Wade’s attention, “I know a lot of other police officers don’t like you doing their job, but you’re doing some real good work out there. So thanks, Spiderman and Deadpool.”

Peter nods, not really knowing what else to do, while Wade openly gapes through his mask. He pulls the ex-merc towards him, and he immediately clings to Peter’s back. They’re gone pretty quickly after that.

“Babe! Baaabe!!” Wade shouts into his ear mid-swing, “That was amazing! We found someone who doesn’t hate us! And he thanked us!”

“I know!” He cheers back. It’s always nice to get some positive recognition.

Wade squeezes on to him tighter. “God, I’m so fucking glad I stopped murdering people.” He kisses the back of his neck through their suits. “I’m really glad I chose you. So happy... The happiest.” he continues quieter, more genuine.

If Peter didn’t know better, he would’ve thought he wasn’t supposed to hear that last part, that it was just meant for himself and his boxes. But, well, he does know better.

His brain decides to remind him of the ring he still has to buy by the end of tomorrow.

Peter’s spidey-senses start humming at the same time that Wade shouts that he saw a young man and a suspicious older woman in an alley shortcut. They easily stop the woman from assaulting the poor teen before she could try with the element of surprise on their side, then they escort him back to a more populated area where it should be safer. Both Peter’s and Wade’s stomachs growl at the scent of sandwiches, so they go in and order enough for an army before and climbing up to the nearest rooftop to take a very-much-needed food break. They sit down and start digging in.

Peter weighs the options of buying an engagement ring as Spiderman and risking outing his plans to everyone before he gets to properly propose to Wade, or somehow taking time out of their NHPC day plans (do nothing except go out to buy cheap candy together, cuddle, and munch on said candy) to buy a ring without being suspicious to the man whose job has always been finding people who don’t want to be found out.

“Hey Wade?”

Wade hums around his food and scoots more into Peter’s lap in lieu of a real response.

“I was thinking we could do something slightly different than usual tomorrow?” Peter leans a bit to the side to get a better view of Wade’s reaction. It isn’t a negative one, but it’s also not positive.

“Why? What’s up?” he asks once he swallows his food.

Peter shuffles a bit. “Well, I was thinking, since candy isn’t usually the only thing that’s half-priced tomorrow, we could maybe split up for, let’s say, an hour or two? Just to buy a cute present for each other or something–”

Wade’s excited gasp interrupts Peter. “Like those little stuffed animals that go right into clearance after Valentines? Or those super soft blankets and socks!” Wade squeals and waves his hands, flinging sandwich bits everywhere. “Petey-baby! You are brilliant! Like, I knew that already, but you’re just proving what we all already know! Even the boxes agree! Although, Yellow’s idea of a present is too close to Yandere simulator, but White thinks going down to Coney Island would be cool! But I don’t even think the rides are even open this early in the year. Besides! I just told you about it! So it isn’t a surprise anymore!” He points a finger high in the air and announces loudly, “Disqualified!”

Peter smiles as he absently listens to Wade go on and on about present-buying tomorrow. Now he just needs to find the perfect ring online and pick it up at the store. If he can’t find the perfect one on such short notice, he doubts Wade will mind if he got a unicorn plushie and a very soft blanket instead. The ring and proposal doesn’t have to be rushed, as much as Peter really wants it to be. How could he not, when his fiance would be a sarcastic asshole and secret sweetheart like Wade Winston Wilson?

Now the only important question left is, would it be Peter Wilson, Wade Parker, or Peter and Wade Wilson-Parker, or Parker-Wilson?

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

#spideypool #peter parker x wade wilson #isn't it bromantic #spideypool valentine's day challenge 2020 #nirlan's spideypool fanfics #nirlan's marvel fanfics

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zachsreaderinserts · 5 years

Text

Crash ‘N’ Run

ship: basicallyidowrk x female!reader x fourzeroseven

warnings: homophobia, racism, it's the 50s babe what do you expect, inspired by a webcomic called rock and riot

"This is complete and utter bullshit." Marcel raged, kicking an empty can angrily. I watched him from the sidewalk as he stomped around. Scotty was attempting to calm him down, following him around as he paced.

I couldn't help the disappointed sigh that left me as I buried my head into my knees.

Being in a relationship with two guys wasn't as easy as it seemed. For one, there are many comments about me being a "whore" for dating two men, as well as Marcel and Scotty being called "cuckolds". Two, because we're an interracial couple, we get even more flack for breaking society's roles on us.

And because of those two reasons, we couldn't go to prom together.

We weren't the only ones either. There were Craig and Tyler, a gay couple; Evan and Jonathan, an interracial gay couple; and Anthony and Melina, an interracial couple. We all were rejected from being able to go to prom.

Unwilling to face the principal's wrath, we retreated to Marcel's cul de sac, where he currently was raging his ass off.

"Marcel, Marcel!" Scotty comforted his boyfriend, quickly calming him while I sulked on the sidewalk. After a quiet few moments, my boyfriends joined me on the ground.

"This fucking blows." Scotty murmured, holding my hand. I nodded solemnly, leaning onto his side. I felt Marcel's hand on my back, which meant his arm was around Scotty. "I wish people would just accept us."

"We knew what we were getting into when we got together," Marcel whispered, rubbing my shoulder lovingly. "I just wanted a night with the two most beautiful people in the world."

"Shut up." I grinned, slapping his chest lightly. "That's so cheesy." We all sighed together, enjoying one another's presence.

But that was when I got the idea.

"What would happen if we somehow got into prom and got caught?" The two of them gave me a confused look. "Like, what are the repercussions?"

"Suspension, maybe?" Scotty thought it over, moving his hand from my own to my waist, his letterman jacket providing warmth. "I mean, we aren't seniors, nor are we troublemakers..."

"Don't lie to her, Scot." Marcel teased, grinning softly. "She knows us enough to know that we're anything but angels."

"Then let's go to prom," I suggested, smiling in excitement. Marcel smile changed into a frown once more.

"You heard the principal. No dates that are homosexual or interracial are allowed." I turned my body to face my boyfriends, grinning with mischief.

"Since when did we decide some fat fuck was gonna dictate how we get to spend our Saturday nights?" Scotty's face lit up with hope while Marcel's lit up with boldness. "I'm sick and tired of being shoved around by some balding white man. I'm gonna crash the fuck out of that prom." Scotty sat up, grinning handsomely.

"What's the plan, babe?"

---

"I can't believe we're crashing prom together!" Melina sang happily, thumbing through dresses. "I mean, I knew you were rebellious, but I didn't think you were this rebellious!"

"We all want a night out, so a night out is what we're gonna get." I declared, finding a sparkly f/c dress. It puffed out at the waist, reminding me of a princess dress. "I want that one." I plucked it off the rack, holding it up to my body.

"Oh hell yeah." Melina chirped, looking me over. "Go try it on!"

After wrestling with the zipper, I looked in the mirror, pleased with how I looked. I normally looked like an innocent teenager, but this dress made me feel like a glamorous, rich woman. Give me pearls and I'll knock off the socks of every straight man in the county.

"Y/n, are you done yet?" Melina asked, knocking on my dressing room door. I peeped it open, seeing her yellow, sweetheart dress. "Oh my God."

"You look great!" I squealed, causing her to blush. "Anthony is going to pass out when he sees you."

"Shut up." She nudged me, shaking her head. "You're a riot."

"I know." I winked at her, closing the door.

---

"You look wonderful, Y/n." My older sister, Ryb, complimented me. "Mom would've loved to see you."

"I'm sure wherever she is, she's proud of me." I retouched my lipstick, looking in my vanity mirror. "I'll call you if we get arrested."

"Knowing you, you'll find your way out of it." She teased, taking a photo of me. The doorbell rang, causing me to grow nervous. "That must be your boys. I'll go let them in." As she walked away, I looked myself over one last time.

I was really about to do this. I was about to crash my junior prom. And somehow, the only thing that made me nervous was Scotty and Marcel's reactions.

But as I descended from upstairs and saw their reactions, I knew that there was truly nothing to be nervous about.

"Holy shit." Scotty cursed while Marcel just gaped at me. I couldn't help but gasp at their appearance.

Scotty's unkempt hair was brushed neatly, going very well with his grey suit and f/c bow tie.

Marcel's hair was gelled to create a masculine look, his scruff shaved which made him look older in his black suit and f/c skinny tie.

It took me a moment to remember that these handsome boys were dating me.

"Hey, guys." I meekly smiled, going down the stairs. They stayed silent, still staring at me. The flashing of Ryb's camera brought them out of their stupor.

"Y/n, you look stunning." Marcel smiled, visibly awestruck. "Like, damn."

"Wow." Scotty murmured, cupping my face gently. My face went hot at their attention and I began to giggle shyly.

"You guys clean up nice," I whispered, smoothing out both of their suits. Marcel held my hand to his heart, tearing up slightly.

"If you guys are done being sappy, I'd like to take some pictures." Ryb cut in, making us chuckle. After doing ridiculous poses with one another, we made it out to my car. As I turned on the engine, Scotty leaned in from the back seat.

"So, we're having post-prom sex after this, right?"

"Oh, hell yeah." Marcel and I nodded in agreement as I pulled out from my driveway. "My house?"

"Where else?" I quipped, speeding out of my neighborhood. After a few minutes of driving, we reached the school parking lot. Waiting there for us was Melina, Anthony, Evan, Jonathan, Craig, Tyler, and a lot more people. "Uh..."

"It's all our friends!" Scotty pointed out as we parked the car. I stepped out, recognizing the faces around me. Everyone went silent, smiling proudly.

Gay couples, lesbian couples, mixed couples, couples of all sorts surrounded the few cars in the parking lot. I couldn't help the excited smile that was on my face as I climbed onto the hood of my car.

"I can tell many of you are here for the revolution." Various cheers erupted from the crowd as they looked up at me. "That's perfect. Because we're done being docile. We're done listening to this stupid principal and what he thinks is right for us! I say fuck the norm!" The cheers were slowly becoming louder. "Fuck the homophobic assholes! Fuck the racist assholes! Fuck everyone who says what you can and can't do! Are we gonna take this bullshit or are we gonna riot?"

"Riot!" A booming cheer rose over the parking lot, causing me to giggle with adrenaline.

"That's right, baby! Let's go fuck this prom up!"

And with that, we burst through the entrance of prom, quickly slinking into the crowd. The teachers lost us as we all split up to go wreak havoc.

I spotted the picture booth and immediately grabbed Marcel and Scotty's arms.

"C'mon!" I squealed, dragging them over to pose in front of the cameraman. We did one normal picture before doing stupid poses with one another. I gave the man a twenty before swiping the polaroids off of him and continuing to dash through the prom. Students were watching as we all made our mark, cheering us on.

I made my way to the stage, getting ahold of the microphone.

"I want you all to know that this is a revolution! And we won't be stopped!" I yelled, before turning around and grabbing Scotty's face.

I gave him a forceful kiss before turning to Marcel and giving him an equally passionate smooch. After a moment, I turned back to the mic, slightly breathless.

"And to this stupid motherfucking principal, suck my left tiddy!" I sent out a graceful middle finger before the three of us ran off again. Though this time, we ran out of the gym.

I giggled happily as we circled the school and went back to the parking lot. Marcel was practically skipping, swinging his intertwined hands as we rushed out. Scotty's high pitched laugh pierced the air, his giddiness similar to a child's.

"Last one there's a rotten egg!" He squealed, dropping our hands to run. I followed in suit, picking up my dress so I wouldn't trip. Marcel and Scotty were easily further ahead of me, which was a telltale sign that I was gonna be the rotten egg this time.

As we reached the clean car, we all stopped to catch our breath again. I bent over the trunk, laying flat on my stomach to try and calm down.

"That's a pretty sight," Scotty smirked, looking at me. Realizing my compromising position, I gave him the middle finger.

"You're unbelievable." He laughed again, straightening up his suit. "What do we do now?"

"Let's go get milkshakes." I heaved myself up, stretching.

"Then victory sex?" I snorted, looking at the two loves of my life.

"Then we'll have victory sex." Both of them fist pumped the air before high fiving, making me snicker again.

"Get in the car, you dorks."

#basicallyido407 x reader #basicallyidowrk x reader #fourzer0seven x reader #reader insert #x reader #basicallyidowrk #fourzer0seven

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d-ama-ien · 4 years

Text

“They’re Cheesy for a Reason”

Written for the First Visitation Day Gift Exchange run by @yancy-support-group

Gift for @breadstickksss , Prompt: soft

Yancy x Reader

Word count: 2626 (I may have gotten a bit excited…)

It's been months since the incident that got me sent to Happy Trails Penitentiary. Sure, adjusting to prison life was a bit rough at first, and I still don't love when the guards are in a bad mood and beat us around, but the kindness of the other prisoners quickly made me realize it wasn't that bad to be in prison. And I was a model prisoner, so I didn't fall victim to the guard's bad moods very often.

Of all the prisoners, I had quickly grown closest to Yancy. He was the head of the family, in a way, so he often took the new prisoners under his wing until they got their feet under them. My feet have been under me for months, to the point where I can even help out new prisoners myself, but Yancy still spent most of his free time with me. It's not like I'm going to protest, I love spending time with him. Anything from mealtime to lifting weights in the yard was a pleasure; it was a surprise just how cute he could be, especially since I had heard from one of the others what exactly had gone down that led to him being sent here.

But, despite all his issues, Yancy was kind to the other prisoners, he valued the family he had built here above everything, he loved singing show tunes, even making and choreographing his own songs. When Yancy found out I was a musical fan as well, he had ranted about the shows he had seen for an hour before realizing how long he had been talking and apologizing. I found it adorable though, loving his enthusiasm, so we continued to talk about that for hours until the guards had to physically separate us for curfew.

I don't see Yancy every day, he has to keep the family in shape, I have my own things to do, my own friends to hang out with, but on those days that Yancy is off with a new prisoner, I can't help but feel a bit moody. Each day, spent with or without Yancy, I'm becoming painfully aware that the feelings I have for him are more than platonic. It gets to the point where I have trouble reciprocating his friendly touches, finding myself daydreaming that instead of a platonic squeeze on my shoulder, he would lace his fingers with mine and squeeze our hands together instead.

Yancy doesn't seem to be interested though, so I keep content with our friendship, enjoying the opportunity to know him any capacity. Sometimes, he makes it difficult for me to remain on the friendly side of things.

It happens while talking about first dates or first meetings in musicals. We were talking about romantic duets from our favorite shows, and the topic shifted to things like the start of the romance versus the big romantic finale when the characters will kiss and live happily ever after.

"I mean, is there anything cuter than I'll Cover You? Angel and Collins are absolutely perfect," I say, sighing as I remember the scene from Rent.

"Yeah, yeah, it's real cute until you remember the reprise that Collins sings after Angel dies," Yancy points out.

"It's still romantic! Depressing and awful, but those two have a love like nothing else, so even the reprise is romantic," I don't bring up how I cry like a baby almost every time I listen to the reprise. I mean, Angel's death and then the funeral and then all the breakups immediately afterward, it's a series of painful scenes.

"What about something cute and not depressing, maybe that Prom show you were talking about?" Yancy was pretty behind on Broadway shows, makes sense since he's been here so long, but I had been doing my best to tell him about the ones I knew.

"The Prom ends cute, but that main relationship goes through some serious problems too. I mean, the one girl's mom is a homophobe and purposefully ruins the main character's prom night, leading the girls to break up. They make up, but you know I cried in the theater because of that moment," Yancy sighs when I explain more about the central relationship I had told him about.

"Is every relationship depressing in musicals, or am I just not thinking of the right type of show?"

"I mean, if the relationships went well right off the bat, then it wouldn't be much of a plot," I point out.

"These musical characters got it all wrong, they just gotta do something simple. I think show writers underestimate the power of something cheesy like a picnic under the stars," Yancy throws his hands behind his head, leaning back casually while speaking.

"Aww, who knew you were an old school romantic," I tease, earning a scoff.

"Stuff like that's only considered cheesy because it works! Youse would agree if anyone did something like that for you," I'm almost offended at the insinuation that no one had ever done something cheesy for me. Still, none of my partners had set up a starlit picnic for me, so he was technically right.

"You got me there, I've never had anyone set up a picnic under the stars for me. But I think a normal coffee date would be the most realistic thing to portray in a show, I don't think picnics are super common anymore,"

"Do ya know what? I'll set up a starlight picnic for youse sometime, then you'll get what I'm talkin' bout," I laugh at what Yancy says, ignoring the stirring of emotions in my chest at the idea of Yancy doing something like that for me.

"Sure, Yancy, we'll see if that changes my mind," I agree.

"But, really, there's gotta be a relationship that goes well for an entire show," Yancy returns to the original train of conversation, and we spend the next hour of our free time trying to spitball shows with a straightforward and completely happy relationship.

After a week, that conversation is basically out of my mind. We have a lot of discussions, after all, and my brain space isn't only dedicated to Yancy, other things are going on around the prison to think about.

One evening I return to my empty cell, my cellmate had gotten parole a few days ago and hadn't been replaced yet. I turn on the small TV, it'll hopefully keep me entertained until lights out at least. The channels are minimal, I end up with some soap opera droning in the background while I take some time to read. They spoil us here at the penitentiary, but we're all about rehabilitation and rewards. Unless you get punished because when they give out punishments, you really suffer. That's why I keep on my best behavior, that's how I get these privileges. I'm just getting invested in a new chapter when the guard on duty stops by my cell.

"It's time for lights out, shut your TV off and get to bed," I oblige quickly, the guard walking away once I put the remote and book down by the, now off, TV. I slide under the covers of the bottom bunk, settling in for another good night of rest.

When I wake up, the cell is dim, I know it's still night, but I heard an unusual sound. I open my eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the near non-existent lighting, and then I nearly jump out of my skin and have to muffle a scream.

Yancy has stuffed himself between the bunk and the mattress, grinning down at me. I cover my face for a moment, taking deep breaths to recover from the scare, before rolling out of bed to wait for Yancy to come out from under the mattress.

"What are you doing here? You nearly gave me a heart attack," I whisper my complaint, not wanting to draw the attention of the night shift guards.

"Just put ya shoes on, we got a picnic to get to,"

I blink in confusion as Yancy hands me my shoes, not sure I processed his sentence correctly. "A picnic?"

"You thought I was kidding?" Yancy laughs a bit as I slide my shoes on, "I really meant it when I said I'd take you out on a starlight picnic one of these nights," I suddenly recall our conversation from earlier this week, but I had seriously thought he was joking about that.

"Wait, we're in prison. How are we supposed to have a picnic?" It's the middle of the night, I don't know how to wrap my brain around this.

"We're gonna break out," My mouth drops open in shock, I'm about to loudly demand an explanation when he rapidly waves his hands, "Temporarily! We'll come back, we ain't leavin' forever. Just for the picnic,"

I sigh in relief, I was almost sure for a second that this was Yancy's evil twin or an alien imposter and I was going to have to kill him. The Yancy I knew did not want to leave here anytime soon.

"Come on, if youse keep stalling, we ain't gonna have time for the picnic," Yancy nags as I finish lacing up my shoes. "But, before we go, youse gotta promise that you ain't gonna tell anyone the way out, and promise that youse won't go out for no reason,"

"I promise," I intend to finish out my sentence honestly, and while I like the other prisoners, I wouldn't want any of them out in society, so I definitely won't be telling any of them the way.

"Good, we'll skip the blindfold then," Yancy says with a grin, turning to move some of the decorations, revealing a small hole in the wall. He hooks a finger into the hole, apparently the wall here is just a panel that can be dragged open. We go through the tunnels, dodging some insanely heavy security measures that require very odd counting to get through, swim through a sewage pipe, which is as awful as it sounds, go through a series of increasingly complex instructions that I barely follow. Suddenly we're outside the prison gates. Yancy grabs my hand, pulling me along until we're clear of the building's light, walking along the edge of a nearby forest.

I gasp when we come upon the picnic Yancy had set up, a collection of candles surrounding a large blanket, a basket sitting in the center. Yancy smiles at my reaction, dragging me over to the blanket and encouraging me to sit on the blanket while he pulls supplies out of the basket.

"Yancy, where did you get all of this?" I ask, totally delighted as he hands me a glass and pours me some sort of sparkling drink. He pulls out a plate of small sandwiches next, offering it to me before he pours himself a drink.

"Cucumber sandwiches, really?" He even cut them into tiny triangles.

"You just gotta know where the guards keep their personal stash, they got all sorts of fancy stuff there. They won't miss any of this stuff, so we might as well use it," he explains, leaning back to support himself on his arm, watching me with a small smile.

"I can't believe you really set this up," I lean back as well, craning my neck to look up at the stars. They're beautiful out here; there's no light pollution out here, so the night sky is clearer than I've ever seen it.

"I'm a man of my word, and I said I'd set up a starlight picnic for youse. Do youse doubt my word?" I can tell Yancy is teasing, he nudges my shoulder how he usually does when poking fun, but I decide to answer anyways.

"I thought you were joking, honestly. I mean, why would you put in the work of setting all this up just for me?" Yancy's brows furrow at that.

"What do ya mean by that? Of course I'd do stuff like this for youse." Yancy ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, "I care about youse, dummy,"

I wait for the joke or laughter to follow, but it never comes. My heart is nearly beating out of my chest, my cheeks burning red even if I'm sure he meant he cared as a friend.

"I care about you too, I really value your friendship," I reply, managing to smile at him. I swear his lips twitch into a frown for a moment, but it must be a flicker of the candlelight. I shiver a bit from a sudden breeze, Yancy immediately activates his "head of the family" instincts and starts rummaging through the basket.

"I thought it might get a bit chilly," he comments as he pulls out a fuzzy blanket, it's even my favorite color. I accept the blanket gratefully, wrapping myself up in the soft material. I stare up at the stars, trying to pick out constellations that I could remember, and I hear Yancy softly sigh from next to me.

"Hey, Yancy, I've got a question," I glance towards him, waiting for his nod before continuing, "Do you ever… do you ever regret getting sent here?"

It's a sensitive question, one I don't think I would ever ask while in the walls of the prison, but Yancy does not react at first.

"I…. I honestly can't say that I regret it. I didn't mean for things to go the way they did, but this life is better than anything I ever had on the outside. I got a real family here, and… I got youse," I twist my hands in the soft material of the blanket, quietly contemplating his answer.

"What about youse? Any regrets?"

"I miss my family, I guess, but otherwise, I can't say that I regret much. If I weren't here, I wouldn't have met you, and you're probably one of the best things to happen to me," I admit it, at least partially, getting those feelings into the open air under the stars.

"Come here," Yancy mutters, pulling me closer to him until I'm pressed against his side, resting my head on his shoulder. We sit in comfortable silence, relaxing under the stars.

"I think you were right about these picnics," I mumble, sleep starting to take over. I feel Yancy's low chuckle more than I hear it, followed shortly by the press of his lips against my forehead. I doze off, comforted by the warmth of his body and the blanket surrounding me.

The next day I wake up in my usual bunk, half wondering if I dreamed up that whole picnic. That escape situation was ridiculous after all, and I can't imagine anyone, even a guy as strong as Yancy, being able to carry someone through all those security measures. And it's not like I can ask about it- if it did happen, that means we literally broke out of here last night. I shake off the thoughts, deciding to just go to breakfast and worry about it later.

"Hey, youse!" Yancy greets as I walk into the dining hall, "I saved youse a seat," he points out the chair in question, going over to talk to one of the other prisoners while I go and grab a tray of food and take my seat.

"How'd ya sleep?" Yancy questions, winking when I raise my eyebrow at him. His hand finds mine under the table, intertwining our fingers and squeezing when I smile at him.

"I slept great, and you know after last night I just had this strange inclination that you had a point about those cheesy first dates,"

"I told youse, it's cheesy for a reason.”

#visitationdaygiftexchange #first visitation gift exchange #markiplier #ahwm yancy #yancy #a heist with markiplier #long post #so the literal 'soft' is the soft blanket that yancy wraps you up with #but its mostly a figurative 'ahhh soft fluffy fluff' kind of thing #that story about me crying in the theater during the prom is true i was literally sobbing at the fake prom set up #im a sensitive gay okay?#i do also cry every time i hear the i'll cover you reprise #again with the sesitive gay thing #RENT especially bc Angel is literally how I discovered my sexuality lol her death really really hurt #anyways sorry if you aren't familiar with musicals i just needed a reason that he would take us on a starlight picnic #and that reason is we all theater nerds in this joint

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apositivelifeaffirmingway · 5 years

Text

Holding On and Letting Go

Alex Manes Appreciation Week: Day 5: what-if (with tiny a side of AU thrown in) [Mature/Explicit]

What if, when Jesse Manes burst in on Alex and Michael in the tool shed, he'd smashed Alex's hand instead? What if, instead of Alex, it was Michael who enlisted in the Air Force?

( AO3 link )

"Alex."

Alex froze, his hands hovering over the ‘artifacts’ he was in the process of rearranging, attempting to make room for some new thing Grant had found on the dark web that he wanted to add to the display.

That voice. His voice; it sent an electric energy traveling up the length of him - from the tips of his toes to the tips of his fingers and back again. Alex had forgotten how much he'd missed it. Both the voice and the feeling it elicited; he'd forgotten how much he’d suppressed the loss, how well he’d been able to ignore the giant hole in his chest that had appeared when Michael had left.

Alex turned, slowly, preparing himself to set eyes on him again, the first time in almost four months.

“You’re back.”

He must have come straight from the airport, because he was dressed in fatigues, a giant duffel and an overstuffed camo print backpack both lying discarded at his feet. His hair was cut short, what used to be a wild mess of curls now tamed and combed back from his face. Alex involuntarily flexed his right hand, the memory of the feel of Michael's curls in his fingers overwhelming him.

"I'm back," Michael echoed, his expression slightly clouded, his brow slightly furrowed, his tone cautious.

Alex felt a pang of guilt, though he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t the one who’d run away… Still, he took a step toward Michael, pulling the visor off his head and tossing it to the ground as he flashed back to their first kiss. It wasn't lost on him that they were in the same section of the museum, the same cheesy displays surrounding them. Really the only thing different now was them.

"How are you?" Michael's eyes flickered from Alex's face to his hand and back again.

Alex, who had only just had the cast removed from his hand a week prior, raised his left hand up and slowly flexed his fingers, internalizing the dull, lingering ache, ignoring the tightness in the tendons from the permanent scar tissue that would prevent him from ever pursuing a career in music...

The surgeon had only been able to do so much...the damage had been extensive.

"I'm okay," he replied, dropping his hand and meeting Michael’s gaze.

It wasn't a lie, not really. He was okay. He was managing, anyway. His father was locked up and his brothers were coming around, being semi-supportive and growing more so as time passed. Alex was surviving, moving past the trauma. He certainly didn't intend to work at the UFO Emporium the rest of his life...he still had plans and dreams and they didn't seem as impossible anymore, even if he had to adjust his expectations to fit his new reality.

"I tried to write you," Michael said, dropping his shoulders and jamming his hands into his pockets before looking away, "so many times. But I didn't know what to say. I feel like that -," he turned his head back and nodded at Alex's injured hand, "- was entirely my fault. I shouldn't have ever stayed in that tool shed."

Michael’s hunched posture was in direct conflict with the authority and respect his uniform demanded and Alex, who had grown up surrounded by military and the supposed steely strength it implied, felt a pang of sadness.

Taking another small step towards Michael, lessening the distance between them, Alex shook his head, the sting of tears behind his eyes.

"This,” Alex lifted his scarred hand into the space between them, “wasn’t your fault. My dad is a homophobic monster. It was his fault. Only his fault," Alex's voice rose slightly, hoping Michael would understand...hoping Michael would know that he didn't blame him for what Jesse had done that day.

Michael nodded, but he looked unconvinced and that broke Alex's heart. It wasn’t fair, the amount of damage and destruction his dad had caused the last few months. It made Alex seethe with anger, and also regret.

Alex had spent weeks blaming himself after Michael left Roswell. He was convinced he was the reason –even after everything they went through after the day Jesse had found them – that Michael was just too traumatized to even look at Alex let alone be in the same town and so he bailed. It took Alex a long time, and the support of friends, to get over what his dad had done to him. Even if those friends still didn’t know who it was that had been with Alex the day Jesse barged in on them…

When Michael had left Roswell it had been sudden and unexpected, at least for Alex. After Jesse had attacked them in the shed, shattering Alex's hand with the hammer, they'd not seen each other for nearly a week. Alex had literally been in lock-down (recovering from surgery and downing painkillers). Even when he was finally lucid enough to go anywhere he wasn’t allowed out of the house. Jesse wouldn't let him leave and expressed to him, more than once, using all sorts of colorful and cruel slurs, that Alex was to keep his '%*#^ mouth shut' about what had happened. Not that anyone would believe it if Alex told. Jesse Manes was a pillar in the community. A respected military man who was third generation Roswell-ian.

Alex knew the implied threat was real; the tone in his father’s voice more than enough to deter him from attempting to sneak out. Even when his father would pass out from drinking too much, Alex didn’t dare try to leave. His father had never hurt him so badly before, the majority of the violence at home prior to that day mostly verbal, with the occasional hard shove against a wall, or a direct punch to the gut; bruises that were easily hidden by clothes and always assumed to be the result of the occasional bullying he experienced at school. Alex had seen his dad mad before, but never as full of blinding rage as when he’d bust through the tool shed door. Alex attributed the excessive drinking, which was also new, to the violence of that day. He found himself hoping, as messed up as he knew it was, that his dad felt guilty for what he’d done.

Alex knew he’d never really know. Their relationship was too fractured; there was too great a power imbalance and too much disappointment directed towards Alex. His father would never deign to lower himself to admit any regret or shameful feelings regarding his behavior, and the fact Alex even wanted him too was his own burden to bear.

Then, about a week later and after one too many glasses of whisky at the Wild Pony, Jesse chose to drive the handful of miles home from the bar, causing an accident that killed three teenage girls, one of which was Rosa Ortecho.

Alex was finally free.

Alex left the house for the first time in a week on a mission to seek Michael out, and he found him at Sanders Auto. He’d just started working there right before the tool shed incident. Michael’s face, upon seeing Alex, was full of concern and relief and sadness and joy. Alex could read it all, because he felt all the same things. They’d embraced, holding each other for a long time. The news about Jesse was all over town, Alex didn’t doubt Michael knew. They didn’t talk much that day, which suited Alex fine. He wasn’t ready to face what had happened in the tool shed, or what his father had just been responsible for; he was fine with ignoring all of it for one blissful moment.

Things progressed rather quickly after that. Jesse was charged with three counts of vehicular homicide, pleading guilty (he had no other choice – there were multiple witnesses to his presence at the bar and Mimi DeLuca expressing gleefully all over town, to anyone who’d listen, how she’d happily testify to how many drinks Jesse consumed that night; not to mention, his blood alcohol level was well over the legal limit). The judge sentenced him three days after the accident; twenty years with an opportunity for parole after ten.

It was outrageous, the sentence he’d been handed down. He’d cost three young women their lives, and it seemed that wasn’t worth more than a guarantee of ten years prison time. Alex had gladly joined Liz and Arturo and the families of the other girls in protesting the sentence. But their protests didn't matter. The judge’s decision was final as he stated he’d taken into account the 'upstanding nature' of Jesse's life in Roswell (up to that point), as well as his 'outstanding service to this country' (even though he was shortly thereafter dishonorably discharged).

After the sentencing Alex had felt a deep pang of guilt for having never reported his abuse. His father might have been sent away for much longer if there’d been record of his cruelty; if everyone knew how disturbed and violent and homophobic he really was.

Alex also avoided the Crashdown after that, ashamed of his connection to the man who’d killed Liz’s sister. Even after he learned Liz had left town, deciding to skip graduation, he couldn’t bring himself to face Arturo. At least not yet.

Alex was 18 when his father was sent to prison - an adult by legal definition - so he was allowed to continue to live in the house where he'd grown up. His first night there without Jesse, he'd packed up all the photos and awards and ribbons and medals; everything military or Air Force related went into boxes and into the tool shed. Alex wouldn’t be returning there for escape; the tool shed was tainted with the violence of that day, and Alex’s reason for needing a place to escape was locked away. It was freeing, erasing his father from the house.

It was only a few days later, after Jesse's sentencing, that Alex asked Michael if he wanted to stay at the house, too. He didn't use the words 'move in', he just mentioned that there were a lot of empty bedrooms. Plenty of room for him to stay if he didn’t want to sleep in the back of his truck anymore.

Michael accepted Alex’s invitation, though hesitantly, making it very clear to Alex he was just crashing, and might decide to leave at any moment. That was fine for Alex; all he wanted was to know Michael was safe and had a place to go that wasn't the back of his truck.

They didn't kiss, or embrace, or even touch each other in any way for almost a month. In fact they didn’t even see each other all that much. Michael worked early shifts at Sanders, and Alex worked late shifts at the museum. When they did see each other it was usually just to sit in a comfortable silence, sometimes filled with idle chit chat, sometimes more meaningful words exchanged – though that was far more rare. Sometimes Alex would find Michael staring at his cast with a pained look on his face. Alex wanted to say something in those moments to alleviate what he assumed was Michael’s guilt, but Michael would quickly look away when he noticed Alex watching him, and Alex never could quite figure out the right words to say, anyway.

Some nights Michael wouldn’t come back to Alex’s at all. The first time Michael didn’t come back, Alex felt in a panic, imagining some Air Force pal of his dad’s having done something to him – even though Alex had no reason to think that. All the airmen that knew Jesse had been nothing but supportive of Alex, a few of their wives even bringing him some frozen meals.

As it turned out, Michael had gone to the Evans’ and so from that night forward, if Michael ever didn’t come back to the house, Alex had to assume he was with Max and Isobel.

It was hard, though. Being so near Michael but not touching him or kissing him. Even after the traumatic end to their first time, Alex wanted nothing more than to rekindle some of the innocent joy they’d had in their connection. Alex had never felt anything more powerful or more right than that day with Michael. It was a feeling Alex supposed he might end up chasing forever and he could only hope he would find it again, or more specifically, that he would find it again with Michael.

But Michael kept his distance, and Alex didn't push, even though it was all he thought about. Even though late at night, alone in his bedroom, he would touch himself, letting his good hand wander all over his body while the memory of he and Michael played over and over in his head. Knowing Michael was on the other side of his bedroom wall made the want all the more powerful.

It was the Fourth of July holiday when things changed, when they finally came back together. They'd spent the day at the Evans'; Max and Isobel had hosted a barbeque and most of their graduating class was there. Alex hung out with Maria and they talked about the postcards they'd each received from Liz as she’d road tripped across the country (Liz also sending Alex a very nice letter telling him she didn’t blame him for his father’s actions, and saying she hoped they would see each other more when she returned. Alex felt somewhat healed after that letter). Michael, Alex quietly noted, spent most of the day huddled with a depressed looking Max.

When it had come out, after the accident, that Rosa had been Jim Valenti's daughter and not Arturo's, Liz had rescinded her invitation for Max to road trip with her and instead she'd taken Kyle. It’d seemed odd to everyone, but she'd insisted to Maria that it wasn't romantic, that she didn't think she could ever be with Kyle like that again, not after finding out the truth about Rosa. But Liz didn't talk about Kyle in her postcards, which made Alex doubt her resolve with regards to Kyle had held out. Maria had more faith in her, and teasingly chastised Alex for not thinking better of their friend. In any case, Max was a depressed mess over it all, and Michael was seemingly his emotional crutch.

It warmed Alex's heart to see Michael be there for his friend. Michael had a big heart and a caring nature and it was one of the things Alex liked best (loved) about him. Even if he wished Michael were at his side instead of Max’s. But no one knew about them (and they weren’t even officially a ‘them’; they’d just had one magical, momentous night. It wasn’t Michael’s fault that it was all Alex could think about). It never seemed to be the right time to talk about it or confess it, either. So Alex held it in, trying not to stare too much or too long. Trying not to attract the attention of Maria, or Max, or Isobel. Trying not to let on he had fallen hard for Michael Guerin.

Alex sometimes thought Maria knew, just by the way she'd look at him, but she never asked. So 'museum guy' remained a mystery to her, and Alex continued to keep the more intimate details of that day to himself.

Things were noticeably different with Michael when they'd returned from the barbeque. Rather than retreat to the room he’d been sleeping in as he usually did, Michael followed Alex to his bedroom. Alex let him, curious and hopeful about what it meant, and when he turned to ask what was going on, Michael was on him, hands grabbing and pulling, lips hot and wet and hard and desperate and Alex let his question die on his lips as he eagerly accepted Michael's advances, his own hands grabbing and pulling until he had Michael held so close he could feel his pounding heartbeat against his own chest.

The clothes quickly come off, both Michael and Alex pulling and tugging and kissing every newly revealed patch of bare skin until they were both naked and hard and rubbing against each other and when Michael pulled back slightly to grip both he and Alex in his fist, pumping them together as he pressed heated kisses to Alex's neck and collarbone. Alex gasped, sparks of white spotting his vision.

Somehow they made it to the bed, Michael on top of Alex, his hips pressing and grinding and Alex felt like he might pass out because of how good it felt. It was good. So, so good. His memory of being with Michael nowhere near this level of intensity. His skin was on fire, his senses heightened so that every brush of lips on skin left a blazing trail of white hot nerves that sung out with pleasure. Alex let Michael take control of it all, happy and willing to be an instrument in his hands.

Alex hummed with pleasure as Michael’s touch traveled his body; he felt like he was floating in the clouds while simultaneously drowning in a vast sea of pleasure. When Michael stopped and pulled back, his face slick with a sheen of sweat and his pupil’s exploded wide with desire. Alex swore he could see straight into Michael’s soul. Alex felt himself lose his breath. The man was a vision and Alex wanted him always and forever.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked, his voice husky and thick.

"Don't stop," Alex nodded as he reached his good hand to cradle the back of Michael's head, threading his fingers into the thick mass of curls and pulling him down into a deep kiss. His injured hand was mostly forgotten, Michael's touch more of an effective painkiller than any pill could be.

When asked, Alex directed Michael to the bedside table for condoms and lube.

Michael moved to put the condom on Alex, a reversal from their first time. Alex grabbed his wrist to stop him, silently questioning if he was sure. Michael just grinned and winked, gently pulling his wrist from Alex’s grip and sliding the condom on before moving a loosely held fist up and down him a few times to tighten the condom. Alex closed his eyes while a soft moan escaped his lips; the sudden shock of cold startled him and when he opened his eyes he saw Michael squeezing ample amounts of lube on him, spreading it up and down his shaft before putting more on his fingers and applying it to himself. Alex wanted to ask him again if he was sure, if he was ready, but Michael moved too quickly, straddling Alex’s hips and lowering himself onto and then all unspoken words faded from Alex’s lips as he succumbed to the ecstasy of the feel of Michael all around him. Alex elicited a long, deep moan; Michael was so tight and felt so good.

When Michael’s weight had settled Alex opened his eyes and the expression he saw on Michael's face, the way his damp curls framed his face and stuck to his forehead almost brought Alex to tears. He was so beautiful, so open, so giving. His expression one of....love? Dare Alex even think it possible? They barely knew each other, could they even be in love already?

Michael’s features, soft and relaxed, tightened slightly when Alex shifted beneath him. But then Michael was the one moving, his hips rolling and his hands splayed out on Alex’s abdomen as they both moved with soft, breathy moans escaping both their mouths.

Alex felt it all, every slight shift and move. When Michael tightened around him he gasped loudly before sitting up and with his good hand he gently but urgently pushed Michael to the side, flipping him to his back so Alex was now on top.

They settled and Alex pulled back slightly before pressing in again. The soft moan that came out of Michael's mouth nearly sending Alex over the edge. He was so close already, he knew he had to go slower or he'd come before he’d even given Michael the chance to get there.

Alex laid down fully on top of Michael, pressing their bodies together as he let his good hand thread into Michael's hair. He rolled his hips, slowly moving in and out, pressing in as deep as he could, bolstered by the guttural pant of breath that came from Michael each time he did.

The very definition of heaven was how Alex felt at that precise moment.

Michael's legs shifted and he wrapped them around Alex, Michael’s hands lighting at Alex’s waist, then his ass, massaging and gripping and pulling Alex even closer - as if it were possible for them to be any closer.

"Harder," Michael groaned breathlessly, and Alex buried his head into the crook of Michael's neck with a grin, moving harder and faster.

Last time, their first time, had been sweet if not a little bit awkward and a little bit clumsy. That was okay, though. Neither of them had known exactly what they were doing and it took a little time for them to really figure out each other’s bodies.

But this time was NOT like last time. This time was pure desire unleashed; no awkwardness, no hesitation, no clumsiness. Michael knew all the right places to touch, and his boldness led Alex to respond in kind. But there was something more to it, too, and Alex could feel it. Michael was holding nothing back, and not just his sexual desires but his emotional desires, too. That was what made the look on his face so scary and exhilarating; in that moment Alex saw what he meant to him. He could read it in Michael’s eyes, in his smile, in his touch. Michael loved him - there was no doubt of it.

Alex's pace quickened, fueled by a young love that still contained all possibilities. An unwritten future stretched out in front of them.

Alex bit softly at Michael’s neck, his jaw, before capturing his mouth with a kiss he hoped conveyed the intensity of his emotions. He was so close, and even though he wanted to slow down to make sure Michael was with him, he couldn't. He needed to get there and the fact that Michael's voice was murmuring in his ear, encouraging him with soft punctuated groans to go harder, go faster, wasn’t helping.

Panting and moaning together, Alex thought maybe they could actually come together but then he felt it building, cresting, he so moved to pull out but Michael held on to him, wrapping his legs tighter and gripping his ass harder. Alex had no time beyond that because then he was coming, groaning Michael's name and biting his neck and pumping his hips while the waves of orgasm washed over him. It was nearly more than he could take and he wondered if he'd pass out it felt so good...

It was over quickly, yet also seemed to go on endlessly. Slowly regaining his senses, he felt Michael, still hard, between them and even though he never wanted to separate their bodies again, even though he never wanted to remove himself from Michael’s embrace, he slowly pulled back, watching Michael's face and feeling oddly happy as Michael's expression clouded when Alex pulled out of him.

Pulling off the condom, Alex tied it off and tossed it to the floor before sitting back on his heels. He was still between his legs, Michael’s knees wide apart to accommodate Alex. Michael was hard, so hard, and Alex stared happily at the naked, open visage of Michael for a long moment before reaching out and griping him tight. Michael's reaction was instant as he sucked in a breath, his hips thrusting up and down and then he was fucking Alex's hand. Alex let him thrust, varying the pressure of his hand ever so slightly as Michael chewed on his lip and elicited soft, breathy moans.

They watched each other, eyes locked, Michael lifting his hips to push in and out of Alex's fist. It was almost more intimate than what just happened. When Alex relaxed his hand, releasing him, Michael stilled. Not speaking, they just stare.

Leaning down slowly, Alex pressed a kiss to the head of Michael’s cock and Michael sucked in sharply. Smiling, Alex took all of Michael into his mouth.

"Oh, fu-," Michael gasped, his hands flying to thread into Alex's hair and he was gripping and pressing and Alex was letting him fuck his mouth.

Alex worked his mouth on Michael, responding to the gasps and moans and the tightening grip of his hair. It didn’t take long before Michael loudly groaned, pushing Alex off him and coming, his chest now slick with more than sweat.

Michael’s eyelids were heavy as he slowly blinked; Alex watched him flutter them a few times before his eyes shifted and he peered up at Alex through his eyelashes. They looked at each other, their breathing slowing and evening out, matching. It wasn’t awkward, or embarrassing. It was comfortable, and felt…well, to Alex it felt like home.

After a few minutes, Alex moved to get up, his shifting weight causing Michael to sit up and grab his arm.

"Don't go.”

"I'll be right back," Alex smiled, pulling away and heading to the bathroom, returning with a hot, wet washcloth.

Michael was lying back, but he sat up when Alex walked back into the room. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Alex gently pressed Michael back down onto his back before proceeding to wipe him clean with the cloth. Michael's hand was on Alex’s arm the whole time, feeling up and down and around, massaging his muscles, working around his shoulder and upper back. His hand wandered as far as it could reach, all while Alex gently cleaned him up.

It was a level of intimacy Alex didn’t think he'd ever get to experience, and certainly not with Michael. Their first time had been special, up to the end anyway, but for Alex their second time would be the one against which all other times would be measured. Alex knew that without a doubt. And he wondered if it would always feel so magical (Ethereal? Cosmic?) when he and Michael were together. He hoped so...

"Thank you," Michael said, after Alex had cleaned him up.

They were lying together in bed, still naked, legs intertwined. Alex's head was resting on Michael’s chest, his left arm draped across Michael’s body. The weight of the cast on his hand pulling slightly and sending a dull ache up his arm, but it was nowhere near uncomfortable enough for Alex to relinquish the moment. He could live like this forever, safe in Michael’s embrace.

"It's no big deal," Alex responded sleepily, with a quiet yawn that elicited a soft, light laugh from Michael.

"I didn't mean about just now," Michael said softly after a stretch of silence, and from his position Alex could hear his heart rate quicken.

Alex nodded, squeezing Michael with his left arm and with a small smile he pressed a series of soft kisses to his chest.

"I'll treasure this night," Michael added, his hold in Alex tightening as a he pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

"Me too," Alex replied, closing his eyes against Michael’s soft touch, his hand lightly tracing lines up and down Alex's back and he can’t remember, when he falls asleep, if he said the words out loud or just thought them; ‘this was the best night of my lift’.

There's bright morning sunlight streaming through the window when Alex wakes.

He feels satiated. Satisfied. A little sore in his legs. Stretching, he reaches out but finds the bed beside him cold and empty. Sitting up he listens but hears nothing other than the creaky quiet of the house around him. His bedroom door is ajar, and looking around his room Alex can’t see any of Michael's clothes. Alex climbed out of bed, pulling on a pair of shorts and hurrying to the room where Michael had been sleeping only to find all his things are gone.

Alex was confused. Hurt. Did he do something wrong? Walking back through the house, he found no trace that Michael had ever even been there. Returning to his bedroom he stood in the doorway looking around his room. That was when he finally noticed the note; the white paper blending in with the white pillowcase.

Walking slowly towards the bed, Alex felt apprehension start to creep in, unsure if he wanted to know what the note said or not.

He was scared to know.

But he has to know.

Alex,

I meant what I said last night. I'll treasure our night together. But I have to go. I'm enlisting in the Air Force and ship out to boot camp today. I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd try to talk me out of it and I really don’t think I could ever say no to you. Please take care of yourself. I will see you again.

Michael

And that was the end of it. Until now.

They were standing roughly an arm’s length from each other, their positions reminiscent of their first kiss. Alex was having a hard time separating the memory of that day six months ago from the present. He felt like he should be saying to Michael ‘Okay, talk’.

"Why'd you do it? Why'd you enlist?" Alex asked instead, not bothering to try and hide his hurt and confusion.

Michael's expression shifted, and he cast his eyes down. Alex hoped he felt guilty, at least a little.

Alex had spent days after Michael had left feeling angry. He felt lied to, and used. And he didn’t even have anyone he could talk to. He didn’t know what Max or Isobel knew; Liz was gone, but he couldn’t talk to her, or Maria, anyway because he’d never told them about Michael to begin with. He wouldn’t out Michael just because he’d been left feeling like a jilted lover. They weren’t boyfriends, they’d made no promises…but none of that was of any comfort to Alex, who still felt abandoned.

It had taken Alex a bit of time to move on; knowing Michael would be back, knowing without a doubt he’d see him again and have the chance to confront him about the way he left; that was what gave him the strength to move past the hurt. Or at least he’d thought he’d moved past it.

"I joined up to protect myself," Michael responded, looking up again and Alex could see pleading in his expression, he could see a yearning from Michael for him to understand.

But Alex didn't understand; this was all seemingly out of the blue. Michael had never spoken positively of the military, in fact he'd outwardly criticized it many, many times.

"To protect yourself from what?" Alex asked, apprehensively.

"I found something, when I was staying at your house," Michael paused, "In the tool shed. In your dad's stuff. A folder of old photographs from 1947. From the crash. The UFO crash. Photos of your grandfather."

"What?” Alex leveled an incredulous look, a smile playing on his lips because...this was a joke, right?

But Michael’s expression never wavered, and Alex felt the absurdity he felt about what Michael was saying fade. He was being serious, and Alex didn’t know what to make of that.

“Michael-," Alex arched his brow and sighed before looking down and shaking his head. Why would Michael go back to that shed? And why search through his dad’s stuff? And…UFO’s?

Alex felt a seed of anger start to blossom in his gut. If Michael couldn't even be honest with him...

"Alex," Michael took another step closer, his hand lifting Alex's chin so they were looking each other in the eye, "I'm serious."

And for whatever reason, Alex’s doubt began to fade and he started to believe him. He wasn't sure he believed the UFO part (though his granddad had been stationed in Roswell in the late 40s…), but he believed Michael's motivation; he believed Michael believed it and for the moment that was enough.

“Fine,” Alex sighed and Michael dropped his hand, “So? What does a UFO crash have to do with you, or joining the military? Do you actually believe in that stuff?”

Alex sensed he’d said the wrong thing as soon as the words were out of his mouth. There was a shift in Michael’s expression, microscopic though it was, and Alex saw it. His guard went up; not completely, but it was there. Alex could see hesitation in Michael’s expression.

“Sorry, I-,” Alex started but was cut off.

"I'm an alien, Alex. And if your dad ever gets out of prison, I'll be in a position to protect of us from him and anyone else who might want to hurt us."

“You’re…what? Us? Who is us?" Alex stumbled, choosing to ignore for the moment the giant bombshell Michael just dropped on him.

"Me. Max. Isobel," Michael said, slowly, and Alex stared, the realization all this was really happening starting to sink in, things beginning to make sense to him.

“We found out your dad was part of a secret military project studying the crash and when he got sent to prison it was the perfect opportunity to try and find out more,” Michael said, slowly, and Alex felt his heart sink.

Not because of the alien stuff – which to be honest was still too absurd to even wrap his head around – no, it was because that meant…

“Did you only stay with me so you could snoop through my dad’s stuff?” Alex took a step back, his resolve crumbling as his heart started to crack. He’d been invested, he’d had real, true feelings for Michael and if it turned out they weren’t really reciprocated…well Alex wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“No. No!” Michael started to shuffle closer, but stopped when Alex held up his hands.

“No. I didn’t,” Michael clenched his jaw.

“Okay, maybe at first that was the plan, but I stayed because I wanted to. I found that stuff the first night I was there. I could have left right then, but I stayed. I stayed. For you.”

Alex crossed his arms and leveled a hard stare at Michael, trying to make sense of the changes in him. The Michael standing before him had gone through basic training; had been brainwashed by the US military complex. Alex might not be in, but he knew how it went. His dad was in (or had been), his brothers were all in. He’d seen firsthand how they’d each been changed after going through basic.

But Michael…the longer Alex stared the more he saw the same Michael he knew four months ago; the one he’d always known. The one he’d had the greatest night of his life with.

"I’ll always stay for you. And come back for you. And protect you," Michael added, "I'll always be here to protect you from him or anyone else. I refuse to ever let anything like that,” Michael indicated to Alex’s hand, “happen again."

"Alien?" Alex questioned, trying to hide the ridiculousness he felt in saying the word; seeing Michael stiffen slightly before he nodded, never breaking eye contact with Alex.

"I’ll tell you everything I know," Michael said softly, arm reaching out to gently grip Alex's bicep, and when Alex didn’t pull away he smiled.

Aliens. An alien. Michael.

Alex softened, relaxing his posture and arching his brow slightly.

The one thing Alex knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was he didn't want Michael to leave again. He didn't want Michael to walk away, or look away, or stop touching him. Alien or not, it was Michael, and that trumped everything else.

Michael let go of Alex's arm and Alex immediately reached out to grasp Michael's hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin on the back of his hand. Alex looked at their hands, Alex’s showing the visible scars of the physical damage from their first time together, Michael’s showing the undetectable scars of a possible coming war, the potential scars of the unknown future that lay ahead of them.

"Okay," Alex breathed, looking up to meet Michael's gaze again.

Alex was nervous, and curious. He was scared. Not of Michael (or the others) but of the unspoken intention behind Michael being in the Air Force and what that might mean. Alex was scared for Michael. And he hoped he was making the right decision; he hoped they both were making the right decision.

And even if they still barely knew each other, Alex knew enough (Michael was an alien! That was huge!). Alex knew he was safe with Michael and that Michael would never hurt him or allow him to be hurt; Alex knew Michael was safe with him, and apparently Michael knew that too. It made Alex feel so incredibly happy to know Michael trusted him enough to reveal such a big secret to him.

"Okay?"

Alex nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched Michael's eyes move down to his mouth then back again.

"I love you, Alex," Michael murmured softly, invading Alex's personal space as he wrapped his arms around him and kissed him softly, tenderly.

Alex wanted to say it back, but thought he'd just enjoy the kiss first. There'd be time to say it back after.

AO3 link

#Roswell New Mexico #Alex Manes #Michael Guerin #Malex #alexmanesweek2019 #rnm #roswell nm #rnm: mine #mine #mine fic #this is like 6300 words just fyi.#scheduled post

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whelvenwings · 6 years

Text

A Pretty Good Pair

it just turned midnight here in the UK, which means IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!! have some destiel fluff, 2.7k of fake relationship goodness, on the house :DDD

read it here on AO3 if you’d prefer!

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“Sir, I’m sorry, but we really need the table…”

“Five more minutes,” Castiel said. “Just five.”

He checked his phone under the table as the waiter walked away.

Nothing.

His boss, on his left, gave an impatient sigh.

“Castiel, we should just order,” Naomi said. Across the table, her partner Bartholomew gave a curt nod. Castiel swallowed hard.

“He’ll be here,” he said. “He just -”

“Got stuck in traffic,” said a voice behind Castiel, and then there was a light kiss being pressed to his cheek, and he was turning to find Dean Winchester standing above him and squeezing his shoulder. “Sorry, Cas. I’m here. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

As Dean took a seat, Castiel gave him a wide-eyed look that tried to encompass everything he was feeling, and couldn’t even begin to do one percent of the job. Dean raised his eyebrows in return.

A brief flash of their conversation of two days earlier flashed into Cas’ mind.

My boss is inviting me out for dinner. She wants me to bring my partner.

Cas… you don’t have…

I know… what will I do? She’s totally biased towards people in relationships. Last week she gave Jody a raise because she heard that Jody and her wife got a dog. She’s all about ‘family values’.

Well… at least she’s not homophobic…

No. Just arophobic, I suppose. Anyway, she’s going to overlook me for this promotion just because I don’t have a nice husband and a picket fence and a sedan.

I mean… well, I mean, what if you did? For one night?

Castiel could still feel the way his heart had twisted in his chest.

“You going to introduce me?” Dean said now, smiling at him. “Babe?”

At the pet name, Castiel felt his mouth go dry. His fingertips were tingling as though with pins and needles. This plan was never going to work. They were going to be caught within the first few minutes. But Dean had told him it would be fine - had said that they’d easily make it through the evening.

Dean knew that Castiel was a decent liar, and a good actor when he needed to be. Dean knew that Castiel was desperate to get this promotion. There were lots of things Dean knew - and there was just one thing that Dean didn’t know. One spanner in the works, one fly in this already bizarre and ridiculous ointment.

“Of course,” Castiel said.

The one thing he didn’t know -

“This is my partner,” Castiel said to Naomi and Bartholomew, “Dean.”

- was that Castiel had been wishing he could honestly say those words for two years, now.

Dean beamed at Castiel’s boss and her husband, a winning smile. Just seeing him react so happily to Castiel’s words - fake though they were, just lies - had Castiel in a spin.

“Nice to meet you at last, Dean,” Naomi said smoothly, taking a sip of her water. “Castiel’s been with the company for almost five years and we’ve never met. Did you two only recently get together?”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer, but Dean was already speaking.

“No, no. We moved in together about three years ago. We’ve been roommates ever since.”

“Roommates?”

“Well… in a manner of speaking,” Dean said, with a wink. He looked to Castiel, who gave him a look that would have been imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know him as well as Dean; Dean cleared his throat, and made an effort to look serious. “I guess just living together brought us closer, and after a while, I realised I was totally gone for this guy.”

He reached across the table, and Castiel struggled with himself for a moment before putting his hand in Dean’s and smiling across the table at Naomi and Bartholomew. He squeezed, and then let go.

“That’s nice,” Naomi said, though she sounded as cold as ever. “At the company we really value strong family values. We like our employees to be settled, happy people.”

And of course, Castiel thought bitterly, that could only be the case if the people were in a relationship. Never mind that he and Dean had been each other’s rocks since before Castiel had even developed romantic feelings for him, and had continued to be so throughout all these years without being in a romantic relationship.

Dean didn’t even feel that way about Castiel, after all. Castiel was pretty sure.

Three years of living together. He’d have noticed after three years.

“So, are you two thinking about the future?” Naomi said. “I notice there’s no wedding ring.”

“Oh,” Dean said. “Right. Well, uh… you know, sometimes things are a little complicated…”

Naomi’s neutral expression was turning into a frown.

“We’re very committed,” Castiel cut in. “It’s just, you know… we haven’t really spoken yet about that.”

“Why not?”

“Well…” Castiel looked back to Dean, his expression wide-eyed.

“Uh, it’s me,” Dean said. “I guess I just haven’t got my head out my ass and… uh, bought a ring yet.” Naomi still looked unimpressed, and Dean went on. “To tell the truth… I just haven’t been sure that Castiel really wanted me to. And I didn’t want to put any pressure on him or make it awkward between us, I guess. Sometimes I got a vibe, you know, but…” He looked back to Castiel. “I wasn’t… sure.”

Castiel stared at him.

“That’s very honest,” Naomi said, raising her eyebrows and looking down at her menu, as though finding Dean’s supposed truthfulness a little distasteful. “Let’s see if we can order.”

“You should be sure,” Castiel said to Dean, who was twisting his hands together under the table, where only Castiel could see.

Dean smiled at him, a little uncertainly.

They ordered, and the talk turned to smaller things: the weather, the upcoming Halloween party at work, the latest statistics at the company. Bartholomew held forth on golf for a long ten minutes, during which Dean kept kicking at Castiel’s leg under the table to try to make him laugh.

When the food finally arrived, Castiel hoped that they could eat in peaceable quiet; Naomi, however, seemed to have other plans. She fixed her gaze upon Dean, and said,

“So, do you plan on having a family?”

Castiel didn’t even know what the right answer to that was; Naomi didn’t like her employees taking parental leave and frequently expressed frustration when they did so, but also wanted everyone to be settled and family-oriented. He supposed it was asking too much for her to make sense and be consistent. When Dean hesitated, Castiel said,

“It’s a little early to be thinking about that.”

“I think Cas would make a great dad,” Dean said, “if he wanted to be.”

Castiel, taken by surprise, offered Dean a smile.

“I feel the same,” he said. “Dean would make an excellent father.”

After another ten minutes of small talk and eating, Dean excused himself to the bathroom; after a few moments, unable to resist, Castiel stood up and offered his apologies, too, to follow him.

In the bathroom - or rather, a fancy, carpeted, mirrored anteroom that led into the bathrooms themselves - Dean was washing his hands in a marbled sink. When Castiel came in, he turned around, and smiled.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hello, Dean.”

“We make a pretty good pair,” Dean said, and Castiel’s heart skipped a beat. “I think we’re selling them on it, right?”

He stepped back towards the door, walking towards Castiel; he must have misjudged the distance, because he ended up very much in Castiel’s space. He smelled amazing - wearing his best cologne, Castiel thought. He smiled, and gently reached up to adjust Dean’s tie. He never normally would, but - well, tonight, they were together, weren’t they?

“You’re doing wonderfully,” he said.

He looked up into Dean’s eyes, and Dean swallowed.

“We should get back out there,” Castiel said, after a long moment.

“They’ll think we’re doing things to each other in here,” Dean said, in agreement. Castiel tried not to let his mind wander towards what those things might be.

Dean left the bathroom first, and Castiel took a few moments to wash his own hands and give himself a look over in the mirror. He breathed in, and out. Was he reading too much into things, being too hopeful? When Dean had said those things about how he hadn’t been sure whether Castiel really wanted him to make a move…

No, it couldn’t be anything. Surely. It was just wishful thinking, being in this confusing situation where all their normal lines were being crossed.

The way Dean had looked at him, though… Castiel knew him well enough to recognise that Dean didn’t wear an expression like that lightly.

The idea that Dean might actually feel that way about him - Castiel couldn’t even begin to comprehend it. It was so exhilarating as to be terrifying. Castiel had decided with relative happiness over the last few years to enjoy being Dean’s best friend, to living with him for as long as he could, to just cherish being as close as possible for as long as it lasted. He knew Dean would eventually find someone else he liked romantically, and want to build a life with them - though the number of dates he’d been on had dropped off sharply over the past couple of years, now that Castiel really thought about it -

The point was, Castiel had never really entertained any real hope of Dean liking him back. It just wasn’t possible.

He left the bathroom, and sat back down at the table. When he rejoined the conversation, he realised that they were talking about hobbies, and Dean was discussing in very close detail the enjoyment that Castiel found in needlepoint.

The fact that Castiel had never embroidered so much as once in his life didn’t seem to be holding him back, particularly.

“And you should see the cushion he made for my aunt Mavis last Easter. Just two giant chickens, sitting on two giant eggs. I don’t want to know how they laid those things, but it sure was nice to look at. Maybe needed a vet afterwards, I don’t know. He’s just very skilled.”

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel said, “you’re too kind. Listen to you talking about my needlepoint and not even mentioning how good you are at singing.”

Dean’s expression split, momentarily, into absolute horror. He could immediately see where this was going, Castiel knew, with a burst of enjoyment.

“Oh, well, babe… don’t flatter me…” Dean said, awkwardly laughing.

“No, he’s fantastic,” Castiel insisted. “Operatic, you might say. Go on, Dean. Give them a little Puccini.”

“I don’t think this is the right…” Naomi said, sounding worried.

“Yeah, wrong setting for it,” Dean agreed, before she’d even finished her sentence.

“Are you sure? I think everyone would love to hear you. Remember the time you made a whole restaurant weep just by singing me ‘happy birthday’?”

Naomi’s protests slowed, and her eyebrows went up.

“Let’s order dessert,” Dean said, and hailed the waiter. Castiel pulled a wry face at Naomi and Bartholomew.

“He’s just very humble,” he said.

They shared a slice of apple pie for pudding; Castiel could feel Dean’s begrudgement of every bite Castiel took, but Naomi and Bartholomew were sharing and it seemed like a couple-y thing to do. It was delicious, at least. This place was going to break Castiel’s wallet, but at least it was worth the money.

When they were all finished, they paid for the meal, put on their coats, and made their way outside. Overall, Castiel thought, a successful night. Not exactly one that had been filled with sparkling conversation on all sides, but Naomi and Bartholomew didn’t seem at all suspicious - and with any luck, he’d have that promotion before the month was out.

“I’m getting a taxi,” Dean said, once they’d left the restaurant. He began to look towards the road, ready to hail one down. “Just need to drop back into work to pick up some stuff before heading home, babe.”

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel couldn’t bring himself to use a pet name, not even to sell the lie. He tucked his hands into his pockets, the cool September air nipping at them.

“Where do you work?” Naomi asked, sounding interested.

“I’m a -” Dean began, and Castiel knew how that sentence ended - tattoo artist, a profession that Naomi would never approve of.

“Bank!” he interrupted. All eyes turned to him.

He cleared his throat.

“Dean works at a bank,” he said.

“Well,” Naomi said, looking a little confused, but apparently accepting it. “How nice. It was good meeting you, Dean.” She shook his hand, just as a taxi pulled up beside them - Bartholomew had seen it, and managed to catch the driver’s attention on Dean’s behalf.

“Thanks,” Dean said, shaking his hand, too. He turned to Castiel, who was standing right beside him. “Uh…”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Castiel suddenly filled with panic. Would a simple “goodbye” give the game away, after Castiel’s fairly suspicious answer to the question about Dean’s work? Did they have to -

Dean answered the question for him by leaning forward, and placing a quick, nervous, chaste kiss on Castiel’s lips. He pulled away, and looked Castiel in the eyes.

In that single, pivotal moment, Castiel knew. It was in Dean’s eyes, in the way he didn’t smile, in the way he swallowed. It was right there, in front of Castiel’s eyes.

And then Dean was in the taxi, and the door was slammed, and he was gone.

Castiel felt frozen. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe.

“Well, Castiel,” Naomi said. “That was a very pleasant evening. Perhaps tomorrow you can come to my office and we can discuss -”

“I quit,” Castiel said.

There was a long, long beat of silence. Neither Naomi nor Bartholomew moved, save that their mouths fell open in comically identical expressions of shock.

“You - what?” Naomi said.

“I quit,” Castiel repeated, calmly. It made perfect sense. He knew exactly what he wanted, now, and it wasn’t this crappy promotion. “I’ve had enough. Your policy on promotions and raises is discriminatory. You are nosy and judgemental. I have had enough. I will be sending you my formal letter of resignation tomorrow and coming to clear out my desk.”

“You - you will not be getting a reference from me,” Naomi spluttered, taking a step backward.

“Fine,” Castiel said, riding a high the like of which he’d never known. He turned to go and find his car in the nearby parking lot, but then caught himself; at the last moment, he looked back at the pair of them standing like agitated scarecrows on the street, and said, “Oh - and Dean does not work at a bank. He is a tattoo artist.”

And he walked away.

The drive passed in a haze. All this time - all these years. They’d been waiting for each other to make the first move, waiting for the perfect moment, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Castiel had had enough of waiting, now.

He stepped through the door of Dean’s tattoo parlour, which was in near-complete darkness. Dean was just making to leave, having switched off the lights. When he saw Castiel framed in the doorway, he went very still.

“Cas,” he said.

Cas didn’t speak - knew that if they talked, if they got caught up in sentences and explaining, then he might never have the courage that he needed. He walked across the dark tattoo parlour, and he put his hand on Dean’s cheek, and he looked into Dean’s eyes -

And then he kissed him. Softly, yes - and not for long, still hesitant - but into that kiss, that brief touch, he poured it all.

The wishing.

The longing.

The terrible, wonderful, terrifying hope.

He tried to pull away, but Dean’s hands came up to cup his face, and Castiel was being kissed back - was lost, suddenly, in a world of sensation. A world of fingertips and soft lips and nearness.

“Cas,” Dean said again, sounding rough and ragged and so, so happy, when they finally broke apart.

“You were right,” Castiel said. He kissed Dean again, swiftly, because he could, and Dean kissed him back, and they didn’t speak again for a while.

“I was?” Dean managed eventually.

“We make a pretty good pair,” Castiel said.

“You - you want to do this? For - for real?”

“More than anything,” Castiel said, “in the whole world.”

#whelvenwingsfic #destiel #thebloggerbloggerfun #destieldrabblesdaily #destiel fluff #fake dating #fake relationship #fluff fluff fluff #birthday fluff #happy autumn equinox everyone!!

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Ep 21 Transcript: The Hallowed Collection of Suffixes

Episode 21

[intro music]

PAZ: Hi everyone, welcome back to Stairway to Starclan, a Warrior Cats read pawdcast. I'm Paz.

JULIAN: I'm Julian.

LIZ: And I'm Liz.

PAZ: And we're all back in our proper places right now, so no microphone swapping or anything. Back to our old ways. Well, I dub this set of chapters Murder Plot Number 3. Murder returns.

LIZ: Love to see it.

JULIAN: So new and exciting.

PAZ: Yeah, I think we needed a little murder. It's been a while. But I'll go into the summaries so we can find out--

JULIAN: Wait, did I miss the intro?

PAZ: We did the intro before.

JULIAN: I forgot.

PAZ: And then we had problems. But the magic of audio editing is I can just cut all that, and--

JULIAN: Hell yes.

PAZ: People will never know. Chapter 15. The chapter opens on the hunting patrol led by Longtail, who is overseeing Fireheart and Graystripe after their demotion to apprentice activities. Longtail mocks them, calling Fireheart Firepaw, and Fireheart threatens him in return. The three leave to hunt, and Longtail continues to cause problems. Eventually they manage to catch some prey and return to camp, and Fireheart visits Cinderpaw and Yellowfang. Cinderpaw is learning how to make a poultice for Smallear. Yellowfang explains to Fireheart that Smallear has stiff joints because his bedding was too damp, and sends Fireheart to scold Cloudkit.

When Fireheart arrives at the elders' den, Cloudkit is listening intently to a story from Halftail. Fireheart says that Yellowfang thinks Cloudkit has been bringing in damp bedding, and all the elders rush to defend Cloudkit. Fireheart leaves knowing he won't get anywhere with the elders defending him. Back in the camp clearing, Fireheart sees Tigerclaw sharing tongues with Brokentail like old friends. Fireheart is surprised to see Tigerclaw being compassionate, and wonders again if he's wrong about Tigerclaw definitely being a murderer. However, he can't make himself believe Tigerclaw is innocent.

Chapter 16. Fireheart wakes up and muses about how much it sucks to sleep in the apprentice den for babies. As he leaves, Bluestar and Tigerclaw call him over and inform him that his punishment is done. Bluestar then sends Fireheart on a patrol with Tigerclaw to find a way to cross the stream for the upcoming gathering. Tigerclaw brings Longtail along as well, and Fireheart feels anxious about going out with two cats who hate him.

Out in the forest, newleaf has truly begun. Fireheart relaxes a little as Tigerclaw praises him for his hunting. When they reach a stream, they see that it is still flooded. The three look for a crossing place, and eventually they see a thin and unstable branch across the deepest part of the water. Tigerclaw forces Fireheart to climb out onto the branch to see if it's safe. Halfway through, the branch dislodges and throws Fireheart into the fast-moving water, just after Tigerclaw yells at him to get back.

Chapter 17. Fireheart desperately tries to keep hold of the branch as it rushes down the river. Just as he is on the edge of consciousness and nearly drowned, the branch catches on a rock and Longtail helps haul him out of the water. Tigerclaw decides they will return to camp, as there is no place to cross. Fireheart wonders if Tigerclaw dislodged the branch on purpose as an attempt to murder him. When Fireheart glances at Tigerclaw, who is openly glaring at him, Fireheart decides he definitely just tried to murder him. Fireheart wonders what murder attempt number three will be.

Back at camp, Sandstorm is alarmed to see Fireheart in such a bad shape. She stays close to him as the cats report back to Bluestar. Bluestar is not happy to hear that there is no crossing place because she thinks Starclan will be angry if they don't attend.

Fireheart then goes to Yellowfang to get checked over. Once there, Fireheart is examined by Cinderpaw. Cinderpaw gives him the all clear, and Yellowfang trusts her skills enough to second her diagnosis. Yellowfang then asks Cinderpaw if she would like to officially become the medicine cat apprentice. Cinderpaw is overjoyed and immediately accepts. Fireheart is happy to see Cinderpaw so excited. After sleeping, Fireheart is called out to a clan meeting where Bluestar names Cinderpaw the new medicine cat apprentice. Everyone in the clan approves and happily congratulates Cinderpaw. And that's the end of our meeting.

LIZ: Yay.

JULIAN: Yay.

PAZ: Yay, clap, clap, clap. Finally. I guess we go in order, kind of, but I gotta say I was expecting the apprentice punishment to last more than one chapter.

JULIAN: I know. It was over so fast.

PAZ: Like there's a sort of timeskip. I think in fiction, it was longer than like one day, but.

LIZ: Yeah, it felt like he just got grounded.

PAZ: He didn't even get grounded. He was like, you can't go to the movies tonight. That's it. Like after tonight, though. I guess it was just there to have Longtail be a little bitch. That was the purpose of it.

JULIAN: They had to go on the world's worst hunting patrol, and then they were done.

LIZ: God.

PAZ: God. Longtail sucks. What's his issue?

JULIAN: He's awful. He's just a little bitch for no reason.

PAZ: I guess it's because he's cat racist, but geez.

JULIAN: Like, this is skipping ahead a little bit, but like, while Fireheart is like clinging to the branch in imminent danger of dying, Longtail's like, hurry up, kittypet, or something like that, like. What?

PAZ: I mean, I guess at least he does save his life. He doesn't like Mufasa Firepaw into the river, but like that's a low bar.

JULIAN: Yeah, he does save his life, but he's racist at him while he does it.

LIZ: Saves your life racistly.

PAZ: Thanks. I love it. Yeah, I guess this set of chapters, like literally, the first sentence in this set of chapters is Longtail being like, well if it isn't our newest apprentice, Firepaw. Like okay, bitch. Won't even call him by the right name.

JULIAN: Awful.

PAZ: And in the little bit where Fireheart's like, damn, it sucks sleeping in the teen room, it mentions that I think Swiftpaw, who's Longtail's apprentice, is also being rude as hell. And it's like great, it's just, it's all getting passed down.

JULIAN: God. I think it's also like, not only is Swiftpaw like real shitty, but Brackenpaw's really awkward.

PAZ: I know. That part is very funny. It was like one sentence, but.

JULIAN: Which makes sense, because imagine if your teacher came back to, like, boarding school and was in your dorm.

PAZ: Oh my god.

LIZ: This is my new roommate, Professor Fireheart.

PAZ: Yeah, cause by all means Fireheart is his mentor, because Graystripe is doing fuck all.

JULIAN: I was doing the transcriptions for like some of the earlier episodes, and like we really did a 180 on Graystripe. Cause when they first start mentoring, there's one point where Firepaw fucks off to visit his sister, and Graystripe takes the apprentices for the day, and we're all like, ugh, Fireheart, what a deadbeat.

LIZ: Yeah, he did it once, and then he turned it around.

JULIAN: He did turn it around.

PAZ: Yeah, Fireheart is an example of how to balance your sneaking out to visit someone you shouldn't be and work-life balance.

JULIAN: It's important to have that balance.

PAZ: Graystripe needs to learn a thing or two. But the Brackenpaw oh, my teacher is in my dorm room, it's like the 100 times worse scenario of you see your teacher at the grocery store, and it's awkward, because you're like, oh, they exist outside of class.

JULIAN: Not only does he exist, but you have to sleep in the same sort of room.

LIZ: No.

PAZ: The more I think about this, the worse this is. This is horrible. I know they're little cats, but still.

LIZ: I keep imagining like the apprentices den as like, you know when people like foster kittens and they have like that little kitten area with like the blocked off door?

PAZ: Uh-huh.

LIZ: Yeah, it's just like that except you just have a fully grown cat back in there.

JULIAN: Yeah, Fireheart has to sleep in the apprentice den but like his legs are sticking out because he doesn't fit.

LIZ: Oh no.

PAZ: Fireheart does get to threaten Longtail again, which is great. I didn't realize he'd torn Longtail's ear when he was a baby.

JULIAN: Oh yeah. The original fight.

PAZ: Yeah, I just didn't realize he got like a scar from that. How embarrassing. You're gonna be like, a racist little bitch to this guy who gave you like a permanent scar? Okay. Looking real badass.

JULIAN: You're gonna be a racist little bitch to this guy who gave you a permanent scar in his second fight ever in his life?

PAZ: Right.

LIZ: Got beat up by this baby.

JULIAN: After you've been training to like fight and whatever for like six months or however long?

PAZ: Longtail's such a loser.

LIZ: He is.

PAZ: There's a part--

JULIAN: He really has the energy of like townie homophobe.

PAZ: There was a part, too, where he was like, oh, you better not touch me. Like Tigerclaw will get you if you do. And I'm like, I don't think Tigerclaw's gonna rush to your defense, my guy.

JULIAN: Right.

PAZ: Think this is one-sided.

JULIAN: Your faith seems a little misplaced.

PAZ: Very pathetic little man. And then he says some something stupid and like scares off this bird, and then blames Fireheart. Awful. You do know that these cats are British, though, because he does say rubbish.

LIZ: God.

JULIAN: Which is very funny because like, don't the cats called rubbish like, I don't know.

PAZ: Crowfood? It's crowfood, right?

JULIAN: Yeah.

PAZ: Rubbish is only an expression in these cats' world. There's no other meaning.

JULIAN: It's just a series of nonsense sounds. Like the bit with Yellowfang-- I mean, there's multiple bits with Yellowfang, but I'm glad we get more Yellowfang screentime. The part where she tells Fireheart off, or doesn't tell him off, but is just like, oh, you should have known you would have gotten caught is like both very cute and also like... how does she feel about Fireheart helping other clans?

PAZ: Yeah, I made a note that like, it seems like everyone knows that he's in trouble for helping RiverClan because I think it says Yellowfang heard it from Runningwind. But I'm like, I wish we'd gotten more reactions to that because it seems kind of... seems like it'd be a big deal. But I guess not.

LIZ: It feels set up to be a big deal.

PAZ: Yeah, and then they're only punished for one chapter. Cause I feel like it's also implied Tigerclaw told Longtail too. And he also doesn't really say anything. I don't know. Maybe it'll come up at like the gathering.

JULIAN: I would kind of expect Longtail to be less racist and more like upset about Fireheart helping RiverClan, or racist about that. Like the fact that it doesn't come up at all is weird.

PAZ: Unless it's like Runningwind just said to Yellowfang, they're on apprentice duties, and Yellowfang heard from her wife, Bluestar, why. That's an alternative scenario.

JULIAN: Right, of course.

PAZ: But yeah, the scene in chapter 15 with Yellowfang and Cinderpaw is cute. And then the following scene with Cloudkit and the elders is the best. I love it.

JULIAN: It's adorable.

LIZ: It is.

PAZ: Grandparents love this kid.

JULIAN: It really has the energy of like... I used to go to visit my grandma in her nursing home a lot, and we'd like stay overnight there because it was like a really long drive. And every so often like one of us kids would just sort of wander off, and my parents would find like my brother or whatever surrounded by old people.

PAZ: Yes.

JULIAN: That's what's happening here.

PAZ: Yeah, the thing is like Yellowfang's all like Smallear's stiff joints or whatever-- it's just arthritis-- is so bad. All the damp bedding. Go tell off your nephew or whatever. And Fireheart gets there, and all the other old cats are like, Smallear's just whiny. We love this child. Don't say anything bad.

JULIAN: Cloudkit's never done a thing wrong, ever in his life.

PAZ: The Cloudkit defenders have logged on. They're in the elders' den.

LIZ: They have.

JULIAN: The Cloudkit defenders are posting minions memes on Facebook.

PAZ: Oh no. They are. They're also that picture that's like the grandma commenting on the photo like, gorgeous picture, beautiful granddaughter, like 10 times.

LIZ: My god.

PAZ: It's very cute that Cloudkit loves to listen to the old people.

JULIAN: It's also like, I don't know, it's really nice to see him getting integrated into like clan life this way.

PAZ: And it's like, you can't talk back against like the old people, like what they decide. Gotta respect them.

JULIAN: God, they're so salty about Smallear.

PAZ: It's really funny. Really threw Smallear under a bus for this child. I guess if you had to listen to someone complain constantly, and you live together, and you're old, you might get a little salty.

LIZ: And they do love this baby so much.

JULIAN: They adore this baby.

LIZ: He's a nice young man.

PAZ: He is a nice young man. After that scene, though, is Tigerclaw hanging out with Brokentail and Fireheart interpreting that as compassion. Extremely funny. You know this man schemes.

JULIAN: It sends him on like a whole thought spiral where he doubts everything he knows about Tigerclaw.

PAZ: I know.

JULIAN: And is like, maybe he's not so bad. Maybe I'm just wrong. Maybe I'm just too suspicious, and Tigerclaw is a good deputy and a good guy.

LIZ: Oh my god.

JULIAN: And it's like, buddy, he's scheming. He's plotting and scheming. He's aiming to be the fifth member of Brokentail's polycule or whatever.

PAZ: Tigerclaw saw that, and he's like, I gotta get in on that. I know, and like, I can't remember if this is the case that they were colluding before this or not. But the fact that it's like, they were sharing tongues like old friends, I'm like, mm.

LIZ: Wink.

PAZ: Maybe-- yeah. Wink wink. I'm like maybe this has been happening for a while, Fireheart.

JULIAN: Yeah, it's also like, this especially sucks because like Brokentail didn't even react when Yellowfang tried to share tongues with him.

PAZ: Yeah, it's really sad.

JULIAN: And now he's being all buddy-buddy with Tigerclaw and it makes me very sad.

PAZ: Yeah, that was sad. And that was also another reason that I think Fireheart should have been more suspicious, because Brokentail deliberately didn't react to like anybody else. And I'm like, maybe, maybe use your little noggin to think about why they might be getting along.

JULIAN: Well, it's especially-- Fireheart is like, "Fireheart had never seen anything to show that he had the compassion of a true leader until now." And it's like.

LIZ: Well.

JULIAN: And you still haven't

PAZ: Fireheart's just trying to be an ally. He's just like, wow.

LIZ: God.

JULIAN: Diversity win.

PAZ: Love is love.

JULIAN: These evil cats are gay.

PAZ: Finally.

LIZ: He did try to kill me as a child, but he is gay. Hmm. Makes you think.

JULIAN: More bisexual war criminals.

PAZ: This is what everyone's saying, and people just don't want to hear it. And then the next chapter is um, he's unpunished instantly.

JULIAN: Oh, there is-- at the end of chapter 15, there is a cute little turn of phrase, where, "as Fireheart padded more slowly ever to the pile of freshkill, he wished to the tips of his claws that he could be freed from the burden of what he knew."

LIZ: Aw.

PAZ: Aw, there's so many good little cat phrases. Longtail said something too, like I've seen like a three-legged rabbit do better, or something like that.

JULIAN: It must be so fun as an author to come up with those.

LIZ: Yeah, to the tips of his little beans.

JULIAN: Yeah.

PAZ: That has to be one of the best parts. Cause it's like, you have to come up with phrases in like fantasy and stuff too, but when it's humans, it's not that exciting. It's kind of boring, because you define still human terms of phases. But when they're little cats, you just do whatever you want.

JULIAN: There's another part where Tigerclaw's coat is described as rippling as he stands up.

PAZ: This cat is ripped.

LIZ: No, it's like, you know when you like touch the back of a cat, just the back of it, and it just like does that twitchy thing?

PAZ: Yes.

JULIAN: Yeah, that's what I was imagining, when a cat is angry or agitated, they like...

LIZ: They ripple.

PAZ: His huge muscles. I do just picture Tigerclaw as like a Maine coon cat now, massive.

JULIAN: Big boy.

LIZ: Big boy season.

JULIAN: Big boy sends Fireheart to branch hell.

PAZ: God. I think this is murder attempt number two on Fireheart.

JULIAN: So what's number one?

PAZ: When they were battling in WindClan camp, and like, I think it was Leopardfur who was getting ready to kill him, and Tigerclaw was just standing there watching, menacingly.

JULIAN: Was the Cinderpaw thing, was that an attempt on Bluestar or Fireheart? I don't remember.

PAZ: I think it was an attempt on Bluestar, because it was like he asked for Bluestar to come there, and then Bluestar was sick. So that's why Bluestar didn't come.

JULIAN: So we're only on attempt number two. God. As they're setting out, Fireheart is like, oh, I'm like, he has this image of the cats like murdering him in the woods. And then he's like, oh, no, I'm just being irrational. And it's like, no, buddy, I think you're being very rational.

PAZ: Right? You were thinking correctly for once. It's like, damn, why would Tigerclaw take just me and his lackey who hates me so bad out into the woods to look at water? Nothing could happen here.

LIZ: Boys' night. That's just boys' night. Just doing lad things.

JULIAN: Yep, just a cheeky near-death experience with the lads.

PAZ: This is just like those British lads hitting each other with chairs.

JULIAN: God.

LIZ: But that's what they are. They're British.

PAZ: They sure are. That's what Fireheart thinks Tigerclaw and Brokentail are doing, you know, the tender kiss afterwards.

JULIAN: It is like, Fireheart's response to being like, oh, I'm just being irrational is just to go, I'm gonna prove that I'm a warrior to them. I'm their equal. And it's just like, aw, buddy. Oh, buddy.

PAZ: You can't prove that if you get murdered.

JULIAN: Also you don't need to prove that.

LIZ: Noooo.

PAZ: No.

JULIAN: Longtail's incompetent, for one thing.

PAZ: Yeah, he doesn't seem very good at anything.

LIZ: No. And he got beat up by a baby. The baby was you.

JULIAN: He got beat up by a baby. He scared away that bird when they were hunting.

LIZ: He's cat racist.

PAZ: Not teaching his apprentice good things. Wouldn't go onto that scary branch.

JULIAN: Yeah, no.

PAZ: But this is like... god, this is like the second time Fireheart almost drowns within 10 chapters or something.

JULIAN: There's a lot of water peril.

PAZ: Yeah, this is a very flood-heavy book it seems like. I guess because it's a book focusing on RiverClan, sort of. That's the other like spotlighted clan, I feel like, this book, because of Graystripe.

JULIAN: Yeah, no Graystripe in these chapters.

PAZ: Yeah, no, none. The only way to not have anything to complain about with Graystripe is if he doesn't do anything.

JULIAN: Graystripe fans, you get a reprieve.

PAZ: Tigerclaw, I think he like tries to cover his tracks in an interesting way though, where he pretends to warn Fireheart right before he falls to his doom. Which is, I mean, I guess it's like, Longtail sucks ass but he doesn't know Tigerclaw's a murder man at the very least.

LIZ: Murder man.

JULIAN: [to the tune of the Batman theme song] Murder man, murder man.

PAZ: Cause like when Fireheart's trying to figure out if Tigerclaw did in fact just try to kill him, he's like, oh, but he wouldn't do that in front of Longtail. But then he's like, maybe he did it in a way Longtail wasn't paying attention.

JULIAN: It's also like I wouldn't put it past Tigerclaw to do it in front of Longtail and then intimidate Longtail into...

PAZ: That's true.

JULIAN: Like, he's already done this with Ravenpaw and, like Longtail is probably easier for Tigerclaw to intimidate slash try to get onto his side.

PAZ: I mean, he could probably manipulate Longtail pretty easily without, like, I don't know, just give him some shit about how Fireheart's like a traitor.

JULIAN: It was for the good of the clan.

LIZ: There's a part where Fireheart says like, Longtail may be terrible and a jerk and suck and also cat racist, but he's honorable and would never let another warrior die. I don't recall this ever coming up ever before.

PAZ: I don't think it did, but I think it's just like a point of like, he sucks ass, but he did help Fireheart because he's at the baseline, like clan loyalty, I guess.

JULIAN: Yeah, I mean, there is--

PAZ: As opposed to Tigerclaw who loves to kill.

JULIAN: Like I think what Liz is talking about, there is specifically a point where like the code, the clan code is like specifically mentioned, about sticking rigidly to it when another warrior needs your help.

PAZ: That code's whatever you want it to be.

JULIAN: What is-- open the sacred text. What do they say?

PAZ: This has to be posted somewhere. I'm going to look. Warrior Cats clan code. I can't spell. Is it on the official site?

LIZ: Someone must have compiled this.

JULIAN: There is an article about it on the official site.

PAZ: Warriorscat.com warrior code. What is it? Please tell me. This website's taking--

JULIAN: That's a dog in this fanart. It did finally load for me.

PAZ: I'm trying to get on the official website. Wow, it doesn't wanna load. Okay, there we go. Oh, it's trying to give me the app. Warrior Cats is now available as an app.

LIZ: Ooh.

PAZ: Well, I don't have any space on my phone. But it's a-- what is this fanart?

JULIAN: Right? I think it's meant to be two cats fighting, but one of them looks like a dog.

PAZ: Do we wanna go through this? I'll send the link for you, Liz.

LIZ: I do.

PAZ: Are you there? I think you're there, Julian.

JULIAN: I am there, yes.

LIZ: Wait, what link are you looking at? Okay.

PAZ: The official one.

LIZ: Thank you.

PAZ: Oh yeah, let's go through this. Let's see if we think these have been invoked. "One, defend your clan even with your life. You may have friendships with cats from the other clans, but your loyalty must remain to your clan, as one day you may meet them in battle." I guess so. "Do not hunt or trespass on another clan's territory." Well, people love to break this one constantly.

JULIAN: Yeah, that one gets broken constantly.

PAZ: That almost seems like, I don't think anyone really listens to it.

LIZ: No.

JULIAN: The hunting seems like a bigger deal than the trespassing.

PAZ: Yeah, but also like, everyone's been hunting everywhere. Like RiverClan's been hunting in ThunderClan, and I think Bluestar was saying like oh, we should go hunt in RiverClan. Then RiverClan was hunting in WindClan and ShadowClan was... WindClan's the only one who's stuck by this so far.

JULIAN: WindClan, you should branch out. No borders.

PAZ: WindClan, you can just move.

LIZ: They should just move. This is terrible.

PAZ: "Three, elders and kits must be fed before apprentices and warriors." Yeah. That actually came up this chapter. "Four, prey is killed only to be eaten. Give thanks to Starclan for its life." There was that weird thing that came up at one point where it's like, they bury the bones or whatever, so yeah. "A kit must be at least six moons old to become an apprentice." Child labor laws. "Six, newly appointed warriors will keep a silent vigil for one night after receiving a warrior name."

LIZ: Yeah, we got that.

PAZ: Wow, this keeps going, huh?

JULIAN: Yeah, there's 16 of these.

PAZ: Well, okay, let's... um, where was I? Oh god, I keep scrolling. What is this art? Tigerclaw is very buff here.

JULIAN: "Number seven, a cat cannot be made deputy without having mentored at least one apprentice."

PAZ: I didn't know this.

JULIAN: Maybe that's why Tigerclaw keeps getting apprentices.

PAZ: He's like, I fucking hate kids but, ugh.

LIZ: Worst person you know becomes a nurse.

PAZ: That is it! Oh no. Nooo. Nine.

LIZ: Tigerclaw's here to give you your vaccine so he can become vice president.

PAZ: He just jabs in there really hard. "Nine, after the death or retirement of a deputy, the new deputy must be chosen before moonhigh." This seems like a bad rule to me, frankly. I think you need time. This is a big decision. I think you need some time to think about that.

LIZ: Maybe you should have some contingencies in place.

PAZ: Yeah, you know, maybe ask your clan.

LIZ: Hmm.

JULIAN: Yeah, what if elections?

PAZ: No, Warrior Cats is nepotism. That's all we got here. "10, a gathering of all four clans is held at the full moon during a truce that lasts through the night. There shall be no fighting among clans at this time." Yeah. [laughs] "11, boundaries must be checked and marked daily, challenging all trespassing cats." Piss is part of the warrior code.

LIZ: You have to piss every single day. You have to check. Do not forget.

PAZ: I've gotten used to it, but it's still very funny that this is a important detail in Warriors lore. See, number 12. I feel... if this is part of the warrior code, then why is everyone suspicious when they help those kits? "12, No warrior may neglect a kit in pain or in danger, even if that kit is from a different clan."

LIZ: They're constantly suspicious of other kits.

PAZ: Is this like a new one? Is this one that happened after everyone was like, hey, maybe we shouldn't let babies die?

LIZ: Maybe.

PAZ: [snorts] "13, The word of the clan leader is the warrior code."

LIZ: Oh my god.

PAZ: This is just like presidential war powers.

LIZ: This is very bad.

JULIAN: Ugggggh.

PAZ: Well, I guess anything can be the fucking warrior code then. Damn. "14, an honorable warrior does not need to kill other cats to win his battles, unless they're outside the warrior code or it is necessary for self defense." I guess this is--

JULIAN: Maybe this is where all the, like, people going, oh, you can't murder, no murder, are coming from.

PAZ: Yeah, I guess this is where the thing is like, where it was like, Tigerclaw, killing-- when that, what was the implication? That Redtail killed Oakheart or something? That was like, yeah, the bad implication because he was honorable?

LIZ: Yeah.

PAZ: Yeah, I guess so. What is this video at the bottom? Sorry.

JULIAN: Oh, wait, there's number 15, also.

PAZ: I know, but there's a video of kittens.

WIZARD: [a distant, sonorous voice]

JULIAN: [yelps] Oh my god!

LIZ: What?

[distant cats meowing]

LIZ: What?!

WIZARD: Rule number three.

JULIAN: Do you want me to screen share so we can all watch it together?

PAZ: Oh my god, yes.

LIZ: Yes, it seems really loud.

PAZ: I'm gonna download this audio and then put it under the episode.

JULIAN: Yeah, then you can edit it in.

PAZ: This is incredible. Why was I bothering to read these?

LIZ: Oh my god.

JULIAN: All right, I'm live. Can y'all see?

PAZ: Okay, let me join. This narrator.

JULIAN: Oh, wait, I'm not sharing audio.

PAZ: That's a great cat right there.

LIZ: I'm very excited for this live stream from Staircast. For the three of us.

JULIAN: Let me just play it real quick to make sure you can hear it.

PAZ: Yes.

LIZ: Oh my god.

JULIAN: I can hear it.

LIZ: It's so very loud.

WIZARD: So, young apprentice, you want to be a warrior. Well, then you must follow the warrior code.

PAZ: Who is this man?

JULIAN: I'm sorry, this is very loud. I don't know how to turn it down.

PAZ: This is actually what Fireheart sounds like.

WIZARD: Rule number one, defend your clan, even with your life.

LIZ: He sounds like David Attenborough.

PAZ: Yes. What is this image?

WIZARD: You must always be loyal to your clan.

[cats yowling]

WIZARD: Rule number two.

LIZ: We have to post this.

WIZARD: Rule number 2, do not hunt or trespass on another clan's territory.

PAZ: It's gonna be in the episode.

[meow]

[tap tap tap of footsteps]

JULIAN: [yelps]

PAZ: The added sound effect.

WIZARD: Rule number three, elders and kits must be fed before apprentices and warriors.

PAZ: Why does this man sound like he's about to die?

JULIAN: [shrieking] Oh my god, this kitten.

LIZ: These are just kittens.

WIZARD: What do you think you are doing? You are apprentices now, not kits. Stop eating.

PAZ: This man is just a wizard. Oh my god, the munching.

JULIAN: Why are there chewing sound effects?

PAZ: What are they eating, rice?

WIZARD: Rule number four, prey is killed only to be eaten. If you're not going to eat it, don't kill it.

[thwap]

LIZ: What.

WIZARD: Rule number five, a kit must be at least six moons old to become an apprentice.

JULIAN: Oh, the kittens.

PAZ: Oh my god.

LIZ: Who made this?

WIZARD: Sorry, but that means you're out. Don't look at me with those big cute eyes.

PAZ: What is this?

WIZARD: Come back when you're older.

[mew]

PAZ: Yeah, don't make your babies fight.

WIZARD: Rule number six, newly appointed warriors must sit silent vigil for one night after receiving their warrior name.

JULIAN: What is this man's enunciation?

WIZARD: I said silent vigil.

PAZ: There's little jokes. Little cat jokes.

WIZARD: Rule number seven, a cat cannot be named deputy without having mentored at least one apprentice.

PAZ: What is this? Aw.

JULIAN: Aww.

PAZ: Aw, look at little Cloudkit.

[boing boing]

LIZ: Oh no.

WIZARD: Rule number eight, borders must be checked and marked daily.

JULIAN: Are they gonna show the piss? Nope.

PAZ: Just gonna move past that one, huh?

WIZARD: Rule number nine, no warrior may neglect a kit in pain or in danger.

[mew]

WIZARD: Even if that kit is from a different clan.

[mew]

JULIAN: He skipped the fascism rule.

WIZARD: Last and most important, rule number 10.

PAZ: He did!

WIZARD: A warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet.

[mew]

PAZ: Hold on. Who is this man?

WIZARD: What are you doing? I said a warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet.

LIZ: He's David Attenborough.

PAZ: What is this-- this is an incredible old wizard voice, but what?

WIZARD: Never mind. We will continue in our training tomorrow.

[jaunty music]

LIZ: This is like a 90s movie wizard.

JULIAN: This is official. Copyright HarperCollins.

PAZ: No, yeah, this is official.

LIZ: Wow.

PAZ: Who is this?

LIZ: This is on YouTube. We should post it.

JULIAN: Oh my god.

PAZ: Yeah, once the episode is out. I wanted some credits on that to know who that was.

JULIAN: I know.

PAZ: Wow.

LIZ: How do I leave this stream?

JULIAN: I feel like that man was about to ask me to like, [creaky voice] only your strongest potions.

PAZ: [equally sing-song voice] You must collect the sacred artifacts to...

LIZ: [like they stepped straight from Zelda] I see you've gotten trapped in my maze.

PAZ: --revive magic in the world. My wizard maze.

JULIAN: Link, you're not ready for that sword yet.

PAZ: I'm laughing so much I'm sweating.

LIZ: Young warrior, I see you have not pissed everywhere today. Ooh, you know what that means.

[laughter]

PAZ: Oh god. Oh my God, there's no way to find out who that was. There's not even comments on this article.

LIZ: God.

PAZ: That was just, that was the voice of God.

LIZ: That's what StarClan sounds like.

JULIAN: That's the voice of StarClan all together.

PAZ: That is what StarClan sounds like.

LIZ: Every night Bluestar goes to sleep and it's just like [wizard voice] mm. Almost got assassinated again, I see. Mm, you really...

PAZ: I don't even know what we were talking about. That wiped my mind clean.

JULIAN: It was Longtail.

PAZ: Whoo. Oh my god.

JULIAN: Apparently, these were-- I looked on the wiki, the actual wiki, and these rules were revealed in Secrets of the Clans, the first sort of guide book.

PAZ: Oh, I have that book. I should go look.

JULIAN: But that said that was like-- yeah, it's like 2007.

PAZ: Yeah, that came out I think after the first series had finished, maybe.

JULIAN: Some retconning.

PAZ: Oh boy. Why did he skip the fascism rule? Why is the wizard afraid of this? You can't hide your sins. I don't know. What were we talking about? Murder attempt number two.

JULIAN: We were talking about Longtail being honorable while saving Fireheart racistly.

PAZ: I don't even know if that was in the warrior code, actually, that like protect your clanmates. I don't think that was there.

JULIAN: Yeah, I guess it's the bit about like defend your clan.

PAZ: Yeah, maybe. Just, woof. Took it out of me.

JULIAN: Absolutely brain blasted.

PAZ: Fireheart wondering what the next murder attempt will be is very funny.

JULIAN: God. At least he'll be on his guard now, I hope.

PAZ: Yeah, I'm like, I hope like now you won't dismiss your thoughts like maybe they're gonna murder me. Maybe you should just be like, yeah they're gonna murder me. But he's like, next time Tigerclaw would make sure he did not fail. I'm like, damn. Maybe you should tell someone.

Not Graystripe, because Graystripe will be like, that's not my problem. He said that, like, two books ago. I think it was literally like, if you're doing anything about Tigerclaw, don't involve me. Fireheart's gonna be like, Graystripe, I almost got killed, and Graystripe will be like, okay, I'm gonna go see my gf. Bye.

JULIAN: Maybe he should go talk to Ravenpaw again.

PAZ: Right?

JULIAN: They can commiserate.

PAZ: Yeah, now they're buddies in almost being murdered. [sighs] Okay, Tigerclaw also attempted to murder Ravenpaw at least two times, because he sent him to snake hell. And then he tried to push him into traffic. There was probably more, but those are the two I remember.

JULIAN: Oh, poor Ravenpaw.

PAZ: Poor Ravenpaw. Also glad he got away from all this. Sandstorm being worried about Fireheart in the next scene is cute.

JULIAN: Yeah, it's sweet. The report to Bluestar is like, hey, Bluestar?

PAZ: Yeah, she sucks.

JULIAN: She's like, oh, Starclan will be angry if we don't try to find a dry route. And it's like, Fireheart very clearly almost drowned.

PAZ: And she also like, scolds him for that.

LIZ: Wow, I can't believe you almost drowned. That's very unprofessional.

JULIAN: She doesn't want to have to pay out workers comp.

LIZ: Oh, every day she becomes more and more of a girlboss. It breaks my heart.

JULIAN: It's so sad.

PAZ: Girlbossification.

LIZ: Yellowfang, it's not too late to find another wife.

PAZ: Truly.

LIZ: There's gotta be another old gray cat somewhere.

JULIAN: She and Dappletail, maybe.

PAZ: What was that-- is it Graypool is the old cat in RiverClan?

JULIAN: Oh yeah.

PAZ: She seems great.

JULIAN: Yeah, they're both very crotchety. I think they'd get along.

PAZ: I think that'd be great. I'm in support of it.

JULIAN: Although that would be double forbidden.

PAZ: Yeah, but we know Yellowfang is already a pro at that.

LIZ: She loves another forbidden MILF.

PAZ: There's another really cute turn of phrase where Yellowfang sees drowned Fireheart, and she's like, "great Starclan, you look like a squirrel that's fallen out of a tree. What happened to you?"

LIZ: Aw. Do these cats climb trees?

PAZ: Yes.

JULIAN: Yeah.

LIZ: Right? They do, don't they?

PAZ: Yes, they do. What are you talking about?

LIZ: I mean, I've never-- have we ever seen it?

PAZ: You mean in the books?

JULIAN: I guess we haven't seen it in the series.

LIZ: Yeah, I know cats in general climb trees.

PAZ: Oh, okay.

LIZ: But I mean, do these cats climb trees?

PAZ: Well, Liz, don't you remember from the very first episode SkyClan? Their very powerful lights for climbing trees.

LIZ: Oh, true, true. Foolish of me.

PAZ: So maybe it's like an exclusive ability, just like RiverClan can swim.

LIZ: You're right.

PAZ: Cute Cinderpaw and Yellowfang content. When Yellowfang asks Cinderpaw to be her apprentice, finally, she's like, you're the only cat I can stand. It's very cute, like old lady loves new daughter.

JULIAN: Yeah, and like Cinderpaw's reaction to her praise is like really, really-- the whole interaction is like... Yellowfang's like, oh, you're a really smart learner and like I see so many stupid cats that it's really nice.

PAZ: Yellowfang's like, I'm surrounded by idiots constantly. Thank God you're here, Cinderpaw.

JULIAN: And Cinderpaw sort of interrupts her to thank her, and Yellowfang is like, be quiet. I haven't finished.

PAZ: I love Yellowfang so much.

JULIAN: Oh, it's so good. And like, you know, I still don't.... I still wish that Cinderpaw had had more choices. But like, I am glad that she has something that she's excited about.

PAZ: Yeah, she's like-- for some reason I thought she was like, more forced into it, like in the sense of like her character being unwilling than she is. She's genuinely excited here. But I think I was just thinking of Jaypaw and the Power of Three. I must have just been mixing that up. But I'm glad she's hyped for it.

JULIAN: Yeah. And like, I also-- I don't know if I'll be eating my words later, but when they're like, oh, you have to make the journey to the Moonstone, no one is like, oh, she can't do it.

PAZ: Yeah, I was really worried they were gonna say something. And it was just like no, whatever.

LIZ: Yeah, like, as an individual thing for her, and like as the first instance of this happening, it's like not as terrible as I was expecting, because you know, she is excited for it, which is nice, because there's so much like in her earlier scenes about how she felt like, you know, insecure and stuff.

JULIAN: Yeah, it's really nice to see her like, confident and like-- both confident and competent.

PAZ: And it was like a sweet scene at the end of the chapter where the whole clan is happy about it and seemed very like confident in her being a good medicine cat, presumably because she's just been doing that already.

JULIAN: Even Tigerclaw goes up to her and congratulates her.

PAZ: It's so funny.

LIZ: Even-- listen, even terrible evil guys need doctors eventually.

PAZ: That's true, yeah.

LIZ: He's thinking about his healthcare plan.

PAZ: You really can't get on your doctors'-- can't get on your two doctors' bad side.

JULIAN: I don't remember. Has Fireheart ever had a conversation with Yellowfang about Tigerclaw being absolutely awful?

PAZ: I can't remember, either. I feel like there might have been something where Yellowfang was like, yeah, he seems kind of like bad news. But I'm not sure if he's ever told-- I don't think he's told everything to Yellowfang. I don't know. Which he should. Yellowfang's like way more reliable than Bluestar.

JULIAN: Also she's seen this kind of thing before.

PAZ: Yeah, exactly. She knows evil cats. She can also talk to ghosts, you know. That'd probably be helpful. She could call up Redtail and be like, yo.

JULIAN: What's good?

PAZ: Give me the details.

JULIAN: Yeah, I don't have anything else for these. Sorry, Liz?

LIZ: Oh sorry, I was just saying what we should cover next, because I wasn't sure if my audio was working.

PAZ: You were posting something about the naming styles Fanlore article, right, Julian?

JULIAN: Oh god, yeah.

[meow]

I like found a-- I was looking on Fanlore for Warrior Cats stuff, obviously, because I wanted to see if there was any ancient drama. Did not find any ancient drama, probably because Fanlore is--

PAZ: I know there has to be, though.

JULIAN: I know there is some. I think Fanlore like skews towards such particular fandoms and like particular fandom circles that like--

PAZ: Yeah, it's also like, I feel like a lot of ancient drama in Warriors fandom is between like 13 year olds, which is definitely a different brand of drama than like, whatever the fuck Cassandra Clare was doing.

JULIAN: But there's a whole article about fan naming styles in Warrior Cats.

LIZ: God. Thank God.

JULIAN: So it goes over sort of the naming convention in canon. And then the controversy is between traditionalism and lyricalism.

LIZ: Oh my God.

PAZ: What an incredible name for that. We know where Peyton is.

JULIAN: God. Yep. We sure do. Yeah. Shall I read some of this?

PAZ: Please.

LIZ: Please.

JULIAN: Alright. "Traditional naming. Traditionalism attempts to introduce structure and reason to the canon naming system, which many fans feel contributes to more satisfying and nuanced world building overall." Also, I just want to say, there are no like citations for any of this.

PAZ: Oh no. Nope.

JULIAN: "Prefixes in traditional systems will almost always refer to the dominant color of a cat's pelt, although some traditionalists will also accept prefixes that only refer to a cat's size."

PAZ: This is so constrictive.

JULIAN: "Prefixes may refer to a cat's history or namesake only if the cat is the right color for the prefix."

LIZ: What?

JULIAN: "Eg, a cat born in a storm could only be given the prefix Storm if they were predominantly gray."

PAZ: God.

JULIAN: "Prefixes may also imply other details of a cat's appearance or coloration when possible. Eg, a cat called Weasel might have a white belly, a cat called Tiger may be a tabby, a cat called Ant might be small."

PAZ: Ant.

JULIAN: "Although most traditionalists won't refer to eye color, as kittens' eye colors have not yet developed when they are named."

LIZ: Oh my god.

PAZ: Damn.

JULIAN: [sighs] "Prefixes must be specific enough to imply a color, although some ambiguity is allowed and usually inevitable to create a long enough list of workable prefixes. Flower is too general, as flowers can be almost any color, but Daisy could refer to either a white or golden cat and is perfectly acceptable."

PAZ: That's great. Great to know.

LIZ: [sighs]

JULIAN: Touches ground. Something happened here.

PAZ: "Suffixes, where possible, recognize a cat's skills or positive personality traits. Suffixes are given from a list of fixed, recognized meanings within a setting. Eg, a creator might decide that foot always refers to a fast runner. These are generally derived from symbolism and associations of a suffix. Eg, tail is to recognize agility, as cats use their tails for balance." I don't-- are we sure about this? I don't think the Erin Hunters were giving it this much thought.

LIZ: No.

PAZ: "Cats may be given neutral suffixes if their skills or personalities aren't described by a suffix on the list, eg, fur, pelt." Yeah. "Or else they may be given suffixes that further describe their appearances, eg, stripe for a tabby, face for an attractive cat." Graystripe is Graystripe cause he doesn't have any skills or personality. There we go. Had to get that out.

JULIAN: God.

PAZ: "Taken together, a traditional name will be given a snapshot of the cat in question, eg Nightclaw may suggest a black cat skilled at fighting, Poppycloud may suggest a red cat with a calm demeanor." [snorts] Here's a paragraph about how you can rename a cat for their disability. Great stuff.

LIZ: [disdainfully] Mm.

JULIAN: There is, you know, "traditionalists generally agree that these renames should always be done with the intention of honoring the cat, ie, recognizing the strength required to survive and recover from such a debilitating injury, and should always be done with the cat's full consent."

PAZ: It should be.

LIZ: Why not let the cat do it? Hey.

PAZ: I agree.

LIZ: Why do you have to be like, may I have permission to rename you?

JULIAN: Also like if you're-- you as the author cannot get consent from your character.

LIZ: No.

PAZ: Yeah, there is-- I did notice a paragraph further up outside of the two camps which says, "in some cases, cats who have sustained injuries causing them to become physically disabled after birth are given new names to reflect their disability. Canon is inconsistent about whether naming cats for their disability is considered demeaning, and the tradition has lately been dropped after the first arc."

JULIAN: Yeah. Yeah, good.

LIZ: Okay, that's good to hear.

PAZ: Good. It should be, because it's weird as hell.

LIZ: It's like, you don't-- why would you rename-- like what if your name was just like, Brownpelt. Do you stop being Brownpelt? I don't think so.

PAZ: It's so weird. I think there's a real bad rename that happens in the first series that we're gonna get to.

LIZ: Oh no.

PAZ: Yeah, back to the traditionalists. "Traditional naming began as an attempt by fans to understand and headcanon naming conventions in the first arc. As such, strictly traditional names only use suffixes found in the first arc, and will sometimes only use plant or animal prefixes if they can be found in the first arc's English setting. However, many fans will choose to add additional suffixes they enjoy, or will use different prefixes that reflect their clan or clans being set in a different location." Oh my god, there's a whole list.

JULIAN: I know-- this list. I want to skip down to the one right after, because I want to go to this list, but the next sentence. "Traditionalist fanworks using canon characters will often rename cats in order to better reflect their appearance, personality, and/or skills."

PAZ: What?!

LIZ: What?!

JULIAN: "Or will sometimes tweak characters to better fit their names."

PAZ: They leave--

JULIAN: What.

LIZ: Why?!

JULIAN: What level of like absolutely wild are you on?

PAZ: Oh my god, this is just people being like, no, I know better than the authors on how to name these cats. Oh my god.

JULIAN: So the link here for traditional naming guidance links to a Tumblr blog. The title of this is Hallowed Collection of Suffixes.

LIZ: What?!

PAZ: That sounds like a Dark Souls like item.

JULIAN: And there's like 15 of them. There's only 15 suffixes that you can have.

PAZ: Yeah, cause that's all that was in the first series, I guess.

LIZ: Oh my God. Hallowed Collection of Suffixes is also a FATT faction, just saying.

PAZ: There are some external links, I guess, as their like citations. Here are three articles mentioned. One, "The guidelines." Next one, "On why some names are untraditional, and the history of traditionalism."

LIZ: Oh my God.

PAZ: And then the last one, "Traditionalism is a spectrum."

LIZ: Oh, I've got to click on it, I'm sorry. Goodbye.

PAZ: This is the same blog.

LIZ: Oh my god.

JULIAN: Yeah, these are all from the same blog.

PAZ: Oh my god, this is so long.

JULIAN: I want so badly to know who this person is who runs this blog. "All anonymous askers are referred to affectionately as Ruddles, which is another word for a marigold plant."

PAZ: What?

JULIAN: "Do not be alarmed by this please. It is an old in-joke." What's happening here?!

LIZ: What is happening.

PAZ: How old is this blog? Oh, they link their writing blog.

LIZ: Oh God, last post was from this month.

PAZ: [shuddering] Oh God.

LIZ: We can't be here.

JULIAN: The traditionalist thing was first posted in 2012 about Traditionalism is a spectrum.

PAZ: Oh my god, this is ancient.

JULIAN: But like this person has been doing this at this point for almost 10 years.

PAZ: They got a PhD in Warrior Cats names.

JULIAN: Here's a database system where you can put in your name and it'll tell you if it works.

PAZ: What? Where? Link it.

JULIAN: Um, so it says it's busted.

PAZ: Oh no.

JULIAN: Because of Tumblr.

PAZ: I wanted to put in like canon cat names from later series and see how badly they were rated.

JULIAN: Well, it says you can access it via the Wayback Machine. So I want to see if it still works via the Wayback Machine.

PAZ: Please let me know.

JULIAN: Here's the Wayback Machine. I am going to put in Kip Jazzman.

LIZ: Oh my God.

JULIAN: Or just Jazzman.

PAZ: Jazzman.

JULIAN: Space between the prefix and suffix of the name you are entering. "The name reader doesn't recognize this prefix."

PAZ: [snorts]

JULIAN: It also does not recognize this suffix.

LIZ: Noo.

JULIAN: Let's try Chickpea. Also no.

LIZ: But it's nature.

PAZ: Try putting in like Jayfeather.

JULIAN: Okay, I just put in Fireheart. "This cat has a ginger pelt. This cat is self confident and determined and will do whatever they believe is right."

PAZ: That's true.

JULIAN: That is correct. Oh, it doesn't recognize the suffix feather.

PAZ: Yeah, that's what I'm saying. You can't just go off the first series because Bluestar only have like five names.

LIZ: Yeah, Bluestar didn't have a whole database. You think back in 2003 or whatever fantasynamegenerators.com was available to her?

PAZ: No.

LIZ: Also sorry, I'm just clicking around the FAQ, and I've gotten to "would a polydactyl cat get a name change name?"

PAZ: What? They're born with those toes.

LIZ: "In most cases, polydactyl cats would not be given a name change name. Extra toes would not be very unusual in the clans."

JULIAN: I mean, that is true. It's pretty common.

LIZ: It is.

PAZ: Yeah, but also why would they get a name change when they-- you don't get more toes. You're born with those toes. Unless a wizard cursed you.

[laughter]

JULIAN: Oh, I'm really afraid to hear what this person thinks about gender and sexuality.

LIZ: Oh no.

PAZ: Oh no.

JULIAN: I don't want to know.

PAZ: Oh no.

LIZ: Let's just talk about the wizard.

PAZ: Oh, I'm morbidly curious.

LIZ: [wizard voice] Fireheart, for your bravery, I will reward you.

PAZ: That's who that narrator was, the toes wizard.

LIZ: [wheezing too hard to continue the voice] Bloop bloop bloop, here you go.

PAZ: Oh my god.

LIZ: Bye everyone, I'm done.

PAZ: Let's go lyrical naming.

JULIAN: Yeah, let's--

PAZ: The poets of Warrior Cat fandom.

JULIAN: "Lyricism rejects the strict rules of traditionalism and instead prioritizes aesthetics and individuality, which many fans find creatively freeing. Unlike traditionalism, there are no set rules that constitute whether a prefix or suffix is allowed. Some lyricists will still prefer to support the idea of a prefix suggesting a cat's appearance, but others will support prefixes that instead allude to a cat's history, or simply to a word that the namer likes.

Suffixes will sometimes suggest a cat's skills or personality, but the meaning of a suffix will change on an individual basis, and they will just as often allude to a cat's history, a namesake, or simply a word that the namer finds pleasing paired with the prefix. A good lyrical name is typically defined by its flow, aesthetic value, and use of evocative imagery, although judgment of these qualities tends to be subjective."

PAZ: This is just about vibes, which I support.

JULIAN: "Some fans differentiate between substyles of lyricism. More naturalist or low lyricism tends to reject names that the fan finds outlandish or silly, that reference objects that cats wouldn't know about, or that use words the cats consider sacred, such as star and moon in a canon setting.

More unbridled or high lyricism tends to allow virtually anything, as long as the fan finds them pleasing or pretty, and also encompasses fans who create deliberately silly names for the sake of humor. Naturalist or low lyricism essentially follows the style used by the Erin Hunter team in canon, especially in later arcs, when they started prioritizing using new and unique combinations of names."

PAZ: I'm starting to think Peyton is a low lyricist.

LIZ: Maybe, yeah.

PAZ: Cause Peyton just had issue with like you know, sacred words, objects they wouldn't know about. Wow. Sorry for thinking you were the most strict someone could be.

JULIAN: Yeah, I had no idea that you could get stricter, but here we are.

PAZ: Yeah.

LIZ: Peyton, I'm so sorry.

PAZ: We slandered you.

LIZ: We've seen the traditionalist side now.

PAZ: Yeah. It's scary.

JULIAN: [laughs] "Controversies and discussion."

LIZ: Oh boy.

PAZ: This just sounds like a theological debate. "Traditionalism and lyricism are born from opposing ideologies about how to interpret and develop the canon naming system, and as such they have a history of conflict."

JULIAN: Yeah, this is just Protestantism versus Catholicism.

PAZ: It really is. "Some fans struggle to understand how the opposing system to the one they prefer could be fun or satisfying to use. Lyricists will often claim that traditionalism is uncreative, boring, uncanonical, and puts its users in a constraining box, while lyricism is freeing, creative, and loyal to canon.

Traditionalists will often respond that traditionalism defines choices that are much more meaningful and creates opportunities for building depth in the world and character relationships. For example, a creator might worldbuild a history of how certain suffixes develop, or a character might try to develop the skills to earn a certain suffix so they can be named after someone they admire. While in turn, they do not understand how lyricists could use a system that is so undefined and could create such outlandish names."

LIZ: Oh my god.

PAZ: Oh my god, the next paragraph.

JULIAN: "Due in part to the demographics of the fanbase."

LIZ: Noooo.

JULIAN: "These conflicts have often not been handled maturely."

LIZ: Wow. Ouch.

JULIAN: "And many fans can remember being belittled or harassed for their chosen naming system. Many fans can remember conflicts in which both parties would attempt to argue that their system was the one true naming system, and that the opposing system was lesser."

PAZ: Oh my god.

LIZ: Wow. Ouch. Ouchie.

PAZ: This is so funny because the traditionalists, like, apparently-- like the first arc is their like Holy Bible. They won't hear anything else.

JULIAN: "Contemporary traditionalists generally accept that traditionalism is uncanonical, even in the first arc, but declare that they still prefer traditionalism to the canon system."

PAZ: Oh my god.

JULIAN: You just made up a guy.

PAZ: You made up a guy, but there is a blog they are linking who is that guy.

LIZ: Oh my god.

JULIAN: Oh.

PAZ: "Certain worldbuilding trends can be observed between traditionalists and lyricists. Traditionalists are more likely to prefer more accurate genetics and a more grounded depiction of cat behavior, and will often prefer a limited or absent presence of magic that is similar to the first arc. Lyricists are more likely to embrace blatantly fantastical and supernatural elements, such as supernatural powers, ghosts, and wings." Fuck yes.

LIZ: Wings aren't supernatural.

JULIAN: I mean, they are on cats.

LIZ: They know what birds are.

PAZ: No, I think they mean the cats with wings.

LIZ: Oh. I forgot where we were.

PAZ: Yes, please. This was last edited five months ago.

LIZ: Oh my God, not soon enough. I want the updates.

JULIAN: This page has been locked.

LIZ: Oh no.

PAZ: Oh no. What happened?

LIZ: Something happened here.

PAZ: Can we look at the edits?

JULIAN: Or maybe it's just that I have been banned. I can't lock it because I don't have a log-- or I can't edit it because I don't have a login.

PAZ: Oh my gosh.

LIZ: Can we view edits on here?

JULIAN: Yes. Okay, this entire page-- this whole page was created in 2021.

PAZ: What?

LIZ: Oh my God, what?

JULIAN: Yeah, the whole page was created March 13. This is so recent.

PAZ: What?

LIZ: How?

PAZ: What made someone be like I have to make this now?

JULIAN: There's no edit summary.

PAZ: It was our podcast.

JULIAN: Who is this person?

PAZ: They heard our podcast and were like I won't stand for this.

JULIAN: This person likes Dimension 20.

PAZ: Oh. Maybe they did hear our podcast.

LIZ: Oh my god, there's a good chance.

PAZ: If you're the person who made this wiki page, thank you for cataloguing this. I didn't know this existed.

LIZ: This is important archival work.

PAZ: Sorry for being so willy nilly here.

LIZ: Listen, whoever made this page, don't listen to us. We're just a bunch of silly schmucks. We don't know anything. We're just flying by the seat of our pants.

PAZ: Truly.

JULIAN: Oh, the real thing is that reading this traditionalism shit is like, if I had known about this at age 12, I would have been unbearable.

LIZ: Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

PAZ: Extremely funny.

JULIAN: Like I was already a little shit like sort of just to myself, mostly, and a little bit on the forums about people's name choices. But like if I had known that there was a whole canon, that there was a whole set of rules that people had made that I could follow, and that was very strict, and very minute and detailed. Ooooh.

PAZ: Meanwhile, I as a child was reading fanfic about cats with wings and like self-inserts getting turned into cats and being like tigers. You know, all that stuff. If we had met as children we would have been diametrically opposed.

LIZ: Enemies.

JULIAN: I was a child who really liked lists. Like, my main contribution to the Warriors fandom besides RPing was that-- I think I've talked about this before, but I like painstakingly went through the first arc and copied down all of the places where like medicine cat herbs were listed.

PAZ: Yeah, I think you did.

JULIAN: And like made a little Word doc of them for the person who was going to be my medicine cat apprentice, so that they could use the right herbs for the right situation. And then three months later Secrets of the Clans came out and it had like all of that in it.

LIZ: Oh my god. No, I feel you.

PAZ: Tragedy.

LIZ: I would have printed this out, punched holes in it, and put it in my binder.

PAZ: No, I don't think I was that kind of child. Wow, this has been very informative.

JULIAN: Yeah, I wish there were links to anything other than this one person's blog. But.

PAZ: This is a very new article, though.

JULIAN: This is brand new. Also I feel like a lot of these debates have been lost to the mists of time.

PAZ: God, yeah.

JULIAN: Because I imagine--

PAZ: I would love to find an archive of them.

JULIAN: Yeah, I imagine most of them happened on the Warriors forum, especially if they were happening like when the first books were coming out.

LIZ: There are a lot of 20 somethings out there that must have memories, though. It's all oral history.

PAZ: I wish we could put out a call. How do we reach the people?

JULIAN: I mean, we've seen traces of it, certainly.

PAZ: Yes, certainly.

JULIAN: Oh, it's so funny to me that like name writing was such a big thing in the fandom.

PAZ: Yeah, but I mean, I guess names are definitely important in the series. I mean, there's like every time there's a name change, it's like a big scene or something. So that makes sense.

JULIAN: I also think it gives 12 year olds an outlet to judge other 12 year olds, which is very important.

PAZ: It's essential.

LIZ: It's the most important part of being a 12 year old, which is character creation.

JULIAN: That is true.

PAZ: Well, I don't have anything else to add. This plus the wizard narrator really took it out of me.

LIZ: Sorry, I am looking at one of the linked articles on lyrical naming, which is "On naming lyrical substyles." Can I just tell you what the types are, cause they're very good?

PAZ: Yes, please.

LIZ: There is temperate, or moderate lyricism. Unbridled lyricism. Of course, high and low lyricism.

JULIAN: Where do you think, where does Hadesclipse fall?

LIZ: Unbridled. No restraints.

PAZ: Free as the wind. Deep from the heart.

LIZ: Nothing here but aesthetics, emotion. We were trying to evoke something.

PAZ: Homer would weep.

LIZ: There are some jokey, some little jokey examples here of names. One of them is Tomorrowbanana.

PAZ: That's not in good faith. I'm here to defend lyricists. They put thought into their names.

JULIAN: Yeah, like even a lyricist is gonna-- even when we came up with Hadesclipse, we wanted that name to reflect his personality.

PAZ: Yes, which is evil and goth.

LIZ: Tomorrowbanana is me waiting for my banana to ripen.

JULIAN: There's a link to a blog called Global Traditional, which makes me very afraid.

LIZ: It does make-- you can't call something traditionalism.

PAZ: Yeah, I just want to say, calling something traditionalism, kind of a bad vibe.

JULIAN: Yeah, there's some whistling happening there.

PAZ: Yeah, you can come up--

JULIAN: Some cat whistles.

PAZ: Cat whistles.

LIZ: Meows?

PAZ: You got to come up with a different word for that. Like, I don't know, like, structural. That's also a thing, but.

LIZ: It's less.

JULIAN: Formalism.

PAZ: Less like Nazi ideology.

LIZ: A subsect of literary formalism, which is Warrior Cats literary formalism.

PAZ: That's right.

JULIAN: Oh, okay, actually this is kind of nice. It looks like-- I found this blog on the Wayback Machine. And it looks like it was a blog of someone trying to come up with like traditionalist names but like for fics that took place in different parts of the world.

PAZ: Oh.

LIZ: Aw.

JULIAN: So like if you wanted to set your fic in like Kenya or something, you could like, have prefixes. It was like a resource for people to have prefixes that fit traditionalist whatever.

PAZ: That's a nice idea, I guess.

LIZ: Like native plants or something? That's cute.

JULIAN: Yeah, I guess.

PAZ: I guess like making a database when you're so strict, like that makes sense.

JULIAN: Yeah, it's just like lists of like different, like birds, and like other animals.

LIZ: That's pretty cute.

JULIAN: And like meanings that they might have for the cat or like colors or whatever.

LIZ: Okay, I think with that in mind, we should immediately make a cat name local to our areas of the world, please don't doxx us.

PAZ: Oh gosh. Okay.

JULIAN: Um.

PAZ: Give me a minute. But we gotta use those suffixes.

JULIAN: We got to use the traditional suffixes. Here, I can link you the thing from the Wayback Machine.

LIZ: Thank you. Thank you.

JULIAN: It's linking to Africa, but you can just click on North America.

PAZ: Oh, I was just gonna look up plants of nearby distinct ecosystem. Fern allies.

JULIAN: Panic grass?

LIZ: There we go. This cat has anxiety.

PAZ: I'm looking. Clammy azalea.

JULIAN: I love plant names. Nannyberry.

LIZ: Monkeyflower. Well, I'm done. Monkey hand tree, colloquially called Griff's wonder.

JULIAN: I think I also have one. Um, I need a suffix.

LIZ: Okay. I think I'm ready.

JULIAN: All right. Who wants to go first?

PAZ: You can.

LIZ: I'll go first. Um, anyway. As always, it's a secret where I live, please do not doxx me, but I am in California. You know, very small state, you'll be able to find me no problem. So my cat's name would be Succulenttail.

JULIAN: Oh, very good.

PAZ: Good.

LIZ: I'm not gonna take the obvious joke and make him like Weedpaw. This is a highbrow show. We don't take the easy bait. Succulenttail is a very dignified name.

JULIAN: I love him.

LIZ: Thank you.

JULIAN: Or them. So my cat is Asternose.

LIZ: Aw.

PAZ: Oh, that is great. Very cute.

JULIAN: Um, and I looked up asters. I was just looking for native plants in Massachusetts, which I am. Which is where I am, no doxxing, and up came this plant, which is very pretty. It's a purple plant. So I think that means that my cat is purple.

LIZ: Aw.

JULIAN: If we're going traditionally. My cat is purple and good at smelling.

PAZ: Beautiful.

LIZ: Love that.

PAZ: Well, I was looking at plants in New Jersey, specific part of New Jersey. No doxxing. My cat will be Dodderstep. And dodder is a type of parasitic plant.

JULIAN: Oh shit.

LIZ: Oooh.

PAZ: This is a fucked up evil cat.

JULIAN: Oh, I love this.

LIZ: This is very good.

PAZ: Perhaps an assassin. Step, you know, very light. Very sneaky.

LIZ: I didn’t know you guys were being serious. Shit.

PAZ: We gotta honor the naming system.

LIZ: Okay, give me a minute. Give me two seconds.

PAZ: Okay.

LIZ: Bluegrass, wait, no. Beardtongue. Fuck! These are all real plants. Aw, there’s something called a lemonade berry.

JULIAN: Ooh.

PAZ: Yeah, I tried to avoid plants that were already in two-part names.

JULIAN: Yeah, there were a lot of really good ones that I was like, oh, I can’t use this.

LIZ: I can be… hmm. Poppypelt.

JULIAN: I mean, listen, I still like Succulenttail. I think it’s great.

LIZ: It sounds like some sort of dish you’d order like at a mountain man themed restaurant. I’ll be like Poppypelt.

PAZ: Cute.

LIZ: That sounds like a fun cheerful fellow. Gender-neutral.

JULIAN: Yeah, like a little speckly cat.

LIZ: Maybe orange. How often do you see a speckled orange?

PAZ: Not often. That was great.

LIZ: You may notice that--

PAZ: I love to name cats.

LIZ: Yeah. I don’t know, you guys may notice that we just keep making and naming cats. And we are building up to that RPG.

PAZ: That’s right.

JULIAN: In true Warrior Cats RP fashion, we have made a bunch of OCs and immediately forgotten about them all.

PAZ: You know.

JULIAN: And that’s tradition.

PAZ: If we do that RP, we should get some listener-sourced names.

JULIAN: Ooh, yeah, that’d be good.

PAZ: I would love to hear everyone’s names.

LIZ: Yeah, we will need 30 to 40 NPCs introduced in the first episode.

PAZ: That’s right. That’s right.

JULIAN: We gotta have factions.

PAZ: Our magic cat school. Okay, I don’t know. I think that’s it, maybe.

LIZ: What was that thing called again, the collection of suffixes?

JULIAN: Oh, the Hallowed Collection of Suffixes?

LIZ: Yeah, that’s the first faction. We’re set.

JULIAN: There we go, you’re right.

PAZ: That’s definitely some religious sect.

JULIAN: Yeah, they’re like trying to blockade Mothermouth so no one can talk to Starclan except them.

PAZ: Everyone’s asking, what if Warrior Cats was Dark Souls?

LIZ: It is. What do you mean, what if?

PAZ: Yeah, Yellowfang’s the old witch NPC.

LIZ: Starclan just sounds like the old lady NPC.

PAZ: Yeah, apparently. Well, I think that’ll do it for us, right?

JULIAN: I think so.

PAZ: All right. Thank you, everyone, for tuning in this week. Next week we’ll be reading chapter 18 through 20. Also, I was thinking of putting up a poll on the Patreon to see which special edition book we should do first.

LIZ: Ooh, yeah.

JULIAN: Ooh, yes.

PAZ: I think we’re gonna try and stick to pre-first series books to avoid spoilers, kind of. I’m sure there’ll be spoilers, but since it’s-- what’s the word-- canonically earlier in the timeline, maybe there won’t be as many. So look forward to that. You can support us on Patreon at patreon.com/staircast. We will try and get something up there soon. There’s just been traveling happening.

LIZ: Oh, was there?

PAZ: Yeah. You can find the show on Twitter @staircast. You can email us at [email protected]. Can’t remember if there’s anything else. I think we mentioned episode transcriptions last time, but they’re going up still. And I think that covers it for now. Until next time, may Starclan light your path. Bye.

JULIAN: Bye.

LIZ: Bye.

[outro music]

#ep 21 #transcript #forest of secrets ep #the hallowed collection of suffixes

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