#but it’s okay I love my stinky little meow meow

[kalopsia1sblog]

“Pervert”

Fyodor x Fem! Reader

DOA kidnaps reader-masturbation, noncon voyuerism, Fyodor is possessive, literally don’t know what else to tag

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fyodor sat at his computer watching as you were dragged kicking and screaming back to your room with it being the third time you tried to escape this week. He was disappointed in your refusal to give up and accept the new conditions you lived in; and it wasn’t like you didn’t live in splendor, as the Decay of Angels has given you only the best per you being his newest toy. He just couldn’t understand why you didn’t do as you were told. He let out a tortured sigh, continually in this cycle of wondering why you couldn’t just be content with your new life. Immediately after you were thrust back into your room and the door was locked, he watched in surprise as you smoothed down your hair and walked to the bathroom to take a shower. Obviously he had cameras there too, because you couldn’t be trusted to be on your own. Watching you undress and step into the running water without realizing that you were being watched was so degrading that Fyodor felt disgusted with himself as he released himself from the confines of his pants, his dick springing free.

Grunting, he stroked himself roughly, watching as you washed yourself, taking away all the feeling from having been manhandled earlier, discarding all impurities. Fondling his tip that was beaded with precum, he was almost at his release when you were conditioning your hair. It was so perverted, so creepy what his actions were that as he cummed, the thick ropes of white spilling all over his hand, he got up and went to go wash himself off.

Angrily he muttered under his breath, “This filthiness goes against the will of God.” At the same time he said this, you walked out into the hallway, bumping into him. Confused, you looked up at him, but without a word he turned around and walked the other way. He could only assume with how distant he was towards you, that you assumed he had no wanting towards you the same way the other members of the DOA did.

Oh how wrong you were.

Later on, walking into the common area for the DOA to convene within the sky casino, Fyodor had taken a shower to rid himself of the vile sin he committed. However, seeing Nikolai entertain you with clownish tricks, and Sigma lay his head onto your shoulder, he was struck by a possessiveness that he didn’t know he had. Again, choosing to ignore you in light of this, he walked over to the window to ponder these new feelings. Continually hearing Nikolai and Sigma pepper you with attention and affection despite knowing how many times you had tried to escape from their hold was irritating; with their chosen ignorance of your actions. Sigma believed you were something to be cherished, and Nikolai decided that it was he who should break you through his insanity.

Fyodor held neither of these sentiments, though watching you run around to manipulate Sigma into letting you go, and dealing your life with Nikolai’s psychopathy was somewhat amusing, even though it seemed like you were forgetting who you belonged to.

He decided that it would be better for him to remind you.

Every now and then he would make small conversation with you, asking about music you enjoyed, and books he reccomended to you. From how you decided to start following him whenever he went out of the casino, the plot he hatched seemed to be working. Of course, he made sure you couldn’t escape while he was gone, locking all the passageways and exits. Then, one day when he was sure that you wouldn’t think much of him “forgetting” to lock one of the exits, he walked out and waited for your sure getaway.

Seeing you wander outside, looking triumphant, he watched as you dimwittedly jumped for joy. He almost felt bad when he stepped behind you and covered your hand with his mouth, restraining you.

“Dear, you didn’t think I would actually forget to conveniently keep an exit unlocked?” He sneered, your horrified expression bringing him unmatched pleasure.

“I…I thought you didn’t want me the same way those two do. I thought you would be alright with me going.” You quietly muttered.

Placatingly, Fyodor smiled and said, “I don’t need to want you the way they do. You’re already mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: BSD new ep spoilers/JJK 236 CHP spoilers:

SO FYODOR IS FUCKING DEAD? Like I’m part of Dazai nation too woohoo let’s go but I didn’t want Fyodor to die he’s my hot little anemic Russian man and GOJO IS FUCKING DEAD TOO? LIKE IM STILL A GOJO GLAZER FOR LIFE BUT YALL WHY ARE ASAGIRI AND AKUTAMI KILLING OFF THE CHARACTERS I LIKE??

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

okay after that tag game I can’t help but think about my faves as cats. I need to ramble now.

Giyuu: cute all black cat. Hair on the longish side, but surprisingly easy to care for. He’s an overall chill cat. Maybe a little too chill. Sometimes you really wander what’s going on in his head, he’s been staring at that same spot on the wall for a hour now. Not amused much by toys. Will go crazy for crinkly ones but gets of them quite easily and just paws at it gently instead of flinging it across the room and chasing after it like he was moments ago. Occasionally gets him stuck in places he can’t get himself out of. He was just curious. And now regrets it. Seems almost humanly embarrassed whenever you gotta help him out. He loves sitting on your lap and chest. He’ll knead your chest too. Always wants to be near you and see what you’re doing. He will follow you into the bathroom. NO closed doors in this household. He’ll press his nose against the door and meow so loud and sad until you open it up. His meow quickly turning cute and innocent.

Aki: Little brat tbh LMAO. All black short hair cat. He’s a petty ass cat. He will knock your water off your table if you fed him two minutes late. Loves cuddles though, so clingy. Has a real nice loud and deep purr. Looovvesss scritches on the chin, he does the whole eye squint and pushing his head out to get more. He’ll knead on you too. He don’t care, he wanna use your thigh, even if you didn’t cut his claws yet. He’s finally being affectionate, you gotta smile through the pain. He only wants attention once HE demands it. He’s the cuddliest thing when he approaches you first. But you see him sitting all cute in his tower and want to come up and pet him?? WHACK. He likes to sleep in bed with you every night though. And he INSISTS on sharing your pillow. If it snows where you live, he likes to watch the snowflakes through the window. He’ll walk around in the snow if you put him out there but he’s doing the whole one step *shake foot* one step *shake foot* and that’s about all he’ll do. He’s (slowly) walking back into the house. Jumps on your shoulder and watches you cook.

Kento: one of them fancy spotted ones. I’ll look up the specifies later. Idk what kinds of temperaments those kinds of cats would have. But this is Kento energy now so it don’t matter bc I said so. He’s the most easy going cat anybody would ever own. He’s why the stereotype of cats being “fully independent pets” came from. Barely vocal, he’s a very quiet cat. He’ll only speak once it’s getting close to his feeding time. You always feed him at 6pm?? He’s meowing politely and sitting patiently at his bowl at exactly 5:50 to remind you it’s almost time to feed him and to not be late. Just about as affectionate as Aki. He needs his alone time, and will come to you when he’s craving cuddles again. Has a real deep purr, low and sometimes you either gotta feel him or lean in close to hear his purrs. He always smells so good, he doesn’t really get stinky. He will clean himself after you kiss him lolol. He likes sitting on your lap. He’s also ALWAYS curious about what your cookin. He never wants to eat any of the food you give him to sniff, he simply just wants to sniff and watch lolol.

Shouta: such a sassy cat. Definitely a stray you randomly just came home with one day with no preparation whatsoever. Very very recluses cat. Doesn’t like hugs, doesn’t like being held. Doesn’t like being groomed bc it goes into being man handled. Such a soft little baby once he starts to warm up to you though (which definitely takes a while). Softly nudges your arm with his face, looking at you with big sad eyes bc he wants pets lolol. He never sits on top of you either, he’ll always be touching but never on top. When he does, it’s RARE!!! Maybe once a year. And it will be your chest when you’re sleeping lolol. Snooziest cat, he doesn’t like toys, he almost looks like he finds them ridiculous. Old man in a cats body. WILL make himself comfy. Bought him a bed? Nah, your blanket and pillows are better.

[turquoisesea01]

~ Welcome to TurquoiseSea ~

This is an 18+ Art Account.

Which means this account does not want minors interact with this blog. Any ageless blogs will be blocked immediately. If you’re an adult who hasn’t put their age in their bio yet, I advised you to do that immediately, especially to the people who are new to tumblr. People will think your are just a bot and will block you immediately if they don’t see anything written on your bio.

Anyways, once again, NO MINORS ARE ALLOWED TO INTERACT NOR FOLLOW THIS ACCOUNT. THIS IS AN ADULT SPACE. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE. And no. I do not care if you’re turning 18 this month or 3 days or a week early, you’ll have to wait to interact this blog until you’re actually 18.

Another thing, I don’t want any, pedos, zoophiles, homophobic/transphobic content interact with me, keep that shit away from me.

Who Am I?

Hello! I am TurquoiseSea! But that’s just my username for art. My actual name is Jocelyne, but I usually go as Yoshi!

Why Yoshi? It’s just a nickname I had since childhood and I prefer that more than my actual name ^v^!

This is my sona Yoshi! ^v^

I am 21 years old, I am a pansexual Demi romantic cis girl and my pronouns are she/her! I am Salvadoran and Peruvian! However my Spanish isnt my best language to

Im an artist that loves to draw Yan characters, drawing fanart of anime and video game characters I like! I usually draw self inserts and my ocs, especially Virgil Evans!

Just a heads up, in this account I’ll also be venting through text posts and vent arts and will let you know that I’m okay. I just only want to get something off of my chest.

Who is Vigil?

Virgil Evans is an oc I had since childhood. At first he was roleplay character I use for, well, roleplay! Until when I stop roleplaying, I ended up making him his own character and eventually grew up with me throughout the years! He played a huge role throughout my life so expect to see much Virgil content in this blog.

HOWEVER!

To those who have gotten to this blog through my VN blog of Yan Virgil, Would You Stay, I’m not posting any Yan Virgil content in this blog. So please do not ask me any Yan Virgil or my VN related questions in my inbox. Those questions goes to my VN blog.

Yan Virgil in WYS is just an alternate version of my Og Virgil if things gone wrong in his world. Think of it as an alternative timeline.

Which fandom I’m currently in?

Yandere Visual Novels (more like a community than a fandom lol) : Such as See Thru Need A Friend? , Restart Heart, YOU and HIM, MINE VN, You Guardian Angel, My Ange, Camp WillowPeak, Drop In The Ocean, Favor, etc. ^v^ Im practically everywhere lmao (although I try my best to make fanart ;v; )

Degrees Of Lewdity : You can expect artwork of Kylar. I am a Kylar girlie lmao, I love that stinky icky lil skrunkly <3 My disgusting lil meow meow.

Obey Me! One Master to Rule Them All/ Obey Me! Nightbringer : Oof currently I’m burning out of the two games but I still lurks around in the fandom and sometimes draw fanart with my Mc :3, however! I have an AU about Lilith, if she were alive! So feel free to check out my side blog if you’re interested! Also I am a Barbatos simp! <3

Genshin Impact : The only time I draw fanart is Wanderer and a sketch of Nahida. And my ocs if they were Genshin playable characters lmao. But either way, RAAAAA I WANT TO PULL FOR NEUVILLETTE BUT I GOTTA WAIT A LITTLE MORE TILL I GET AT LEAST 50 PULLs PLEASE COME HIME NEVU—

Twisted Wonderland : I’m currently hyperfixated on the game for like since the English release came out lmao, I already have like two ocs! And two are basically based on the live action of Alice in Wonderland characters! Fior Rosehearts (based off of the White Queen) and Jasper Woods (based off of the Jabberwocky!) but eeee I’m so excited for the Glorious Masquerade event!

What Are My Boundaries?

Please don’t sexualize or be weird about my ocs who are minors. Such as Kota, Miski, Irvin, etc. Or even when I drew my adult ocs as their young version, do not be weird about it.

I do not mind playful flirting, virtual smooches, cuddles, hugs are okay with me! I don’t mind nicknames as well! Sexual flirting is ok as well, usually as jokes lol. But please keep in mind that I am also a human behind the screen, I have feelings and thoughts. I will feel uncomfortable if you go out of your way to my inbox to threaten me for sexual purposes, you will be blocked

I absolutely don’t mind if you shipped yourself or ocs with my ocs! As long it’s not problematic! I also don’t mind if my sona is also being shipped lol.

Feel free to ask me any questions! However do keep in mind that I might respond late due to me thinking carefully of what to answer or I get distracted lmao or if the question has gone too personal for me to answer, I’d rather not answer.

Once again if you came from my VN blog, do not ask me questions related about Yan Virgil. That’s for my WYS VN blog.

Please don’t ask me to draw for you unless I am taking art requests. I usually draw for the people I’m close to or my moots!

Sooo that’s pretty much it! I’ll add more if I remembered something! ^v^ I’ll have to add tags later but that requires me to organize my tags! So it will take awhile!

[tacticalhimbo]

okay HIIII 🪩💎 this is really specific but. i want to know ur thoughts cs i’m also crowdsourcing for my own list but— top 5 poor little meow meows in media

this IS so specific, but luckily for you i love hyperspecific shit-

if we're going for the truest definition of poor little meow meow (endearingly pathetic and extremely flawed), in no particular order, i would say:

harry du bois (disco elysium) - he is the easiest answer on this list. i mean. need i say more?

agent 47 (hitman) - i'm sorry but this man is so pathetic in the most unconventional way. like. badass i can do anything and kill anyone and i'm like a ghost mode of operation, if you watch this man's dialog when he's trying to blend in? it's so endearing. "it's to die for" sir you are as subtle as a freight train. he is a meow meow. to me.

tanner greyton (scrutinized) - niche fandom alert! this guy is another top contender for meow meow to me because he's like. the guy ever. cheery disposition stalker and (alleged) serial killer? he literally has a scare in the game where he pops up on your camera feed waving his hands like wallace talking about cheese. he also says, and i quote, "well, this is awkward" before one of his kills. literal GO WHITE BOY GO energy.

[ src 1 || src 2 ]

vector hyllus (star wars: the old republic) - another niche answer but listen to me. listen to me! he is so... incredible. imperial (stinky) diplomat (less stinky) who ended up joining an alien hivemind and now talks about himself in plural tense and is one of the most unintentionally funny guys out there? he's beautiful <3

black noir (the boys; tv version) - if earving has no fans i am dead. he has been wronged from the beginning (forced into a masked superhero identity because of racism and the profitability of the corporation he worked for, all the while being abused by said corporation's poster child superhero at the time) and who, from childhood, has vividly imagined and interacted with the characters from the in-universe equivalent to chuck e cheese to cope with moments of emotional stress.

o7 hope this helps with your curation! and ty for the asks btw i love you <3 <3 <3

[shaniacsboogara]

What are some of your favorite movies and why? I'm in the mood for some ranting about cool stuff :)

OKAY ALRIGHT LET'S DO THIS (in no particular order)

JK ROWLING IS STINKY 🤬🤬🤬

But I love Remus Lupin. And I love the aesthetic of this movie. And I LOVE werewolves. Professor Lupin is one of THE BEST characters in the entire Harry Potter franchise and I just think he deserves more hype and he's really cool and idk I get nostalgic about this movie and it's definitely a comfort movie for me.

Just this entire franchise. And the Hobbit movies. My Dad has always been a BIG Tolkien fan so I was raised on LOTR and went to see the Hobbit movies in theatres when they first came out (I saw the first one 3 or 4 times, I was OBSESSED). BEFORE ANYONE COMES AT ME I'VE ALSO READ THE BOOKS I READ THEM IN GRADE 3 I KNOW THE LORE DW 🙏. I'm a sucker for fantasy (hence my current dnd obsession lol) and the world of these films is just so immersive and breathtakingly beautiful that I can't help but consider them my favourites, even if it's been years since I've watched them cohesively. ALSO THE MUSIC IS SO GOOD. I'LL LISTEN TO THE LOTR SOUNDTRACK ANY DAY.

Again. THE MUSIC.

Andrew Garfield was SO GREAT in this, and I personally connected to it a lot as a songwriter myself. That being said, this movie makes me SOB EVERY SINGLE TIME. Jonathan Larson was truly a talent and it's such a shame his life ended as early as it did. So glad he lives on through his art, and so glad that he was able to make such a huge impact on people with what he created. (Also fun fact I'm going to see Rent in a few weeks)

IT STARTED AS A BIT IT WAS A JOKE

Word of advice: if you ever think to yourself, "Hey. It'd be silly if I kept suggesting to watch that one Adam Sandler Halloween movie whenever my family asks for movie suggestions despite the fact that it isn't Halloween anymore and it's not that good of a movie- DON'T. DO IT.

Hubie Halloween is my comfort movie now. I don't rewatch movies and tv shows a lot, but I've seen this one probably 5 times in the last few months. It's just a silly little Halloween movie, but I sort of started to appreciate it more after realizing "HEY THAT GUY IN THE TIN MAN COSTUME IS WILL BYERS!!!" Although most of the media I find myself drawn to is more complex and explores the intricacies of how humanity functions, this movie somehow grew on me. My family references it constantly, and every time we play Jackbox games, half of the quiplash answers are just "Hubie". Overall I just think this movie is funny, quirky, subverts expectations in silly ways, and is a nice lighthearted watch compared to my other favourites.

My final movie on this list isn't ACTUALLY a movie but I HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND

MIDNIGHT MASS IS MY FAVOURITE SHOW. EVER. OF ALL TIME.

The music??? Immaculate. THE ACTING??? Immaculate. THE WRITING??? Immaculate (although there are a lot of monologues which can be a lot for some people, but as a theatre kid I REALLY appreciated them).

I've rewatched this show 2 1/2 times now and I'm just so in love with it. It's horror, but it doesn't rely on cheap jumpscares and many of the cheaper tactics some horror movies use nowadays. It's way more focused on its ensemble cast and developing good characters and storytelling. Sure, it starts off a bit slow, but the emotional payoff in the final two episodes is SO. WORTH IT.

Hamish Linklater as Father Paul is just... Awesome. RAHUL KOHLI AS HASSAN??? SO GOOD??? THIS ENTIRE CAST IS SO TALENTED and the way they play their characters is so raw and compelling and human.

Ryan Bergara was so right when he listed Father Paul as a poor little meow meow on Tumblr Top 5 HE SO IS AND I LOVE HIM FOR THAT. Anyway if you wanna see a new take on some classic horror tropes, commentary on the meaning of life and what happens after it, and some really good acting just... Please watch this. It definitely destroys your soul and makes you think but it's so good and the aesthetic is just... Mmmm.

Anyway Boog rant over, THANK YOU FOR THE ASK I LOVE RANTING SORRY THIS IS LONG!!!

[kodzukyan]

better with you (until it kills me)

notes: it's always missing baji hours here </3 fluff, angst; alternative ending: always, always you

summary: four times you think you are in love with baji keisuke, and the one time you tell him.

wc: 3.7k

You're reasonably sure the only reason he chooses you to pair up with for the Japanese literature project is that you sit next to him, but it surprises you all the same. You don't think you have much of a presence in class, but you don't think you can say the same about your new partner, Baji Keisuke.

His slicked-back ponytail and thick frames make his presence seem like a poindexter, but there's something about his bruised knuckles and his fierce aura that makes him feel ferocious. You've noticed him hang out with the school delinquent on multiple occasions. You also think you've seen him laugh wildly as he beats up some of the local thugs who crowded around the said delinquent he's friends with.

He isn't who you expect him to be at first glance, and that intrigues you more than you like to admit. You're too nervous to openly ask, so you settle for stealing glances at him from the corner of your eyes.

So, when he really decides on you and submits the partner form, you don't know what to think.

In the time that you two are partners, you've discovered a couple of things about him. First, his handwriting and kanji absolutely suck. Despite that, he writes a letter addressed to someone named Kazutora every week without fail. As if that isn't endearing enough, it gets even more so when he pouts at the complex characters that he often gets wrong and the inevitable smile that breaks out whenever you show him how to write them correctly.

("Oh, thanks! I would probably fail my kanji tests without you and Chifuyu. Kazutora probably can't even understand what I'm saying," he laughs rambunctiously.)

Second, he's genuinely an unexpectedly good partner in terms of being punctual about meeting up. However, despite being on time, there is little progress on the project. Your work times often end up in discussions about random life topics rather than the project itself.

(“Do you like cats?” he asks out of the blue one day, head on the table and books already forgotten.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” you humor him because you’re also tired of researching Japanese literature.

“Wanna see my cats? They’re all strays,” he sits up suddenly, eyes lit and smile bright.

You nod, and he proceeds to take out his phone to show you pictures of his cats. You note his lock-screen is a picture of all his cats, and his camera roll is just full of his friends and mom, motorcycles, and the said cats. With shining eyes full of excitement, he tells you their names and their personalities in detail.

"Do you think cats recognize their names but choose to ignore us whenever we call them?" he resumes the conversation after he finishes showing you his gallery. He leans back as he balances his pencil on top of his pursed lips.

"Maybe. Depends on the cat? Maybe they just hate you?" you mimic his pose. You suppose thirty minutes of work is enough progress for the day.

"Ouch," he grimaces as if it shatters him directly in the heart.)

Third, sometimes he comes with his hair down and without his glances, with stains on his clothes that he claims are ketchup, despite it not smelling like that at all.

("Uh, hey, sorry I'm late today," he offers sheepishly as he runs a hand through his unbound hair.

"Oh, it's okay," you finally say after you take in his shaggy appearance. You try not to think about how handsome he is despite the bruises forming on his face. "Are you… okay?"

"All good! The ketchup bottle just randomly exploded," he laughs nervously and awkwardly. "Anyways!! The project!!"

You stare at him dubiously but nod anyway. "Okay, if you say so…")

Fourth, he has an extremely charming smile, especially when his fangs are in full display. To some, it may look fierce and menacing; to you, it looks cute, especially when his eyes are always brimming with life and his laugh is full of vitality.

More often than not you catch yourself staring at him because he's just so intriguing.

You try to ignore your racing heart when your stolen glances become shared ones, and he flashes you a grin softer than the smiles you've seen.

-----

“Uh, hi.” You say shyly as you enter through Baji’s window. It’s not frequently you seek out Baji at his own home, especially through the window he keeps open almost exclusively for stray cats to seek shelter.

“What the fuck?” Baji drops the stray cat he's cuddling as you give a slight wave, causing the cat to meow loudly at the sudden change in demeanor.

“Sorry to drop by unannounced. I, uh, just wanted some company.”

You feel vanishingly small as you awkwardly laugh and piece together some words that make sense. Home is supposed to be full of warmth, but your home is more of a house with people than a home with love. It’s a truth you’ve long accepted, but some days, it feels a little extra cold.

Therefore, you run, and somehow you end up here, in the comforts of Baji’s room.

Maybe you are currently a stray cat, feeling a little more lost than found. Maybe you find that he’s the sort of comfort that warms you a little when your heart feels heavy. Maybe you are just a little bit in like with him, and he is the first person you want to see whenever you’re feeling down.

The room is silent aside from the soft paps of cats moving around and the periodic meow. Then, he pats the spot next to him, and you make your way there. As soon as you sit down, he hands you a cat.

“Here, hold her. She’s nice,” he comments as he places the calico cat he dropped earlier in your lap, petting her as she adjusts to her new position on you.

She narrows her eyes and softly purrs in your lap as Baji pets her, and this makes you feel more in the moment than in your head like you’ve been. Your initial baffle turns into a smile as she purrs louder when you pet her, and just like that, you feel a little more found than lost.

You lean on his shoulder as you continue petting the calico cat in your lap. You keep your eyes on her as she climbs onto his lap and nuzzles him in an attempt to hide your burning cheeks and your drumming heart from your proximity.

“Thanks for giving me a home when I don’t want to be in my own,” you tell him softly, airly, almost as if you’re letting him in on a secret.

He stops playing with the cats for a moment and pauses. Feeling his intense stare, you peek through your lashes up at him. His broad grin and sharp canines are in full display, and his smile looks a little more boyish than wild. He tousles your hair as he laughs aloud boisterously before he props his head on top of yours.

“You’ll always have a home here.”

-----

It all started when a group of thugs looked at you inappropriately and made some comments that made you uncomfortable. You grip the ends of his sleeve just a little harder and press yourself behind him, trying to make yourself impossibly small. Baji, seeing your small form and downcast eyes, removes your hand from his sleeve and places it in his hand. Knowing Baji and him knowing you and your every mood, he does not stand for it. He simply flashes you a reassuring grin before he squeezes your hand and runs straight at them.

He throws the first punch, and you could just stand there in shock as he pummels through them and beats them up. He has cuts and bruises everywhere, and you’re certain he’s taken on a few nasty hits on his ribs. Though you’re equally confident that these thugs are absolutely 100% in worse shape than he is.

“Oh my god,” you sob frantically as Baji wobbles back to you, ferocious smile on his face softens as he sees you. He pats your head when he notes your teary eyes. You’re not even sure when you start crying, but the tears just don’t seem to stop. “Are you okay? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you -”

He clutches your tear-stained face in his hands, “Look at me.”

Your eyes meet his, but you can barely see him over your tears as you continue your incoherent rambling.

“Hey,” he tries once more, voice more frantic as he struggles to find words. He finally just squishes your cheeks and yells, “Do you think I care about anything else but you right now?”

Your eyes widen, and the tears forming fall freely onto his hands. Oh, oh, oh, you think to yourself as your beating heart rapidly thumps at an exponential speed, maybe he’s also falling. When you meet his steady gray eyes, the shocking realization that maybe you’re not the only one dumb and possibly in love stops your tears.

He sighs in relief when your tears gradually stop, and as if all the tiredness accumulated in his body hit him all at once, he falls down onto the ground.

You try to catch him as best as you can, and with the combined effort of mostly himself and partially you, he breaks his fall. He lays sprawled out on the ground. After you check for wounds and find none too serious, you sit with your knees tucked under you by where he lays and moves his head onto your lap.

All around you are the battered bodies of the thugs you’ve encountered, but all you can see at the moment is him and his gray eyes that disappear into crescent moons as he flashes you a grin. He’s too tired to move, but he raises a fist up into the air in victory anyway.

“I got you.”

-----

"Wanna go on a ride?" he texts you.

It’s almost midnight when he texts you, and it’s probably way past when you should stay up. But your heart flutters at the thought of adventure, at the thought of him, so you quickly respond, “Okay, but be quiet! Don't wake my parents up again, stinky!!!”

You can already imagine his sheepish smile when he sends you a "that was once!!! my bad" back.

After sending him a quick ":p", you silently put on some clothes more fitting to go out than your pajamas. The sound of his motorcycle announces his greater-than-life presence long before his text does. Grabbing two scrunchies, you sneak out your window.

He only greets you with a goofy smile and a wave, hair free-flowing in the wind. Under the moonlight, his gray eyes twinkle with vigor and youth. It knocks the air out of your lungs as you glance at him because he's beautiful, ethereal, and alive. He smiles smugly when he catches your stare, but he holds his hand out for you to take.

"Hi," you whisper under the twinkling stars as you put your hand in his.

"Hey," he whispers back as he curls his fingers around your hand before adjusting to interlace your fingers together.

The quietness and intimacy of this moment drown out the world - the sound of cars driving by, of cicadas flying, of the world standing still. The only thing keeping you from floating is his hand and the sound of your heartbeat.

"I got you a hair tie." You offer softly with an equally soft smile, eyes pointing to the scrunchies on your wrist.

"I got you a hoodie," he responds as he nods to his motorcycle. "Because I knew your dumb ass would, once again, forget to dress for the winds."

"I'm dressed decently enough. You, though… please tie your hair… It hurts like hell when it whips in my face," you laugh lightly.

He rolls his eyes. "That's also what you said last time before you ended up stealing my hoodie, and I ended up being cold!" he complains, but there's a certain fondness in his voice.

You only stick your tongue out childishly at him. You would rather bite your tongue than admit that you are always slightly underdressed for the occasion so he would keep giving you his hoodies.

He tugs your interlaced hand and pulls you closer, and as you stand so close to him, you think close isn't quite close enough. The two of you linger in that position for longer than what should be appropriate for friends, but you think you have been tiptoeing around that line for a while now. Your heart races, and you're sure your erratic heart is beating fast enough to generate heat to keep you warm against the cold winds.

He pulls away first, moving to grab his hoodie before he roughly puts it on you. He laughs when you complain about your ruffled hair, but as his hoodie and scent engulf you, you could only shyly smile. He takes a scrunchie despite complaining about how poofy it is. As he settles in his bike and you settle in behind him, arms tight around his waist, you think this is probably what holding the universe in your arms feels like.

He rives his bike loudly despite your warning, but you find that you could care less right now as he takes off. You are young and dumb, but the wind is running through your hair as the two of you are chasing the moon, and it makes you feel so alive. Neon lights and starlit skies blur together as he speeds through familiar roads, and the brisk winds drown out your loud laughter. It feels like you're feeling everything at once, but your head is so clear.

You think you can understand why he loves riding so much because the only thing that you can hear is your loud heartbeat, and the only thing that matters is you're living.

He finally stops at a local 24-hour diner. The moonlight shines through the window by your table. You are still feeling the wild wind in your hair, cold air on your face, and the warmth of Baji’s back on your arms. It's way past midnight now, and the yellow lights of the diner feel a little more homey than dingy. He’s munching on some fries, occasionally waving one in your face whenever he’s trying to make a point about something. As you watch the various expressions on his face, a smile makes its way to your face.

“Hey Keisuke,” you grab a fry and jab it at him in the middle of his sentence. He stops his mid-word as he stares at you, head tilting slightly and mouth still gaping. There is a particular word that you keep thinking of whenever you think of Baji, a feeling that lingers and fills your heart up. You know what it is. You think you know at least, and in moments like these when you’re just watching his goofy self munching on fries while boisterously laughing at something dumb, all you can think of is those four letters.

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper before you eat your fry. Best friend, you think, encompasses a lot of things and feelings as you stare at his childlike grin, heart fluttering and mind blanking because all you see is him. You hope he knows, hope he gets that best friend is a loose term because he is so much more.

When he meets your eyes and his gray eyes crinkle in mirth and laughter rolls off his lips, you think he does.

“I know,” he smugly nods before he drops another fry into his mouth. “I guess you’re pretty cool too.”

You stick your tongue out at him and feel a warmth in your heart that matches the pinks of his cheeks. Maybe it’s adrenaline still in your blood, maybe it’s the moment, but it makes you devious, brave even, as you lean over and chomp down on the fry he's holding.

He stares at you with his mouth wide open, looking absolutely flabbergasted and offended. “Hello? That was my last fry!”

“Sorry,” you giggle, not feeling all that sorry at all. You know he’s not truly that offended because he has that stupid grin on his face, because he’s always soft with you. A part of you does feel a little sorry when you see the small pout that arises on his face. “I’ll treat you to yakisoba later?”

He turns away from you, face still slightly sulky as he huffs silently.

“No? You don’t want yakisoba?” you ask. You still find it amusing that Baji Keisuke, the first division captain of the Toman Gang who would punch someone on the streets for no reason other than just because he feels like it, is pouting because you stole his last fry. If anyone from any rival gangs sees Baji Keisuke now, they probably wouldn’t believe this is the same person.

“Fine,” he huffs softly, “But don’t think one yakisoba is enough.”

“Then,” you begin, your heart pounding loudly in your chest as you work up the courage, “What about this?”

He turns to you in confusion, and before your courage runs out on you, you crash your lips onto his before you pull away.

“Repayment,” you mutter meekly, eyes avoiding his because you’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks from where he’s sitting.

“Hey,” he tugs on your hand under the table. When you finally look at him, he continues, “Just one isn’t enough.”

He kisses you again.

-----

Home is supposed to be the place you come from, but you think it's more like a place you find, pieced together from scattered bits of feelings, emotions, people along the way. Somewhere along the lines, home becomes less of a place and more of a person. Your home becomes the boy with the sharp canines and long hair that gets tangled by the stray cats he keeps, the "I love you" declared loudly with kisses and the longing looks in between, the comfortable warmth of his body next to yours as you chase sunsets and live in your own infinity. Your home is Baji Keisuke and the constant image of him in your mind and the infinite pieces of him in your heart.

Infinity, though, is awfully short, you think, as you see him lay surrounded by bouquets, eyes closed in eternal slumber. He's always looked good in white, but when his tan complexion is nearly as pale as the white roses surrounding him, you think white is an awful color on him. His eyes always shine with possibilities and promises, and while you've always joked that his sleeping face is cute because he always looks so innocent, adorable even, all you want now is to see him awake.

His heroism and love for his friends are always something that you love about him, but in turn, it feels so incredibly cruel to you now. For as short as he has been in your life, he becomes pieces embedded so deeply in it that it makes you whole. You cannot imagine a world where there is no Baij, where he isn’t there to punch a hooligan on the streets or feed stray cats at night or hold you when your world is crashing. You cannot imagine a life where he isn’t here to shine a bright light in your life without his laughter and goofy personality. Suddenly the world blurs around you, and you can't breathe as droplets of water hit your clenched hands on your lap.

You hold his hands. Cold, cold, cold, when they used to be warm enough to light a fire in you. There are so many things you want to tell him, say to him, but the speech you prepare in your head drowns in silence as your voice gives out on you. All the words in your head just come out as broken sobs. You feel the sympathetic and equally broken glance of his mom as she embraces you, but all you can think about is that he won’t open his eyes.

Baji Keisuke has always been bigger than life, you think, because he becomes a part of everything in your life. There are traces of him everywhere - him with his cats on your lock-screen, the random memes he sends you at night, the little notes he leaves you written in his ugly penmanship with love. When you think of these things, you feel like your heart is breaking all over again.

People tell you to be strong, and while you want to retort because how can you when he’s gone?, you find that you cannot say a word without crying. You’re tired of crying too because your eyes are already so, so raw, but it seems like all you can do is cry. When you think you've finally run out of tears and your tears finally stop, a new batch takes over even at the slightest things that remind you of him. You feel so pathetic because you can't do anything without water leaking from your eyes, and you hate yourself for being so weak.

You tune out the somber tone of his friends and the broken tone of his mom because you don't want to accept a reality where he isn't here. But luck is never on your side because he never opens his eyes again, and you never get to tell him how much you love him. All you get are flashbacks and memories of him and emptiness in your heart and soul. You tell yourself you have to be strong and smile and live for the both of you, but you can't. Not when he isn't here, not when he isn't with you anymore. Every time you think about that fact, your heart breaks again.

"Hey, stupid," your broken sobs ring loudly in the deafening silence, "I love you."

The words you’ve wanted to tell him for so long are finally in the open, but there is no answer.

[filthygonzokinner]

epithet for the ask game!

Blorbo is obviously Ramsey, look at him, look at the rat I love him so much :3

Sylvie is my scrunkly, he's not a baby, I would never demean him or his character like that but he is my son

Howie is such a scrimblo bimblo he has my heart and soul, definition of a platonic crush I wanna be his friend so bad-

Glup shitto is tied between Spike and Crusher THE BOYS LOOK AT MY BOYS LOOK AT THEM WAAAAAAA-

Mera is a poor little meow meow in the sense people don't believe in her women's wrongs as much as the stinky cowgirl </3 it's okay bestie you're my favorite villain

Naven will go in the horse plinko he is just so bullyable >:) if we're talking season one though Arnold is very pathetic he seems like he'd be easy to mess with

I will see you in super hell, you fruity cowboy eeby deeby

[elliecupcakes]

lisa the painful? For the fandom thing

Sure! It will be hard not to put Buzzo in most categories, but let's see...

Lisa the Painful

Send me a fandom and I’ll tell you my:

blorbo (character I think about the most)

Besides the obvious, I often think of Queen Roger quite a lot. Nern and Olan are close seconds, they used to be my faves before, y’know.

scrunkly (my “baby”)

My precious Jonathan, best looking mutant in all Olathe.

scrimblo bimblo (underrated fave)

A lot of people don’t know how great Bo Wyatt is, and Birdie as well. Support party members, my beloved.

glup shitto (obscure fave)

Okay, I had to look on the wikia because I forgot his name, but Cosmo Cassamassa is one of the funniest characters, but Kim gets close to that.

poor little meow meow (problematic fave)

There we go!! Buzzo my darling, my most loved one. My poor little meow meow that definitely deserved everything in the world.

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun)

Torment as in friendly way, right? Then it’s Terry, just to poke him a little, to bring the best out of him.

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

Old stinky man, Yado you got a spot on the garbage throne.

[moonwitted]

Our sweet baby boy💔 he went to sleep for the last time this morning.

The house feels so empty without you, Doctor. I keep waiting for you to jump on the bed, and meow your demands to be let under the blanket. I left the door open on accident when I was doing the laundry and when I noticed it was cracked, I was ready to nudge you out if the way with my foot. But you weren't there.

We sat in the backyard after we left you. I kept turning to look at the back door, to see if you were sitting there, looking out and meowing. But you weren't there.

I'm glad we got to have a fun little car ride with you last night, even though it was the last time we spent together. I told you I would forgive you for all the cuts you gave me with your claws. I told you that as long as you got better it would be okay. I wish I had given you one last kiss on the nose before the vet took you inside.

I wanted to take you to Stinson. I was going to get one of those cat backpacks to carry you around.

I grew so attached to you in three years. You were my baby boy, my sweet stinky little bastard man, the naughty boy who always tried to escape, but always came home when he did.

I love you so much doctor. I hope you're in kitty heaven, running around in the grass, just like you always wanted. I hope there's lots of catnip, and sunny places to nap, and a nice warm blanket to sleep under when it gets dark.

[tsuki-chibi]

Swap (Ladynoir July) Day 1: the wall between us

Or start from the beginning AO3: Swap

--------

“Am I the cat’s meow or what?”

“Or what. Because first of all, you desperately need some new slang from this century. And secondly, you’re not the cat anything right now.”

“Harsh but fair,” Mister Bug said, his green eyes twinkling so brightly that she was hard-pressed to hide her smile. She had to turn away rather than give him the satisfaction, though she knew that he knew her well enough to know that’s exactly what she was doing.

Maybe this hadn’t been such a bad idea after all, she reflected. The first time she and Chat Noir had exchanged miraculouses had been nothing short of awkward. Neither of them had been prepared and they hadn’t really known what they were doing. Despite that, when Chat had suggested they set up a time on patrol to give it another shot, she had initially and instinctively rejected the idea.

But after talking it over with Tikki, she had changed her mind. There was a wall between her and Chat; that was undeniable. Neither of them could cross over that wall, nor could they bring it down for safety and privacy issues – but a better understanding of what both sides of the wall went through couldn’t hurt. Plus, as the guardian, she felt that it was important for her to have a more nuanced understanding of how to use each miraculous, and that included the Black Cat’s.

So she had agreed, much to Chat’s delight, and now here they were. Lady Noire stretched her hands over her head, arching her back in the kind of full body stretch that left you feeling loose-limbed and sleepy. After spending a couple of hours experimenting with Chat’s baton while he played around with her yoyo, she was getting tired. It had to be close to midnight, if not shortly past.

“Are you just about ready to head in?” she asked, looking back at him over her shoulder.

“Just a few more minutes?” he said, putting on a pout. It shouldn’t have been nearly as effective without the drooping kitty ears, but that pout had always done strange, frustrating things to her head. She resisted it for about thirty seconds before caving.

“Okay, okay. Just a few minutes.”

“Yes!” Mister Bug pumped the air like he had just won something exciting, and she couldn’t help rolling her eyes at him.

“I’m tired. Let’s just sit and talk,” she said, walking to the edge of the roof. She took a seat, letting her legs dangle over the edge. It had taken her a long time to get over the dizziness of such heights, but now she didn’t mind them at all.

“Sure, so long as you promise we can do this again sometime,” he said.

Lady Noire shrugged. “Deal. The Black Cat miraculous is fun, and Plagg is adorable. I have no idea why you complain about him so much.”

He made a face as he came to join her. “He sucks up to you, so you don’t know what he’s really like. He whines, he’s dramatic, and he eats the stinkiest cheese known to mankind!”

“I know someone else who is a little whiny and dramatic,” she said slyly. “Sounds like you and Plagg are a perfect match.”

“My Lady,” he complained, and she laughed.

“Proving my point,” she said, gesturing to him, and he mock scowled at her.

“At least I don’t eat stinky cheese,” he said.

“I’ll give you that one,” Lady Noire said, knowing that he wasn’t that crazy about cheese to begin with. “I have to admit, I lucked out with Tikki. Cookies are really easy to get.” Especially when you lived on top of a bakery, but she wasn’t going to share that little tidbit with him.

“Cookies also smell way better,” he pointed out. “Sometimes I can talk Plagg into a different, less smelly cheese, but un-fur-tunately Camembert will always be his one true love.”

Lady Noire opened her mouth to respond, but never got the chance. In the distance, there was screaming. They exchanged startled looks that quickly turned into grim acceptance when someone started yelling about an akuma and several people ran by down below them, accompanied by even more screaming. She leaned forward to watch them go.

“So much for a quiet night,” Mister Bug said with a sigh. “Should we switch back?”

She hesitated slightly before shaking her head. “We’d have to feed Plagg and Tikki before we could transform again and that would delay us too much. Let’s put our training to the test.”

[empyrealarc]

₩ - for which muse?? yes

Send me ₩ for my muse to sit in your muse's lap || @delamuertes

Huehkhuehkhuehk, you've given me a choice? I choose... ALL OF THE ABOVE! Let's do it chronologically this time~

BAJA BLAST SR.

"HEY, BB!"

The battlecry of a goddess who, rather than use her divine power and might to affect cosmic change, or save lives, is happy to peer through the veil, find him no matter where he is, and show up to bother him.

She missed her landing, admittedly. She was supposed to show up on his back, like Yoda Star Wars, but- uh.

Side saddle on his lap, she extended a leg skyward and smiled up at him.

"Are you free this weekend? I need you to babysit." Despite what psychologists, concerned mothers, and anyone with empathy might think... he was actually GREAT with kids.

GRANDMA!

"Please acknowledge me! PLEASE, IT'S ALL I WANT, I LITERALLY CAN'T SLEEP AT NIGHT SOMETIMES THINKING ABOUT IT!"

Realistically, she understood who she was dealing with here. It was all 'in the family' as it were.

The Son, her baby boy, Snake, barely tolerated her. She was useful to him, so she got the pass.

The Father, BeBe, did not like her but too bad! He was stuck with her, and found family tropes were beautiful.

Following that upward (downward?) trend the Holy Mother who began the line, just... just ignored the fuck out of her. Unless she was being mean to her, just- just ignoring her!

Like, you think she's kidding or exaggerating?! SHE'S LITERALLY SITTING ON THE WOMAN'S LAP, CRYING, AND WHAT'S THE BOSS DOING? WHAT IS THE MOTHER OF THE SPECIAL FORCES DOING!?

Taking a tactical nap. Getting a tight fifteen in while her only begotten granddaughter is WAILING.

O BEAST MINE

Stinky. Stinky little Meow Meow. Tactical Genius. Annointed by Madness. Wielder of Plasma.

She wants him to love her, because to capture a mote of his soul like that would only increase her grasp on the universe at large.

She wants him to love her, because she knows his struggle. Born in the shadow of eldritch cosmic horrors, mechanics turned to soldiers by circumstance... dead for want of survival. Reborn with- with a HUNGER insatiable.

Oh, Isaac. She was far too much at any and every moment, but surely you see through that? See that she is, at her core, a soul that cares too much?

Is that why you've let her curl up in your lap tonight? Claws at the ready to tear at her flesh if she says something stupid, husband on speed dial ready to turn her sins against her if she asks you what color collar you'd like. Precautions prepared, and yet, still she rests. Quiet, for the first time in ages, content to not be alone. Not tonight anyway.

MY HUSBAND'S BOYFRIEND

"Not to talk shit about your whole aesthetic, but this shade of yellow is garish and very rude to my eyes."

She wasn't allowed on Oa anymore. Something about being 'a menace to civilized life in the galaxy' whatever, she wasn't really listening when Hal explained it to her. . . she was lost in his cheekbones.

Anyway, since she couldn't go see her hubby, she had to go bother his ex. It made perfect sense to her~

She could see the primal elemental light charging in his ring. Could already taste that funky mix of adrenaline and ichor rising like bile in her throat that came when he plunged her into one of those cute little 'fear trances' or whatever he called them.

Yet, as she sat there, taking up real estate on his lap, she just- ugh, her heart wasn't really in it? Maybe she needed a new magical ring warrior to play with? A new color?

"Thaal-baby, do you think Bleez would like me? I think she wou- w o a h, no. Oh, you're still mad? Okay."

NEW GIRL

"Hey~"

She hadn't introduced herself yet, which was her fault more than anything. Despite being of the same caliber, the cosmic side of the tapestry rarely interacted with the mystic side. Really, only Strange, Uncle DOOM, and Uncle Eternity bridged the gap frequently...

If she was going to be patron to this reality, she really needed to learn more about her constituents in weird places. SO! To that end, she was here, running little circles into the WARM leather jacket of her new favorite biker.

"So, I'm Ana'Hira... Angela when I'm around 'humans'. I'm- I know this might sound forward, but, like... Can I talk to you about NOT serving Satan and instead dedicating your life to God? She has a plan for you, I swear."

That plan? Cosmic Ghost Rider 2.0. This time? Completely Mjolnir proof!

"You're really cute for a demon~ Do you like boba?"

[sevensav--d-archived]

@oceansofrp​ sent  🔥 🔥 🔥

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion.

🔥 Ty you’re the perfect person for me to go off about this first one with- lets talk about ocs.

OCs are often treated badly in this RPC.

As ya’ll know, I write ocs.  I write a lot of them, I write a grand total of.... Eleven, with varying degrees of activity.  So obviously, this is an issue that I not only care about, but it effects me GREATLY.  I don’t write any canon characters (anymore) bc I can’t take the pressure of being ic and true to canon bc I’m a stickler for canon.  Anyway.

OCs.  We’ve all probably had them at some point.  IF you’ve been around long enough there was even a server dedicated to them that I was a part of.  And in being in that server and writing ocs, I have made some observations.

-OC Popularity is often directly linked to either the popularity of the writer.  Chances are, if you’re a popular blog that writes canons.... If you offer an OC, people will like them.  Blogs are popular because the writing is good and the writer is friendly, so obviously, your OC will be appealing.  This??  Isn’t a bad thing.  It’s just something that I have noticed.  I’ll never really get all that mad at an oc for being popular lol.  I might get jealous but like.  I won’t do jack about it.

-OCs are often better than canon characters.  I said it.  Lets face it, Horikoshi has so many characters that he can’t make all of them as fleshed out and well cooked like the protagonists and the main antagonists. OCs offer fresh new blood to the story we all know and love, and they might just end up spicing up what your blog canon is.  Seriously, I’d fuckin kill to see some of the OC’s ive met in the actual publicization.  And we can all agree, any OC is better than Mineta. /lh Anyway, holding canon characters i nthe highest regard of who’s worth writing and who’s worth writing with, you’re only holding yourself back,

-People are often stinky about family of canon character OCs and I think people shouldn’t brush them off so readily.  Like.  Bro, *holds up Hideki Kirishima* this boy is canon idc what you say.  IT’s fun to make the world a little bigger.  Indulge a bit, see how it feels to give your canon muse a sibling.  Just.  JUST DO IT.

-People avoid oc muses with bitchin powers As if our main characters aren’t OP as hell.  Like.  Come one.  We’re having fun don;t make us feel bad.  Communicate and talk about things.  Just bc my OC has a quirk that COULD kill yours immediately, doesn’t mean I’m gonna make it happen without your permission.  People are quick to assume that OCs godmod.  Stop that.

-SO MANY PEOPLE HAVE OCS BUT ARE SCARED TO WRITE THEM.  Y’all.  It’s okay.  Please, write your ocs.  People will come to them, I swear.  Some of my favorite ocs pretty much had to be coaxed out of people, and now i can’t imagine these ocs not running around.  We should be confident in our creations.  It takes a huge amount of skill to create a new character from scratch.

🔥 That actually kinda brings me into my next thing, which is what I like to call the Just Make And OC moment.  I’ve seen this in a lot of fandoms, and I’ve started to see it more and more in this community.  What is this moment?

Say you’re writing a canon character.  You think, hey, I like this character, but what if.... X.  So, you roll with it, you do X.  You like it, you keep it.  And then, you’re like... What if.... Y.  And you do that too.  Great, you’re having fun.  But then, you’re like... Z... I REALLY want Z.  And these can be small things, but more often than not, they’re BIG things.  Big, CHARACTER CHANGING things.  

We all have the freedom to interpret canon how we want, and write our muses how we want.... But... What if you just... Took everything you just did.... And just... Made an OC.  Like, you’ve changed core elements of the character so much that they’re barely recognizable.  just give them a new name, maybe change the hair color and BOOM.  You have a GREAT OC to start with.  I used to be in the Undertale RPC and Fandom and if you’re familiar you know that Undertale is just... AU City.  And it’s fun, I’m glad people have fun- but if you’re changing literally everything about a character, even their NAME... It’s just??  Why bother, just make an OC.  It’s fine.  BC if you think about it, you’re not really an alternate universe, it’s the MHA universe and its character that you’re altering.  And there’s a point where... You’ve just made your own character, and that’s sick as hell.

I’m not talking like... Those things where “Oh yeah it’s all the same except instead of dying, Magne lives and has a beautiful husband and lives to be one hundred” or “This is a verse where a villain character gets rehabbed into heroic society” because those are things that wont take away or add too much to the character.  It’s more like you’re opening a door for new things without adding or taking away too much.  It’s when you diverge so far from the character... THAT’S when the Just Make An OC Moment kicks in.

PART of the reason I think people don’t just do this is they like being connected to the canon character, bc it means that they can still garner interest but chances are, if you already have people interested in writing with you, they will happily take your oc. 

All that to say, if you write a canon divergent canon character, don’t stop, if it makes you happy.  Like, seriously this is just something I see and feel.  But also dont?  Be surprised?  If people aren’t super on board?  I don’t really like to write with straight up moral flipped characters bc i feel like... If Deku was a sadistic villain brought up by AFO instead of his mom, he ain’t Deku anymore.  THATS JUST ME, but I’m not the only person who feels that way.  People might just want that classic vanilla canon, and you shouldn’t make people feel guilty for it, in my opinion.  Keep doing what makes you happy, and let other folks to the same.  

Also, it’s not your place to tell someone what they should or shouldn’t do.  If someone writes a canon divergent and you don’t like the divergences, move on.  It’s not your business.  That’s not what I’m doing, I’m just saying that sometimes I am bothered by this, because to me it seems like a lot of these canon divergent canons are in essence, OCs, but since they still have the canon’s name and face strapped to it, it gets more love and attention.  And that bugs me, and I will point it out!  I’m not sorry for it.

I know this one will make me lose some of you so I’m sorry.

🔥 I’m running out of juice but uh can we talk about how blogs about minor characters are the fucking tits bc like i said earlier Horikoshi has so many characters he left a lot of side characters with next to no bones and the people who take those bones and stuff them full of flesh???  Chefs kiss.  That’s kind of my exception to the Just Make An OC Moment.  At some point, that character just BELONGS to that person, like Spinner belongs to Eros, or how Meow created a Hawks’ dad that is so much better than what we got, and Flowers literally created Wash.

[asoftervirge]

Of “Love” & Murder - (12/13)

CHAPTER TITLE: Revenge, Like Chocolate, Can Be Both Bitter and Sweet

RATING: M PAIRINGS: P. Sanders/V. Sanders (main/one-sided); R. Sanders/V. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/L. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/D. Sanders (former); Remy/E. Picani (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINKS: Remus Sanders, mentions of Satanic symbolism, Ted Bundy/Jeffrey Dahmer/serial killer references, Rocky Horror Picture Show reference, Poison, Swearing, mentions of Janus Sanders, referenced Smut, Smutty Thoughts, mentions of Sex Toys, Thanatophobia (fear of dying), mentions of Previous Deaths, various Methods of Murder, mentions of Violence, Descriptions of Murder, brief mention of Prison Rape, Dumpster Diving, Eating/Eating Gross Food, talks of Grey Morality, Morally Grey Patton, Baking/Food mentions CHAPTER SUMMARY: Patton meets with Remus.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here we are! We’re now at the second to last chapter! Despite the low reception of this fic, I’m very happy with it and it’s been so much fun posting it and seeing everyone’s reactions to it. Fun fact: I’m not real sure what rating this chapter would be under. Obviously it has mature stuff because of Remus, but it’s not too extreme to where no body can read it. It’s not a murder chapter, but he does talk about murder, so maybe it’s best to leave it M rated. lol Happy All Hallow’s Eve, everyone! Have fun reading! xx Virge

INSPIRATION: This post by @phantomofthesanderssides

AO3 || Buy Me A Ko-Fi!

To say Patton was nervous was an extreme understatement.

He was pacing back and forth in an alleyway— the location where Remus wanted to meet— going between fiddling with the hem of his sweater, and twirling a stray curl of hair. Blue eyes frantically scanned the dingy place he was in, not wanting to suddenly be jumped by a dangerous stranger.

Brick walls were stained with something the confectioner didn’t want to know what. Droplets of water from the gutters above dropped down onto the cobblestone. Garbage cans were tipped over, rotting food and other things made the air smell putrid.

A black cat scurried from behind one and past his feet, meowing loudly.

Patton squeaked and flinched as it went by. After collecting himself, he started to fidget more.

He hoped Remus would be here soon. With every minute he was in this alley, he was growing more and more frightened.

Despite this, he tells himself that this is worth it.

For Roman.

For Logan.

For Dorian.

For himself.

In the midst of his self-panic and self-reassurances, Patton didn’t catch the sounds of the metal fence behind him being scaled upon.

“So, you’re Patton Hart, hmm?” A high-pitched, slightly screechy voice said.

Patton yelped and spun around, instantly being greeting with the sight of Remus.

The man looked completely different from Roman, it was almost hard to believe that they were brothers, let alone twins. While the former thespian was composed, elegant, and beautiful, Remus…was anything but.

He looked like a rebellious punk, to put it simply.

Remus’ hair was oily-looking, very unkempt and scrappy; dark brown, almost black in color with touches of green hair dye in it and a single streak of silver. He was clad in a leather biker vest, various patches decorating it, and a fishnet shirt underneath which displayed all of his bruises, cuts, and scabs. His pants almost reminded him of Virgil’s jeans: ripped yet his were baggy as opposed to tight-fitting. His ankle boots were spiked, decorated with an upside down cross and a symbol that looked to be very satanic.

As a matter of fact, all of his jewelry appeared to be just that: skulls and satanic symbols. They were predominantly pieces that littered his neck, but he was also studded with a lot of piercings: a labret plus a lip, multiple ear and eyebrow ones, a chained nose, and a belly button. And all of them were silver as opposed to the gold Roman used to wear.

Looking at him twice over, Remus seemed to be a combination of Roman, Remy, and Toby.

Patton quickly straightened himself up, not wanting the other man to see just how scared he was.

“And you must be Remus Duke,” he responded back. His voice shook a little as he spoke. “I have to say, and I hope you don’t think me rude, but you looking nothing like your brother.”

Remus snorts. “That’s a compliment.” He tells him. “I’d rather not be a goody-goody Abel like my brother was.” He looked Patton up and down, giving him a quirked expression, “Ain’t you a bit saccharine to get help from me? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for beddy-bye time?”

“No!” Patton yells stubbornly. He recoils and tries again. “I-I mean, no. I really, really need your help, Remus. This is the only way I can truly stop Virgil.”

“Ha ha! So you’re also Virgil’s newest boy toy!” Remus grinned manically. Patton squealed and shivered in disgust at that. “I swear he goes through boy toys faster than either Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer did with their victims. Well, not as fast, but—”

“C-Cut it out!” Patton shrieked, stomping his foot in childish anger. He grew sickened at the thought of a monstrous killer like Bundy or a twisted cannibal like Dahmer, and comparing Virgil to them just made it worse.

(It was in that moment when the confectioner remembered the words Dorian told him before he divulged into how he was murdered. While Virgil was a horrible individual, he was nothing like how those men were. They were all criminals, yes, but the widower was somehow of a lesser evil.)

Trying to relax his shoulders, Patton asked again. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Still grinning, Remus jumped off the fence and onto the cobblestone. It wasn’t pleasant sounding as he fell flat on his ass. But he appeared to be okay as he shot straight into the air and began fishing through his pockets, humming Touch-a , Touch-a, Touch-a Touch Me under his breath while he searched.

“Ha ha!” he exclaimed when he finally found what it was he was looking for. He pulled out a vial of sinister-looking liquid, skull and crossbones marked on the front of it.

Poison.

Cyanide, to be more specific.

“This should be the very thing that’ll fuck Virgy-poo up!” Remus exclaimed happily. Then he pouted. “Lucky bastard,” he mumbled. “Just put this in whatever it is you’re gonna give him and watch with glee as he chokes and dies! Ooh, that sounds fun! Can I come and watch too?!”

“No!”

Remus pouted more, actually looking sad.

Patton was about to walk over and grab the vial but Remus stopped him.

“Not so fast, Mr. Fluffy Butthole.” Patton scrunched his nose. A serious look was in Remus's emerald green eyes. “Why do I have the stinky feeling this is for more than just my brother?”

The confectioner reeled back. “…What?”

“You wouldn’t have gotten my number from Toby and call me by saying ‘how would you feel about helping me avenge your brother’ without wanting to do more.” Remus narrowed his gaze. “You wanna avenge Virgil’s other husbands too, don’t you? Spouses or whatever they were.”

Patton opened his mouth to try and say something, but all he could do was sigh and nod. “You’re right,” he finally tells him. “It’s for more than just your brother. It’s also for Virgil’s second spouse, Logan Oxford—”

“That author who seemed so stubborn xe had a stick up xyr butt? Man, xe needed to get laid.”

“…xe were asexual…”

“…Emotionally laid, then.”

“You mean having a loving, supportive relationship?”

Remus gagged. “Don’t be lewd!”

“Xe were also aromantic.”

“I could’ve helped with that!” Remus grinned. “But if xe were also asexual, then it would’ve been no dice. Hehe, dick ice, hehe!”

Patton ignored him and continued on from before. “— and his third, Dorian Cain—”

“Ah! The serpent-y lawyer whose tongue was for more than lying!” Remus grinned more. Since he was a little closer to him, Patton could see the yellow of his teeth. “I’ve heard that he and Virgil were a lot alike. Plus, they were really able to get” – he wriggled his hips – “it” – he started thrusting “on!”

The confectioner blinked, then sighed deeply and tiredly. How exactly was he Roman’s twin brother? (He could practically hear Roman sighing along with him).

“I was in cahoots with him, you know!” Remus tells him, still thrusting for some silly reason.

“So I’ve heard,” Patton tells him, not wanting to delve into details about the supernatural encounters he had. He didn’t need to give this guy the time of day. “They said you called him about wanting him to find evidence on Virgil, but he said no.”

“Yep!” Remus stopped mid-thrust and emphasized on the p. “He accused me of wanting to slander a celebrity, like everybody else did. But it was also because he didn’t want to put his own husband on trial or some other bullshit.”

He blinked then continued thrusting. “I wonder what would’ve happened if I got to him first?” he mumbled to himself in curiosity. He turned to Patton with a grin. “You think Virgil is great in bed? I would’ve given that lawyer the time of his life! We would’ve fuck for days and weeks on end using all the neat kinky toys I have! Plus, all the crazy flexible sex positions?!” He bobbed his head from side-to-side, singing. “Anyone Virgil could do, I could do better~!”

Apparently, Virgil did that and then some, Patton couldn’t help but think to himself, suddenly being reminded of how explicit Virgil and Dorian were. (If the lawyer were here, he’d probably be flattered and chuckle in his ear).

“But it’s more than them too!” the confectioner exclaims, continuing on from where he left off previously. “It’s for any other potential victim of Virgil’s…and me too…”

“Oh?!” This intrigued Remus as he now had Patton’s full attention. “How so?” He could see the confectioner tugging and fiddling with his sweater. Remus actually saw him doing this when he was stalking the alleyway. It must be a grounding mechanism for him or something, kind of like how he plays with his fingers.

“Because—because I’m scared of dying.”

Remus blinked. “You are?”

“Yes— Of course, I am!” Patton didn’t know why the other man was acting like dying isn’t something to be feared. Because, to him, especially in this circumstance, it was. “If I don’t do anything to stop Virgil, I’m scared I’m gonna die. And I don’t wanna die.”

Tears came to his eyes, he rubbed them away with a fist.

“I don’t want to end up like the others. I don’t want a ribbon around my neck, or arsenic in my belly, or a bullet in my head. I don’t want to have my life cut short by someone who might actually want me dead!”

Now he had both fists rubbing harshly at his cheeks. “There’s so much of my life I want to live. There was so much of their lives that they had yet to live. And I want to be able to avenge that…I want my friends, and even you, to be at ease knowing they finally found peace.”

Remus watched awkwardly as Patton cried in front of him. He wasn’t all that good with the emotional, cutesy, kind-wordsy stuff like his brother was. But if Roman was in this situation, he would know what to do better than anyone else.

He knew the moments when his brother would need a hug, and this would be one of them.

So, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Patton, letting him sob into his shoulder.

Patton curled further into him, not caring that he smelled of body odor and garlic.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured. “It’s okay. It’ll all be a-okay.”

The confectioner sniffled. “How do you know that?” he asked, voice thick with emotion.

“Because that mean, nasty Virgil’s gonna get what’s coming to him!” Remus tells him. He takes Patton’s tear-stained glasses and licked them clean. He then walked over to a garbage can and fished out a dirty napkin to wipe them with. “Here you go!”

Patton grimaced as he put his… ‘newly cleaned’ glasses back on.

“Even if Roman didn’t like me all that much, he was one of my favorite people,” Remus continues. “And I was incredibly upset when he was killed, or ‘committed suicide,’ as the police suspected.” He narrowed his eyes. “I wanted to bring Virgil to court, I really did, but there was no evidence left at the crime scene.”

Remus snarled; fists clenched together tightly. “When they told me that…I was thinking of contemplating murder myself.” He shook his head. “There were so many things I wanted to do to him.” He began counting on his fingers, “Disembowel him, let my pet rats feed on his body, flood my teeth with his spine, build a sandcastle out of his ashes. You name it, I wanted to do it.”

Patton got visibly sickened with each possible method of murder and violence.

“And yet I couldn’t do anything. I may be a wildcard, but Virgil is much more cunning. He’s slipperier than a bar of prison soap.” Patton dared not ask what he meant by that. “Plus, he might’ve expected that I would come and destroy him when I got the chance. So, there wasn’t anything I could do.”

“But you tried though,” the confectioner says. “Despite there not being evidence, you still went and contacted Dorian Cain to try and see what would happen.”

Remus nodded. “Well, yeah. I figured I might as well eat the bullet and chew until I’m forced to spit it out. And so, I called Dorian’s law firm and asked anyway. Even though I was told ‘no,’ something deep within my dick told me that he might try and do something in secret. When I saw in the papers that he had also killed himself, I thought my chances were ruined for good.”

“However,” he then held out the vial of poison for Patton to take. He could see just how dirty his fingers were: bruised, chewed-up fingernails, chipped black and green nail polish, and grime around the cuticles. “You can be the one to finish him off. Do what me and Dorian couldn’t, and put that murdering piece of shit in the ground where he belongs.”

At first, Patton seemed hesitant about taking it from him, but after everything he’s witnessed, everything he’s heard, everything he’s feared, his resolve was hardened.

He takes the vial and stuffs it in his pocket.

Standing closer to Remus, he can see the details he couldn’t see from afar: flakes of dandruff in his hair; messy, purple, smoky eyeshadow; black lipstick that was slightly smeared; a little bit of stubble growing above his lip; along with any other cuts, bruises, and scabs on his skin.

Not only that, he could see the various patches on his biker vest; only a small handful of them were satanic and anarchist symbols, while the rest were a mixture of things Remus must enjoy. A green sword with tentacles coming from it, a Morningstar, an anatomical heart, a bloodshot eyeball, a skeleton, a peach, a couple octopi and krakens, an alien, a peach, a hazardous symbol, some that involve cursing and parental advisory, some dark Disney ones, an opossum with he/him pronouns, the aromantic flag, and lastly, one that has ‘Duke’ on it in graffiti.

Despite his appearance, Patton might consider this gross man…not so much a friend, but an ally.

“…Remus?” Said man leans in closer, making Patton bend back. “…Thank you. Truly. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without your help.”

He waved nonchalantly. “Eh, don’t worry about it,” he tells him. He walks over to one of the garbage cans and starts rummaging through it once more. “It’s the least I can do. Being an assistant— heh, ass-istant— is better than being forced to sit back and do nothing.” He pulls out a rotting banana, unpeeling it and then taking a bit bite out of it.

Patton looked like he was going to throw up.

Mid-chew, he looked back at the confectioner. “You know,” he mumbled, browning banana flying out of his mouth. “For someone who looks all pure and morally righteous, you gotta little bit of grey in ya.”

“I’m only doing this for good.”

“Maybe,” Remus gulps loudly then takes another huge bite. “But you’re still planning on killing him. No matter how you justify it, redrum is redrum.”

“Redrum?”

“Murder. The Shining. Stephen King.”

Patton hummed.

“Seriously though, who am I to talk morals schmorals to you? Good and bad is all made up nonsense!” Another loud gulp, another big bite. “So! When are you gonna do the do?”

“You mean do the deed?”

“Same thing!”

“Tomorrow.”

“Ooh! On Halloween night too!” Remus grinned excitedly. Patton had honestly forgotten that it would be Halloween, having been so preoccupied with everything has was going on at 613 Rue Morgue. “Are you suuure I can’t come with you?”

“I’m sure, Remus. Thank you.”

Remus pouts again, but he quickly shrugged it off.

“Ah well,” he drops the banana peel at his feet. Litter bug. He started to scale up the fence, allowing Patton to see the large green kraken that covered his back. “I guess I’ll leave the rest to you. Good luck, Patton!”

With a gleeful wave, Remus jumps over and disappears into the shadows from whence he came.

Patton stays in his spot for the longest time.

Maybe…he was a bit grayer than he realized. Through his entire life, he was never really challenged on his morals. He always played by the rules and laws of life, not wanting to face the punishments for having done something wrong.

But now, he was.

He was faced with someone who had a complete disregard for them and is walking a free man with three murders (maybe even more) stained on his hands.

And here he was, wanting to change all of that.

Like he said to Remus, it was for a good cause: to have their spirits be appeased and to have Virgil never commit any heinous crimes ever again. Even if the solution was a permanent one.

Maybe…the other man was right. Maybe…good and bad really is made up nonsense.

With the thoughts of his newly-placed morals in his head, Patton finally left the alleyway.

The alleyway that Remus chose was in the lower part of town, the shadier and troublemaking part to be specific. And even though Patton could have chosen to take his car, he walked since he lived close by in the lower regions of downtown.

It was a long but much needed walk for the confectioner to take.

While the air proved to be chilly, the autumn leaves dropped down onto the ground, creating a little ombre of colors on the sidewalk. The night sky was a trifecta of rich purples, deep blues, and cool blacks. Dots of white twinkled above, making the picturesque scene complete.

Patton looked around at all the holiday decorations that were on display. All of the ghosts, witches, scarecrows, and grim reapers all gave him a bit of a fright. The fake tombstones and giant rope spider webs made him squeak and turn his head for a split second. But he smiled at seeing the differently carved jack-o-lanterns— some more intricate than others— and the outdoor lights that glowed in various colors, like orange, purple, green, blue, red, white, and black. Though what really got a giggle out of him, were the inflatables that stood on each lawn; some were of pumpkins, others were black cats, and was the occasional spooky tree.

Many people love going all out on Halloween, and the confectioner was one of them, having spent so many hours throughout September and October transforming the interior of his shop.

He continued walking into downtown, fog hovering over the street lamps as the air grew a little denser and colder. The streets were slightly bustling as people were walking to and from various stores, all in last-minute preparation for tomorrow night. Many of them were families, with children bouncing up and down excitedly about their costumes while the parents held bags that were presumably filled with candy and other goodies.

It all made Patton smile, for he had that same childish whimsy.

The confectioner didn’t stop walking until he came to a very familiar brown building, the words Patty’s Sweet Confectionaries swirled in fancy but readable font on the window.

Patton took a minute to gently trace his fingers across the white lettering. He still remembers the first day he opened its doors, a young and bright-eyed man who simply wanted to spread the sugary joy that his grandmother used to give him.

With a deep breath, he walked into his confectionery shop, the jingle of the bell above the door made his heart swell up a little. Once inside, he gazed around, nostalgia and melancholy shone in his eyes as he flipped on the lights.

Golden chandeliers glowed from the cream-colored ceiling as the shop became illuminated, presenting the changes that Patton had made. The only other things that remained the same were the dark brown and white tile, and the wooden stands and tables dressed with dishes and bowls, but what filled them had changed since September.

Eyeball-shaped white chocolate truffles, and ghostly popcorn balls were now the specialty treats for the holiday; along with cookies in the shape of skeletons, and white chocolate bark with candy corn. In the display case were still the traditional chocolates, but there were also pumpkin spiced cakes and cupcakes, along with macaroons of varying monstrous design and Frankenstein cereal treats.

However, the two favorites were front and center: gooey marshmallow, and glistening candy apples. The best part about them? The marshmallow is dyed in accordance to the holiday, and the candy apples were also coated with white icing to make it look like Snow White’s poisoned one from the Disney movie.

Walking in further, he plugged in the decorative lights that hung from the walls. The miniature pumpkin luminary bags added another layer of festive spirit to the store, and they paired nicely with the cutout garlands Patton had made some-years back.

The confectioner tenses up as he feels vial of poison roll into his hands from inside his pocket.

A part of him still feels conflicted about doing something like this.

Obviously he knows what Virgil did was horrible and wrong, but on the other hand, he wished there was a much simpler way to see his downfall come to fruition. But as Remy and Toby said, if the police were working with him, then it was impossible to see lawful justice be served to him. (Dorian tried it, and look what happened.)

So this was the only option he had left.

Resolve slowly hardening, Patton made his way to the kitchen to begin work.

He began pulling out giant mixing bowls— both silver and copper, measuring cups, double boilers, spoons and forks, and a plethora of ingredients in order to create the perfect box of poisonous chocolates.

Patton didn’t need to think about which ones he would give to the widower, he knew the recipes for each one by memory.

The first recipe read:
 “1 lb of dark chocolate 16 maraschino cherries with the stem 3 tablespoons softened butter 3 tablespoons light corn syrup 2 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar”

Parts of the second read:
 “2/3 cups dark chocolate chips 1/3 cup + 2 tablespoons of heavy cream A dash of cinnamon”

The third read:
 “7 oz. finely chopped dark chocolate 1/3 cup espresso ½ tablespoons unsalted butter ½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder”

And finally, the fourth read: 
“1 cup melted cocoa butter 1 tablespoon cocoa powder 3 tablespoon dark chocolate ½ teaspoon almond extract”

Within each recipe, he made sure to add the cyanide poisoning into the mixtures, adding a bit more than necessary so that it wouldn’t be masked by any of the other ingredients. (He wore protective gear, of course. The same mask and gloves he wore whenever he dabbled in making anything featuring liquid nitrogen.)

Hours later, he had batches cooling on racks and baking sheets. And after checking that he had a perfect set of thirty-two, he began the decorating process. Glazes, icings, and sugars scattered about in the air and dusted his face, hair, and fingers.

Once everything was done up all nice and pretty, Patton placed them all in a box: a black one topped with a bow of dark violet ribbon.

Patton stood back and observed his craftsmanship. A deep frown slowly made its way to his face.

The first part of the deed was done…

…now? It was time for Virgil to have a taste of his own chocolatey medicine.

[thunder-the-ranger-wolf]

Back to the Future: Resolved Among The Stars (StarClan)

There were many cats in StarClan, Bluestar mused as she padded around in search of her sister, Snowfur. Many had died after the Great Battle, including her successor, Firestar, but many more lived on.

"Hello, Bluestar!" Stonefur meowed from where he and Mosskit chatted happily on Warmrocks.

"Hello, you two. Having fun?"

"Yes!" The little grey and white she-cat flew toward her mother, but Bluestar stopped her from crashing just in time. "Stonefur was telling me about what RiverClan was like! It was fun!"

"I think you would have liked ThunderClan better." The blue-grey leader purred mischievously. "ThunderClan rules!" Bluestar snickered.

"ThunderClan rules!" Mosskit chirped after her mother.

"Hey!" A red-furred tom with bright green eyes padded over at the sight of his family. "I take offense to that!"

"Father!" Mosskit barreled into Oakheart, who received his daughter with open paws. "I bet it's true!" She grinned.

"Yeah, sure, kit. RiverClan cats can swim, but what can you stinky ThunderClan cats do?" He challenged playfully.

"We climb trees!" Mosskit yowled. "Look, Father! I can climb!"

Stonefur, Oakheart, and Bluestar watched as Mosskit scrabbled onto a low-hanging tree branch from a nearby rock.

"Very good!" Bluestar purred. "Now get down before you hurt yourself!"

________________________________________________________________

Firestar glared down at the pool to the living. He'd been in StarClan for more than a quarter moon, and he missed his Clan desperately. It wasn't fair! Why did he have to go when Sandstorm still needed him?

"You can wish all you want, but she won't join you before her time." A dark grey she-cat with a broad, flattened face and piercing orange glare loped over to where the great ginger leader sat. "None of them will."

"There's no use in complaining, but what's the point of StarClan when Sandstorm isn't here to make everything perfect?"

"StarClan is here to wait on those living and help them spend their lives the best they can, so that when they join us it is without regrets."

"What do you know about regrets, Yellowfang?" The ginger leader snapped. "Or Sandstorm and I, for that matter?"

"I know plenty about regrets, young tom." She reminded him. "Your hurts will be smoothed over time, but you cannot interfere with the living. There are plenty of cats in the same predicament as you, Firestar. You are not alone."

The grey medicine cat left her would-be son to his own devices. He would have to learn.

______________________________________________________________

Silverstream stared through a different pool with similar results. At least Greystripe seemed happy with the life he led. Who was she to get in the way of that?

"You shouldn't torture yourself." A gentle voice murmured from not too far away. The silver tabby whirled around at the presence of a new cat. He was ThunderClan by scent, a sandy grey tom with blue eyes.

"My name is Thrushpelt, and I once thought Bluestar hung the moon and scattered the stars." He chuckled softly.

"Her heart belonged to another, and I eventually figured out that she could never love me that way. Certainly, no one could force her to do anything she wasn't interested in."

"You make moving on sound so easy," Silverstream scoffed.

"Whoever thinks that has moss for brains, because moving on hurts. It takes time that you don't want to spend alone and patience that you don't want to have, but mostly it takes understanding. If he really has moved on, then you'll eventually have to do the same."

"Seeing her with him… at least I know he loved me once. But their poor kits… she's definitely no one's mother."

"She never did seem the type. Bluestar was all over the camp chasing after her kits. Always growling at anyone who dared to look at them wrong. Losing them, even the way she did, it broke her. I don't know this cat well enough, but she seems too… unattached."

"I feel terrible for being so selfish. She's done nothing to me. Has done more for me than I can say. But…"

"You love him. That might not go away." Thrushpelt offered, flicking his tail. "And it doesn't have to, because some part of him still loves you. I mean look at her."

"There are plenty of grey cats around." Silverstream snorted.

"Oh, it's more than that." Thrushpelt deadpanned. They snickered.

"I feel bad for her kits." The RiverClan she-cat admitted. "I know that my friends and family did right by Stormfur and Feathertail. They turned out wonderfully…" She purred thoughtfully.

"I don't think, had I been around to raise them, that I would have done as good a job. So I'm kind of glad that I wasn't. But I watch her with her kits and… I just want to scream every time she pushes poor Blossomfall away. And by the Stars, it's a wonder that Bumblestripe turned out the way he did. But then maybe Greystripe had more of a paw in things than he was willing to show."

"Well, the kid's no Ashfur."

"Ugh, do not dare mention that wretched tom! It's a wonder no one has tried chasing him across the border, that-."

"He wouldn't survive there. And someone here knew it. His actions later in life were absolutely reproachable, but overall he was a good warrior. I have to believe that, or what does that make me?"

"Better than that fleabag, for sure." Silverstream scoffed. "I might not approve of what Millie does, but that doesn't mean I want her gone! He just… ugh, I don't get why."

"Ask him someday. He's of sound mind with plenty to reflect on. He might give you a straight answer."

________________________________________________________________

"Hello," Cinderpelt bristled before the sound of the familiar voice reached her ears. She hated when cats snuck up on her. Getting shocked out of your fur was not fun, no matter how many times Squirrelflight tried it as an apprentice.

"Whitestorm, Lionheart." She dipped her head to the white tom and the golden tabby in turn. "What can I do for you?"

"I say we start with a walk and go from there." Whitestorm offered. "There are some things that were never truly explained."

Yes, there were. Like why Lionheart wasn't their father even though they'd grown up with him. Or why one of her littermates was named after a golden ShadowClan tom that looked eerily similar to him. Or why she had a completely dark grey pelt when nobody else, not even her mother's parents, were anything remotely resembling her. The closest she could possibly fathom was Fuzzypelt, and he was pure black. 

If Lionheart was her father, she could get it from Smallear. Maybe something like a duller version of Fuzzypelt's… but that made no sense. Even now she had no clue who her father was. Her mother had never wanted to talk about it with any of them, but Cinderpelt knew she stood out. Like a fox in the leafbare snow, she stood out against her literally golden family! 

No one ever teased her for it, and she never felt that she was lacking as a kit. Lionheart was great, at first. But then he got Greystripe for an apprentice and he stopped seeing them that often. Then he became deputy and he couldn't play with them at all. She'd never asked Frostfur out of respect for her mother. Why bring in any unnecessary grief? Frostfur would tell Cinderpelt when she was ready.

"I suppose you're wondering about your true heritage." Her mother's uneasy voice drifted to her ears.

Apparently, Frostfur was ready.

"I fell for a ShadowClan tom in my youth. Brackenfoot."

"So my brother was named for his father?" Cinderpelt snorted. "Wasn't that a little risky?"

"It was a one-time thing. I'd just become a warrior and boy, was I reveling in it. Bluestar was so proud of me! I was perfect, just like my sister. We got away with everything until Willowpelt and the tortoiseshell twins became warriors. I fancied myself in love, but he never told me it was a onetime thing. He certainly never told me that he had a mate."

"Whoa… when did he get a mate?!"

"Well, he was a ShadowClan cat. Much older than I was. I was looking for some attention and I found it… oh, did I find it. I tracked down his mate not too long after you all were born, told her everything, all but broke down in front of her… she just stared at me. I had no idea what she was thinking, but eventually, she said that it wasn't entirely my fault. 

He made his decision, and even if it hadn't been me, he would have found some other young cat. It was a bad habit of his. She made me swear to never tell anyone who fathered my kits, and I was perfectly okay with that. Brindleface never told anyone who fathered Ashfur and Ferncloud either, so I was glad to know I wasn't the only one. Besides, we queens are allowed to have a few secrets."

"So we were, what, mistakes? And what about the part where I'm my mentor's younger sister?!"

"You are absolutely no one's mistake, sweet one. I need you to remember that, no matter what happens from here. I love you and your brothers with the heat of a million stars, and knowing who your father is won't make me stop."

___________________________________________________________

The last thing Bluestar remembers is playing with her youngest and feeling happier than she had in moons.

The last thing Thrushpelt recalled, he was talking to Silverstream about letting go of someone you couldn't have.

Firestar was wrapped up in the trauma every StarClan cat felt when they first arrived, and likely would remain so for half a moon. There were plenty of cats waiting and willing to help him through settling in. The ginger leader of ThunderClan would be fine.

Whitestorm padded easily beside Lionheart, hoping that Cinderpelt and her mother talked things out and Frostfur would, at the very least, no longer be an anxious wreck. Perhaps even pleasant.

Cinderpelt was shocked beyond belief. There was an old rule that queens didn't have to tell Clanmates who fathered their kits. This was definitely why, she realized.

A dark wave washed over all of StarClan and the voices of the First Ancestors could be heard for miles.

"TIME SHALL RECLAIM WHAT HAS BEEN LOST TO SOME, AND OTHERS SHALL HEAL REGARDLESS."

[milk-is-here]

Mista has been turned into a cat and he’s gotten lost! You find him but he’s all dirty and stinky!

Oh gosh this chonky boi

It was around 5 o clock when I realized that mista had been gone since 12. Usually his errands never take more than and hour or two, giving me time to tidy the apartment and take care of our pets. Getting worried, I set off outside after slipping on and old hoodie, the fall weather making it a little chilly.

I walked down the street, looking around for the familiar pattern of his hat. Passing street after street and cafe after restaurant, I start to become more frantic, before passing in front of an alleyway and hearing an almost heartbreaking meow from a cat.

My head snapped in the felines direction, immediately going to see what was wrong with the poor creature. I was met with the sight of a large, dark brown cat with bits of mud and leaves caked on its fur, making me frown sadly. I quickly crouched to make myself look nonthreatening and extended my hand out towards it with my knuckles pointed upward, beckoning it over softly,

"Hey sweetheart.... how'd you get all dirty?"

The cat seemed to light up at the sight of me, quickly trotting over and shoving its head under my hand, purring with delight. Grimacing slightly at the feeling of mud on my hand, I carefully move to pick them up, feeling glad that I wore one of my old and worn out hoodies as I cradled them to my chest.

"Dont worry, I'll get you all cleaned up and cozy."

The purring seemed to intensify, the feline rubbing their face into my torso. I smiled softly before making my way back to the apartment, petting the cat every few minutes as I went.

Unlocking the door and walking inside, I set my keys in the bowl and immediately headed for the bathroom. Hopefully I wokt get too many war wounds from the battle that might happen.....

Gently setting them down in the tub, I started the water, making it a bit colder than lukewarm. Grabbing the spray nozzle, I set it to gentle waterfall and turn the knob from tub to shower. Surprisingly, the cat didnt even flinch, sitting calmly in the tub even as I moved the spray nozzle over their fur.

The tub began to run with murky water, quickly disappearing down the drain, leaves falling off as the water washed them away. After the pre-rinse, I grabbed the cat shampoo we use for haru, our tabby, and miko, our singapura kitten. Pouring some into my hands, I gently rub the shampoo into the cat's fur, loud purrs escaping from the furry friend.

Thoroughly scrubbed of all the mud, I run the spray nozzle over them again, washing away the suds and leaving behind a nice and shiny coat. Smiling to myself, I grab a towel and gently rubbing their fur until their fur was dry and fluffy. I giggled softly, petting their fur into a more laid down state.

"Alrighty, now to figure out what gender you are. Meow if you're a girl"

Sure I'm talking to a cat but hey, they're smart, they can communicate pretty well with humans, maybe it'll work. I got my answer as they- now he- simply stared at me before shoving his head under my palm again. I giggled more, gently picking him up and heading out of the bathroom, stopping to grab a pet perfume for cats.

Setting him down on the couch, I uncap the perfume and carefully sprayed the light coconut scent on his fur. Placing the bottle on the table, I sat down next to him, smiling when he immediately crawled into my lap.

"You know, you're very friendly for a stray. I'm definitely not complaining though, haru never wants to cuddle, haha"

I laughed quietly to myself, petting him gently. My thoughts started to drift to how I still hadn't found my boyfriend, and how he hasnt come home yet. I sighed heavily, causing the cat to look up at me.

"I wonder where he is..... he never takes this long, what if something happened? No, no he'll be fine, he has his stand to protect him. I shouldnt worry too much."

I sighed again, looking down at the cat with a slight smile. He was so soft, his fur reminded me of Mista's hair.

"I love him so much, it'd hurt like hell if I lost him. These past few years have been so wonderful and happy, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I just hope he comes home soon...."

The cat in my lap placed his paws on my chest, leaning up to lick my nose a few times, as if to say 'its gonna be okay'. I smiled softly, gently hugging the feline to my chest and kissing his forehead.

"I love you too, buddy. You're so cute, and your fur reminds me of him. It's getting late though, I think I'll sleep here and wait for him to come back..."

Yawning softly, I turn myself to lay on the couch, my head propped up by one of the throw pillows. Grabbing a blanket from under the coffee table, I draped it over myself, giggling softly as my new furry friend popped his head out of the top. My eyes slid shut, the comforting weight and vibrations from the cat soothing me to sleep.

The sun shone through the window, causing me to stir slightly. Then my eyes snapped open.

I felt a weight on me, definitely heavier than the large cat I had brought home yesterday. I looked down towards my chest, surprise and happiness filling my eyes as I saw my beloved boyfriend resting his head on my chest. Taking a moment to observe him, I noticed his hat was missing, and lifting up the blanket I noticed he was missing more than just his hat. I blushed crimson, quickly dropping the blanket back down.

The fluttering of the cloth on his skin woke him up, his eyes fluttering as he yawned softly. Craning his head up, he greeted me softly,

"Good morning, tesoro"

And then his eyes widened for a second before he wooped in joy. Grinning, he grabbed my face and kissed me all over, my forehead, nose, cheeks, lips, everywhere. I giggled loudly, asking him softly why he was so excited,

"Because I'm human again, babe!"

His statement gave me pause, tilting my head in confusion,

"What do you mean 'again'? Werent you always human?"

"I was the cat last night, tesori, believe it or not."

He was positively beaming and I opened my mouth to ask how he was turned into a cat before realizing it was probably the effect of a stand. I just shook my head with a smile on my face and kissed him softly,

"I'm just glad you're back, caro"

[need1etail]

Chapter Twenty-Five

Alderpaw poked his head through the entrance to the nursery. “Is it okay to come in?” he called softly, not wanting to wake the kits.

“Sure!” Lilyheart called back. “But watch where you’re putting your paws.”

As Alderpaw became used to the dim light of the nursery, he could see why Lilyheart had told him to be careful. Her own three kits, Leafkit, Larkkit, and Honeykit, were rolling around play fighting on the thick moss and bracken that covered the nursery floor. Violetkit and Twigkit, their eyes now fully open, sat watching with wide, curious eyes.

“That’s how you learn to fight when you’re an apprentice,” Leafkit told the younger kits, sitting up and shaking scraps of moss from her calico pelt.

“What’s an apprentice?” Twigkit asked.

“It’s when you’re six moons old and you have a mentor, and learn how to become a warrior,” Larkkit replied.

“And then you get to fight foxes and badgers and rival cats,” Honeykit added. She leaped on top of her brother, growling as fiercely as she could. “Get out of our camp, you stinky badger!”

“Stinky yourself!” Larkkit retorted, battering his sister with his hind paws.

Alderpaw skirted the battling kits and settled down in the moss beside Lilyheart. “You’ve got your paws full here,” he mewed.

“I know, but I love it,” Lilyheart purred. “I have Daisy to help. She’s out getting fresh-kill for us right now.”

“That’s great,” Alderpaw mewed. “So how are you two doing?” he asked, stretching out his neck and touching noses with Violetkit then Twigkit.

“We’re fine, thank you,” Violetkit replied.

Alderpaw could see that she was right. There was no need to worry about the kits’ health anymore. In the few days they had been in camp, their little bodies began to plump up, and their fur was glossy. Though their eyes were open, wide and bright, they were still kitten gray, and Alderpaw knew it would be a while before they got their normal color.

“It’s so nice here with our mother,” Twigkit added, leaning close to Lilyheart.

“She’s not your mother!” Leafkit piped up before Alderpaw or Lilyheart could respond. “She’s our mother. You came from a long way away—beyond the lake, even.”

The two younger kits glanced at each other, confused and a little hurt. Twigkit looked at Alderpaw with eyes that made his heart ache for her.

“Don’t worry, little ones,” Lilyheart mewed, bending her head to lick each kit around the ears. “I love you just as much as if I were your real mother.”

“That’s right,” Alderpaw agreed, nuzzling the kits with warm affection. “All you need to know is that you’re very special.”

Reassured, the two kits began to purr in content. For a moment, Alderpaw gave himself up to the satisfaction of having saved them, whatever that might mean.

“They really are lovely,” Lilyheart meowed. “I’d be happy to keep them as part of my family. And my kits love them too!”

Alderpaw nodded, but he knew that the real decision about the kits’ future would be made at the Gathering that night. I hope they’ll be allowed to stay here, he thought, realizing how attached he had become to them. But that’s not for me to decide.

Emerging from the nursery, Alderpaw almost slammed into Jayflight. The gray warrior was standing just outside the den with Berrynose at his side.

“There you are!” Jayflight exclaimed, his voice cross. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I was just visiting the kits,” Alderpaw explained.

Jayflight snorted. “I should have known.”

“I think it’s nice that you’re just taking such a liking to the kits,” Berrynose meowed, giving Jayflight a shove. Alderpaw purred, knowing his cousin was just being cranky.

Jayflight only sniffed and turned to look at Alderpaw. “Bramblestar and Leafpool want to talk to you. They’ll be in his den.”

There had been a time when Alderpaw would have been worried by a summons from his father. Now, although he felt slightly nervous, anticipation was stirring inside him.

As he and Jayflight padded toward the leader’s den, Alderpaw remembered his return to the camp a few days before. All his Clan had been excited to welcome him back, and Sparkpaw had barely left his side since. As soon as he got home, she started telling him all that had changed: Brackenfur finally convinced Bramblestar to let him work on the dens once more, she had gotten permission from Leafpool to let Alderpaw sleep in the apprentice den once more, and Cloudtail, Brightheart, and Daisy had finally joined the elders, though Daisy continued to stay in the nursery and help with the kits.

Bramblestar had taken the first opportunity to draw Alderpaw aside to ask for his view of what had happened in the gorge.

“It was so frustrating!” Alderpaw admitted. “We should have gotten there in time to save SkyClan from the rogues. I feel like I’ve failed”

Bramblestar wrapped his tail around his son and licked his ear to comfort him. “I’m puzzled,” he confessed. “Why would StarClan send you a vision when it was already too late to do anything about it?” He must have noticed the hurt look Alderpaw’s face, because he quickly added, “But you shouldn’t worry, it was not your fault, Alderpaw.”

Alderpaw shrugged, feeling uneasy. “I feel like I’ve missed something important . . . I feel like Sandstorm died for nothing. Every cat keeps telling me it wasn’t my fault, and for a while I believed it, but . . . now?”

“You are not to blame for Sandstorm’s death,” Bramblestar tried to assure him, though it didn’t work much. “I grieve for her, and so does the rest of our Clan. But going on the quest is what Sandstorm wanted. Remember how hard Squirrelflight tried to forbid her from going? She was determined, and you would have never convinced her otherwise.”

“I guess so . . .,” Alderpaw mewed, though he couldn’t suppress his feeling of guilt.

“Meanwhile,” Bramblestar meowed, changing the subject, “I’ve spoken to other cats who went on the quest with you about keeping SkyClan secret, at least for now.”

“I hope it was okay to tell them . . .,” Alderpaw began apologetically, remembering once again that Needlepaw shared the secret, too.

“It’s fine, Alderpaw. You didn’t have much choice.”

“So what are you going to do about SkyClan—or what remains of it?” Alderpaw asked, relieved by his father’s approval. “And what about those horrible rogues in the gorge.”

“I’ve thought it over,” Bramblestar replied, his amber gaze fixed on Alderpaw, “and I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s nothing ThunderClan can do for SkyClan for now.”

“But—” Alderpaw began to protest.

Bramblestar overrode him. “SkyClan has scattered, and no cat knows where they have gone. Unless ThunderClan gets more information . . .”

Alderpaw felt the weight of his Clan leader’s stare. He means another vision. Anxiety rose inside of him like a gathering storm cloud. Will I have one? What if I don’t?

“I told the rest of the Clan that you reached the place you saw in your vision,” Bramblestar continued briskly, “but you found nothing there. That should be enough to keep SkyClan a secret until we get a stronger sign from StarClan. At least . . .” He hesitated. “What about Needlepaw?”

“I asked her to keep the secret,” Alderpaw replied, “but I don’t know whether she will.”

Bramblestar nodded thoughtfully. “Well, it’s the best we can do for now,” he decided at last. “We’ll discuss the kits later, with Leafpool, Jayflight, and Squirrelflight.”

Thinking back to that earlier meeting, Alderpaw assured that now he was being summoned to talk about Twigkit and Violetkit. I hope they can stay with us, he thought.

He climbed up the tumbled rocks after Jayflight, scrambling for a moment before entering his father’s den, seeing Leafpool and Squirrelflight waiting with Bramblestar in his den on the highledge.

“Good you’re here,” Bramblestar meowed, sweeping his tail affectionately along Alderpaw’s back, as if he was still amazed his son was alive after alive. “Have you recovered form your journey yet?”

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Alderpaw replied.

“Then we need to talk about the future,” Bramblestar announced. “Most urgently, about Twigkit and Violetkit.” With a wave of his tail, he invited the other cats to sit down. “Alderpaw, tell us what you know.”

Alderpaw stayed on his paws as he described how Sandstorm had come to him in a dream, and given him the clue that allowed him and Needlepaw to find the kits in the tunnel.

“Needlepaw really helped?” Leafpool asked, sounding surprised.

“Oh yeah. It was her idea to go through the tunnel. And she helped me bring the kits back to the lake, and helped feed and care for them, too. She was pretty gentle with them.”

“So the question remains what to do with them now,” Bramblestar continued. “Jayflight, do you think that they could be ‘what you find in the shadows’, according to the prophecy?”

Jayflight wriggled his shoulders af if he felt uncomfortable in his pelt. “I’m not sure. It feels too simple. Maybe they’re just a pair of abandoned kits. Their mother was probably killed on the Thunderpath, or maybe a fox got her.”

“But Sandstorm told Alderpaw there was still time to succeed on his quest,” Leafpool pointed out, her eyes shadows as she named her dead mother. “And then she told him how to find the kits. I think they could well be ‘what you find in the shadows’, and if we embrace them, the ‘sky will clear’.”

“Alderpaw, what do you think?” Squirrelflight asked.

Alderpaw blinked nervously at being put on the spot. “They could be,” he replied, “but I think it’s soon to be sure. We’ll know more when the kits grow older.”

Jayflight let out a snort. “I can’t see ShadowClan agreeing to that! And much as I hate to admit it, they have a point. As Alderpaw tells it, Needlepaw was at least half responsible for finding the kits, and so ShadowClan has a claim to them.”

“It wouldn’t be fair,” Squirrelflight growled, sending a glare toward Jayflight, which took Alderpaw off guard. “They’re sisters, and they have no say in this.” She turned to Bramblestar. “Remember how hurt you were when Tawnypaw left you? Would you really feel right tearing these two kits apart.”

Bramblestar’s eyes clouded with grief and he blinked rapidly. “It is true that ShadowClan has a claim to them, though,” he agreed with Jayflight with a sigh. Squirrelflight huffed and lashed her tail. “We’ll wait and see what’s said at the Gathering.”

“We know what ShadowClan will say.” Jayflight twitched his whiskers. “Even though the last thing Russetstar needs is two more young cats to keep track of.”

Bramblestar let out a rumble of amusement from deep in his chest, but that comment made Alderpaw uncomfortable. Would the kits be well taken care of in ShadowClan? What if Russetstar didn’t pay enough attention to them? He shook out his pelt, praying to StarClan that the Gathering went smoothly that night.

A chilly wind ruffled the surface to the lake, breaking up the reflection of the full moon, which floated serenely in the sky above. Branches creaked and rustled in the blast, and dead leaves whirled through the air.

Alderpaw fluffed out his fur against the cold as he padded along the lakeshore with his Clanmates. Violetkit rode on his back, her tiny claws digging deep into his pelt. Beside him Sparkpaw was carrying Twigkit.

“I don’t think RiverClan and WindClan know anything about our quest to find SkyClan, or ‘what you find in the shadows’,” she meowed to Alderpaw. “Won’t they be surprised! I mean, that we found what lies in the shadows, anyway. They’ll be furious enough to claw their own ears off when they discover that a ThunderClan cat found it.”

“But Bramblestar isn’t completely sure the prophecy refers to these kits,” Alderpaw pointed out, his voice mild.

“You mean he won’t say,” Sparkpaw responded. She gave an excited bounce, nearly dislodging Twigkit, who let out a squeak of alarm. “Oops, sorry, Twigkit. Anyway,” Sparkpaw continued, “the kits are totally what you find in the shadows, and you’d have to be the stupidest furball in the forest not to know it!”

Alderpaw blinked contentedly and let her chatter on as they splashed through the stream and followed Bramblestar and the senior warriors alongside the lake through WindClan territory. It was good to be with Sparkpaw again and to bask in her cheerful confidence, after all the dangers they had suffered.

They were drawing near to the edge of WindClan territory when Alderpaw spotted Mudstar and his cats streaming down the hillside and heading around the lake ahead of them, past the horseplace.

“Who are all those cats?” Violetkit asked, sounding nervous.

“Oh, that’s WindClan,” Alderpaw replied.

“Has no cat told you about the Clans?” Sparkpaw asked. “They should have! Honestly . . . Well,” she went on obviously delighted to show off her knowledge to the kits, “there are four Clans around the lake. We’re ThunderClan—we’re the best. Those skinny rabbit-chasers up ahead are WindClan, and then there’s RiverClan and ShadowClan. You’ll meet cats from all of them tonight.”

“Yes, all the Clans meet at the full moon. It’s called a Gathering,” Alderpaw added. “On that island is the lake—can you see it?” He waved his tail toward the dark bulk of island.

“I’m scared!” Twigkit squeaked. “I don’t want to meet so many cats.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Sparkpaw told her, her tone brisk. “Cats never fight at a Gathering. In fact, you’re both very lucky. Kits aren’t usually allowed to go to Gatherings. You’re only here because you’re special.”

“Think of what you’ll get to tell Leafkit, Larkkit, and Honeykit when you get home,” Alderpaw meowed. If you get home, he added to himself, feeling anxiety stab through him.

Twigkit and Violetkit clung on tightly as Alderpaw and Sparkpaw carried them across the tree-bridge to the island. Pushing through the bushes to reach the clearing around the Great Oak, Alderpaw saw the open space filled with cats. The scents of the other three Clans hung heavily in the air, and realized that ThunderClan was the last to arrive.

He and Sparkpaw settled down with the kits in the shelter of a bush at the edge of the clearing, while the kits gazed around with huge eyes.

“I didn’t think there were so many cats in the world!” Violetkit mewed.

Almost at once Alderpaw spotted Needlepaw at the far side of the clearing beyond the Great Oak. Her eyes widened at the sight of Alderpaw.

Alderpaw expected her—and half of him wanted her—to cross the clearing to meet him but she didn’t move until a white she-cat, Beepaw, Alderpaw recognized, padded up to her. Needlepaw exchanged a few words with her, then turned her back on Alderpaw and walked away with the she-cat at her side. Alderpaw lost sight of her in the crowd.

An odd, empty feeling gathered in Alderpaw’s belly. He was happy to be back with his own Clan, especially when his Clanmates were so pleased with him, but he still felt bad about the way Needlepaw had gone home alone without much of a farewell. He was nervous, too, about what she might have told her Clanmates SkyClan. Part of him wanted to bound across the clearing and find her, but he knew for now his place was with the kits. And when the final decision was made about their future, he and Needlepaw would be rivals

No longer my sister. Enemies. He shuddered, wanting to sob at the thought.

Alderpaw realized that while he was lost in his thoughts, the four leaders had leaped up into the branches of the Great Oak. The deputies had gathered on the roots, while the medicine cats sat nearby. Gradually silence fell over the cats in the clearing.

“Why don’t I begin?” Mistystar meowed when she had greeted the Clans. “Prey has been plentiful in RiverClan and—”

She broke off with an annoyed look as Russetstar interrupted her by rising to her paws and pacing to the end of her branch.

“Why are we acting like this is a typical Gathering?” the ShadowClan leader demanded, her green eyes burning. “I know Bramblestar has news to share—don’t you?” she added, turning to the ThunderClan leader and giving him a hard stare.

Bramblestar froze for a moment. Alderpaw knew what he must be thinking, and he felt the same flare of panic and anxiety. Did Needlepaw tell Russetstar about SkyClan?

“News that might relate to the prophecy? Maybe about some young cats?” Rowanstar continued, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Surely you want to tell us all about that.”

Alderpaw let himself breathe again. She didn’t give away the secret.

Clearing his throat, Bramblestar rose to his paws. “Yes, I do have news,” he meowed, raising his voice so that every cat in the clearing could hear him. “But I’m not sure it relates to the prophecy. Our medicine cat apprentice, Alderpaw, went on a quest to find what lies in the shadows. Sadly, our wise elder, Sandstorm, died on this quest, and her whole Clan grieves for her. But on his way home, Alderpaw found those two kits”—Bramblestar pointed with his tail—”just outside our territories.”

Alderpaw realized that every cat was staring at him and the two kits with him and Sparkpaw. He wanted to hide under the nearest bush, but he made himself sit still and meet the curiosity with a calm gaze.

“I don’t think that’s quite right, Bramblestar,” Russetstar went on with a hint of a snarl to her meow. “Don’t you mean that Alderpaw and Needlepaw found the kits, working together? Didn’t Needlepaw save Alderpaw’s life on the quest, helping him to shore when he was drowning?”

Bramblestar lowered his head. “Yes, that’s true.”

Squirrelflight looked at her mate, annoyance in her gaze. She stood from her spot beside the other deputies. “What was Needlepaw doing on her own in the first place?” she challenged, her eyes narrow. “Is it normal for ShadowClan apprentices to wander  off by themselves?”

Russetstar raised her eyes and glared at the deputy, her gaze blazing. “That is not your concern,” she snapped; Alderpaw could tell that she was embarrassed by the question. “ShadowClan can look after its own apprentices, thank you very much. What’s important is that ThunderClan  did not find these kits without help. And what I understand,” she added, twitching her whiskers, “is that the kits were brought to ThunderClan for urgent care from your medicine cats, but that where they would stay permanently would be decided at this meeting.”

Before Bramblestar could respond, Mistystar took a step forward. “I think Mudstar and I would appreciate a bit more information,” she meowed politely. “This is the first we’ve heard about this quest.”

Mudstar nodded. “Yes, I agree,” he meowed. “Is this just another case of ThunderClan thinking it can control the whole forest?”

Alderpaw was surprised by the brown leader’s hostility. Isn’t WindClan our allies? Why are they being such big badgers? “Not at all,” Bramblestar replied. Alderpaw saw that Squirrelflight was making an effort to hold off her temper.

The ThunderClan leader launched into an account of the quest, although he left out any mention of SkyClan. “Sandstorm’s spirit guided Alderpaw to discover the kits,” he finished. “That makes me think that they must be important for us somehow, even if they’re not ‘what you find in the shadows’ from the prophecy.”

The cats in the clearing broke out into excited speculation and argument. Alderpaw was worried that the noise and curiosity would overwhelm the kittens, but they seemed untroubled by it; they were sitting together, both their paws tucked under their tiny bodies, listening to what was going on but clearly not understanding that their future was being decided.

Up in the branches of the Great Oak, the leaders were wrangling too.

“You’ll never convince me that those kits are what we were meant to embrace,” Mudstar announced. “I mean . . . they’re kits! What do they know.”

“They don’t have to know anything,” Russetstar pointed out with an irritated lash of her tail. “But StarClan guided us to them, and that’s good enough for me.”

Mistystar nodded in agreement.

“We can’t be sure about this,” Bramblestar meowed, his glance sweeping around to take in the other three leaders. Alderpaw could tell that he was getting flustered. He’s losing hope that we’re going to be able to keep the kits. “Not until the kits grow and reveal more about themselves. What is clear is that it’s the Clans’ responsibility to take care of them.”

“That’s all well and good,” Russetstar responded, baring her teeth at the beginning of a snarl, “but it doesn’t mean the kits need to stay in ThunderClan. Perhaps both of them belong in ShadowClan with Needlepaw, who helped find and care for them.”

“But they’re happy and safe now,” Bramblestar argued. “It would be cruel to move them.”

“You would say that, Bramblestar,” Mudstar snorted. “All that interests you is keeping the kits for ThunderClan.”

Alderpaw sent a hard glare at the WindClan leader. We are only interested in keeping the kits safe and happy! he wanted to hiss to him. But he kept his mouth shut.

“It looks like that, Bramblestar.” Mistystar sounded almost apologetic. “But the prophecy is to every Clan, not just ThunderClan. You don’t have the right to keep the kits.”

“That’s so unfair!” Sparkpaw exclaimed, but Alderpaw waved his tail for her to keep quiet. He didn’t want to miss a single word of the argument.

Bramblestar looked thoughtful, then a hopeless look crossed his face. No. “Fine,” Bramblestar meowed. Alderpaw’s anxiety spiked and he instinctively wrapped his tail around the kits, forcing himself not to cry. “ShadowClan may have one kit—”

“Are you insane?” Squirrelflight hissed, jumping up next to her mate. The Clans were shocked, murmuring to one another about her. “Of course we’re not going to split up the kits!” She whipped her head around to glare at Russetstar. “No, Russetstar, you absolutely cannot have either of these kits. You think you deserve these kits especially after you showed that you aren’t even able to control your own apprentices?” Russetstar opened her mouth to object, but Squirrelflight cut her off. “NO. Twigkit and Violetkit are coming home with us and that is final.” She gave Bramblestar one last glare. “The Gathering is over.”

Before any cat could object, Squirrelflight leapt down from the branch and trotted over to Alderpaw. She snatched up Violetkit and turned to slink off the island. Alderpaw stared in surprise. Forcing himself to move, he picked up Twigkit and followed his mother, followed closely by Sparkpaw, who looked smug. He glanced one last time over his shoulder to see Needlepaw glaring at him, her eyes burning with rage.

Bramblestar jumped down from his spot on the Great Oak and followed his kits and mate. Soon, the whole Clan was leaving the island. Alderpaw’s heart swelled with happiness. Twigkit and Violetkit will grow up together happily in ThunderClan. He caught up with Squirrelflight so Twigkit and Violetkit could be close. “Thank you,” he mumbled through Twigkit’s downy kit fur.

Squirrelflight’s angry glare softened and she nodded to her son. For the first time in moons, Alderpaw’s anxiety dissolved. “Everything will be okay,” he murmured to Twigkit. She looked up at him with big, gray eyes. “I promise.”