#blueberry the portal cat

[nights-flying-fox]

[Art by @little-banjo-frog ; Twin-Sync (More Than You Think) by @little-banjo-frog , Sub-Zero by @noxvee6 , Captainx2 @veearrifarrariboom] [@tmntstorycomp]

[Callisto is Twin-Sync Leo, Ganymede is T-S Donnie, Hop is Dimension Hopper Leo, and Null is Sub-Zero Leo]

The portal family had just found each other in the fun chaos that was a competition. They were in a library where the the Twin-Sync twins had ended up imprisoned and eventually broke free with the help of Captains, and where Hop had accidentally opened two portals for different reasons. The first one had ended up flooding the place with comic books. The second one luckily didn’t drop any random items, and yet, he couldn’t understand why they didn’t work properly. There was something weird going on… 

Now Hop had found Callisto and Ganymede, and he saw Null around, so he must be somewhere around here. They were looking for him but luckily before they did find him, he did. 

“Null!” Hop greeted happily. 

“Monkey.” Null greeted back, approaching them. “Callisto, Ganymede.”

“Hey old man.” Callisto waved.

“I found the twins, and they are the reason the alarms are wild.” Hop grinned as he leaned on Null’s arm.

The oldest slider looked at the twins. “Not surprised.”

“Still salty about the bomb situation?” Callisto asked, not bothering to hide his smirk.

“Please for Galileo's sake don’t make this a ‘he threw me off a roof’ situation.” Ganymede groaned.

“But he did.” Hop pointed out.

“And we have every right to be salty about that.” Callisto added.

Null simply nodded.

Ganymede rolled his eyes. “Leos…” Then he noticed something. A colorful blur jumped out of the portal Hop had made near a window. “What the–”

The Leos turned to look at where he was looking. Callisto gasped and Hop’s eyes widened, “Oh!”

Null, however, seemed to simply be confused. He silently watched as the calico cat walked towards him, despite her small steps arriving in no time. She purred loudly, rubbing her head on his leg. Now the big slider was even more confused, “What?” he said out loud. Hop could bet he saw question marks fly around him. Then the kitty made the biggest, cutest kitten eyes.

Hop cooed, clasping his hands together. “Aww!!! Look Null! She chose you!”

Null gently took the cat in his palm. She was so small, tiny enough to fit a hand of his. She looked happy to be held, purring softly. Null looked at her, and then at the others. He looked puzzled.

“Null, the cat chose you. You gotta take care of her now.” Callisto announced.

Hop joined with a big grin. “You have no choice.”

“But– where did she even come from?” Null questioned. This didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t it bad for her to be away from her timeline or universe?

“She jumped out from that portal.” Ganymede pointed. “Do you know where that portal leads, Hop?”

He shook his head, “Nope. All I know is it failed to lead to the right place and won’t close for some reason.” He huffed. “None do!”

Callisto gasped. “Portal cat!”

Hop’s eyes brightened with excitement, “Portal cat!”

The two started cheering, “Portal cat! Portal cat!”

Ganymede sighed, “I’ll check the portal to see where she came from.”

“Wait! We need to name her first.” Callisto exclaimed, Hop nodded beside him. 

“Name her?” Null turned to them, he was cautiously petting the lil kitty.

“We can’t adopt her.” Ganymede said, “As much as I hate to say it, she is from who knows where. It might have side effects for her.”

“Or not.” Callisto responded. “Maybe this is her first time and she will be fine because when we hop we hop cautiously.” He booped the cat’s nose.

Ganymede sighed, he joined in petting the cat too. “Fine.”

Hop scratched her chin, “So what we’re gonna name the lil gal?”

“Oh I know!” Callisto grinned, “How about Blueberry?”

“Blue because her eyes are blue or blue because you all are blue?” Ganymede’s voice was flat, but it was clearly visible he was teasing by the smirk on his face.

“Yes.” Callisto answered.

“I love it!” Hop exclaimed. “Fits her.”

“It’s good.” Null said.

“Then it is set.” Callisto smiled. “Blueberry the portal cat!”

“Can I check the portal now?” Ganymede asked, but he was interrupted. 

“The second bracket theme is going to be… the Woods!” They heard Massy’s voice. 

“Ah. So much for knowing where she came from…” Ganymede gave up as the library changed.

[welcomefriendbah]

Could we get a top tower Kaitlyn from Aphmau (specifically mystreet)

◇Someone is coming out of the portal...◇

Names: Katelyn, Kaitlyn, Katie, Kate, Catelyn, Caitlin, Cat, Kat, Sugar, Blue, Princess, Lizzy, Cammie, Kam, Kayden, Cadence

Pronouns: She/her, blue/blues, scene/core, gamer/gamers, mine/mines, ice/ices, crystal/crystals, sky/skys, play/plays, dia/dias, diamond/diamonds, gem/gems, 💠/💠self, 💎/💎self

Sysroles: Socializer, absorber, aegir, ameliorator, auxiliary protector, anger holder, anger helper, trauma holder

CisIds: Age regressor, bisexual, afab, CisAbused, CisTrauma, CisTall, CisBPD, CisADHD, Makeup talent

TransIds: TransCatgirl, PermaBluehair, Transshort, TransDPD, TransHarmfulLover, TransInnocentharmfullover, TransProfessionalvolleyballplayer, catkin, minecraftixure/permauniverseminecraft, transtalktoanimals

Paraphilias: Somnophilia, Exhibitionism, Masochism, TAAM4TMAP, TAAM4MAP, Ageplay

Personality: While she puts up a frosty front, she has a soft, kind side she only shows to those closest to her. Due to her childhood, she thinks she has to put on a tough face for everyone else, always being the best and the bravest, but has a secret desire to be loved as much as she loves the people in her life. She has a love of sports, especially volleyball, and loves strawberries but hates blueberries, despite blue being her favourite colour.

Emojis: 💙📲/💠💎/🎮🏐/🐈🍓

Icons: Fanart 1 Fanart 2

[ts-leonsgossipcorner]

The portal fam got a cat!

@nullnotleo might be her favorite haha!

She is SO SMALL!!! Look at the sweet little thing!!!! Her name is blueberry and I'd die for her

@thehopchronicles @satin-hamato @ts-donniethesmartone

[blue-character-brawl]

Round 2 Matchups!

Round 2 begins today! After this post goes up, brackets 1 and 2 will be posted, with 3 and 4 coming tomorrow, and 5 and 6 coming on Friday. Here are the matchups:

Bracket 1:

Cam (Rhythm Heaven) VS. Grover (Sesame Street)

Gonzo (The Muppets) VS. Blue (Blue’s Clues)

Bluey Heeler (Bluey) VS. The Tesseract (Marvel)

Blue (Overly Sarcastic Productions) VS. The TARDIS (Doctor Who)

Lancer (Deltarune) VS. Link (Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild)

Navi (Legend of Zelda) VS. Trucy Wright (Ace Attorney)

Megamind (Megamind) VS. MePhone4 (Inanimate Insanity)

Sadness (Inside Out) VS. Blue Album (Weezer)

Bracket 2

Scott Wozniak (Scott the Woz) VS. Watergirl (Fireboy and Watergirl)

Abby (Wii Sports) VS. Kris (Deltarune)

Gatorade VS. Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson)

Gooey (Kirby) VS. Benrey (HLVRAI)

Gus Porter (The Owl House) VS. Gary the Gadget Guy (Club Penguin)

Blue-footed Booby (Real Life) VS. Grumpy Bear (Care Bears)

The ocean (Real Life) VS. Alice (Alice in Wonderland)

Doc Hudson (Cars) VS. Mudkip (Pokémon)

Bracket 3

Lucina (Fire Emblem) VS. Chrom (Fire Emblem)

Donald Duck (Disney) VS. Sonic the Hedgehog (Sonic the Hedgehog)

Sans (Undertale) VS. Dipper Pines (Gravity Falls)

Perry the Platypus (Phineas and Ferb) VS. Squidward Tentacles (SpongeBob Squarepants)

Bubbles (Powerpuff Girls) VS. Patton Sanders (Sanders Sides)

Nya (Ninjago) VS. Tom (Eddsworld)

Katara (Avatar: The Last Airbender) VS. Sapphire (Steven Universe)

Nightwing (DC Comics) VS. Dorothy Gale (The Wizard of Oz)

Bracket 4

Goombario (Paper Mario) VS. Hatsune Miku (Vocaloid)

Michael J. Caboose (Red vs Blue) VS. John Egbert (Homestuck)

The Genie (Aladdin) VS. Wheatley (Portal)

Mermista (She-Ra) VS. Blu (Rio)

R2-D2 (Star Wars) VS. Blue Gushers

Pablo (The Backyardigans) VS. Blueberry Muffin (Strawberry Shortcake)

Piplup (Pokémon) VS. Nightcrawler (X-Men)

Sayaka Miki (Puella Magi Madoka Magica) VS. Teruhashi Kokomi (Saiki K.)

Bracket 5

Soundwave (Transformers) VS. Frankie Stein (Monster High)

Stitch (Lilo and Stitch) VS. Hades (Hercules)

Zazu (Lion King) VS. Samus Aran (Metroid)

Spheal (Pokémon) VS. Lucy van Pelt (Peanuts)

Steve (Minecraft) VS. Shiver (Splatoon 3)

Barney Calhoun (Half-Life) VS. Vivi Yukino (Mystery Skulls Animated)

Bloom (Winx Club) VS. Spock (Star Trek)

Rosalina (Super Mario) VS. Mugman (Cuphead)

Bracket 6

Blue M&M (M&M’s) VS. Sailor Mercury (Sailor Moon)

Bibble (Barbie) VS. Dory (Finding Nemo)

Bluestar (Warrior Cats) VS. Rainbow Dash (My Little Pony)

Jester Lavorre (Critical Role) VS. Veronica Sawyer (Heathers)

Idia Shroud (Twisted Wonderland) VS. Korra (Legend of Korra)

Pokotho (Hatchetfield) VS. B.O.B. (Monsters vs Aliens)

Vault Boy (Fallout) VS. Jack Frost (Rise of the Guardians)

Tutter (Bear and the Big Blue House) VS. Baljeet Tjinder (Phineas and Ferb)

[muppeteyes1001]

Jareth could easily tell that the drabbit was mentally putting up some fight as he spoke. He was using the same tactic on Cromwell as he did on Kitt the day he subdued and kidnapped her. Though, in this case, the horned trickster gave the butler a more optimistic tone .. Explaining to him the upsides of getting rid of the felinoid, permanently. The butler's mind may have been a steel trap, but his emotions were still rather easy to assess. Though he could sense the spiciness in his hate towards the cat woman, he also got the bitter sweetness that could only come from jealousy. A flavor that was all too familiar to Jareth.

Nonetheless, as the draconic hare gave his reason for his malice towards Kitt, the trickster gave one last observing glance before huffing in amusement. "Huh! .. So all this over a grudge that she was never apart of? ... My! .. You're quite the ruthless one, aren't you? .. Almost makes me wonder which of us is really the unhinged one here" he comments, lazily gesturing towards both of them.

When Cromwell informed him on how he planned on using the poison vial he was given, Jareth smirked.

"I'd be careful with that concoction, if I were you .. It may carry a benign scent of herbs and blueberries, but a few drops is all it takes to make a person's heart instantly stop beating .. And you could just blame her passing on some .. unforeseen complications .. After all .. magic can't fix everything .. Now can it?"

The trickster looks over at the portal the butler had created. It was similar to a full-sized mirror with a milky-like mist swirling within. Not quite giving a clear view of where it led. Though there was a trace of skepticism on his face, he eventually waved off the thought. He did not quite trust the butler one hundred percent. However, Jareth would still be able to use his own portals in a pinch if need be .. Plus, blackmail was always a good hand to have .. So he didn't flat out refuse Cromwell's offer.

"Fine! If you consider the job done then I've no complaints" Jareth replied as he walked over to the dull, shimmering portal. "Enjoy your fun with your prey there ..... And I won't say that it's been a .. complete pleasure" Jareth nonchalantly states over his shoulder before stepping into the portal and disappearing.

As he crossed over into the fog-like portal, it took mere moments for him to reach the other side of it. However, once he had gone through, the trickster wouldn't see anything that remotely looked like his abode. Instead, it was all just the same forest .. Only now, evening had fallen.

"The hell is this?!" Was all Jareth could say in confusion as he gave a quick glance at his surroundings. By the time he turned back towards the portal, it had quickly shrunk and disappeared into thin air before he could reach for it.

And at that point, the trickster would look up and see the bright, burning crimson eyes of an enraged dragon lord.

"Another way out?! .. You mean like blowing a hole out the side of mountain? .. That's pretty fucking rich, isn't it? ... Besides, I stripped every scrap of metal that she had on her .. Or anything that could even remotely be used as a weapon ... And believe me, I checked quite thoroughly" Jareth shot back at the drabbit's comment. A ghost of a sinister smirk played on his thin lips.

"I only thought it would be quite poetic! .... Imagine her just .. wasting away in her own lover's prison .. Never to be seen or heard from again .. And right under your master's scaly nose to boot! .... Haha .. I bet he'd just think that she up and left his sorry, purple hide ... And then it'd just be the two of you .. once more" Jareth coolly retorted. His focus seemed to lock onto the butler for a moment or two .. Like he was trying to discreetly read something off him.

"You know ... I have a gift of 'tasting' the emotions of those I take interest in ... And she certainly had a very .. very luscious flavor, indeed .. Like a fine and exotic wine ... And as much of a pain in the ass as she was, once I had gotten her egg to crack and get into her mind ... All that despair and insecurities within her were just far too delectable to pass up" he informs, narrowing his eyes towards the drabbit before chuckling a little to himself.

The trickster then raised a brow slightly at Cromwell's sudden insistence on taking over the job himself. He found this a little puzzling to say the least .. Especially after that whole scene above the lava flow .... And now the butler suddenly doesn't mind getting his hands dirty? ... Jareth pondered this decision for a bit before speaking again. A mildly amused expression on his narrow features.

"Boy, I've gotta say .. Even through that response note you sent me back then, it carried such a bitter sweet flavor to it ... The same as you've been giving off now .. Like a bite of dark chocolate ... It's how I was able to figure out who you were without ever seeing your face ... or even knowing your name" the trickster remarked, practically tossing the pillow into Cromwell and shrugging with an indifferent huff.

"Pfft .. Well, fine! If that's what you wish, you can have her! ... But before I go .... Let me give you a little something since you've already paid for my 'humble' services" Jareth replies before using his powers to summon a bubble out of thin air. Floating within the delicate orb was a small, corked vile that contained a deep indigo-tinted liquid. The bubble would float over to the butler only inches from his nose, waiting for the drabbit to simply take it into his paws.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

ii. secret.

read on ao3

Lena Luthor dies a villain.

Her death took out half the population in the vicinity. A blinding white light piercing through the National City skyline. A deafening boom heard 5 cities over. An explosion so great, even Supergirl was knocked dead.

And so, Lena Luthor dies a villain.

Alone and young. And so, so bitter. An accomplice and ally to Lex Luthor.

Some would even say she was a greater, far more cunning, far more terrifying force than Lex.

There were rumors that the woman had magic at the end of it all. That no one person could be capable of that much destruction without the help of something inhuman.

But well, rumors were all it can be, especially when all possible witnesses perished along with the Luthors.

******

Weeks later, Andrea Rojas holds a memorial event for Lena Luthor; protesters burn the venue to the ground.

Months later, Supergirl returns to the world. More radiant than ever. More alive than ever. Stronger. Better.

Years later, National City recovers fully from the whole catastrophe.

Supergirl is reported to most frequently be seen in the memorial square for the fallen victims. A dozen paparazzi pictures of the caped heroine quietly walking, sometimes whispering under breath.

Praying, somebody on a CatCo article comments. She’s always praying whenever we see her there.

****** The closet doors burst open and out steps Alex Danvers.

A colorful stream of expletives coming right along with her, “Fuckin’ fur coats, goddamn hangers, fucking hitting me in the face—”

“Took you long enough,” a familiar voice greets her, “where the hell have you been? And why are you so...dirty? If you track mud on my carpet I swear to God, Alex—”

“I was cleaning your grave, okay?” she snaps, setting down a bucket filled with various cleaning supplies, that Lena’s just now noticing, on said carpet.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex huffs about, crossing her arms, “You don’t have to make a big deal about it. I don’t want to do it again, it’s a bitch for my back pain. I was just pissed about the graffiti. You’d think people would have better manners than defacing the grave of a dead woman. If only they—”

“Thank you, Alex,” she cuts her off, a shy smile gracing her face. She really doesn’t want to hear about the rest of it. And if Alex doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, then no big deal shall be made.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” she says then, and Alex just nods, grabs her bucket of supplies again and turns to leave.

Although not before saying, “Remind me again why you let Kara win? With the portal?”

Lena just shrugs, dark hair escaping out of her messy bun at the movement.

“She said she’s always wanted to go to Narnia.”

Alex shakes her head, rolls her eyes, “Whipped.”

And well, that sounds about right.

******

There’s a documentary on Netflix about the Luthors. Lena’s face in black and white, on the preview banner, a big red X drawn over it.

Kara snaps the remote in half.

Lena reaches over the blanket, grabs her hand, flicks the TV off with only a swish of her fingers and a glitter of sparks.

“C’mere,” she says, tugging gently, till she has a lapful of Krytonian draped over her. Lena traces her fingers over the crinkle between Kara’s brow, smooths them out, thumb dragging across lips till it pulls to a soft smile.

“We know the truth,” she tells her, “and that’s enough.”

“It’s not fair.”

Nothing ever is.

******

“How’re the kids?” She asks, one hand whisking eggs, the other holding the bowl steady.

“Oh, you know, asking me a thousand silly questions a day. Driving Alex crazy. Never letting me sleep. They’re perfect, really,” Kelly says, and Lena hums in response. Before she catches Kelly popping a blueberry in her mouth, a crime punishable by Lena Luthor’s death stare.

“Those are for the muffins.” A foam covered whisk points dangerously to Kelly’s chest.

She raises both arms in surrender, palms opening, dropping the remaining three blueberries onto the counter.

“You know, I’ve seen you do it a thousand times, yet it still doesn’t fail to surprise me.”

Lena concludes she’s talking about the baking tray hovering in the air, a feet away from them, greasing itself. Or maybe it’s the soup at the stove with a ladle stirring itself.

“What can I say,” Lena quips, smirking, “I’m magical like that.”

******

Andrea finds her on a Tuesday.

One minute Lena is reading quietly on her front porch, the next, there is an explosion of sound in her living room. She throws open her door, magical energy sizzling at her fingertips.

The sight that greets her stops her in her tracks. Acrata pinning Supergirl down, their coffee table destroyed. She sighs internally, she loved that coffee table. It was a wedding gift from Nia and Brainy.

“I knew it,” Andrea whispers, her grip slackens around the hero's throat. She stands up slowly, as if afraid that if she moved too fast Lena would disappear. She leaves Supergirl gasping on the floor; materializes in front of Lena in a cloud of black smoke.

“I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.” She sobs into Lena’s blouse, arms wrapped tightly around her. Lena embraces her on instinct, her eyes closing briefly, before opening up again to check on Kara dusting herself off.

“Andrea,” Lena croaks, “you can’t tell anyone.”

You can’t tell anyone I’m alive. You can’t tell anyone how I tricked Lex, how I saved Supergirl, how I saved National City.

“Nobody will know,” Andrea promises her.

******

There is a cottage by the woods that nobody else sees, where every Sunday a blonde woman rips apart pieces of wood with her bare hands, where a pale woman with even paler hands grows crops from the barren earth within seconds, where the closet hides cities instead of clothes, where a dead woman and a hero spend their lives in bliss.

******

It has been ten years, her hair is more gray than blonde now, her skin more wrinkled than smooth, her hearing though? Her hearing is still better than ever. And it has been ten years since she’s heard that tell-tale whoosh of a cape, it’s been a decade and still, the sound brings her the same thrill, the same adrenaline.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Supergirl? Or should I say, Superwoman, now?”

And oh-

She did not come alone.

Lena Luthor is set gently down on the balcony.

If Cat Grant wasn’t Cat Grant, she’s sure she would’ve already suffered a heart attack from the mere sight of a woman long dead standing breathing and alive in her home. She would’ve shrieked and demanded answers.

“I need a favor,” Kara tells her, stalking closer, hand on her hip. Cat would’ve laughed at that if this were some other time. No need to play the intimidating game with me, Kiera, she would’ve said.

“What is it?”

“I need you to break a story,” she tells her. “You, Cat. I want you, and nobody else to cover this.”

Cat raises her brow at that, she already has an inkling as to what the story might be about.

“A story hmm? This better be good, if I’m to come out of retirement for it.”

This time it’s Lena Luthor who speaks. Cat has been dying to hear what she has to say.

“It’ll be good," she promises her, "It’ll be better than good."

Kara crowds closer to Lena, then; wraps a protective arm on her waist. Cat watches frozen as Lena's index finger lights in flame. What a sight they make.

"You’ll be telling the entire world the last Luthor’s secret.”

[kythed]

an age of miracles

synopsis: why do the most beautiful people always seem to get the short end of the stick? 

tagged: atsumu miya x reader, mentions of illness, mentions of god.  

commitment level: 3,617 words.

hospitals are liminal spaces. transitional, gateways between birth and death and the whole mess in between. (life.) they’re sites of both tragedy and miraculous recovery, and you’re not yet too old to stop praying for the latter. 

+

his name is atsumu. you skim the documents pinned to his door — atsumu miya. age 21. cirrhosis. 

cirrhosis is late stage liver scarring. nasty stuff. evidently, atsumu miya is in his third stage — portal hypertension. abdominal swelling. jaundice. 

for a bedridden guy with a serious illness, he’s not as justifiably depressed as one might assume. 

“hey, doc,” he says when you come in. he’s facing the window, letting the sunlight cast a saintly halo across his cheeks. blonde hair, an angular sort of face that’s been hollowed by illness. in another life, he might’ve been handsome. 

you clear your throat, and he glances back, surprised. “ah. you’re not my doctor.” 

“nope. nursing student.” you sit at the foot of his bed. “i’ll be monitoring you the next month or so as part of my studies.”

“monitoring,” he repeats drily. “you make it sound like i’m a lab specimen in a test tube.”

“means you’re special.” 

“sure. ‘specially fucked up.” he’s younger than you are, but there’s an aged weariness in his gaze. 

“aren’t we all, mr. miya?” 

he cracks a grin. “touche. call me atsumu, though. mr. miya’s my dad.”

“as you wish, mr. miya,” you say, biting back a smile. (there are those who say sarcasm has no place in hospitals. you do not fall into this category.)

+

atsumu likes to play chess. the second day of your clinical, he’s got a travel sized chess board set up on his bedside table. “been dying from boredom the past few hours. think you could take a break from ‘monitoring’ me to play a game?”

you set your clipboard down. “i could. i’d advise against it, though. i’m a pretty good player.”

atsumu grins. “not better than me.” 

he’s right. he beats you three games in a row before you finally snag a checkmate. (and you suspect this is only due to pity.) 

“what’d i tell you, baby?” he crows, and you shake your head, raising your arms in surrender.

“it was an off day. if i’d been on my game i could’ve swept the floor with you.”

“prove it,” atsumu says, leaning forward. he’s pale from a lack of sunshine, but you notice a faint pink glow in his cheeks now. “come back tomorrow.”

tomorrow’s a saturday, and you don’t have clinical. “of course i will.” 

you’re not one to back down from a challenge, no matter how trivial. plus, atsumu is fun. (and kind of cute.) 

+

“hi. brought you something.” you set a tupperware of cubed fruit on atsumu’s lap before pulling up a chair next to the bed. 

“did you make this?” he says, eyes wide. 

“i just chopped up a few apples and stuff,” you say, plucking a blueberry from the container and popping it into your mouth. 

atsumu shakes his head before biting into a chunk of pineapple. “you’d think it’d be hard to mess up fruit salad, but somehow this damn hospital can make a strawberry taste like cough medicine. everything they serve here tastes like cough medicine, actually.” 

“delicious.” 

“disgusting.” atsumu sets up the chess board. “so, like, thanks. for the fruit. can i keep the tupperware?”

you laugh. “why do you wanna keep the tupperware?” 

“it’s a reminder of normality.” atsumu shrugs. “i only ever eat off chipped hospital dishes here.” 

your chest throbs. “oh, atsumu.” 

“don’t you ‘oh, atsumu’ me,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

“sorry. yeah, you can keep it.”

(he wins at chess again.)

+

you’re only required to come in to the hospital three times a week, but you get into the habit of visiting atsumu every day. the first time you visit after class, you’re wearing a sweater and jeans. atsumu wolf whistles.

“damn. you look good when you’re not in scrubs.” 

“are you saying i don’t rock scrubs?” you press a hand to your chest in mock offense. 

“nobody looks good in scrubs,” atsumu says. “except for me, probably. i look good in anything.” 

you laugh. “i believe it.” 

“you’d better.” atsumu has a nice smile, you notice, wide and shiny. 

you plop yourself down beside him on the bed. “hey, you wanna see a picture i took on the way here? i found a stray cat near the convenience store.” 

“i’m a dog person,” atsumu says, but he nonetheless leans forward to get a look at your phone. “oh, cute.” 

“isn’t he?” you say, zooming in on the little orange cat. “i think i’m gonna name him after you.” 

“what?” atsumu huffs. “why?”

“because he’s good at chess,” you say. 

atsumu furrows his brow. “you played chess with a cat?”

“no, i just have a feeling,” you hum, and atsumu rolls his eyes with a small smile. 

“you’re stupid.” 

you slip your phone back into your pocket. “in a cute way, though.” 

“if you say so,” atsumu says, and you flick his shoulder. “ouch. way to bully a sick man.” 

“you deserved it,” you laugh, and he joins in.

“yeah, i did.” 

+

the next time you visit, atsumu’s family is there. his parents have kind, tired faces. 

“nice to meet you,” his mom says, grasping your hand warmly. “i’m glad atsumu has a friend here.”

“mom,” complains atsumu. “i have friends.” 

“none as cool as me, though,” you tease, and he smiles.

“you’re right,” he says, and his dad rumples his hair before turning to shake your hand. 

“it’s great to meet you, mr. miya,” you say, returning the shake. 

“the pleasure’s mine,” he says. he looks nearly identical to atsumu, just a little grayer. right next to him, there’s a boy who really does look exactly identical to atsumu, though his hair’s dyed dark and he’s a little more filled out. he has an air of begrudging maturity about him, the telltale sign of a young man who’s been forced to carry burdens that aren’t his. 

“i’m osamu,” he says. he’s sitting on the chair near atsumu’s bed. “this little asshole’s brother.”

“i don’t know why you keep calling me little,” atsumu says, lightly punching osamu’s forearm. “i’m the older twin.” 

“yeah, but you act like a baby.” osamu grins and leans out of reach when atsumu tries to swat at him. you chuckle behind a hand, leaning back against the wall as mr. and mrs. miya question you about your studies and hobbies. 

on your way out of the hospital a half hour later, you run into osamu at the lobby coffee shop. 

“so,” he says, sipping from a steaming cup. “you’re a nursing student?”

“mm,” you say, handing a fiver to the cashier to pay for your sandwich. “i’m in my fourth year at hyogo university. are you in college, too?”

“nah,” says osamu. “i play volleyball. professionally, i mean.”

“oh!” you notice the lettering on his sports jacket for the first time. msby black jackals. “that’s really cool.”

osamu shrugs. “sometimes it is. tsumu’s wanted to be a pro player since we were kids — but he won’t ever be able to do that now, of course. so that’s why i play. better to have one miya in the pro circuit than none at all.” 

your heart sinks. “you’re a great brother, osamu.”

osamu shakes his head. “i’m really not. it should’ve been me in that hospital bed.”

“osamu…” you trail off as osamu just shakes his head, giving you a sad smile. 

“it was nice meeting you,” he says before tossing his cup and heading back towards the elevators. 

+

“no,” atsumu says staunchly, crossing his arms. “definitely not. i don’t read.” 

“come on,” you wheedle, dangling the book in front of his face. “it’s one of my favorites, and i thought it might stave off some of that stifling boredom you always complain about.”

“i’m bored, but not that bored,” atsumu says, squinting at the book. “what is that about, anyways? the little prince? sounds lame.”

“it’s not lame,” you promise, bouncing slightly on the bed. atsumu sniffs. “okay, what if i read it to you? you don’t have to do anything but listen.”

“i’m not a child.” 

“you’re acting like one.”

atsumu throws his hands up in defeat. “alright, fine. you win. we can read the little prince.”

“excellent.” you beam. “scoot over?”

“what?” atsumu says, but he scoots to the side of his bed as you kick your shoes off and curl up next to him. you feel his breath hitch as he lightly lets his arm curve around your waist. 

you sigh, content, and flip to read the first page. “once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book…”

+

it takes three visits to finish the entire story. atsumu sniffles when you read the last line, rubbing his eyes furiously.

“did he die?”

you trace a light circle on atsumu’s palm, smiling slightly. “i don’t know. i think it’s up to the reader to decide. he left his body, but is that really death? or is it just… moving on?” 

“i think he just moved on,” insists atsumu. “he moved on and returned to the stars. he was just a kid. he was too young to have died.” 

“look at you,” you tease, and atsumu flushes. “waxing on poetic.”

“it was good,” atsumu says gruffly. “thank you.” 

“you’re welcome,” you breathe, and when atsumu buries his face in your neck, you realize he’s crying. 

+

he kisses you for the first time a week later. it’s late in the afternoon, and both your faces are tinged with gold. he slips a hand beneath your jaw, and you let him slowly guide your lips to meet his. they’re soft, hesitant, and sweet, pressing against yours with an uncharacteristic shyness. 

you sigh happily when he pulls you forward to straddle his lap, slipping your hands into his thick blonde hair, letting him press light kisses down the length of your neck. 

“hey, beautiful,” he breathes into your collarbone, and you laugh. 

“hey, pretty boy. nice to see you today.” 

+

atsumu’s discovered a newfound love for reading ever since you read the little prince outloud to him. you’ve been bringing him secondhand books from the thrift store near your house, and now there’s a sizeable stack of novels out on the table. 

“i think i’ve read more in the past couple months than i ever read in high school,” he admits, running a finger down the spine of treasure island. “you’ve turned me into a nerd.”

“you’re welcome,” you say, straightening his collar.

“it’s kind of nice, though,” he says thoughtfully, tossing the book back on the table. “to read about all these different people, all the things they do. all the stories i’m never gonna get to experience.”

“you’re getting to experience them through reading,” you correct. “that’s the beauty of fiction.”

atsumu laughs. “you’re such a sap.” 

“it’s true,” you insist. “god knows life is too short to live through everything we’d like to. that’s why he gave us imagination.”

“do you believe in god?” atsumu asks softly. his stare grows distant.

you think for a moment. “sometimes i do. do you?”

“same. sometimes.” he fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “sometimes i wonder, though… like, if there’s a god, why does he hate me?” 

you chew on your cheek. “why do you feel hated?” 

atsumu laughs a laugh tinged with slight bitterness. “sweetheart… i’m not going to live past twenty-five, if even that.” 

you swallow the knot in your throat, letting it sink deep into your stomach where it sits like a lump of copper. “well… the little prince is less than a hundred pages. sometimes the shortest books are the best reads.” 

atsumu nods silently. he’s not convinced. you’re not sure if you are, either. 

+

atsumu sleeps a lot these days. you spend as much time with him as you can, but more often than not, he’s in a half conscious daze, curled up beneath the white hospital comforter. during these times, you just set your backpack by the door the slip into bed next to him, wrapping yourself around his back and pressing your palms to his chest just to feel his heartbeat. it’s faint, but it’s steady and rhythmic. ba-dump. ba-dump. ba-dump. 

sometimes, atsumu’s his usual, lively self, cracking bad jokes and poking fun at you. his smiling face has come to be your favorite picture. on these days, you bring him a hot chocolate from the coffee shop and split it with him, kissing off the whipped cream that finds its way onto his lips. he still likes to play chess, and, though he won’t admit it, you’ve been getting better. one day, you beat him, two games to one. 

there are solemn, quiet times, and there are bright, cheerful times, but you savor all of them. every moment spent with atsumu is valuable in your book. occasionally, you’ll go with him out into the hospital garden, into the warmth of the sun. every so often he’ll stop, lean on you to catch his breath, but he never complains. 

“look,” he’ll say instead, pointing at a vine of jasmine, or a single daisy swaying in the breeze. “almost as pretty as you.” 

+

one day, as you’re leaving atsumu’s room, you run into his doctor in the hall. 

“keep your chin up,” she says, straightening her glasses. “it’s possible he could still recover. strong young men often do.” 

you nod slowly. “is he going to need a transplant?”

“well,” says the doctor, clicking on her pen absentmindedly. “if it gets any worse, yes. but i’m going to be honest with you — it’s unlikely we’ll find a donation with both a matching blood type and in good condition.”

“ah.”

“so just hope for the best.” she slips into his room before you can say another word, leaving you to lean heavily against the wall, staring at nothing in particular. miracles happen every day, you remind yourself. there’s no reason atsumu shouldn’t be the recipient of one. 

+

“hey,” atsumu says. he whispers your name with an unusual tenderness. “i have to talk to you.”

it’s been five months since you first met atsumu on a clinical, and it’s been three months since he began to call you his girlfriend. you lace your fingers between his, giving his hand a light squeeze. “yeah, ‘tsumu?”

he takes a deep, shuddering breath. “i don’t think i’m going to… be here much longer.” 

“no,” you say, chest tightening. “don’t say that. you’re gonna be fine.” 

“sweetheart,” he says, voice low. he takes your chin and firmly turns your head to look at him. “i’m sorry. you know i am. i just… i’m sick. it’s hard to think straight sometimes, so i just wanted to tell you before i can’t anymore.”

“tell me what?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

“tell you that i love you.” 

“atsumu,” you breathe. a frustrated tear finds its way down your cheek. “i… i love you, too. but please… just hang on. they’ll find a donor. they have to.”

“they might not,” he says, and he smiles, pulling you close. you knot your hands in the front of his t-shirt, pressing your face to his chest. “don’t cry. i’m just going to go live in the stars, right? like the little prince.” 

there’s so many things you want to say, like, you nerd, can’t believe you’re making literary allusions or shut up, asshole, or i’ll miss you if you do, but you say nothing, because if you open your mouth you’re sure you’ll just sob. 

“don’t cry,” he says again, but he’s crying, and you lift your face to see the tears streaming. “i love you.” 

your throat is too thick to say it back, but he sees it in your eyes. i love you, too. 

+

you spend the rest of the night with him before leaving at a little past 2am, and the next morning, you get a text from osamu. 

he’s gone. 

you don’t cry at the funeral. it’s small, just his family, a group of close friends, and you. you don’t look in the casket, either, because you want to remember his smile, and empty bodies don’t. you sip on a paper cup of water and lean against a wall, where osamu finds you. 

“hey,” he says, and you nod in return. “he left this for you.” 

you take the letter from him, and after he gives your shoulder a squeeze and heads back to his parents, you tear it open. 

hey, you. i’m writing this two months after you first came into my room in that god-awful set of scrubs. right now, you’re napping in the chair near my bed. you look cute. we had our first kiss last week, and i’m still walking on air. fuck, that sounds dorky. oh, well. guess i’m a dork. only for you, though. 

anyways, if you’re reading this, it’s because i’ve died. whoop-dee-doo. i’ve moved on to the great beyond. i’ve fallen past the veil. whatever it is you nerds like to say. there are probably things i’m going to say to you in the next few months that are a little more… intimate, i guess? but i wanted to tell you this while it’s still fresh in my mind: you’ve honest-to-goodness saved my life. i mean, it might not go on for much longer, sure, but you really have, in a way. being sick is weird. it makes you a lot more sensitive to miracles. 

you start. you don’t remember ever talking to atsumu about miracles.

someone from the outside might look at me and call me unlucky, but i feel pretty damn lucky right now. meeting you was without a doubt a miracle, and if i never got sick, it never would’ve happened. take that as you will, i guess. all i know is i’m not angry at god, even though maybe i should be. i mean, i’m still not sure he’s even out there. but there’s gotta be something, or someone, because how the fuck else could i have possibly recieved something so… great? i sure as hell never did something to deserve it. (god, i sound stupid. but it’s just hard to chalk up to coincidence.) 

anyways, i love you. not sure i’ll ever get the guts to say that out loud, so i’m saying it here. i love you, and i hope you love me, too. 

- atsumu

“i do,” you whisper. “i do.” 

+

on your way home, you stop at the convenience store for a bottled water, and the little orange cat comes out and winds itself around your leg, purring. 

“hey, ‘tsumu,” you say, squatting down to scratch its head. “fancy a game of chess?”

it meows back. 

“yeah?” your eyes grow wet, and you wipe them on the sleeve of your sweater. “wanna come home with me?”

it meows again, and this time, you break out into full scale crying. you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think you can see a tear in the cat’s eye, too. 

he follows you home, and the next day, you purchase a water dish, a big bag of cat food, and a blue collar. (blue was atsumu’s favorite color.)

+

three years later. 

“honey?” 

“yeah?”

your husband comes out from the hall, buttoning up his shirt. “you almost ready to go?” 

“almost, ‘samu,” you say, slipping on a bracelet. your hands are shaking, and he notices it, too. today’s the third anniversary of atsumu’s death, and it’s also the date of osamu’s first big press conference. “he’d be so proud of you, you know.” 

osamu smiles. “he would. he’d be proud of you, too.”

you laugh. “what for? for marrying his little brother?”

“no, he’d probably be kind of pissed at me,” osamu jokes, before coming to stand behind you. he wraps his hands around your waist. “he’d be proud of you for finding happiness, i think.” 

“i am happy,” you say, tilting your head as osamu presses a kiss to your temples. there’s a beat of silence. “but i miss him.”

“i do, too.” osamu rests his chin on your head. “he probably misses us.”

“mm,” you say. “i think he might be having too much fun for that, actually.” 

“maybe,” says osamu, and he leans forward to grab the keys from the counter. “i’m gonna go heat up the car, okay?” 

“sounds good,” you say, as the cat dashes into the room with a meow. a nameplate that reads ‘tsumu’ dangles from his collar. “oh, hey kitty. i forgot to feed you. i’ll be out in a minute!” 

after you fill the cat’s dish and pull on a cardigan over your dress, you slip outside, shivering in the night air. the sky is clear and full of stars, and as you walk to the car, you crane your neck up to see. 

“hope you’re doing well, ‘tsumu,” you whisper to the gleaming constellations. 

you still have things you want to say to him, even after all these years. you want to ask him how the weather in the cosmos is, and if the fruit salad is better up there. you want to ask if he’s read any good books lately, or if he’s seen how great osamu’s serve has gotten recently. you want to laugh with him. 

most of all, though, you want to let him know that he was your miracle, too.

[starryasmo]

Cottagecore MC x The Undateables (Pt. II)

The demon brothers weren’t the only people who had become attached to you during your stay in the Devildom.

The first person besides the brothers who had taken a liking to you was none other than Lord Diavolo himself. Upon seeing you in all of your timid and soft glory, with the scent of light perfume and tea leaves trailing after you and the illusion of roses blooming under your skin from how pink your cute cheeks were, he’d immediately decided that he liked you, chuckling and commenting on how there couldn’t possibly a human cuter than you upon your arrival to the Devildom. You had flushed at this, ducking your head down, doll lashes obscuring your sweet eyes, panicked and flustered and unsure how to respond.

However, after your initial awkwardness around Diavolo, you realized that he was absolutely marvelous as a companion and a friend.

Diavolo was a kindred spirit to you, in a sense — the woodland animals (if you could call them that) of the Devildom seemed to flock to him like he was a cartoon princess, and he was as sweet, gentle, and caring as an angel would be. However, you had noticed that he wasn’t very in touch with nature; seldom did he ever go outside for any reason other than getting from place to place, and the only person besides you who ventured into the castle gardens was Barbatos, the stoic butler. He had felt no need to explore nature, and that did confuse you a bit and make it harder for you to communicate with him, but you dismissed it, as you did with everyone who didn’t really like to be in touch with nature as much as you did.

But one day, when you were spending time lounging in the gardens with a good book and a warm cup of lavender tea, you were pleasantly surprised to see him walk through the ornate door. He’d walked over to you, his nervous demeanor and fidgety fingers an accursed opposition to his status as the future ruler of the Devildom. However, you had sat up, dusted the crumbs of your strawberry thumbprint cookies off of your flowy skirt, and invited him to sit with you, your gentle and sweet smile an invitation that he simply couldn’t refuse. When you had asked him why he was in the gardens, he confessed with an air of nervousness that he’d been looking for you, simply because your demeanor and your aura was one that he felt immense comfort and relaxation in. You had felt flattered at this, of course, but you laughed lightly at his wording. You explained to him that the soothing feeling he had around you was one that came when one was especially connected to nature. Nature was something that served as a bridge between man and the world, and your extraordinary connection to it had enchanted your energies and made you somewhat of a docile force of nature. In order to feel this more often, even when you weren’t around, you explained calmly as you offered him a few of your cookies, he should form a deeper connection with nature.

You had taken his hand in your smaller one to take him up to your cottage in the human world, the calluses on his hands reminding you of the sun baked river pebbles you had collected and stored in a mason jar on your shelf, and he’d been glancing around like an excited puppy upon your arrival into the forest, pointing out the moss climbing up the tall trunks of your friends, the trees, and the vibrant color of your sisters, the wildflowers. He’d been generous in talking about how beautiful your brothers and sisters, the mushrooms and the flowers, were, and you could feel them all blushing under his immense praise. You yourself couldn’t stop your smile as you took him to your cottage. After spending some time in the sunlit kitchen, you baking while he talked about how lovely the forest was, you two left the cottage and made your way down a winding cobblestone path that you seemed to know like the back of your hand, making way to a stretching meadow covered in wildflowers and lush grass. Trees arched overhead, filtering a crystal blue sky. You two chewed on the huge warm croissants you’d made not five minutes ago, hands intertwined as you strolled through the meadow. The bumblebees and ladybugs seemed to notice your presence and buzzed over to you, and he had let out a small exclamation of delight when one landed on your nose briefly, as if giving you a small kiss. He’d leaned over and given you a kiss where the ladybug had landed, right on the tip of your nose, and said that he’d read that ladybugs granted good luck, so maybe he could enhance that. You had flushed a pale pink and laughed lightly, amused. You two had strolled together for a while, basking in each other’s presence and just being in the moment, before he was summoned back for an urgent last minute student council meeting. He, albeit reluctantly, had finished the last of his croissant and beckoned you to follow him into the portal that Barbatos had summoned, promising to do this again with you sometime. You, with your saccharine smile and understanding eyes, had nodded and told him that you would hold him to it. Nowadays, you would leave a few croissants at his doorstep in a hand woven wicker basket with a purple ribbon on the handle, a letter attached to the basket with a thin string, and he would always write you a thank you letter, accompanied by a gift that he saw you eyeing in the store windows at the human world market that you frequented. He remembered that you much preferred letters to texting, much to your silent but sweet delight, and he was more than willing to write to you whenever the mood struck.

Barbatos had found himself rather amused at your delicate presence, your enchanting yet gentle aura reminding him of a fragile fairy flitting about, sleeping among the grasses and lounging in seashells, combing your hair. However, one day, you had managed to startle him slightly when you asked him if he wanted to accompany you to the human world. You explained that before you had been sent down to the Devildom, there was a tea garden that you would visit often, hidden away from most and becoming a haven for any traveler lucky enough to stumble upon it. Sometimes, the nymphs hailing from the twisting stream a few strides away from your cottage would walk in, all giggles and breezy laughs as they snacked on biscuits and rosepetal honey, their silky gowns dripping water across the floor. Other days, you would walk in to find the ram-horned general that guarded the fairy queen’s throne chewing on cute heart shaped jam cookies, dressed in his full suit of armor, or the white hare with five leverets around her, always dressed in a lacy blouse and two blue bows, chewing on her macarons with a wistful grace as she spoke gently about her children. Sometimes, you would start a conversation with the stern old man with skin like the bark of a tree who ordered a glass of wine and lemon bars every time, or the butterfly winged flower dwellers would pull you over to share gossip. You enjoyed the company you found there, and you wanted to share the joy and domesticity you felt with Barbatos, who seemed too cold and pent up to truly feel known, seen, loved. So when you walked with him through the portal and down the silver path only revealed under the luminous moonlight, you found your fingers intertwining with his as you walked, talking idly about your experience in the Devildom. He didn’t react much to the small action, but the white cat with piercing blue eyes who you fed a handful of blueberries one time whispers to you from a tree branch above, saying that Barbatos is enjoying himself. You smile at the feline’s words and squeeze Barbatos’ hand as you make your way into the tea garden. You take a seat by the window, pulling out his seat for him as you smile softly. The owner, a witch with feathers in her hair and a strange likeness to the portrait of a grand dame from the 1700s that nobody really questions and a necklace that dangles with a family jewel that she doesn’t speak of, approaches your table with her kind smile and her wooden tray already holding your usual order; a slice of strawberry rose cake enchanted with the sweet sugary dust that the pixies left behind as their wings shedded, and a glass of a light sparkling drink that shimmered a faint purple and tasted like springtime. One look at Barbatos, and she seemed to know exactly what he wanted. She soon arrived back to your table with a matcha latte in a dark cyan mug with a pawprint pattern and a slice of her signature cinnamon pie. He had thanked her politely, and she had huffed and told him to relax a bit more with a motherly smile before turning to serve others, long black robes floating off the ground slightly as she walked. After you two had finished your food and left, he admitted that he’d enjoyed spending time with you, and that he’d take you here again soon, if only to both see your gentle smile and to honor the promise he’d made to the small frog that held a tiny guitar and sat on the windowsill who he’d become acquainted with.

Spending time with those living in Purgatory Hall turned out to be quite an experience. They had naturally been drawn in by your gentle angel-like appearance, but when they found out you had a sweet personality and a shimmering smile to match, they were quick to show you welcome and adoration.

Solomon was fond of you, mostly because of the magic you harbored within you. You were a mysterious entity, a being whose magical abilities seemed far too powerful for someone as docile and innocent as you, but his little theory was quickly disproven once he voiced it to you and you spoke angrily to him about how you were not some tame little porcelain doll before you dumped your basket of baguettes on his head out of anger and stomped away with a huff, fingers holding up the flowy skirts of your favorite sundress with a vice grip. You later apologized for your actions, and he dismissed it with an air of nonchalance, although the crumbs in his hair and the wrinkles on your skirt were proof that he shouldn’t call you innocent or docile, even if he still harbored those thoughts somewhere in his head. After the incident, you two had proven to be rather good friends, showing off magic to each other during free periods. He would show you runes and spells that he could perform, and you would watch in awe as he covered a room in sparkling lights or turned someone’s figure into a marigold orange or a baby pink. You seemed to like the sparkly and showy spells more, but anytime he performed his spells outdoors, you would let out a yelp and quickly check on the plants and soil nearby to see if they were harmed by the magical properties of his spells. He would always assure you that no, his spells couldn’t harm the nature of any of the three realms unless he willed it to, but you were still anxious about it, always fretting over the fallen leaves and the grassy fields that he demonstrated on. In return, you showed him how to enchant your baked goods and items that you collected. You had been given a jar of honey and a porcelain teacup as an inheritance from the last fairy queen, who tragically passed on “under strange circumstances”, and a lone wizard no older than you who had drank by himself in the corner during the wake of the fairy queen’s funeral showed you how to enchant it, as well as a few other spells. When you had asked him why, he said that he was going to pass soon of an unknown heretic condition, and that he might as well give up his knowledge to another person who seemed so gentle and beautiful. After speaking with him some more, you had made yourself tea after the funeral and added the rich wildflower-infused honey to it, and when you had drank from the gold-rimmed teacup decorated with birds and blossoms, your singing had become sweet and enchanting, able to cause beasts to fall into deep slumbers and flowers to bloom all around you, the tides rising and falling at your command. When you had sang for him one time, it was in the forest while you two were looking for herbs with magical properties — he was looking for the bark of a blackthorn tree and shining willow for a potion he hadn’t tried yet while you searched for juniper berries and ginseng roots to enchant your pastries. He was enamored with your voice, and although the magical properties that had graced your chords had no effect on him, he was still charmed by your song and softly asked for an encore, which you did with flushed cheeks. All in all, you were lovely company to him, and he liked being around you, if only to hear your gentle voice again.

Simeon enjoyed the moments he got to spend with you. Like you, he was more in touch with nature than technology, but you often found yourself showing him how to fix the simpler functions on his D.D.D, such as the caps lock or the brightness or the volume. You two would often travel to the human world to frolic in the golden fields near your cottage, or you would spend time on the roof of said cottage with him, writing flowery poetry to read to the moon from the cottage window. You both were good at writing, but you could hone in on the littlest details about a person or a setting, while he tended to focus more on prose and plot. Solomon had joked that you and him should write a book together someday and that it would sell for eons across the three realms, unaware of the fact that you two absolutely loved writing together under the speckling moonlight. While he could whisper his words to his delicate gold-trim paper and charm it to write whatever he said in fine print, you preferred writing on your worn parchment with a fluffy white quill pen. He would take the opportunity of his free hands to place one atop your hand that wasn’t writing, and you would halt your writing briefly before continuing with flushed cheeks that were clear as day under the moon’s sweet smile. He would always chuckle at you before turning his face back to admiring the radiant celestial being in the sky, but whenever you paused to glance up at him, enthralled by his otherworldly beauty, he would turn back to you as if he could see you without looking at you, and he would give you a little wink. Often, the night would end in you two quietly reading to each other and the moon, voices soft and gentle as you curled up in his arms, skin brushing against each other every now and then, causing a slight shiver to run up your spine and arms, to which he would chuckle lightly. Sometimes, if you two arrived early, you would spend the time picking berries and fruits with him in the forest, and you would snack on them while you wrote. The juices of the sweet foods would stain the parchment most of the time, and they would imprint a sweet scent into the papers. Other times, if you were lucky enough to get to the human realm even earlier, you would take the berries and fruits that had been collected, and you would bake biscuits and tarts with him, sharing them with him and having him feed pieces of them to you on the cozy porch of your cottage while you wrote. Your voice was a heavenly idyllic thing that he treasured, wanted to pluck a piece of and keep in a little glass box, just to have a small piece of you wherever he went. You were someone he adored dearly, and he wanted to be the cause of that innocuous twinkle in your eye, wanted to be the catalyst of that gentle smile you wore like a second skin, always brightening the world around you, natural and beautiful and serene as could be. Or perhaps you wore it as a cloak, a mask to conceal your inner turmoils and sufferings, your deepest pains and fears. Oh, how it pained him to see your broken expression when people mercilessly killed off acres and acres of the forests for their own selfish gain, or when someone pushed you away in disgust and told you that you were nothing more than a horrid blot on the imperfect world. You looked so broken when you cried, and it was a heart wrenching sight that only fueled his want, his desperate need to take your cherubic cheeks in his slender hands, to kiss your eyelids and the crown of your head and hold you gently, sweetly to his chest, to whisper soft reassurances to you and be your pillar of support. No amount of eloquently woven words could express how much you meant to him, and he was willing to wipe away all of your tears and kiss your eyelids and the crown of your head until his lips went numb if it meant that he saw that broken expression one moment less.

Luke absolutely adored you. You were so cute and sweet, and you smelled like sunshine and flowers, and not only did you never call him ‘Fido’ or ‘chihuahua’, but you actually stood up to the brothers and told them (albeit rather gently) to stop when they compared him to a dog or they barked at him in that stupid condescending tone! He was one hundred percent certain that you were an angel of some sort, and he would do anything to keep your sweet and pure presence around him. He would latch onto your side possessively when you two walked together between classes, holding your index and middle finger with his hand while he sent out the most intimidating glare he could muster to any demon who dared to so much as look at you funny, as opposed to the sweet smile you would offer to anyone who locked eyes with you for more than a second. You supposed that, given his appearance, his “most intimidating glare” wasn’t very intimidating — the demons he narrowed his eyes at probably saw his glare and his refusal to leave your side as him hiding behind you, glancing and staring warily at the demons in fear. You were too nice and sweet to be hanging around “those scummy, horrifying, lowest of the low demons”, according to him, and he was dead set on keeping you from being “corrupted and brought down to be tormented more by those selfish creatures”. You would simply laugh your kind and airy laugh before squeezing his hand gently as best you could and reassuring him that you could protect yourself, but you would always fall back on a powerful angel like Luke, to which he preened at the praise and declared that he would always protect you. He was always in awe of you, from your ethereal deity-like appearance of gentle smiles and long flowy dresses and the scent of honey and perfection, to your connection to nature and the way the rocks and the spindly trees seemed to be your brothers, the moon your mother and the wildflowers and rushing stream your sisters, no matter the realm. You were like an otherworldly spirit of the woods, and your grandiose stories and elegant tales of the fairy queen with huge pearlescent wings and her beautiful kingdom always made him visualize you as the sweet and loving fairy queen. One thing he would always put away time for was baking with you. Once he learned that you could bake since you were a child, he was quick to drag you to Purgatory Hall, pulling you into the kitchen and begging you to bake something with him. You had laughed, light and breezy, and calmed him down with a few reassuring head pats before looking through the kitchen cabinets to see if you could find any ingredients that you were familiar with. You found the necessities after a while and nodded for him to join you, his arms full of Celestial Realm ingredients that Simeon had brought down for him. You two baked together, chattering amongst yourselves animatedly as you filled the kitchen with a sweet scent that you’d never smelled before. You were more than happy to talk to him about anything his little heart desired to ramble on about, from his duties as an angel to his favorite treats to bake. You had ended up making your famous ‘night sky’ blueberry and lemon pie that animals from all over the forest would flock to your cottage to have a piece of, as well as glazed lavender honey cookies, complete with a small mason jar of your favorite jam when you were a child, the strawberry and lemon ‘Aphrodite’s Love Jam’. He, in turn, had made what was called Moon Rabbit Cookies in the Celestial Realm, which were dolloped with a shimmery cream and dusted with a pearlescent sugar-like substance that seemed to glow under the lighting of the kitchen lamps, along with the Selcouth Cakes that he’d perfected only recently. They seemed to shift from peachy orange to baby pink to a myriad of other colors, and he explained that the flavors were unknown and depended solely on the consumer’s energies and ethereal aura. When you had tried the small mug-sized cakes, the taste of mint and steeped mountain snow had cooled your tongue and relieved you of the drops

of perspiration that had formed on your forehead during the baking session. Another bite had the taste of strawberries and brown buttercream melting in your mouth and causing you to let out a soft him of nostalgia. He’d tried your cookies with a small spoon of jam and had exclaimed in delight, mouth still full, and immediately swallowed his bite and yelled for Simeon and Solomon to get into the kitchen and try your baking. They’d all joined you, and you all had had fun spending time together and snacking on baked goods, but only you caught the small beaming smile that Luke shot you, and only he saw the sweet and gentle smile that you had returned it with, the faintest trace of pomegranate juice on the corner of his mouth. That moment was when he’d sworn to be your one and only Guardian Angel, here and thus.

You had somehow managed to worm your way into the hearts of not only seven of some of the most powerful demons in the Devildom, but you had also managed to befriend the future ruler of hell, his butler, two angels, and an all powerful sorcerer king with over seventy two demons at his beck and call. You enjoyed their company, naive and sweet and oblivious to the way they would glare harshly at anybody who looked at you wrong or tried to touch you in any way that seemed unfriendly. No, you would go on about your day with a sweet idyllic smile, unaware of the trails of blood your protectors left behind you.

It was almost ironic — the most destructive catalyst in the Devildom wore a long flowy summerdress and a kind smile wherever they went.

You truly were something else.

[tsuki-chibi]

Ladrien June Day 3 - Squall: Trust Fall

This story is a sequel to my Marinette March, Adrinette April, and Marichat May stories; I highly recommend reading those first.

You can also read this story on AO3: Squall

---

Adrien walked slowly up to the spot where the Dupain-Cheng bakery would be, gratified to see that it was, in fact, a bakery. He paused for a moment in front of the window to look inside. There was a bunch of customers clustered around the cash register and the display shelves. He could make out a few people working behind the counter, but he was too far away to be able to see who it was.

“Mm… that looks yummy,” Trixx whispered.

“Huh?” Adrien refocused, realizing that Trixx was looking covetously at the beautiful cake in the window. It was a wedding cake, lovingly decorated with a cascading spray of blue flowers on both sides. The little groom on top had either fallen over or had been posed in the middle of doing a trust fall, since the groom was leaning precariously against the bride figurine.

“I bet it tastes like blueberries,” Trixx said dreamily.

“Umm… maybe. You’re supposed to be hiding.” Adrien gently pushed the kwami back down and moved towards the door of the shop. A little bell jingled as he entered.

No one looked his way, which was exactly the way he liked it. One nice thing about an alternate universe was that he wasn’t a minor celebrity here in either his civilian form or in his transformed form. That kind of anonymity at least made it a lot easier to get around.

He inhaled deeply, taking in a frankly delicious array of cookies, cakes, and pastries. His stomach growled. Though he and Marinette had had a snack right before traveling through the portal, he hadn’t eaten too much, and he realized that he was hungry. That made him wonder just how much money he had on him. He’d stuffed a lot of things into his bag when leaving the Agreste mansion, but thankfully had his wallet in his pants.

He quickly stepped over to the side and pulled out his wallet, doing a quick count. There wasn’t a ton of money, but he had enough to be able to feed himself and Trixx for a couple of days. That was a relief. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if all he’d had were his cards, because it wasn’t like he had a bank account in this universe for said cards to be connected to.

“Try to figure out what you can afford?”

Adrien startled at the sudden voice, which was spoken right over his shoulder, and came within a hair of elbowing the girl right behind him in the face. He stopped himself just in time, while the girl stepped back with a shocked expression that instantly made him feel bad.

“I’m – I’m sorry,” Adrien said quickly. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Obviously.” She stared at him for a moment. Adrien took the chance to look her over too. She had dark hair just like Marinette, but it was much longer – almost to her waist and pulled back in a low ponytail. Her eyes were brown, and she had at least two inches of height on him.

Unless Marinette looked extremely different, this wasn’t her.

“What happened to your face?” she asked.

“My -?” Honestly, until that moment, Adrien had forgotten about his split lip and black eye. He touched his cheek and went for the obvious lie. “I do Fencing. Some days I’m a lot better at it than others.”

“Oh.” She smiled then. “That sucks. Did you come to the Dupain bakery to eat your pain away?”

The Dupain bakery?

Not Dupain-Cheng?

Adrien looked around instinctively and spotted some detailing on the nearest display case. In fine white lettering were the words ‘Dupain Bakery’.

He started to get the feeling that he wasn’t going to find Marinette.

“I’m Alice. Feel free to take a look around. When you figure out what you want, just let me know.” Alice smiled again and walked away towards another customer. Adrien unconsciously followed her, realizing that she was wearing a cute pink apron over a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

Maybe Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng weren’t even married in this universe.

That was a depressing thought.

He didn’t like the idea of being in a world where that was no Marinette.

But it wasn’t like he had a choice right now. There was no way to change universes until Marinette returned for him – and she wouldn’t be doing that until she had the Ladybug miraculous. Adrien didn’t want to disappoint her; he wanted to have the Black Cat miraculous in hand before that happened. So there was no point in quibbling over what universe he was temporarily in.

Trixx shifted restlessly in his pocket and Adrien nodded to himself. First stop: some food.

[famedexclusive]

Taeyong has made his solo comeback with the release of his fifth full-length album Blacklight and the music video for its promoted single “Instagram”.

Taeyong last promoted as a soloist over a year ago with the release of his fourth album Lovesick in 2020. Last year, he released a handful of Portal singles, including three that are included in the track list of Blacklight. Last week, the album’s pre-release “Paranoia” was released, following up on the dark visuals of “So Beautiful”, “Nerves”, and “Scaredy Cat” released previously. “Instagram”, the promoted single off of Blacklight, meanwhile, strips back the instrumental and visuals for an ode to modern loneliness in social media.

Taeyong will be promoting “Instagram” for a week. His comeback stage will be held later this week.

Track List:

1. Instagram 2. Digital 3. Paranoia 4. MITO 5. So Beautiful 6. Dope Lovers 7. No Blueberries ft. Jace & Minjung 8. Nerves 9. Scaredy Cat 10. Welcome to the Show 11. No Silhouette

Notable Credits:

Instagram Lyrics: Taeyong Melody: Taeyong Arrangement: Taeyong

Digital Lyrics: Taeyong Melody: Taeyong Arrangement: Taeyong

Paranoia Lyrics: Taeyong Melody: Taeyong Arrangement: Taeyong

MITO Lyrics: Taeyong Melody: Taeyong Arrangement: Taeyong

So Beautiful Lyrics: Taeyong Melody: Taeyong Arrangement: Taeyong

Dope Lovers Lyrics: Taeyong Melody: Taeyong Arrangement: Taeyong

No Blueberries ft. Jace & Minjung Lyrics: Taeyong & Minjung Melody: Taeyong & Minjung Arrangement: Taeyong

Nerves Lyrics: Taeyong Melody: Taeyong Arrangement: Taeyong

Scaredy Cat Lyrics: Taeyong Melody: Taeyong Arrangement: Taeyong

Welcome to the Show Lyrics: Taeyong Melody: Taeyong Arrangement: Taeyong

No Silhouette Lyrics: Taeyong Melody: Taeyong Arrangement: Taeyong

[magnus-the-maqnificent]

Whumptober Day 8

A Man They Loved

(Note: not for the weak hearted... I think. Now you can't say I didn't warn you, jazz)

He was standing under the streetlight, dressed in a long brown overcoat, and was looking up forlornly at the dark apartment windows. Rafael stepped closer to him, flexing his shoulder still sore from training, and said, “Is he still in there?”

Max nodded. “He hasn’t stepped out since… since that afternoon.”

Rafael bit his lip and nodded, joining his brother’s side and staring up at the windows with worry etched into his features. The last time he had seen his father was about a week ago, in Idris in funeral white. After the last rites were over, he’d told the two of them that he wanted to be alone for a while, and portalled away. The loft had been locked up ever since, and for several nights there had been no sign of anyone living there. The lights were turned off at all times, no one ever went in or out. Magnus wasn’t answering his phone at all, and for a while Rafael had wondered whether he had decided to move away to another country, but all fracking runes and spells led them here. Rafael was currently residing at the institute, and Max had a place of his own, so while they didn’t have to worry about sleeping arrangements, they both were extremely worried about their father.

“I tried calling him,” Max said in a low voice. He was all grown up now, so different from the chubby little boy he used to be. “He didn’t pick up. Not once.”

“Any word from uncle Ragnor and aunt Catarina?” Rafael asked. From an outside perspective, it might have looked weird - Rafael referring to them as aunt and uncle when they looked about the same age as him, if not younger - but it had been a habit from childhood.

Max shook his head, his gaze falling to the ground. “No. They’ve tried contacting him, but nothing.”

Rafael nodded. “I wish he’d just open the door.”

“He loved him,” Max said softly. “That- that couldn’t have been easy. He probably just needs some time.”

Rafael’s throat suddenly felt tight. “We loved him, too.”

“We did,” Max said, and his voice shook. “Rafe-“

Rafael said no more. He turned and pulled his brother into a hug, and Max hugged back hard, burying his hiccuping sobs into Rafael’s chest. Rafael held him tight, a hard ball of grief burning painfully within his chest.

They stayed there for a long time. Neither noticed the flicker of curtains behind the window, the flash of a cat-like eye.

“Magic?” Rafael echoed, staring at Ragnor in front of him. “What king of magic?”

They stood in the vast entryway of the Institute, Rafael still dressed in his training clothes, utterly unprepared for the visit from his uncle.

Ragnor cleared his throat. “There’s nothing too dangerous, but there’s a lot of magic being cast in that house. I’m afraid Magnus could be up to something.”

“You don’t think-“ Rafael didn’t have to voice the rest of his question.

“Magnus would never perform necromancy,” Ragnor said, shaking his head. “There’s no trace of dark magic, just… a lot of it. I can’t tell what kind it is, though. But I’m worried about Magnus. This isn’t the first time he’s faced something like this, of course, but he’s taking it very hard.”

Rafael nodded. “He is. What do you think the magic is all about?”

“I have no idea,” Ragnor confessed. “But it is certainly worrying. I suggest you and Max pay him a visit immediately.”

“We’ve tried,” Rafael said. “He didn’t open the door. It’s almost as if he’s not inside the house anymore.”

“But he is,” Ragnor said. “And the faster you go to meet him, the better.”

Ragnor clapped Rafael on the shoulder, and shrugged on his coat. “I’ll get going now. Take care.”

Max and Rafael stood in front of the large wooden door. They’d knocked several times, banged on the wood until it nearly splintered, and called out for Magnus, but there was nary a sound from within. Now they stood in silence, waiting for something.

Rafael drew a rune on his arm, meant to enhance his hearing, and pressed his ear to the wood. After a few seconds, he could hear voices from within, faint murmurs from the direction of his fathers’ bedroom.

“I can hear voices,” Rafael whispered, his heart rate.

“Voices plural?” Max asked. “Is there someone else in there with bapak?”

“I don’t know,” Rafael said, stepping away from the door. “We’ve never seen anyone else enter, right?”

“No,” Max confirmed. Rafael nodded, braced himself, and then rammed his shoulder into the door.

“What are you doing?!”

“Breaking in,” Rafael said through gritted teeth. “We don’t really have a choice, do we? Opening runes don’t work on his door.”

Max made a faint noise of protest, but Rafael ignored him and rammed in a second time. On the third try, the door broke open. Rafael moved it aside and stepped in, and froze.

The house was clean - perhaps a little too clean, the floors scrubbed and free of any litter. The heavy curtains were drawn across the windows, blocking any light from entering into the house. Rafael and Max stepped further into the house, taking in the immaculate collection of couches and armchairs that littered the living room. The voices were slightly louder now, and they were definitely coming from the bedroom, somewhat muffled by the closed door.

Rafael went over to the room and threw the door open, Max right on his heels.

They froze.

Inside the room, Magnus and the other person, both sitting on the bed, paused and turned to look at them at the same time. From beside him, Rafael heard Max take in a sharp breath.

“Dad?” he said.

It was Alec, staring at them with wide eyes set in an ageless face. The unruly black hair, the curve of his nose, the cheekbones… it was all him.

The last time he had seen him, his eyes were bound by white silk.

“Bapak,” Rafael said, turning to Magnus, his heart beating fast as he remembered Ragnor’s words. “What have you-“

Max gripped his arm, cutting him off.

“It’s not real,” Max muttered. Rafael looked at him, and then at Alec, whose expression was mildly bewildered, as if he didn’t recognise either of them.

Magnus looked between the two of them with a subdued face. He had the face of someone who had just been broken out of a daze, and leaned in to kiss Alec on the cheek. Alec’s face broke out into a small, soft smile, and he turned to look at Magnus, but his form shimmered and, like the foam of a wave that had broken on the shore, faded away.

Magnus’s eyes softened for a moment while he watched his husband disappear, and then turned to Rafael and Max.

“What are you two doing here?” he asked in a low voice. “I told you, I needed to be alone.”

“We were worried about you,” Max said, stepping forward. “You were locked up in here, and you wouldn't step out or answer any of calls, so-"

Magnus sighed, slumping back into the pillows. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and said, "Well, can't say I'm surprised. I haven't been able to keep you from raiding the candy stash when you were younger. I shouldn't be surprised to see you in here right now."

"Bapak-"

"How bad is the damage?" Magnus asked, directing his pointed gaze to Rafael. "How did you get in? A door? A window? A bulldozer through the wall?"

"The door," Rafael said, then shook his head. "But that's not the point. What was that?!" Rafael pointed to the spot where the illusion of Alec had been a few moments ago. "What were you doing?!"

Magnus stared at them a long moment. "Isn't it obvious? I miss him."

They were silent.

"I miss his smile," Magnus went on, his eyes dropping down to the empty spot next to him on the bed. "I miss his laughter, his voice, his love, his- Everything."

Magnus sighed, and almost inconspicuously, his arm moved to the right, caressing the spot where Alec used to sleep. "I miss him so, so much."

"We miss him too, bapak," Max said in a low voice. "We all do."

Magnus let out a dry chuckle. "Of course you do. I-"

He broke off, staring into the distance, his eyes blank. It almost scared Rafael to see his father like this. All his life, Magnus had been the cool, collected one. It was unnerving, to say the least, to see him like this now.

"I didn't mean to ignore you both, I just-" Magnus closed his eyes, composing himself. "How have you been? Max, Rafe?"

Rafael let out a sigh of a breath, and he and Max moved in at once, clambering into their bapak's outstretched arms. Magnus was dressed in a plain robe, the silky material cool against Rafael's cheek as he held on. Magnus's arms were tight around them, and for a moment they were just a father and his two sons, mourning the death of a loved one.

"I just need some time, my sweethearts," Magnus said, his voice broken. "I'll come back to you, I promise."

"We're here, bapak," Max said in a strangled voice, his arms tight around Magnus. "We're here for you. Don't forget about us, please."

"I won't, blueberry," Magnus promised, kissing them both on the top of their heads. "I won't."

They stared there for a long time, holding on to each other, mourning a man they all once loved, and loved still, a man who had changed all their lives for the better.

[antisocial-af]

Day 16: Ragnor/Catarina

Title: Winding Down

25 Days of Pairings: Day 16 Ragnor/Catarina

Promo:

If you are interested in Rare Pairs, think about joining Shadowhunters Rare Pair Gift Exchange.  I’ve already sent in my form! Sign-ups End on December 19th so don’t miss your chance and don’t be afraid to be as specific as you want on the forms!

Rating: G

Wordcount: 800

No Major Archive Warnings

SFW, Domestic Fluff, Reminiscing.

Summary:

Ragnor and Catarina both return home from the Lightwood-Bane Holiday Party.

Click Here to Read on Ao3

Story:

Ragnor passed through the portal, straight into their shared cottage first followed closely by Catarina. 

“I can’t believe we stayed till 2 am,” Ragnor grumbled as he started to pull off his thick scarf. “I thought I only agreed to go for a few hours.” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy yourself,” Catarina playfully chided after him. She maneuvered further into their home, flicking her magic towards the fireplace to warm the place. “If I remember correctly, you finally got over your silly fear of Lightwoods and had a few drinks with Alec and his sister.” 

“The current generation of Lightwoods are tamed compared to the previous feral lot,” Ragnor responded, hanging up his coat. He made his way to the warming couch and finally relaxed. “Still need to watch that, Max, though.” 

“Blueberry? His magic sparks won’t harm anyone yet,” Catarina waved her boyfriend’s silly thoughts away and joined him on the couch. “Don’t tell me you are afraid of a baby now, Ragnor?” 

“No, not Bane’s cute spawn. I’m talking about the younger brother,” Ragnor curled his arms around Catarina, pulling her close. “I saw him around the party and almost thought I was back in my teaching days in the Academy.” 

“I heard from Magnus that he got in trouble once for mixing up the nourishment and fire runes,” Catarina teased him. She knew all of the stories from Ragnor’s ‘traumatic’ days with Christopher Lightwood. “You might be onto something there, babe.” 

Ragnor narrowed his eyes at his lover and huffed before he spoke, “Keep it up, and you will be explaining to your dear old friend why I can’t attend any more of his parties, Cat.” 

Catarina laughed and looked back to the small green pout forming on Rangor’s lips. 

“What about the Herondales? I would say they’ve changed a bit, but truthfully I hope they never do,” Catarina stated as she leaned back to reach Ragnor’s cheek and laid a soft kiss. “But must you really challenge every Herondale to a series of increasingly dangerous bets? I swear you were giving poor Alec a heart attack with the things you and Jace were betting.”

“You can hardly take my fun away,” Ragnor replied, finding a spot on Catarina’s shoulder to rest his head. “I simply make a bet I can’t be blamed that they never say no to them or have no self-control.” 

Ragnor wrinkled his nose when Cat kissed it and returned the gesture by kissing her cheek lightly.

“Face it, you think Magnus’ lot of Shadowhunters are nice,” Catarina tiredly mumbled. The edges of her glamour were slightly flickering, revealing glimpses of white hair. “ and you enjoy their company.” 

Ragnor caught the stutter in Catarina’s glamour on her hair and shook his head with a smile before replying, “Perhaps what they say is true and time has made me wise, or possibly I’ve become far too emotionally scarred by their lot to be off-put by them.”

Catarina felt Ragnor’s soft tugs at her hair and lightly chuckled as she released the glamour over it. Caterina had almost forgotten she had entertained Max and Rafe with some simple glamour spells while Alec and Magnus set up. 

“How many times now have I told you not to overuse your magic?” Ragnor sighed as he continued to play with the now long white locks. “You could’ve just summoned them toys instead, you know.”

Catarina rolled her eyes as she turned within Ragnor’s hold to face him, her back warmed by the fireplace as they held each other close. 

“That would be the 165th time this year, I believe, and there is no harm in showing them some magic; they seemed delighted by it,” she smiled knowing how this conversation went.” you can’t expect me to say no to them.” 

“I’m unsure if I’m endeared or insulted by you keeping count, and still you do not listen” Ragnor shook his head, swiftly standing up and sweeping Cat from her feet and into his arms. He watched her blue skin flickering in the shadows from the fireplace. “Are you ever going to heed my warnings?” 

“Let me down!” Catarina shouted, startled. She wrapped her arms around Ragnor’s neck to stable herself in his arms. “I am not a child, Ragnor!” 

“No,” Ragnor simply replied as he smirked down at his love. “I have no intentions of placing you down since you don’t find it fit to listen to me.” Ragnor turned to the fireplace and placed a protective ward over it to ensure the fireplace would not spread in their absence. 

Catarina sighed and smiled, curling in against Ragnor's chest as she rested in his arms, “you are insufferable sometimes, but I love you Ragnor” 

“Let’s head to bed, my dear,” Ragnor stated, beginning to carry off Catarina. 

[ask-atwr]

Nightmare with a gatling gun..? Welp hopefully Ink and Error have insurance; hes probably gonna accidentally destroy the house

(Killer comes in.)

Killer: wwhyyyyyyy

Mod Crossant: WHY THE HELL DID YOU BUY NIGHTMARE A GATLING GUN

Killer: mm. cuz.

Mod Crossant: THAT ISN’T A VALID ANSWER!!!

Blueberry: WAIT, KILLER BOUGHT NIGHTMARE A GATLING GUN-HOLY SHIT

Nightmare: SHIT-

Sci: NIGHTMARE WE AREN’T KILLING FRESH

Nightmare: YOU CAN’T FUCKING STOP ME

Mod Crossant: I’D SAY SHOOT HIM BUT THEN WE WOULDN’T HAVE A PUNCHING BAG PLUS THIS IS JUST AN RP

Nightmare: THE OPPORTUNITY IS PERFECT THOUGH

Blueberry: NIGHTMARE ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE

Nightmare: YES

Edge: SHOOT HIM ALREADY

Blueberry: EDGE NO

Reaper: WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON

Mod Crossant: KILLER BOUGHT NIGHTMARE A GATLING GUN

Reaper: KILLER WHAT THE FUCK

Horror: WWWAIT KILLLER BOUGHT NNIGHTMRARE WWWHAT

Mod Crossant: A GATLING GUN HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW

Killer: WWWHY TH’FFFFUCK ‘RE WE YELLING

Horror: HHHHE DIDN’T FFFCUCKIN’ SAY ANYTTTHING

Mod Crossant: WAIT YOU DIDN’T KNOW

Nightmare: WAIT KILLER DID YOU NOT FUCKING TELL THE OTHERS ABOUT THE GATLING GUN

Killer: NNNNNNO CUZZZTHEN THHEY WOULDN’TA LEET ME GIVIT TO YYYOU

Nightmare: KILLER I LOVE YOU BUT THAT IS NOT A VALID EXCUSE FOR WHY YOU DIDN’T TELL THEM

Killer: IIIIDUNNO ANNNOTHR ‘SCUSE

Blueberry: KILLER WERE YOU DRUNK WHEN YOU GAVE IT TO HIM

Killer: NO I WWWASNT

(Stretch blows an air horn to shut everyone up.)

Stretch: Okay, first of all, Nightmare, put the gun away.

Nightmare: Fiiine... (He teleports out and puts the gun away. He then returns.)

Stretch: Good. Secondly, let Killer become more sober, then let him explain.

Killer: m’ ppperffecly ssssober

Nightmare: Killer, go home, you’re drunk. (He opens a portal.) You too, Horror.

Killer: noooooooo

Nightmare: I will force you into that portal.

Killer: ffffffine

(He and Horror both go through the portal. Nightmare closes it behind them.)

Stretch: And that’s all. Don’t kill the punching bag or anyone else, and have fun with the roleplay.

(He goes back into the living room.)

Sci: ...Aaaaaaaaanyways, we’ve taken Fresh hostage and are torturing him with a cat unless you relinquish leadership of Friend Club to me.

Blueberry: Oh, Sci. Nightmare just sent two of your allies back to the castle, and I literally have the god of death and the leader of Underfell’s Royal Guard on my side.

Sci: That’s what you think.

Blueberry: Wait, what?

Sci: You think Edge is really on your side?

Edge: DOOMFANGER!!! PSPSPSPSPSPSPSPS!!!

(Doomfanger jumps down from the top of the fridge.)

Edge: WHY DON’T YOU SAY HELLO TO FRESH?

(Doomfanger hisses at the parasite, claws unsheathed.)

Reaper: ...Contract expired, I’m out of coffee. (He returns to the living room.)

Blueberry: ...Well. Shit.

Sci: Face it, Blue! You’re outnumbered! Relinquish your position.

Blueberry: I suppose I am. Alright, fine. I’ll let you take over for now. But note that this transgression... (His left eyelight glows fiercely.) I t ‘ s   n o t   g o i n g   t o   b e   f o r g o t t e n   s o   e a s i l y .

[nom-the-skel]

soft safe vore, unwilling prey, 1.1k words

“Come on, Sans, I’ll show you around the town!” The local Sans pushed the door open for Sans. Sans stepped out into the snow, his long tail waving languidly. It seemed familiar, not much different from his own Snowdin. “heh. you can call me ‘blue’ if it’s weird to keep callin’ me ‘sans,’ you know.”

“Okay, Blue!” The local Sans had already run ahead of him, eager to guide him. “But that could still be confusing. I’m blue, too!” He was right. The Sans of this world was just a smidge bigger than himself, similar in color but different in style. His clothes were different; the bright blue bandanna around his neck stood out most. His ears were larger and his tail much fluffier, as well. “you got a nickname or anything?” Sans, now christened Blue, asked. “Sometimes people call me ‘Blueberry’ but that’s pretty close to ‘Blue,’ don’t you th—” The fox skeleton broke off in the middle of the sentence, turning to stare at the source of a small sound. Sans had also heard it and dismissed it as a mouse or a small monster, nothing to be concerned about unless they were in distress, and even then Papyrus would be better at helping them than he would. But from their conversation so far, Blueberry reminded him more of Papyrus than of himself, so maybe he felt obliged to check on them. “maybe i’ll call you foxberry, what about that?” Sans suggested, but the fox was completely focused on the sound in the bushes. “uh, somethin’ wrong?” Blueberry pounced, burying his front half in the leaves, his tail waving in the air. Sans’s own tail fluffed out in alarm and he had to comb his ears for a moment to compose himself. When the skeleton fox had pulled himself out of the bush, he had leaves clinging to his clothes and something—several somethings—in his hands. He popped one into his mouth before Sans could get a good look at them. They were skeletons, not cat or fox skeletons but tiny mouse skeletons. Blueberry had a handful of them, some firmly gripped and one hanging by its tail. He singled out another, this one with notched purple ears, and lifted it above his skull. “did you just—?” Sans couldn’t believe what he thought he’d seen. “Sans! Put me down!” the purple mouse raged, its voice high and squeaky. Blueberry just opened his mouth, his shiny tongue lolling out. There was no sign of the other mouse in there. “Sans, stop this!” The mouse was scared as well as angry. It shrieked as Blueberry dropped it onto his tongue and closed his jaws. Sans stared at him as he selected a third mouse, not finding his voice until this one too was dangling over the fox’s open jaws. “wait! stop! what are you—?” “Oh! I’m sorry, that was rude of me.” Blueberry seemed to suddenly remember that Sans was there. Sans’s tail lashed as the fox walked up to him. “what in stars’ name are you doing?” “I don’t know what came over me.” The fox’s ears pressed back in shame. “I didn’t even offer you one! Here, have as many as you want!” He held out the remaining mice. There were three left, the one he’d been about to eat, which had striking rainbow fur, a red one that was shivering in terror, and a larger, rather scruffy orange one. Sans’s eyelights narrowed to vertical lines and his ears folded back. “i would never!” “It’s all right, there are plenty!” Blueberry cocked his skull to one side, confused by Sans’s reaction. “you—you ate them!” “Yes, I really should have let you choose first!” Blueberry’s tail tip twitched apologetically against his leg. “that’s not the point!” Sans stiffened, ready to make a run back to the portal machine. “Blue? What’s wrong?” Sans pointed at the mice lying across the fox’s palms. “these! they’re monsters just like us!” Blueberry’s eye sockets widened in realization. “Oh! You mean to say you don’t eat mice?” “of course not!” “But you’re a cat?” “that doesn’t make me a—a cannibal!” Blueberry flinched back, hurt, holding the mice to his chest. “I didn’t hurt them at all,” he protested. “you ATE them,” Sans pointed out. “Well, yes, but—they don’t really mind!” “the purple one was begging you not to!” Blueberry brightened. “Oh, he’s just difficult. They don’t REALLY mind. Right?” he asked the mice in his hands. The red one glared at him, but the others shrugged. “of course they mind,” Sans hissed. “they wanna live, don’t they?” “Want to—Blue! What do you take me for, a murderer?” Blueberry was scandalized. “i mean—yes? you just killed two monsters in front of me?” “I did not!” Blueberry gasped. Sans was emitting a low growl, but the fox calmed himself and thought for a moment, then smiled as if nothing was wrong. “I get it. Monsters don’t do this kind of thing in your world, so you thought the mice were just food to me. But don’t worry! They’re fine!” Sans took a step back. It seemed like the fox monster was not only a murderer but had also lost his grip on reality. Maybe he’d been through too many resets and had forgotten that death was usually permanent. “No, look!” Blueberry pulled up the hem of his shirt, revealing a blue ectobelly. Sure enough, the two mice were inside. “See? Show him you’re all right, guys!” The purple mouse crossed his arms and glared at the larger monsters through the translucent flesh, but the other gave a little wave. Sans stared at them, his tail still lashing, but his instinct to flee beginning to quiet. “i can’t believe it.” “Here.” Blueberry handed him the rainbow mouse, and he caught it reflexively. “how are you gonna get them back out?” Sans asked. “Oh, it’s easy. A little bit gross, though.” Blueberry turned away from him, and Sans was about to walk around in front of him to see what he was doing when he turned back, holding four mice now, two of them somewhat damp. “what did you do?” Sans stared at the now loose mice, but they seemed to be fine, if irritable. “Oh, I guess I have to show you how to do it if you’ve never done it before,” said Blueberry with a sheepish laugh. “That’s okay, I’ll do it again.” He held the red mouse over his jaws. “no, wait!” Sans yelped, and the fox paused. “Did you want this one?” He dropped the red mouse into Sans’s hands next to the rainbow one. “Go ahead, why don’t you eat them first, and then I’ll show you how to get them out.” “uh, no thanks!” Sans placed the mice gently on the snow and then darted for the house, his bushed tail almost as thick as the fox’s.

[elisaphoenix13]

A Half Day

It was probably a bad idea.

Okay, it was a terrible idea.

But Stephen needed a day off. From everything. Sorcerer Supreme duties, parenting, being a doctor, being a housewife, being a husband (he was pretty sure he heard someone make the correction of 'wife' from the other side of the ocean)...and really...doing everything. By the Vishanti, he practically parented the Avengers too! They came to him for a lot of issues or to patch them up, he's stopped three attempted food fights this month, and he had to stop Quill and Bucky from taking some of Harley and Peter's jokes seriously.

Like the one where Peter said he had to jump off the roof and Harley told him to do a flip.

Stephen was tired, and actually willing to risk leaving Valerie with her father (and everyone else) just so he could have more than an hour of peace. Tony was capable of raising a baby, but at the same time, half of their friends had been gone so no one bothered him. Now the tower was full again, plus Quill, and the god himself was part of the problem. With Valerie. Natasha was another part of it. Those two were constantly fighting over the baby--

Why was he thinking about this? Stephen did not remove his nanotech (with the knowledge that he would be getting an earful from Tony when he got home) and leave his phone behind just to spend his day off thinking about the chaos back home. Nope. He came to France for a quiet cup of tea that he could finish before it got cold and eat all the croissants he could stomach in one sitting. He even pulled out cash before coming so Tony couldn't track him if he used the card.

He did leave a note for his husband before he left early this morning (New York time), and simply wrote that he would be back soon. That was about two hours ago. A nice two hours of two cups of tea and probably about three or four croissants, and then he paid for his meal before walking around the streets of Paris. He took in the sights, breathed in the fresh air, and enjoyed the fact that he didn't have to grab his children's shirts to keep them from toppling over the bridge into the water below. Harley and Peter would have probably made a bet to see who could lean over furthest before falling or chickening out (Peter of course not allowed to use his spider grip), and Diana would either call them dummies or push one of them over.

With how much time she spent with Cassie, the boys still seemed to be rubbing off on her in all the worst ways. Then again, Cassie would do the same thing...maybe the young girl had a bigger part in raising Diana than Stephen initially thought. Maybe raising wasn't the right word though.

"I can't even go an hour without thinking about the kids." Stephen mumbles to himself.

Or anything else for that matter. He was having a hard time enjoying his peace when all he could think about was the doubtless disaster waiting for him at home already. He could visualize it now. Diana probably smuggled glitter into the tower and made more glitter bombs for Harley to shoot throughout the tower (and at Quill since Stephen was positive his oldest had a death wish), Peter with his webs, Tony and Tibbs down in the lab ignoring the disaster the kids and the team were creating, and Valerie was probably being pawned off between Avengers.

Athena was out of the overall equation since she was currently walking around Paris with him, and while they got some curious glances, they weren't bothered since the wolf stuck firmly to Stephen's side. She never ran off after stray animals or barked at other dogs that other people were out on walks with...she always waited for Stephen's permission and it still left him appalled. He only ever used magic to communicate with her the one time when she first came home with them, but she still ignored her instincts. Of course, if anyone or anything was a threat, that was an entirely different story. If Stephen was attacked, Athena would pounce without command. If there was a threat, she got defensive until Stephen commanded her.

Athena really was Stephen's.

"I guess a few hours for myself is better than nothing." Stephen muses aloud and looks down at the white wolf. "Might as well get the cubs souvenirs and get you some meat before we head home."

The sorcerer heads back toward the shops and commands Athena to stay outside while he goes into a butcher's shop, and after paying for the wolf's meal and asking the owner not to bother wrapping it, he carries it out by the paper it's sitting on. Stephen leans over to set it on the ground in front of Athena and quietly praises her for waiting patiently, and pets her head before leaving her to her lunch. She would remain in the spot by the bench while he went into a nearby cafe and ordered some crepes to go (for the kids), and also grabbed some coffee beans for Tony. A favorite of his that could only be found in France and that he had run out of a week ago.

Tony had been too absentminded to ask FRIDAY to order more coffee. He just moved on to the remains of other coffee beans he had sitting around. At least these would help pacify his husband's wrath to some degree. Tony had a billion and one reasons to worry about Stephen's and their children's safety...and even the rest of the team. The team acting as and being a family was spreading around the world (and some parts of the universe because of their battle with Thanos...and Quill's temper), and while some of the people with less than savory intentions thought twice and backed off, there were still a few morons.

Stephen buys the coffee and leaves the shop to return to Athena and he throws away the paper the meat had been sitting on into the nearest waste bin. He then motions for the wolf to follow as he slips out of sight to open a portal back home, and they barely step through when Harley snatches the bag of crepes as he runs past. Peter dashes after him, no doubt smelling the crepes, and they stumble into the kitchen where Dia and Cassie had been making something (thankfully glitter seemed to be absent) and they put it aside when Harley unloads the crepes for them.

Well the kids were easily taken care of with food, but how much of the disaster had the tower turned into in the few hours that Stephen had been gone? He looks around to assess the damage that had been done…

...but there was none.

It was as clean as he had left it that morning. The only thing different was that Tony was passed out on the couch with their youngest sleeping peacefully on his chest. Even while the engineer snored. The fact that the tower was clean and his husband was sleeping made Stephen start to wonder if perhaps he accidentally stepped into the wrong dimension. A few inconspicuous spells only proved that he was in the right place and Stephen looked around the floor some more. Kids eating at the table, Tony and baby daughter sleeping on the couch, Tibbs curled up with Athena on the floor...wait.

Some of the Avengers were sprawled out on the living room floor too. Quill was snoring (purring) on his back, and Scott was using his stomach as a pillow as he and Sam watched tv and Bucky threw popcorn at them from one of the couches. Steve sat next to the soldier drawing in a sketchbook, and Clint and Natasha were playing cards...how did Stephen miss them?

Probably because it wasn't the usual disaster. Everyone was quiet and everything was clean.

"Oh, hey Mama Bear. You're home a lot earlier than we expected." Sam says from his reclined position against one of Quill's bent legs.

"I...was expecting a mess to clean up." Stephen admits.

"Tony initiated the 'Mom Needs A Break' protocol." Bucky explains and the sorcerer blinks at him.

"There's a protocol for that?"

"You're married to him. You should know by now that there's a protocol for everything." Scott says. "There's even a protocol for when this guy goes berserk and I'm not home." He smacks the back of his hand against Quill's shoulder who doesn't even flinch and just keeps snoozing.

"Beast Mode Protocol." Tony elaborates sleepily as he looks at his watch. "You're back early tesoro."

Stephen sighs as he walks into the living room and retrieves his waking infant daughter off of the engineer. "All I did was think about the kids and the possible disaster I would come home to. I did enjoy two cups of hot tea though." He drops the bag of coffee beans into Tony's lap when he sits up and the older man grins.

"France? I'll pretend you didn't leave behind your tech and phone this time."

"How compassionate." Stephen teases and steals a kiss after his husband stands up. "Where are you going?"

"Down to the lab to make you tech that you can't remove. Come on furball." Tony heads over to the elevator as Tibbs unfurls himself from Athena's side and follows the billionaire into the elevator.

"I remember a time when Tibbs was my cat." Peter grumbles from the kitchen when the elevator doors close.

Stephen only smiles as he joins the kids in the kitchen and sets Valerie in her high chair. There was no heat behind Peter's words. Tibbs may spend time with Tony in the lab whenever he was down there, but he always slept in Peter's room every night. All of the cat's things were still in the teen's room, and he had originally belonged to Peter anyway. Tibbs just liked everyone. Their alpaca Gerald...and even Athena, a dangerous predator. He truly was a cat that didn't care.

"When's the last time your sister ate?" Stephen asks the kids, and Cassie was surprisingly the one who answered.

"Bucky fed her some cereal about three hours ago."

"I'm still convinced there's some of that in my arm!" The man calls from the living room.

"Buck, just go down to the lab and ask Tony to take a look." Steve says with a chuckle.

Stephen grabs a jar of baby food from the cupboard as Bucky relents and disappears onto the elevator and the doctor sits in a chair in front of the high chair. The moment Stephen fed her a small spoonful of pureed apples and blueberries, she was eating it so fast that he barely pulled the spoon away from her mouth before she was opening it again for more. Valerie loved fruit and it was always the least messiest meal, unlike the attempt to feed her pureed green beans. She was always a quiet baby, but if anyone put green beans anywhere near her...she threw a fit. Quill had been the one to figure that out the hard way. Stephen had his hands full that day and the celestial offered to help feed Valerie, so the sorcerer gave him the jar of green beans to feed her.

Stephen happened to watch that first spoonful disappear into Valerie's mouth, and then the look of pure betrayal appeared on her face. Betrayal because her Uncle Quill fed her that atrocious toxic waste and was trying to feed her a second spoonful. The god took a green bean shower that day, and Stephen made a mental note to keep green beans off the list of pureed vegetables to feed her.

Thankfully she liked everything else fed to her.

So far.

"Thanks for the crepes, Mom!" The boys jump up from their seats and toss the to go containers into the trash before they also disappear onto the elevator.

"I remember a time when they liked to cuddle." Stephen sighs heavily as he feeds the last of the fruit to Valerie.

"I could use some Mama Bear cuddles." Cassie says. "Papa Bear cuddles are great and all but his are more secure while yours are comforting."

"Me too!" Diana chimes in. "I want Mama Bear cuddles in a pillow fort!"

Stephen smirks. "You better get Uncle Quill to move then."

"Pfft. That's easy." Diana waves her hand at her mother. "He's like you."

"Like m--?" The doctor starts to ask until the little girl screams.

The sorcerer hears Scott and Sam squawk as the snoring suddenly stops, and he watches in mild amusement as Quill vaults over the couch closest to the kitchen. The celestial stumbles over to the girls and looks around for whatever is threatening Diana, and when he finds nothing, he narrows his eyes.

"What were you screaming for?"

"We needed you to move so me and Cassie can build a pillow fort and cuddle with Mommy."

Quill rubs his eyes. "You could have just asked."

"Well that's no fun." Stephen says with a smirk.

"Just for that, I'm sleeping in your bed." The celestial turns and makes his way up the stairs toward the master bedroom.

The doctor laughs. "Go sleep in your own bed!"

"Nope! Too late!" Quill disappears into the bedroom and Stephen looks at his daughter.

"No more of that unless you're really in trouble."

"I promise."

"Good. Now go build a fort."

[jawbone-xylophone]

((ack the other prompt for the star sans thing didn't paste x.x)) Star sanses in “Do you ever follow directions?” and/or “We are not going to steal someone’s dog.”

Oh I can do that, heck yeah. Though I sort of took the spirit of “We are not stealing someone’s dog” and put a cat in for Reasons.

/////

“Ink.” Dream sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he could will this headache away. “What about the word ‘truce’ do you not understand?”

The headache grinned back at him widely, brush in hand, roughly two seconds from swiping right and ruining a month of blessed peace. “For such a positive guy, you really are a buzzkill. The truce didn’t say anything about pranks!”

Dream very carefully did not groan. Beside him, Blue’s eyes pinged back and forth like he was watching a tennis match, one hand holding his chin thoughtfully. “Isn’t it more like giving him a present anyway...?”

“See! That’s the spirit!” Barely having needed the encouragement to start with, Ink splashed a portal onto the ground and stuck a hand in blindly.

“Where- What- Blue.” Dream turned to look at him, betrayed. He dug for some justifiable ammunition and tried: “Giving someone a pet unexpectedly is rude, isn’t it? What if Error doesn’t like cats? What if he can’t handle the responsibility? We should probably not do this and definitely should do something else, right?”

Blue hummed lightly, before shrugging. “Then we get him a book and some supplies. It’s like a gift basket that comes with a fuzzy little friend! And I think Error could really benefit from a fluffy little lap cat, you know?”

Somewhere at their feet, legs sticking out of the black blob on the floor, Ink’s muffled shout of “Called it!” bled through.

Dream had a brief, wild fantasy of Error spinning around in an office chair like a Bond villain, petting a cat, before the thought exploded with laser fire. “This is going to end in tears.”

“Of laughter!” Ink insisted, wriggling backwards out of his portal puddle with a downright evil looking kitten in his hand. It was sort of cute though, very fluffy, a red and black calico with blue-yellow heterochromatic eyes.

Wait.

No.

Dream stared at the kitten, and it sneered at him, flashing very long blue claws.

“Where did you get that cat.”

“There’s like thousand kitten AUs, they won’t miss one-“

“Ink I can feel that cat, and it knows who we are, I need a straight answer.”

“That’s gonna be difficult, considering I’m ace, but I can try just for you.” Ink winked, one eye a spiraling pink flower.

Blue just got to the point while the other two did their thing, leaning over to scritch the kitty with a gentle smile. “Hi there little guy, nice to meet you!”

The kitten hissed viciously and swiped a claw at him, but Blue caught it neatly. Looking the cat dead in the eye like it owed him money, still smiling, he squished its little toe beans.

“You may not know me, but I’m Blue. Or maybe Blueberry, to you?”

The kitten froze, ears going flat.

Blue patted it on the head kindly, still smiling, smiling, smiling.

“-put it back, Ink, or so help me-“

“Y’know, this was sort of fun, but I’m just gonna go ahead now.” Ink cut in, before looking at where Blue was making friends with the suddenly very cooperative little hellion in his grip. “Blue, d’you mind letting go? I’ve gotta go yeet this into the antivoid and hope it messes up Error’s knitting.”

“Bye~” Blue cooed, backing up to wave brightly.

And then Ink was gone in a splash of turquoise, leaving Dream to stare at Blue.

A few seconds passed.

Then, full of quiet and heartfelt despair: “We have one job.”

Blue clapped his hands together cheerfully, bouncing a bit. “And it’s so much fun!”