Warrior Cat Clans 2 (WCC2 aka Classic) is a roleplay site inspired by the Warrior series by Erin Hunter. Whether you are a fan of the books or new to the Warrior cats world, WCC2 offers a diverse environment with over a decade’s worth of lore for you - and your characters - to explore. Join us today and become a part of our ongoing story!
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Ever since he had first seen Peachstar, he hadn’t been the same. His first Clan meeting as leader, and he’d been small and fastidious and all wrinkle-nosed like the state of everything was a bad smell, and Rosyclementine had sat there lost in the crowd developing a crush. It had been such a sudden burst of a feeling, the type that felt like ’uh oh’, something he’d never felt for a tom before, even if Peachstar’s age put him in the bracket that appealed to Rosyclementine on the few times he had gotten tongue-tied and stupid around one. Since then, his friends had mocked him every time Peachstar wandered past, pushing and shoving the blushing, meant-to-be-straight tom and mimicking his gooey, lovesick eyes. So he’s pretty, Rosyclementine would shoot back, smoothing the fur between his ears like his whole face wasn’t burning. I’m not gay.
So, now, he was completely just being a dutiful warrior welcoming his new leader to the Clan — a daunting prospect to follow in the steps of such a long-serving legend as Glowstar and a lightning personality like Foxstar, and one Peachstar was surely feeling — and not a tom half said leader’s age with a goofy crush. Or, he would have been a dutiful warrior — if he hadn’t tripped and just utterly faceplanted into Peachstar’s den, accidentally tearing down strips of wisteria in his attempts to stop his forward momentum and generally destroying the neatness of everything. He landed on his face at the paws of the new leader, his gift of flowers strewn everywhere around him.
Wincing and trying an apologetic grin, he raised his head, flowers stuck to his head fur. “Surpriiiise!” he exclaimed weakly, looking embarrassed and agonised. He pushed himself to his paws and sat down — “may I? Sorry. Thank you”; a nervous titter — hunching his shoulders slightly to make himself slightly less taller than the leader. “Anyway, these are — were — for you — not in a ‘ohh my gosh, DILF alert’—“ He slammed his paw over his mouth, eyes widening. That had been genuinely inadvertent. “I’m so sorry. Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” He hurried to backtrack and explain, paws waving wildly. “Not in a — y’know, not in a ‘wow, I know you’re gay but I’m not’— not that that’s a bad thing — but not in that way, not like ‘wow you’re hot’, just like ‘welcome back’— or home— y’know?” He grinned at him, but it was just excruciated, desperate teeth. He let out a laugh through his teeth, but it was more ‘help me’ than anything, that grin still on his face. “Kill me?”
Peachstar suppressed a cringe as he watched the warrior dig an even bigger hole for himself. This wasn’t the first time a Clanmate had a crush on him; not that Peachstar was some kind of Greek god, but simply being nice could get someone like him a depressingly long way in a Clan full of toms that were usually busy boasting to each other about their latest catch, rather than trying to woo the ladies. That being said, this occasion was special for two reasons; one, his admirers were usually she-cats; and two, this was the most...transparent anyone had ever been about it.
Peachstar knew himself well enough to know that he wasn’t ready to look for a partner again, and if he was? He liked to think he could do better than a guy who couldn’t look at him for two seconds without falling over (as much of an ego boost as that was). He felt pity for Rosyclementine, more than anything. Much like how Peachstar had had to get over Thane, Rosyclementine would have to get over Peachstar.
“I’d rather not do that,” Peachstar said, suppressing a grimace as best as he could. “I appreciate the gesture, Rosyclementine, but...well, this isn’t the greatest look for me considering I spent a long part of my life in SpringClan, but I think I may be developing some kind of pollen allergy. I’m trying to avoid flowers in the den, so forgive me if I ask you to take them somewhere else for the time being. Perhaps the nursery?”
“The… the nursery?” Rosy echoed, ears pinning back and a despairing, red-faced frown pushing his brows up. He hurried to clarify, tripping over his own tongue, “just so you know, I am, totally am, like, of age. Not that it matters. Because not that you’re not totally gorgeous, but I’m very much straight. Like, completely. I mean, who hasn’t had the odd thought, right? Who hasn’t thought about marrying a guy? Just totally modern, feminine masculinity — that’s why I brought the flowers. Which,” he crouched down and scooped them all together with his forepaws, “I’ll get out of your way right now. Allergies are the worst.” He laughed.
He turned away and went to leave, but then hesitated in the entryway and turned back. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Mostly ‘cuz I wasn’t even on my feet at the start.” He laughed again, ears tucking slightly back again. The flowers shifted in his grip and he tightened his paw against his chest to keep them from falling. “I can be totally not weird and embarrassing and,” the flowers fell out of his grip; he stooped to pick them back up while he spoke, “a social disaster.” He grinned, crooked and soft and apologetic. “Can I make it up to you? Help you with something? I’m really sorry again. Oh— and you can call me Rosy, if you want. Rosyclementine is a total mouthful, and not in the good way.” He had said it laughingly, and a split second later he looked horrified again. “That genuinely, completely was accidental. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. If you let me stay I swear on my life I’ll shut up and never stop shutting up. Ever. I’ll become a nun— or, the boy nun. Whatever they’re called. God. I can’t think. Flowers!” He looked down at them again. “Right. Sorry. Excuse me.”
Hurrying out, Rosy went around camp and gave a flower to every queen and kit and the odd warrior who looked gloomy or down, greeting each with a sweet smile and genuine, gentle interest in their lives when he stopped to speak to each of them. His whole demeanour was different when he wasn’t making an idiot of himself, soft-spoken and kind-eyed. He nodded sympathetically and offered encouragement, tearing up once or twice at a sad story; played moss ball with a lonely kit; and gave the last of the flowers to the elders before he finally returned to Peachstar’s den, his tentativeness coming back. But now, he was a little more himself, his voice calmer and gentler. “So. Do-over?” he asked with a thin, dimpled smile, ears slightly back.
Peachstar closed his mouth, which had been slightly open during the entirety of Rosyclementine’s monologue. “Monk,” he murmured into the void as he watched the younger tom do his rounds at the nursery, “you’re thinking of a monk.”
He considered the situation further as Rosyclementine tossed a ball of moss back and forth with one of the kits. Peachstar was no stranger to a Gay Crisis. He’d never really had one himself, but there were plenty of cats that he’d seen go through one—particularly in Absum Lux, for some reason. Rosyclementine’s was one of the most severe cases of Gay Crisis he’d encountered yet, however, and Peachstar felt he was obligated to at least try a little bit to ease some of the younger warrior’s suffering. Not in the way Rosyclementine was hoping for, though. That would not be happening. Not when DayClan didn’t have a deputy, or a medicine cat, or Thane, or any sense of stability at all.
“Do-over what?” Peachstar asked innocently once Rosyclementine was back. “I believe this is the first time we’ve talked properly, right? Sorry for not sitting down with you yet. It’s been a little hectic.” Please Rosyclementine, for the love of StarClan, just try not to hit on me for five minutes so I don’t regret giving you a second chance here...
Do-over what? A big, relieved grin spread across Rosy’s face, grateful and slightly open-mouthed. It’s been a little hectic. “No, no, yeah, absolutely,” he agreed, taking a moment to brush all the visible pollen off his fur before taking a tiny step into the den and sitting down practically in the doorway, trying not to take up too much room or be an inconvenience. “No, like, the way you just came in and instantly accepted the, like, burden of leadership — we’re all so impressed. I’ve—I’ve heard you’ve done that a bunch of times but I,” he laughed bashfully, subconsciously picking up his soft, plumy tail and running his paws up and down it to smooth and neaten the fur like he did when he was shy, “wasn’t born yet.” He gave a sheepish little grin.
Absum Lux hadn’t even existed when he had been born, but from what he’d heard he found it very attractive that a dainty-looking tom like Peachstar had been in charge of what, over time, had been conflated in stories to a band of ruthless killers. He must have a hidden dark streak. But then, Peachstar could probably sneeze and Rosy would fawn.
“So,” he hastened to change the subject, looking around the den, “is there anything I can do to make things less hectic? I dunno if you’re gonna, like, redecorate, but I totally get the vibe that your aesthetic and Glowstar’s might not.. vibe. And since you,” he laughed softly, still blushing slightly, and looked back at Peachstar, “literally live in a flower tree, your allergies are gonna be a problem. Obviously we can’t tear down the wisteria throne — can we? — but I can totally do, like, sweeping duty,” he suggested eagerly, leaning forward a little, “every day to get rid of the pollen, or I can trim them back so they’re not so bad, or just— whatever. Totally whatever. Kidnap a deputy?” He laughed, and then immediately added, “kidding. Don’t demote me to maverick. Or do. Up to you.” He also knew Peachstar had been the one to invent the class system, but he managed to refrain from gushing about that.
Peachstar waited a few seconds to make sure Rosyclementine was finished blurting things out. “No demotions necessary,” he said, “you were assigned to the socialite class for a reason.” Even saying the names of the classes out loud made him think of Thane, the little in-jokes they had with each other back when the social classes had just been a fun way to pass the time for them. Perhaps he would have to change the names around to avoid getting distracted by thoughts of the past.
“Sorry, I got lost in thought for a bit," Peachstar said. "Don’t worry about the den. I’m sure my body will adjust to it eventually.” And I don’t want you hanging around my den like a lovesick puppy every day, he thought, but he kept that to himself. “I did want to ask the warriors a few questions about how things are going since we lost half the Clan. Is the workload too much? Do I need less patrols, more patrols? Is Pastelchaos being a brat? Lionpaw hasn’t tried to murder anyone?”
You were assigned to the socialite class for a reason. He beamed and sat up straighter; even if it was just a simple fact, to him it was close to a compliment. "I think it's mostly just 'cuz Glowstar used to be scared of ferrets and I was on, like, speed dial to come and get them out whenever one of her kids put them in here. I was pretty much just DayClan pest control —" He sat up even straighter, a sweet, self-deprecating smile spreading across his face, "twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, no job is too big or too small." When Peachstar spaced out, Rosy took the chance to just look at him, his smile fading to something softer. He really was beautiful, with just the barest hint of age. His heart fluttered in his chest, and as soon as Peachstar looked back at him again, he plastered on a big, dimpled smile and looked away, like he was just admiring the inside of the wisteria den. He'd never really been inside; it was nice. His pretend admiring became real and he zoned out for a few seconds. The architecture was amazing... Was that spackling in the cracks?
But as soon as Peachstar mentioned his body, he looked back at him. A blush spread across his face and he smiled, hunching his shoulders slightly. He was sure his body could adjust to a lot. "Oh — no, it's fine!" he reassured him. "I mean, it's weird, y'know, that the camp is so empty? But it's fine — it's quiet! I'm fine with the workload, I can take a lot. Of work. And the territory is so pretty, y'know, that patrols hardly feel like patrols — you're just out having a nice time, maybe eating some fruit." At his questions about the two toms, Rosy thought for a second. "No, I don't think so. I like Pastelchaos — he's cute! And Lionpaw is..." He gave an uneasy laugh and pulled a little face, trying to be nice. "Lionpaw! They're fiiiine." Realising that Peachstar was maybe implying something, Rosy's eyes widened and he moved slightly closer, lowering his voice. "But if you need me to spy on them, I totally can," he promised him in a soft murmur, glancing at the entrance to the den before returning his gaze to Peachstar's.
My goodness, Peachstar thought, Glowstar really was a menace. They’d been friends—sort of, anyway—but he couldn’t imagine appointing one of his warriors to be his personal 24/7 pest control. Or maybe he could, if that warrior were Pastelchaos.
“Well, I certainly won’t force you to chase ferrets out of my den,” he said with forced warmth, “but if it’s alright with you, I wouldn’t mind it if you did do a little bit of...supervision of Pastelchaos. I’ve set him some goals for the foreseeable future and I’d like to know if he’s engaging with them in good faith or not. And,” he added with a slight raise of the eyebrow, “if you think he’s cute, he is single. If you’re still thinking about ‘marrying a guy’, as you put it.”
sorry its short but i hope its enough to work with LMAO
Rosy’s face went bright red, spreading to his inner ears until he looked twice as ginger as he usually did. His ears pressed back slightly, his expression panicked and bewildered. “Oh, no, I don’t like toms like that!” he assured the leader, voice soft and quiet, like if he didn’t raise it it was more true. “I never have. I’ve never even thought about it.” Until the first time he saw Peachstar, but he couldn’t admit to that. “I’m totally, one hundred percent straight,” he added with a determined smile. “Straight as a really straight tree.” The smile was becoming more strained, and so he made it bigger. “And if there’s been, like, a sudden influx in DayClan of really pretty toms then that’s a total outlier and you can’t include that in the research,” he was babbling now, eyes becoming more and more anxious, “like, it’s not fair to put a guy who could make a girl insecure about her looks in front of someone and be like, a-ha! when he dreams about him. They’re totally unrelated.” His plumy tail was sweeping back and forth subconsciously across the den floor as his confused nerves grew, sending up a cloud of dust; Rosyclementine didn’t seem to notice, too busy trying to explain to Peachstar that just because he happened to kind of look like a girl, it didn’t mean— no, that’s not right— just because he happened to not be a girl— now even his thoughts were getting muddled.
By now, he looked agonised, clutching his tail so tight that if it had been a living creature, it would have suffocated. “I’m gonna get some air,” he suddenly blurted out, flashing Peachstar a look out of wide, freaked out eyes and shooting out of the den. A few seconds later, he reappeared, sticking his head back in. “That was rude — you’re welcome to join.” He disappeared; a second later, he was back. “Or not! Totally no pressure!” He disappeared; a second later, he didn’t reappear, but only because he physically restrained himself; just outside Peachstar’s den he could be heard whispering to himself in a panic, I swear to god, do NOT go back in there, you’ve embarrassed yourself so much already, I’m going to actually die, you’re a catch, you’re a catch, you don’t need Peachstar to like you. Okay, yes, I’m right, thank you, me. Good. Good. Okay.
Peachstar stifled a cough as Rosyclementine’s tail swirled up a storm of dust. Good StarClan, this was one of the worst cases of Gay Crisis he’d ever seen. Even Thane hadn’t had it this bad. His annoyance at the tom’s obvious crush was slowly overtaken by feelings of pity. Though his love for Peachstar would remain unrequited, that didn’t mean Rosyclementine could get away with suppressing his feelings forever. They had to be confronted sooner or later, and Peachstar didn’t know how much more of Rosyclementine’s obliviousness he could take.
He sighed, careful not to inhale any of the dust that had been kicked up moments before. This would all be so much easier if DayClan just had a proper staff, for StarClan’s sake. Usually the medicine cat would be the one cats came to talk to about their issues, but DayClan hadn’t had a medicine cat even before the earthquake had left them scattered. An idea started coming to him in parts, gradually taking shape in his head. What if he could make Rosyclementine the medicine cat? Sure, he wasn’t sure if the tom had any medical training at all, but he seemed like he would have a good bedside manner, and he had a few favours he could call in to get him trained up. Sure, it meant that him and Rosyclementine would actually be working closer together, but perhaps Rosyclementine would be able to come to a conclusion about his feelings by helping others with their own.
Plus, Peachstar wasn’t sure if Rosyclementine would even be able to say no if he asked him.
“Rosyclementine? Are you alright?” he asked, poking his head out of the den. “I did have some more questions to ask you, but we can move outside somewhere if that’s more to your liking...”
“I’m a Virgo,” Rosy immediately blurted out in response, half-turning his head, because to him, if someone was going to ask questions, they were going to be about his star sign. “Ohhhh my god,” he wailed in realisation, “it’s gay to like astrology.” He buried his face in his paws, balancing on his hindlegs and openly sobbing. “Looking at the stars is gay!”
Finally, he dried his eyes on his tail and, sniffing, turned and padded back to Peachstar’s den. At least he was hiding his panicked not-crush very well; Peachstar had no idea, and if he did, he would be horrified and shocked. At least there was that small mercy. “I’m sorry, Peachstar,” he sniffed, sitting just outside the wisteria den and looking out at a gaggle of kits playing in the camp clearing. “I always get emotional in February. Seeing all the flowers coming back to life — it always makes me cry.” He softened his voice. “They’re so pretty…” At least mercury wasn’t in retrograde now. That would be the final straw. “I’m not usually like this,” he added, glancing at Peachstar beside him, looking faintly miserable. “I’m a very calm and laidback sort of individual. It’s just…” He let out a breath and looked out at the clearing again. “February.”
Peachstar breathed a laboured sigh. "It's not gay to like astrology," he said, then paused to consider. "It's not entirely gay to like astrology," he said, "and...look, it's perfectly fine, alright? We all have our months. Mine is August, for some reason." He wasn't triggered by the mere sight of flowers, though. "I did have another job for you, although it's a little more, shall we say--intensive than what I asked of you before..."
Not entirely gay… Maybe he could be not entirely gay. He did still like girls, he thought…
He looked over at him as he trailed off. “Intensive?” he echoed, and for once he didn’t warp it into something dirty. Rosy’s ears pricked with apprehensive curiosity. “Do you always speak in vague, ominous implications? It’s very unsettling. ‘Shall we say’…” He gave a sunny little grin. “I dig it, though. You’d be a fab bad guy.”
Peachstar smiled thinly. "Heh. I would hope not, given I'd like to build DayClan up back to what it was before," he said, "and, well, that's actually relevant to my proposal, believe it or not. DayClan's going to need more staff if it's going to get back on its paws, and honestly? I think you would be a good fit for--don't freak out--medicine cat. With a little training, of course."
“Medicine cat?” Rosy repeated, fur slightly bushing in alarm. He pulled his tail closer, absent minded like it was something he was just used to having to do, and stroked it dutifully until his fur calmed down again. He kept brushing it as he thought, eyes wandering away from Peachstar to look up at the canopy of trees above them. “Medicine cat… This is totally just ‘cuz I happened to be the first cat you saw, isn’t it?” He threw the leader a little grin, slightly nervous, and then he went back to thinking, eyes on the canopy again. “Umm… I suppose so!” His voice was meek, but hopeful and trying to see the bright side of the proposal, the positives. “Medicine cats are allowed to have mates now, aren’t they? I think I heard something about that. Umm… Okay!” Smiling, he turned his head to look down at Peachstar. He was never going to get anywhere if he didn’t take any opportunity that came his way, no matter how unexpected it was. And this was a momentous, life-changing one, one that would be wonderful or a complete disaster. “Okay, yes!”
He wanted to ask what it was about him that made Peachstar think he would be a good fit, just because he wanted the reassurance that he could do the job and because he wanted to hear vague, could-apply-to-anyone compliments manufactured on the spot in the leader’s pert voice, but he resisted. He could do this. “Who’s gonna train me?” he asked, glancing at him again, and there was a bit of excitement — a bit of hope — in his eyes. “You?”
"Excellent," Peachstar purred. Well, that had been easy. Not that Peachstar had been expecting much of a challenge.
"StarClan, not me," he replied, "I think I'd kill off the entire Clan if I trained you. No, I called in a favour--actually, I meant for her to be our temporary medicine cat while I found someone else, but seeing as I've given you the job before she got here, I'm sure she won't object to becoming your teacher for a while..."
"Goooooood evening!" came a chipper voice from the entrance of the den. A young she-cat, fluffy silver fur sticking out in all directions, strode into the den and greeted Peachstar with a big hug (which looked a bit strange because she was a cat, but we all forgave biyuu for it because it's getting late). "Peach, my man! I can't believe you got stuck leading another Clan! Man, you just keep on stumbling into leadership positions, huh?" She turned to Rosyclementine and blinked. "Hiwhoareyou?"
Before he had time to do anything more than open his mouth, the she-cat was suddenly barging in. Rosy just watched with a wide, happy grin, delighted to have so many new faces in DayClan — oh, this was a good day! “Yeah,” he agreed in a purring voice, “he’s gonna accidentally forge like, a whole empire.” And dominate the whole forest and hopefully me, he added to himself, still smiling. “Oh!” he added when she turned to him, his eyes shining with welcome. Pretty girl, pretty guy; he was living, thriving. The whole Clan could take— no, that was too dirty a thought for Classic. “I’m Rosy, the new— maybe, hopefully— medicine cat. Your mans wants you to teach me.”
“So, also, question I’ve always wondered,” Rosy suddenly said, turning back to Peachstar and pressing his forepaws together, a serious little frown on his face. “What’s happened with your lives? Do you keep having to give them back and then get them again or do you have like, 39 lives by this point, or? Oh my gosh!” The frown disappeared and he was suddenly grinning, alive with giddy joy and excitement. “I get to know all this stuff now! Do I get to be imperial? I’ve always wanted to be imperial,” he added to the she-cat in a delighted aside, paws still pressed together as he balanced on his hindlegs. “Oh, this is going to be wonderful!”
Peachstar frowned. "....I've never really thought about it," he said. "You know, I haven't even gone to get any of my lives yet, and I never got any when I led Absum Lux either, but I still have all eight extra ones from when I led SpringClan. Maybe they'll just tell me to--"
"No one cares," Yumemi said, and turned to Rosyclementine. "So you're the mew nedicine cat, huh. Great, so I don't have to join a new Clan! That's a relief, I wouldn't be able to keep girlbossing this hard if I joined a Clan again."
"Rosyclementine, this is Yumemi," Peachstar sighed. "She was the medicine cat apprentice of Absum Lux, back when I led it. She's very...skilled at what she does."
"And the best part is I'm completely self-taught, so I didn't pick up any bad habits from anyone!" Yumemi beamed.
Rosy had been nodding along gravely — oh, he could listen to him talk about all the times he’d led a Clan all day, all night — when Yumemi interrupted; immediately, he whirled about to smile at her again, getting whiplash from the delight of so much social interaction. “Ohhh!” he exclaimed enthusiastically at Peachstar’s introduction, practically buzzing; he felt completely overwhelmed and overstimulated, like he was at a slumber party. He laughed at her chaotic confidence; he was so impressionable that they’d end up the over-energetic thorns in Peachstar’s side, her dictating the destruction and him following eagerly in her wake like he was on a sugar-high. He beamed back at her. “Exciting!!”
He spun back to Peachstar like he was asking permission to play, stepping close to her, his new best friend, and slowly bobbing his rear end up and down eagerly where he stood as he beamed at the leader. “When can we start lessons? Oh, and you’ll have to come with us ‘round the territory to learn about all the herbs and flowers — I won’t be able to remember all the things she tells me; I’ll totally need a second set of ears.” He tilted his head, showing his teeth in his sweetest, most innocent and imploring grin. “You guys can tell me all your war stories about what it was like to be— Heda! See, I pay attention in history classes.” As if Peachstar were just a relic from history. His hopeful smile didn’t falter, big green eyes wide and shining as he blinked at him. “Shall we go?”
