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I asked people on Instagram to give me their sketch requests and I drew as many as could!

Later the lamb would just think that the real thing is nicer than the gaunlet idk

I gave up so fast holy shit

-💊

Finally finished the first part of gai’s 8 gates coma and how kakashi dealt with it rewrite people have been requesting. [tw blood, injury, coma, death discussions, grief]

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Sam x Jack Instagram Aesthetics (links for full size view)

encouraging you yo-kai watch x warrior cats do it go go go >:3

Anon, that's very cringe. There's no way I'm gonna make an enitre AU based on two diffrent franchises that are no way simailr to each other. What is this? Middle school?

Anyway this post is very long and depends on how well this does I may or may not spew out more

Okay, for this to work for me I changed a bit of WC lore and junk for this, Yokai are still dead folks you can't see that affects the way the world But instead of inspiriting, it's like someone whispering advice in your ear, like "That mouse looks pretty tasty, and the clan already of fresh-kill already. Who's gonna miss a little mouse?" more powerful spirits can sometimes affect the world physically, like frosted paw prints being seen in the middle of spring or warriors being tripped over nothing. They're just called spirits in this AU, dead cats that weren't bad enough to go to the dark forest but still had unfinished business in the living world and won't walk among the stars until they're satisfied.

Now there was a balance between starclan, the dark forest, the roaming spirits, and the clans. But recently, the dark forest has been recruiting roaming spirirts, so that's not good!

Thankfully Starclan received a prophecy that a warrior born with the ability to see the dead will save the clans and the afterlife from total choas, one problem though... There are 4 cats who fit the description, and the prophecy only calls for one.

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Okay, I autismed a lil too hard and gave the four lil backstories and struggles for this AU like im bouta write a 6 book in length series with arcs and stuff. Get outta here!

Anyway, Shrewpaw isn’t actually a real contender for being the prophecy kitty because Whisper gave him his ability to see the dead and the prophecy calls for the cat that was born with that gift. So while Shrepaw and Whisper try to find the real prophet kitty among the other three, they’re also trying to dodge the rest of Starclan from discovering this secret. Because not only is it basically illegal for starclan cats to pass down powers without approval first, but they could’ve just messed up the entire prophecy and doomed the clans.

You will see later that I tend to name warrior cats after what they look like and the suffix of their skill/personailty

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Lavenderpaw has the strongest chance of being the cat in the prophecy, She was able to see and interact with the spirits of dead cats ever since she was born. But, she ditched her warrior’s training to become a medicine cat. And that did not make Starclan happy, so they sent down Ottersnarl to convince her to be a warrior again (It’s not working). Lavenderpaw tries to ignore Otter’s nagging and focus on her training, but Starclan is persistent and desperate. Lavenderpaw doesn’t care however, she’s not going to let a bunch of dead guys tell her how to live her life. It must be someone else, there are three other cats that could see the dead!

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Fumika is a doing a Rusty from into the wild. Okay to give a lil more detail, Fumi recently was dumped into the forest by her old twolegs, alone and scared Fumi is guided by a starclan cat to clan territory where she joins Springclan. Despite joining and training to become a warrior with her fellow clanmates, Fumika is stuck with the “Lazy, dumb, useless kittypet whose more trouble than she’s worth” Label. It didn’t help that she fought to keep her name instead of getting a traditional warrior’s one, so she has to train extra hard for her clan to not only accept her but to see her as more than a “Stupid” kittypet.

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Buck was the first cat Starclan noticed was special. Not only was he pretty skilled as an apprentice, but he could kinda interact with the spirits around him. He just needed guidance. Unfortunately, after his sister disappeared from thin air and is presumed dead by his entire clan, Buck runs away and denounces Starclan. There’s no way after moons of searching that his sister is gone! There’s no way she’s dead, he never saw her in his dreams when he used to talk to Starclan. She must’ve been taken by aliens or something! 

fan fact, he lives in an abandoned shed!

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Here's a graph of who have the stongest 6th sense left is the weakest right is the strongest

[Fumika < Buck < Sherwpaw < Lavenderpaw]

and here's some miscellaneous stuff

Jibanyan and Whisper are the only ones who know how Shrewpaw got his gift.

Jibs has little markings because he feels so werid to have only his fur and not have his collar or haramaki.

Also I'm debating on naming Jibanyan either Flamepaw or Redpaw because I like the gag of Tomunyan being a copy of Jibanyan in certain ways (I wanna name Tom Firepaw because of this)

also also, Buck and Lavender are in different clans

Shrew is the only one who has his eyes glow when he's communicating to the dead because i thought it would be cool

NHHHHHH

Ena + Madness = TuRrOn!

Chitter-chatter Tittle-tattle

@flashfictionfridayofficial

I come home to Baker Street one early afternoon. I had been out since the early evening before, called by a case that proved more complex and critical than it might have been expected, thus needing my constant attention. But all had come well in the end, and thus did I climb up our stairs to the sitting room.

Holmes was in his accustomed chair, a cup of tea in his hands. Extraordinary the first. But he was not alone,

A young man, darkish haired and lanky-framed, twisted on the settle to look as I entered, and rose to his feet courteously.

"Ah Watson" Holmes says, his voice bright, "This is Hereward, my nephew. Hereward, Doctor John Watson, formerly of the RAMC."

He gestures his hand from me to the young fellow and back again, apparently considering that introductions enough. Young Hereward came around the sofa end offering his hand which I shook, though he shook more heartily.

"Very pleased to meet you Doctor, very pleased." His eyes are bright, very warm and enthusing. Not been in London long, for certain, and young, not yet twenty, or barely so. There is slightly a resemblance to Holmes, perhaps enhanced by the half-grown nature of the lad. Length of limb, a little in the set of the cheekbones. I glance at Holmes and send a look.

Hereward is the eldest son of my eldest brother," Holmes continues smoothly, as I cross and set my bag on the table. "He has come up to London to try his way in business for a time."

"Uncle Mycroft has found me a situation in a good merchant-firm, to give me a half-year trial." Hereward expounds, still on his feet and nearly springing with excitement at the prospect he pronounces.

"Very promising," I allow, nodding, hoping to continue to muffle my overwhelming bewildered state, compounded by tiredness, until I can bead Holmes for proper details.

Hereward beams at me, springs around the settle and sits down, surprisingly calmly, to pick up his tea.

He says a sentence in a language which seems to be a muddle of Latin and Greek.

Holmes - taking a sip of tea at that moment- starts, chokes, spits back his mouthful, and falls to spluttering wheezing coughs He hunches over, coughing into his sleeve, somehow managing to set the cup awkwardly but safely on the side-table in the midst of it. After a little I move over and pat him hard on the back, he clears his throat

"Thank you." The words come out part-bark, part-croak, but Holmes breathes more easily. His head comes up, and he stares sharply at Hereward, says something else I don't understand, except that it does sound more like Greek.

But what little I know Greek, besides the medical applications, was not my grandest subject in my schooling, and I am left a blank as to the conversation, except that young Hereward does not seem particularly rattled by Holmes' tone. He replies again in the same Mongrel tongue, voicing something that might (or might not be) 'Mycroft', shrugging.

Holmes humphs.

"Will you be staying here?" I ask generally, to break the deadlock, wondering as I so so, how it would be managed. Either Hereward or I in here on the settle with blankets, most likely. If me thus, pray that the lad is not perceptive enough to notice the stiffly tidy, barely used, state of the room supposed to be my lodge.

"No, Uncle Mycroft is putting me up - or putting up with me - until I have my feet and perhaps lodging with my fellows." Hereward shakes his head lightly, glances at the clock and rises neatly. "I think I should be going back. Thank you for the tea, Uncle Sherlock." He inclines his head in a nod to me. "Very Pleased to make your acquaintance, Doctor Watson."

I return the gesture, and Holmes rises to his feet, accompanying his nephew across the room to the door.

On opening it Hereward places his hat atop his head, then paused and says something in a very low tone to Holmes, close to his Uncle's ear. Holmes claps him lightly, familiarly, on the shoulder, waits as Hereward moves away and down the stairs hall-wards. Only then does he close the door.

"So, that is your nephew?" I ask.

"Hereward, son of Sherrinford, himself first born Holmes son; he keeps the gentry element of the family, whilst Mycroft and I may make our own paths as we wish." Holmes reels off casually. He looks more closely at me. "Watson did you eat last night?" My shrug is followed by a halloo downstairs of "Mrs Hudson!!!! Bread and biscuits!"

---

It is much later, in the dark of our room and bed, with Holmes curled around me, that I ask, "What on earth did he say, Hereward? It was in no language I understand."

"Holmes Patois, my Watson," He says softly. "Invented by Mycroft, taught to me when we were children, picked up by Sherrinford out of necessity. Latin, Greek and French for starters, a little of each with each other's grammar rules as well." I hear the smile in his voice, feel it in the hold of his arms around me. "And Sherrinford kept it up."

"What did he say?" I press

"That he agreed I had found myself an excellent, and handsome, Penelope."

Penelope, a loyal wife. I roll in his arms to face him. "Your family know about," -I wiggle my fingers that are above the covers, meaning the bed, the one room- "Us."

"Mmm." Sherlock says "Mycroft has not been entirely obtuse in his letters home, and neither Sherrinford or Hereward are stupid."