hii this is just a wee forum for me to post my drabbles so that i don’t clog up my cats’ bios

if you decide to stop and read, i hope you enjoy the writing!

“It’s not that I disagree with his policies, per say, I just think they could be improved on,” Viktoria hummed, batting lazily at a beetle that dared to bumble past.

Jacobi paused mid-lick, their tongue still flat against her flank as they snorted. Viktoria eyed them.

“Is that not the same thing?” They said, a teasing glint in their eye being the only thing preventing them from receiving a cuff round the ears. Viktoria sighed loudly and shuffled to face her partner.

“Er… guess not?” Jacobi continued, a lopsided grin spread across their face.

“Not the same thing,” Viktoria commended with a nod, and scrunched her face up in thought, “Think of it this way: Henry’s rule against leaving the Village’s territory at night is a good one, it keeps us safe,”

“However…?” Jacobi prompted.

“However,” She flicked an ear, “I think there should be exceptions, for example, when we want to go out for an evening stroll,”

Jacobi chuckled again, Viktoria swatted at them, “I’m not finished!”

“Instead of having to sneak out to go on a walk, I think that if there’s at least two not-cats, and if they tell at least one person where they’re going, we should be able to just go out,” she said with a nod before wriggling closer to Jacobi to groom a tuft of fur sticking up on their shoulder.

Jacobi tipped their head as they pondered the suggestion before flicking Viktoria with their tail to catch her attention again, “And have you brought this up with any of our charming leaders?” they asked.

Viktoria flattened her ears with a scowl, “I spoke to Aleksandr but she was in a sulk about something and shot the idea down pretty much immediately,”

Jacobi pressed their head against their partner’s for a moment, letting out a rusty purr, “Don’t let her ruffle your fur,” they rumbled.

Viktoria simply sighed and nodded, touching her nose against Jacobi’s.

“It’s so annoying, she gets in a bad mood and makes it everyone else’s problem,” she said, settling back down against Jacobi’s side.

“Yuuup, that’s Alexandr for you,” they grinned, “What was she even mad about?”

Viktoria groaned loudly, “Guess.”

Jacobi pantomimed a deeply thoughtful expression, tapping a claw against their chin, “Hmm… Did it start with an M, and end with itzi?”

“Her and Bas,” she mumbled into their fur.

“I don’t know why she’s so worried about Bas, he doesn’t even want to be in power,” Jacobi said, furrowing their brow.

Viktoria was quiet for a moment before eventually speaking up, “I’m inclined to disagree,”

Jacobi blinked and twisted their head to look at her. The two were silent until Viktoria eventually caved and shrugged, hiding her face in Jacobi’s curls again.

“Nobody else is noticing it but Bas has been hanging around Henry like way more than usual- and I know they’re really close friends, I don’t have anything against that… It’s just…” she trailed off.

Jacobi remained quiet.

“I don’t know, I might be reading into it too much but whenever something happens they’re always there, offering advice or an alternative way to go about things. And again, there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just that he’s always there,

Aleksandr might actually be justified in feeling twitchy about Bas,” Viktoria concluded, daring to lift her head. She met Jacobi’s gaze, who was looking at her with an adorable mix of adoration and concern.

They had to admit that they hadn’t actually noticed that, but they trusted Viktoria’s judgement over most not-cats’ in the Village and nodded carefully.

“And what about Mitzi?” Jacobi eventually asked at length.

Viktoria scoffed, her confidence restored, “Please, she’s just an annoyance. Henry thinks she’s capable or something, and I guess she is pretty determined but she’s a kitten, she doesn’t have any life experience. She’s just lapping up whatever Henry says because he’s her idol or whatever- we need someone with actual thoughts!”

Jacobi’s muzzle twisted into a wry grin, “So… someone like Aleksandr?”

This time Viktoria actually did cuff them round the head- Jacobi snorted and collapsed into giggles.

“No, you big furball! Someone like me! Aleksandr’s old and too traditional, this village needs someone young and smart,” Viktoria huffed.

Jacobi wound their tail around Viktoria’s, “Calm down, drama queen, I was only joking. I know you’re the best choice. Believe me, I’ll be the loudest not-cat chanting Mayor Viktoria once you’re elected,” they purred.

The remaining shafts of saffron had just begun to dissipate, indicating the sun slipping below the horizon when Brandy crept out of camp.

It wasn’t like they had officials rules against leaving at night or anything, but Henry was usually pretty adamant that they were all back at the tents by nightfall.

She couldn’t deny that he was shaping up to be a pretty decent leader of their five-cat band, and she would certainly follow him wherever he lead them all- but goodness it got stifling.

Hence why she was now sneaking away for a bit. Earlier that day, while out foraging, a particularly suspicious bush had startled her with a whisper, pointed leaves rustling like a raised pelt as the not-cat within beckoned her over.

Brandy had sauntered over with a snort, touching her nose to the pretty tortoiseshell inside.

“You’re pretty close to the others today, feeling brave?” She teased with a purr, expecting the banter to be reciprocated.

To her surprise, it wasn’t to be.

Shay had extracted herself from the bush with an unassuming grace looking up at Brandy with an odd, unreadable expression.

“We need to talk,” was all she said before bounding away, leaving Brandy stunned, and quite understandably worried with nobody to talk to about her qualms.

Shay was… a difficult topic with the other cats she was travelling with. Brandy and the others, Henry, Fransje, Dylan, Jacobi and Jules, had left Earth together, entering Nestor’s Woods as a unit ready to face any danger they came to face.

Shay, on the other hand, was a stranger to them. She had explained that she too migrated from Earth, but a few months prior to their own exit. When the group had moved into the area she was living in, the tortoiseshell had felt a little too intimidated to approach the unit.

That was until Brandy had quite literally run into her while they were both chasing down the same bird. After a small bout of frantic, frightful squealing, the two had come to their senses enough to introduce themselves, sparking the start of a relationship that only seemed to blossom from there-on.

Brandy had visited Shay every day since their initial meeting, the two swiftly becoming friends, then girlfriends, and then something a little more- something neither of them dared to place a name on.

And yet, during all that time, Brandy had never once mentioned the tortoiseshell that stole her heart, afraid that the others wouldn’t accept the distant molly.

It had been months since their initial meeting, the two knew that they would have to reveal the nature of their relationship eventually; but for now, they were content to only exist in each other’s company.

Speaking of which,

Brandy crested the top of their hill, the lovers’ meeting place, immediately spotting Shay’s silhouetted form, dying streaks of light turning her fur to fire.

The tabby trilled out a greeting and bounced over, stopping to press her muzzle to Shay’s. She broke out into purrs, winding her thick, downy tail around Brandy’s thinner one and pressed her flank to her partner’s.

“Tonight couldn’t come fast enough,” Shay murmured, breath soft against Brandy’s cheek. She felt her face warm up, flushing even after months of casual affection.

But even greater than the warmth, Brandy was burning to know what Shay had wanted to talk about.

As though reading her mind, Shay sighed meaningfully and sat up straight to look at Brandy, amber eyes flashing in the sunset.

“Do you remember when we found that old, mossy log in the middle of a clearing a little south of here?” she asked.

Brandy blinked. Okay, this certainly wasn’t the direction she thought this would be going in.

Slightly thrown off, she simply nodded, “Uh huh, the one with all the cool mushrooms?”

Shay inclined her head, “That’s the one. We crawled inside and laid back on the moss for hours staring up at the sky. At one point, as we were cloud gazing, we noticed three magpies- two adults and a fledgeling,”

Brandy perked up with a smile, “Yeah! That was adorable, it was taking its first flight, I remember!” she said.

Shay returned the smile with her own, “You didn’t stop talking about it for ages, it was so sweet, you told me all about how you someday wanted to start a family of your own,”

Oblivious to the implications of that, Brandy beamed, eyes growing distant and wistful as she surely began to ponder what her future family might look like.

Her partner chuffed out a soft laugh, bringing a paw to Brandy’s cheek to physically pull her attention towards her.

“Brandy,” Shay said, meaningfully.

“Shay?”

“You want to be a mother, don’t you?” the faintest creeps of doubt began to tug at Shay’s gut- what if she was entirely wrong about all this?

“Of course I do! But why are you asking m- oh-“

There was a beat,

“Oh, Shay! Do you really mean it?” If Brandy smiled any wider, her face would’ve split into two, her head bouncing up and down to look between Shay’s eyes and face.

“It took me a little while to notice it, but it’s true, I’m expecting our kittens,” She whispered, tucking her head under Brandy’s chin.

At once, the tabby wrapped her paws around her partner, practically purring so loud that the others back at camp would be able to hear- Oh, fiddlesticks.

The group.

Shay must’ve felt her stiffen, as she looked up in understanding. However, instead of worry clouding her features, they remained clear and hopeful and at once, Brandy knew what her next words would be.

“Brandy, I think it’s time I meet the rest of your family,”

ohh i'm here so late after these have been posted but these are just lovely pieces of writing!!! i love the second one especially but the politics in the first one... ough. good drama good writing fun lore!!!

@paopuleaf aa so sorry for missing this, tysm !!

Three not-cats walked together, briskly, as a unit. Sunlight filtering through the autumn leaves (just beginning to take flight from their branches) dappled their pelts in shades of honey and saffron, offering the barest of respites from the oncoming autumn chill. Beige, apricot and chocolate alike were rendered in a mottled mosaic of dark and light, their little bodies casting long, long shadows on the earth behind.

The not-cat leading the envoy, the tall and proud male of spotted apricot and white, slowed briefly, tilting a pink nose skyward to sniff the air. His companions stopped beside him.

“Is everything alright, Henry?” one asked, the not-cat whose patchy beige stripes were almost wholly concealed by piebald patterning. She wore a satchel loosely cast over one shoulder, it thumped against their leg with a slight crinkle as she stopped.

Henry glanced back down at her, amber eyes catching the light beneath the brim of his wide straw hat. “We’re nearly there,” he said, his voice betraying a note of confusion.

The not-cat to his left made their perplexity more known, her brow furrowing. “We shouldn’t be,” she replied gruffly, “It takes two hours to walk to their village, and look, the sun’s barely hit midday,”

Henry found himself frowning too, “Perhaps we’re just walking faster than usual, Aleksandr?” he offered.

Aleksandr sneered, “Unless you’re suggesting we’ve managed to halve our distance while barely walking above a trot then I’m going to call bul-”

The beige not-cat cut them off, “Villages don’t just grow legs and wander to pastures new,” she said, voice edging on the tired exasperation of a mother. Aleksandr flicked an ear, looking away to hide her scowl.

“With respect, Jules, I don’t see how else we could already be at the village,” Henry sighed, expressing a genuine bewilderment usually unbeknownst to him. But he blinked slowly as Jules suddenly perked up.

“Unless- maybe villages do move,” she said suddenly, jumping up onto the tips of her toes, although it did little to change the fact that Henry and Aleksandr were both still having to look down at her stubby frame. Aleksandr’s grumpy frown lifted, her face becoming clear as they caught onto Jules’ words,

She then curled her lip, “You don’t think they actually moved their borders do you? Especially in the direction of our village?”

Henry blinked, and he took a moment to think, “Well, they are a mining town,” h eventually said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jules asked, her white nose wrinkling a little.

Aleksandr answered for him, heaving her weight onto her shoulders as she stood tall, “They’re brutes,”

Henry pulled a face. “I wouldn’t call them, er, brutes, exactly. But she has a point, a village full of brawny not-cats where strength is the deciding factor in regards to one’s success? Moving their borders in our direction without any consultation is exactly the sort of thing they’d pull as a power move.”

“I can’t help but feel like you might be generalising a little,” Jules replied, but kept her gaze low - the last thing she wanted was to get into a fight with the acting mayor and the captain of the guard.

Sending her dissatisfaction, Henry trailed his tail over her shoulders with a warm smile, “I understand where you’re coming from, but it’s probably best to err on the side of caution. Until we know otherwise, let’s just assume this was an intentional power move.”

Jules brushed against his side and frowned, her tail tip tittered on the forest floor, disturbing the leaves. “But what exactly does erring on the side of caution entail? We can’t waltz in there and immediately assume a defensive position, we don’t want to start a fight.”

“No, but instead of waiting at their new boundary for an escort, we’ll head straight into the village and ensure that the trade discussion is wholly on our terms,” Aleksandr chimed in, looking up from where she had been stood, raking gouges in the ground with her claws. Henry nodded firmly.

“Instead of a one-to-one trade we’ll request stone and ore at a higher rate for our crops, if they question it we can either tell them that our field space will be reduced if they continue to increase their borders, or we can use the fact that winter is just around the corner,” He half-murmured, clearly still working the plan out in his head as he spoke.

Jules looked between them, searching for the barest of cracks in their resolve, but it was apparent to her that their minds were set. They sighed, resenting that they saw some sense in Henry and Aleksandr’s approach and nodded glumly.

Henry’s smile turned a little pitiful and he nudged her again gently, “It’ll be alright,” were his parting words before he lithely sprung away and set off again at a brisk walk down the path.

Aleksandr remained with Jules for a moment, the large molly then tilted her head fractionally to the side so that she could scrutinise Jules from the corner of her eye, “You need learn how to hold your own,” they said, lowly, ensuring Henry wouldn’t catch onto their conversation.

“Now that we’re an established village, things aren’t going to be so easy anymore. It’s them or us out here,” Aleksandr finished and leapt after Henry.

Jules watched her go for a moment, fighting down a knot of anger and followed them down the path, jogging to catch up.

Machinations of change constantly churn in the shadows.

Like the water of a dark torrent below ice, new ideology threatens to shatter the foundations of which society is built upon, heralded by the mere changing of the seasons. Henry would know; a somewhat similar occurrence had been building in the underboroughs of Dùn-y-ley Hamlet for some years. To say the city was traditional would be a severe understatement, and likely an insult to the rigid political system that had shackled Dùn-y-ley over the previous two centuries.

But times were changing, whether the city was prepared to evolve alongside the youngest generations or not. Henry stood in the minister’s office overlooking Furhborough - his own office as the city’s mayor. Held in one paw was a snifter of brandy, absently, he trailed a claw along the intricate detailing embossed into the glass as he looked out into the city’s own heart district. The mayor’s building was an formidable tower looming over the community halls Furhborough had to offer, and its grand, circular window proffered a reasonably impressive view of the surrounding areas.

Henry swirled the brandy and abruptly turned from the window, his ginger tail whisking through the air to contend with his sudden haste. He gave his tail another intentional lash for good measure as his mouth twisted into a grimace. He was the mayor, his word ruled the city, and his work was being undermined by a delinquent youth with an attitude problem. The issue could be ignored no longer, Henry no longer had the luxury of pushing this little uprising to the back of his mind and it was driving him into a glacial rage.

He almost wished the anger would just bubble up, he wished he was struck with the urge to swipe out an arm and send the contents of his desk careening across the room in a tempest of files. He wished he was furious enough to shout, to scream, to tear at their fur until the fire had all but burned away, leaving them spent but calm. Instead, he had to grapple with something slow and cold, slowly turning his insides into a frigid wasteland. He couldn't relax, not here, not even at home in the most serene plot of South Furhborough - they knew they wouldn’t be able to relax until this little budding uprising had been firmly squashed beneath his heel.

The issue, however, was finding the root of the infestation. He could capture the worker bees to his heart’s content, detain not-cats painting symbols of rebellion across the city, but until he managed to curl his claws into the queen bee, there would be no end to this madness. What they truly needed was someone on the inside. On cue, the distant chiming of a two-toned bell reached his ears and he sank into his leather armchair, nursing the brandy in both paws. As they strained their hearing, he caught fragmented whispers of conversation from the bottom floor before a door was shut and the sound of boots ascending the stairs grew steadily louder.

Henry had managed to arrange himself into some semblance of dignity just as there came a gentle knock at his door. “Enter,” they called, amber eyes fixed on the gilded door as it swung inward. It was followed by Rhy as he stepped gingerly into the room, in contrast, his own pallid olive eyes swept across the room rapidly and finally landed on Henry, their nervous gleam broadcasting just how nervous the young not-cat was in the mayor’s presence. Henry let him stew for a few more moments before gesturing to the seat opposite him, “Take a seat, Rhy.”

The not-cat nearly tripped over his own feet, planting himself down into the armchair’s embrace. What followed were a few somewhat pitiful seconds of shuffling as Rhy quickly wriggled into a seating position he deemed acceptable. Henry allowed this to happen, eyeing the younger citizen over the rim of his snifter. The mayor made no efforts to speak as his companion began to squirm once more, eventually chewing on his lip and belting out a swift: “Sir, what did you call me here for?”

Henry smiled, slowly, languidly, and finally placed his glass back down on the desk, freeing his paws which they then steepled together. At length, they said “I’ve found myself needing your services. You’ve been working for Jericho, recently, yes? As their… What was it, apprentice? Assistant?”

Rhy jerked his head into a nod. “A mix of both, they’ve been teaching me the intricacies of their work and simultaneously I’ve been taking over some of their more, ah, menial tasks,” they smiled, still a little hesitant.

“So, would you consider yourself capable of journalism?”

They swallowed dryly, “Well, sir, there’s still an awful lot to learn.”

Henry’s eyebrow twitched, he turned slightly, so that he might glimpse the window out of their periphery, and present his side profile to the young cat before him. “Don’t be coy with me,” they sighed, “I have something I’d like for you to investigate and report back to me about. Are you capable of such a task?”

“Surely something like that would be more befitting of an actual investigator, like Sloan, not an apprentice journalist.” Rhy said, worrying at his sleeve.

“If I wanted Sloane’s services, I would’ve called for aer. You, on the other hand, have far more pertinent capabilities required for this… Job.”

“Might I know what the job is?” They asked.

Henry’s nostrils flared with a theatrical sigh. He rose from his seat and crossed the room where a newspaper had been artfully left on another desk, walking round the back of Rhy’s seat to lean over his shoulder and place the paper before him. As the not-cat leant forward in unabashed curiosity, Henry circled around the rest of the desk back to their own seat. “Given your role in Dùn-y-ley’s news cycle, I’m sure you’re acutely aware of this budding gang?”

Rhy frowned fractionally at the mayor’s use of gang but nodded nonetheless. “Ivystrikers, sir. Yes, I wrote one of those articles myself, and I’ve been looking into their goals for some time now. Is… Sorry, are the Ivystrikes related to the job?”

“The Ivystrikes are the job. You’re young, Rhy, you already have a foot in their world by default. And I can only assume your previous cooperation with them has put you in their favour,” (here, Rhy made a face that could only suggest he wanted to disagree, violently, but was far too timid to ever articulate the thought) “What I’d like for you to do, is to find out who exactly is leading this group - I want to know who has such a strong sway over the minds of our youngest generations.Your job is to discover who this individual is, and report all information pertaining to them directly to me. You will, of course, be paid a significant sum for this work.” Henry concluded his pitch by plucking a piece of folded paper from his pocket and slid it across the table to Rhy. Unable to help himself, he unfolded the piece and promptly baulked at the number.

As Rhy took a moment to compose himself, Henry placed the now-empty snifter on the desk. After a second of hesitation he then picked it back up and placed the glass on a stack of discarded files, quickly wiping away the damp ring that remained. While this series of events occurred, Rhys stared blankly at his feet in consideration. It was an obscene amount, more than the job was worth, but still, they grappled with the moral implications of the job. They could have it done within the hour - for Rhy already knew exactly who ran the Ivystrikes.

However, Rhy was not as impartial as the unbiased Dùn-y-ley Chronicles would suggest. Once, Rhy would’ve considered themself an Ivystriker.

“Why-...” His voice failed, Rhy cleared his throat and tried again. “Why do you want to know the leader’s identity?” Silence reigned for a long moment until Henry artfully and intentionally rearranged his cuffs to avoid looking at Rhy and cleared his throat.

“Rhy, you have to understand that such a group poses a threat to the political stability of the city. If this group were to use the proper channels to submit complaints and requests for change, I’d be entirely willing to hear them out,” Henry neglected to reveal that the Ivystrike had already sent an obscene number of complaints which he had promptly used to light his hearth with, “But as it currently stands, they’re currently no better than vandals and delinquents defacing our city. Individual disciplinary action has, thus far, done nothing to stop the… attacks, and as such I intend to nìp all of this in the bud.”

“You want to cut it off at the source,” Rhy said, unwilling or no longer able to hide the unease in his tone.

“Now you’re seeing sense,” Henry purred. “So, do we have a deal?”

Rhy thought about what they were going to say. What they were going to do. They thought, and thought, and thought. The number swam around their head, billowing and expanding until it consumed every other sense, it was life-changing money. And this could be the start of something monumental. Rhy had thought he had hit the jackpot when Jericho offered them a job as their assistant, his life had seemed instantly more hopeful. But this? This surpassed hope, this was a guarantee. This placed him amongst the powerful.

But it was also a betrayal.

By doing this he would be perpetuating the very cycle that had prompted the formation of the Ivystrike. He wanted to run from this place, hide in their mother’s arms and let her make the choice for them. By accepting the deal he knew he would lose his siblings, his friends, but with the money being offered he could quite comfortably offer them a substantial sum while still remaining well-endowed himself. He doubted that’d fix things though.

The seconds began to drag as Rhy considered the deal, over and over he weighed the pros and cons of each route he could take. Ultimately, and perhaps Rhy had known this from the start, there was only one answer that they could reasonably come to. Perhaps it was personal greed, perhaps it was just the nature of things in Dùn-y-ley Hamlet, but Rhy leaned over the desk and grasped the mayor’s paw - white against white - giving it a firm, swift shake.





Some hours later, once the details had been negotiated, Rhy had made his way back to the cramped streets of Thwaite-Upon-Strath. He took his usual route home, walking briskly and with his head low until a lithe figure exiting their home accosted him. “Rhy!” they called, cheerful as ever and jogged over to clap a hand against their shoulder. Rhy turned to face them, weariness dragging the movement into a crawl, he didn’t want to look, he couldn’t.

The expression on the ginger cat’s face fell a little, brow creasing with worry. “Rhy, are you alright, mate? You look like you’ve just lost a dozen shillings,” the barest attempt at a smile tugged at their companion’s lips. Rhy felt sick, part of them wished they had instead only lost a dozen shillings.

“I’m… I’m alright, Fischer, but thank you for asking,” Rhy said, forcing themself to look into the clear, green eyes of the Ivystrike Movement’s founder and leader.




thank you for your interest, winter! felt inspired to create some up-to-date lore

[edited to include an illustrated scene!]

ok wow i read all of them and i’m genuinely obsessed with your village!! can’t wait to see more of your writing, it’s amazing, and you should be very proud

@winterninja thank you sm!