cat sitting on a pillow

anonymous asked:

If you feel like it, could you please continue to cling to canon and give us more of Sam and Dean and George the cat? Dean + cat is a perennial weakness of mine and I swooned over that little canon-compliant snippet.

It takes about three months of George living in the bunker before Dean fully capitulates. He doesn’t say anything, of course. No discussion about whether or not they’re keeping the damn cat. It’s just, one day as they sit working in the library, there comes the faint scratching sound from the electrical room as George covers up his mess in the half-a-cardboard-box with dirt in it that they’d rigged up, and Dean says, finally, not looking up from his laptop, “We ought to pick up a real litter box, that thing’s a pain in the ass,” and Sam blinks at him for a few seconds and says, “I could get one on Amazon,” and Dean grunts and keeps reading whatever he’s reading, and–well, that’s it. Sam puts a scratching post and a little cat bed in his basket, too. Red plaid flannel, soft-looking. Might as well keep George on theme, he thinks.

George never uses the bed, of course. He sleeps curled up on the classic cars in the garage and on the leather armchairs in the library and directly on top of Sam’s laptop (never Dean’s, and Sam’s starting to get suspicious about that). He shreds the scratching post in about three weeks, scattering little carpet tufts all over the kitchen floor. Dean props his hands on his hips and sighs, gives the cat a hard look where he’s sprawled on the table, but George only tucks his paws under his chest and starts up that contented rumbling purr, and so Dean can’t do much but sweep up. He makes Sam buy one of those weird ones made out of cardboard after that, though, leaning over Sam’s shoulder as they bicker about whether to order the one with the climbing tower or not (I’m not having a cat coming at me at head height, Dean says, and Sam thinks that Dean just doesn’t want to once again be the shortest person in the bunker, but he keeps that to himself). 

They don’t sleep together every night, though they do more often than not. Another thing they don’t really talk about, not that they need to. They used to keep the door closed, too, until George came to stay. That first night, Sam picked his head up around two in the morning to insistent tiny screeches over metal, and Dean sighed into the pillow, and Sam scrubbed his hand over his face and said, if we give in once–, and Dean sighed and said, story of my life, and so it was left to Sam to get up and shuffle across the cold concrete and crack the door, and then a silvery little shadow coiled around his ankles in the dark and made a soft mrr, which Sam was going to pretend was an apology, and by the time Sam made it back to bed there was a fuzzy lump tucked in against Dean’s warm side, purring contentedly. No, Sam said, but when he took his spot back George just walked spiky circles around both of their legs and then turned into a loaf on the small of Dean’s back and started purring even louder. Dean sighed again, mumbled, this is your fault, and Sam rolled his eyes, but he scritched behind George’s ear, too. He’s a very soft cat.

Tonight, Sam wakes up with a start, heart pounding in the back of his throat as he tries to gulp down air. It takes him a moment–but no, he’s in the bunker. Four in the morning, six years after he got away, and it was just a nightmare. Everything’s as fine as it always is. He scrubs a hand over his face, laying there alone in the dark. He went to bed early, not long after dinner, and it turns out Dean didn’t join him. No big deal, though at the moment he kind of wishes–but, no. Doesn’t matter. He’s just cold, that’s all, and he didn’t work his brain hard enough before bed. Might as well get up now, though, even if he’s groggy, because–well, because.

He trips on the cat immediately, soft fur stretched out in front of his bedroom door. “God–” he says, and there’s a skitter as George bolts away, his tail probably trod on, “goddamn it, cat.” A little sharper than he meant, a little louder, something trembling weirdly under his skin. Fuck.

He’s sitting in the library, just one of the lamps on, holding his coffee against his chest. The warm of it, the smell, it’s–good. He breathes. Wonders how long it’ll be until Dean gets up. He could go for a run, kill some time, only it’s raining outside, enough that he can hear it even down here, and it just sounds so… miserable. He’s staring, at nothing, and he has no idea how long it’s been when there’s a nudge against his shin, and then George hops up onto his lap, needle-claws sinking immediately through his pajama pants. He hisses, but he still feels bad about earlier, and he just stays still, trying not to wince, while he’s kneaded into submission. It’s only a minute or so before apparently he’s the right consistency and George winds himself into a circle, all twenty pounds and plumy tail wrapped up neatly with his heavy little head tucked against Sam’s knee. Sam lays a hand on his wide soft back. “Hey, cat,” he says, quiet, and George starts up a steady rumble in response, warm and constant as one of those stupid Magic Fingers mattresses Dean always used to love.

When Dean finds them, later, Sam has finished the coffee and is just sitting, content to be a cat pillow, at least for now. Dean squints at the two of them. Sam tries to smile at the pretty epic bedhead Dean’s rocking, but Dean obviously sees something a little different because his expression changes. He comes over and runs a hand through Sam’s hair, eyes narrow. Sam shrugs, then lifts his face up. Dean kisses him, close-mouthed and obedient, and he smells good, familiar. When Dean pulls back he runs a strong calloused thumb around behind Sam’s ear, and then he crouches and scratches the back of George’s neck, his fingers brushing against Sam’s where he hasn’t moved his hand. “Hey, cat,” Dean says, voice scratchy, and Sam smiles, for real that time. “You wanna give up my brother?”

“Nah,” Sam says, propping his head on his free hand. “I’m leaving you. George and I are gonna travel the country, taking care of–uh, mouse hauntings, or something.”

“Oh, okay,” Dean says, and stands up, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I guess you don’t want another cup of coffee, then. Or, I’m thinking maybe some bacon.” 

“Hm,” Sam says, and picks George up with a discontented mrr. “Throw in some pancakes and I’m in.”

Dean rolls his eyes and scoops the cat out of Sam’s hands, tucking him under his arm football-style to carry him out to the kitchen for breakfast. “This is what I have to deal with,” he says, apparently to the cat. “What kind of man can’t live on bacon alone? I gotta make little cakes, too? Come on.”

Sam grins, and brushes the cat hair off his legs, or tries to. It’s going to be that kind of morning, he thinks, and then goes to stop Dean from feeding their cat Sam‘s share of the bacon.

anonymous asked:

More cat blake things: sitting in patches of sunlight coming from a window, kneading pillows and shit, the slow blinking thing, low key being able to pull off the perfect :3 face. I don't rly have any more since I haven't lived with a cat in a while, altho the most memorable thing was the time my cat meowed at me til I got up from drawing and led me around the house just to run back to my room to take my chair

added things that my cat does:

“running” in her sleep, 0 to 200 on the energy scale in .02 seconds, trying to fit into ANY box, peering through cracks in doors at people

Family au headcanons

related to the ideas @arcticfoxbear and I came up with inspired by @artbygraham ’s adorable pictures

● Shiro can cook exactly three things. Omurice, spaghetti, and, oddly enough, chicken parmesan. Everything else comes out of boxes or cans. He thought he was getting by pretty well until the third week after his impromptu wedding when he realizes “Wow, how did I survive college on that diet”.

○ The first time there was a thunderstorm in the night, up on the mountain, Hunk thought it was an earthquake and ran outside, convinced the house was going to collapse on them all. It took the adults twelve minutes to find him in the dark and rain. It took two more minutes to convince him to come back inside.

●Y'all remember Mai from My Neighbor Totoro? The baby sister? Yeah, that’s pretty much Lance. Except he has a slightly wider mischievous streak than Mai. He also really looks up to Keith, because Keith is “the big kid”. Somehow, that translated in Lance’s preschool mind to “have to beat him at everything”.

○Pidge fits in a lot of places she shouldn’t. Coran has found her on windowsills, inside cabinets, under the sink. Once they found her sitting on top of the icebox with the black cat that unceremoniously moved in. That gave them all a fright. She’s very sure-footed for a two year old, and Shiro and Allura are a little worried about what’s going to happen when she’s tall enough to reach the door handles.

●Keith wants to be Just Like Shiro, all the time. Shiro shaves in the morning? Keith wants a “razor” too. Shiro kisses Allura on the cheek at breakfast every day? Keith will push a chair across the floor and stand on it so he can do the same. And of course, whatever Keith does, Lance does, and the chain of copycats usually ends in a small scuffle.

○Allura doesn’t ask about Shiro’s scars, and he doesn’t ask about hers. But sometimes she thinks that at least she remembers where hers came from. Between the pair of them, they’ve staved off most of the nightmares, but she worries that one day one of the kids will catch them in a flashback and she’ll have to explain it.

●Coran thinks of Allura and Shiro as his own kids, though he plays the role of the jovial uncle with more ease. He cried at their wedding, even though it was just a tiny civil ceremony. He does most of the cooking, because a 22 year old and a 23 year old focusing on four kids under the age of 6 won’t always be thinking of which foods to use.

○When Lance turns four, there is a large, smokey grey-blue cat sitting on his pillow when he wakes. He thinks Allura and Shiro have decided to let him have a cat after all. (Before living with them, Lance grew up expecting birthday presents to be things like a piece of candy or a toy car. His family was not well-to-do.) There’s a piece of paper on her leg that he thinks is a card, but he can’t read it. He doesn’t know why Shiro makes him wait on the other side of the room while he takes the tag off, or why Shiro has to sit down after, but it turns out the cat has a very similar personality to Lance. Go outside and hunt snails? A wonderful idea!

●The black cat is perfectly capable of hunting his own food. However, he won’t deny a certain satisfaction to finding a bit of meat or rice on a little tin plate that Shiro and Allura leave just inside the back door. They have no idea how he gets in when they know all the doors and windows are shut, but they know he’ll find the plate anyway.

Neko Astume advice/tips

I’ve been playing Neko Astume for a few months now and I absolutely adore it (obviously, I made a blog about it) so I have a few tips I’d like to give for those who are just starting, are having trouble with getting cats to their yard, etc. 

1. Save up for a yard expansion.

This is the most important. The yard expansion is on the last page of the shop and costs 180 gold fish. That’s pretty steep and will take you a while to get, but it’ll be so worth it when you expand and can put more toys out in your yard. Only buy Frisky Bitz and don’t buy any items that cost gold fish. 

2. Put in the daily password.

You get free silver fish every single day from putting in the daily password and occasionally free gold fish!! If you put in the daily password 5 times, you get a free can of Ritzy Bitz. It’s a good idea to stock up on those till you have enough to at least supply a day’s worth of food. 

3. Check every 2-3 hours if possible.

The cats eat up the food very quickly, especially if you have Ritzy Bitz or any other food that costs gold fish. It’s a good idea to check your yard often to make sure the cats have food, because chances are they’ll leave if there isn’t at food in the bowl. Sometimes there will still be cats hanging out in the yard even after there’s no food, but that’s unlikely. 


Let’s clear the air about this issue. Tubbs will only leave you 1 or so fish if you refill the bowl while he’s still there. Let him hang out for a bit. If you see him laying there, refill the other bowl (if you have a bigger yard) and leave him alone. Come back in about an hour or so, he’ll usually be gone by then and leave you 30+ fish! (He also occasionally leaves gold fish) 

5. Have a yard theme. 

This is extremely important and how I was able to stock up about 9,000+ silver fish and nearly 200 gold fish. As most of my followers know, my entire yard was all pink items for about a month. Everything was pink and people loved it. I set out those specific items and didn’t change them at all. I only changed the items when I was exchanging one or two pink items for another. 

Some ideas for a yard theme: 

• All pink items
• All blue items
• All brown/tan items
• All green items
• Brown and green items (ideal for the Zen garden theme) 
• All yellow items
• Comfort and relaxation: Nothing but pillows and things for cats to sit or sleep in
• All play: Only toys, no pillows or cushions (even though the cats manage to take naps with the toys)
• Warmth: Anything that may provide warmth; hot mats, heating stove, space heater, etc. (great for expanded yards for heating items that take up a lot of space)
• Bucket City: Nothing but buckets, pots, and baskets. Anything that cats can stick their head out of.
• Cardboard City: Nothing but cardboard items. Boxes, the little houses/businesses, the train, etc.
• Balls. Balls Everywhere: Nothing but balls. Red ball, blue ball, yarn ball… you get the idea. 

The list can go on and on, there’s no limit (except for your fish count) to what theme your yard could have! Stick to that theme for a while and watch your fish levels rise! Only buy food and items that relate to your theme, until you have your desired amount of fish to start a new theme! 

6. Don’t be afraid to look up tips on how to get more rare cats in your yard. 

Some might be obvious (Guy Furry: Vase, heating stove / Joe Demeowgio: Baseball / Billy the Kitten: Cowboy Hat), and some can be tricky. It takes time and getting extra help is more than okay. 

7. Take lots of pictures of your cats. 

It’s the cutest feature in the game. That is all.

Feel free to ask add to this post or send me or any other Neko Astume blog a message with your questions!

i feel like jason would be the sort of person who would bring home all the injured and scrappy dogs and cats he finds on patrol but he never lets himself?? get attached like he always tells himself oh he’s going to drop them off at selina’s or at the rescue after he’s fed them or maybe give them to damian if he’s feeling like he wants to piss bruce off

but like there’s this one cat who is such a fuckin asshole and ruins jason’s shirt and also jason’s arm and that night, jason wakes up and just sees the cat?? sitting on his pillow?? and jason swears he’s never seen a cat look so disapproving but maybe he’s just projecting because he knows he slept with his suit still on and his gun is still on its holster and he smells really bad but oka y who the fuck is this cat anyway, to look at jason like jason is a mess

jason hates the cat so much and okay maybe he doesn’t drop the cat off with the others the next day but that’s just because he’s not going to let this cat go without showing it he can be a decent, functioning human being

(he calls the cat bruce sometimes. he pretends it doesn’t happen.)

brightly beating heart

Summary: A continuation of Mako’s bad night. Spirit noir abounds!
Word count: 4500
Warnings: none
A/N: alcohol, bei fong, the cat, korra. and pain

first part (at the end of the alley) 


By morning, the rain is over. All the puddles lie stagnant and brown in the gutters, and humid morning light wafts through the streets of Republic City. In the steamy metro tunnels all the passengers bring out their fans, painted silks beating the warm air like slow-moving bird wings; in the street markets the shopkeepers wipe their sweating brows and whip their handkerchiefs at fruit flies. Even the spirit vines feel it - they slouch off the walls in heavy tangles of leaves and gem-colored flowers, the petals wilting in surrender to the oppressive heat.

Over in Dragon Flats, with sweat creeping between her skin and her clothes, Lin Bei Fong finds three things: a broken glass in a bar, the fragments still cloudy with half-dried alcohol, a thick smear of blood on the counter, and Mako. Her youngest detective lies slumped in a cluster of vines that curves around him like a pair of hands, staring a thousand yards into the deep green shadows along the wall of the alley.

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-At this point Andrew is 100% sure that this cat is fucking with him on purpose.

-Like he knows, rationally, (and Neil has told him multiple times), that animals are not capable of being spiteful.

-But Sir Fat Cat (really) is a spiteful cat. And he has decided he does not like Andrew.

-Which is fine. Because Andrew doesn’t like him either.

-But some of the things that have happened in the past month since they got him are unreal.

-First, he has no complete pairs of socks. He think’s he going crazy for about 3 weeks until Neil finds Sir sitting on a pile of the missing socks in a dark corner of the apartment.

-Then, he gets home from practice thoroughly irritated and tired, only to find the cat sitting perfectly on his pillow and only his pillow, so he has to wash his pillowcase before sleeping on it.

-He sleeps on the hair covered pillow out of spite and ends up sneezing violently the second he wakes up, the damn cat staring smugly right at him from the headboard. (Neil’s pillow is still completely pristine despite the fact that Neil is away at a game.

-The last straw is when Neil does get home and he’s kissing his neck and Andrew’s hand is on his hip and Andrew finally feels like his skin isn’t trying to crawl off of him when his foot collides with a furry mass and there’s a yowl and goddamnit.

-Then Neil’s pulling away and laughing because he’s in love with the damn cat and Andrew hates his life.

-This goes on until one day when Neil is gone again and Andrew and Sir are having an honest to God staredown on the couch (when did this become his life?)

-He puts his feet up on the couch and doesn’t protest when Sir climbs up to lay on his chest.

-They both fall asleep and from then on, they still don’t like each other, but they have an understanding (and Neil has photographic evidence)

-The picture ends up being their Christmas card that year.

Here Kitty, Kitty

Title: Here Kitty, Kitty

Requested By: ask-the-summer-jester

Rating: G

Original Imagine: Imagine finding an orange tabby cat on your doorstep one day. You’re not allowed to have pets, and try to shoo him away, but he sits resolutely on the doormat and meows at you, green eyes stretched wide. You finally give up and take him inside…

“Go home.”

The orange tabby cocked his head at you, tail swishing, and gave a questioning meow.

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. You liked cats. You really did. Your landlord, however, did not. But this spunky little tabby didn’t seem to be getting the point. He had been hanging around the gate when you got home, followed you up all four flights of stairs to your door, and now refused to budge; even when you gently nudged him with your foot. He merely blinked his large green eyes at you and batted at your shoelaces.

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finally found the universal companion gift: a kitten
  • dorian is reluctant about the idea of a cat. what is more cliche than the idea of a mage with a feline familiar? but the little black ball of fluff is persistent. the kitten brings him mouse after mouse, dropping them everywhere. in dorian’s bed, in his favorite chair in the library, on his collection of books he keeps neatly stacked in his room. he is convinced the cat has it out for him and as he complains to the inquisitor about a multitude of things - the cat, mother giselle, the cold weather and his perpetually freezing feet - the kitten just sits by and watches with eerie yellow eyes. the next morning the inquisitor hears about a large decapitated mouse found laying on mother giselle’s bed. when they walk into the library they spot dorian in his favorite chair, the cat curled on dorian’s now thawed feet with a multitude of homemade cat toys littering the space around it. dorian’s mouth curls up slightly as the cat stands, stretches, and lays down in the same spot.
  • iron bull is unexpectedly okay with having a little kitten following him around. i have little animals following me around anyway, he tells the inquisitor one day, gesturing to the chargers as he lifts a large mug to his mouth. the inquisitor laughs, sitting down and pointing to a second large mug sitting on the tavern table. oh no no that’s not for you, bull says, waving a hand and tilting the mug slightly so that the inquisitor can see its contents. that’s for kadan, he says affectionately, and a tiny, striped gray kitten blinks up from where it’s curled up inside of the mug. the kitten rarely leaves bull’s side. krem uses his winged nug plush crafting skills to make a tiny fabric maul they tie on the kitten’s back and it trots around looking infinitely pleased of itself, even though it’s still scared of tall grass.
  • cullen lets the small tortoiseshell cat have complete control of his office. it runs around, chasing papers rustling in the wind and climbing its way up cullen’s trousers with sharp little claws so it can perch on his warm lap. at first it’s afraid of cullen’s furry cloak and cautiously watches it with large green eyes until the commander scoops the kitten up in his palm and reassures it with a nice chin scratch. it purrs the hardest when it sleeps on the cloak at night, but when cullen is reluctant to fall asleep in fear he’ll see old memories resurface, the cat abandons the cloak in favor of cullen’s chest.
  • leliana is uncertain about the kitten at first, with so many ravens and an open railing on the highest floor of the rotunda. but the little fluffy gray cat seems to be intelligent and knows not to venture too closely to either. it watches the ravens with knowing blue eyes and sits on leliana’s desk, observing her visitors regally. when times are uneasy and leliana pushes herself too hard, too late at night, the cat will nudge her endlessly and nibble at her elbows until she comes to bed.
  • josephine is on board from day one. she gets lonely in her expansive office and finds herself talking to the cat extensively. it chirps and meows back at her just as readily, purring constantly even as josephine decides it needs a golden bow attached to its jeweled collar. you look lovely, she says with a smile, watching the kitten wind in circles around her feet. eventually josephine asks blackwall to make a wooden bed for it that she can sit on her desk and the cat spends its days sitting on a blue silk pillow placed in the bed, meowing as josie tells it about her worries and the flowers that she sent back home to yvette.
  • vivienne insists on the short haired white cat with one green and eye and one blue eye. as someone that wears predominantly white fabric, there is no way she can have black cat hair stuck on every article of clothing she owns. the cat pounces on absolutely everything - bugs, mice, pieces of dust, the servants, the inquisitor, the iron bull and his chargers - absolutely everything, that is, except for her. the cat pads after her as she gathers ingredients for potions and spells and when vivienne does not wish to be disturbed, the cat sits at the top of the stairs and hisses warningly at anyone that attempts to reach the top.
  • cole picks the smallest, whiniest kitten who barely seems to know how to walk around without tripping over his giant paws. the cat sits in the food bowl as it eats and cole strokes his head gently, murmuring words to him and offering him a piece of string. the cat seems shy and dislikes loud voices and large shoes that make too much noise on the wooden floors above the tavern. but cole is quiet and cole has calm fingers that know just how to pet the cat to make it relax and purr loudly.
  • solas does not take well to the idea of a pet. he calls the cat a companion, a friend, and makes sure that the creature knows he doesn’t expect it to stay in captivity. this seems to agree with the striped brown creature, who is gone for days at a time but always somehow returns when solas needs him most. the cat rubs its head on the elf when he’s busy trying to solve problems, reading about the fade or attempting to calculate a solution. one day solas is drinking the tea he so loathes and the cat watches his face of disgust. after the teacup is sat down on the desk, the cat looks at it for a moment before batting it off of the surface with a single paw. i thank you for that, friend, solas chuckles, scratches the cat underneath the chin and doesn’t bother getting a replacement cup of tea.
  • blackwall is all huff and gruff as the wriggly ball of fluff is pushed into his arms. he hardly has time to take care of himself between all the bloodshed and now he finds himself responsible for another thing in the midst of war. however, he is surprised to find that the cat is self-sufficient. it runs around hunting the mice in the barn and the horses don’t seem to mind it. the cat lives for the overhead beams in the barn and there doesn’t seem to be a time that blackwall looks up and doesn’t see glowing eyes looking back down at him from its favorite perch. on the nights that blackwall stays awake, unable to sleep because he cannot dissolve thom rainier from his mind, the cat stays awake with him. its tail flicks back and forth as they both stare out into the darkness.
  • sera scoffs. she doesn’t need some weirdo animal shedding everywhere and following her around and scratching up on all of her belongings. sera readily ignores the cat as it charms the tavern patrons and collects chin scratches and bits of mutton from their plates. yeah, you just stay over there, sera finds herself saying as she sits on the roof of the tavern and lines up eggs she plans to drop on unsuspecting victims below. while retrieving a cushion she forgot (because hey, roofs are hard on butts!) the elf hears a cry of surprise and looks out her bedroom window to see scout harding covered in yolk. wasn’t me! sera yells, climbing up onto the roof to see her new partner in crime. and instead of a person or a child (though they were technically people, too, right? just small little sticky people) she sees the cat sitting, its tail twitching as it looks purely satisfied with itself. from that moment on the kitten and sera are inseparable. it learns how to take a piece of food from someone’s plate and leave behind a bug and how to rub on a person’s ankles just as they begin to go down some stairs and sera learns that okay, maybe she likes cats.
  • cassandra struggles to hold the kitten as it climbs up her chest and nuzzles into her neck. she doesn’t see why she needs a kitten when she’s trying to help the inquisition, but at the insistence of the inquisitor she accepts the small animal. cassandra is worried about stepping on the tiny thing as she practices with the dummies in the yard, but it seems to know not to be underfoot as she practices. it also seems to know to meow in warning when she’s reading the latest chapter of swords and shields, so she can tuck it away before someone approaches. the cat lays at her feet while she reads her guilty pleasure, sits at the edge of the practice ring when she spars with someone, and sucks on her short hair while she sleeps. disgusting, cassandra says out loud as she discovers her odd looking hair every morning, but rubs the kitten’s belly anyway.
  • varric finds an orange tabby with ragged ear tips he is told are a result of frostbite. the cat seems primarily concerned with sleeping and even when it’s not sleeping, it has a problem keeping its eyes open and slowly blinks at visitors. during the rare hours the cat is active, it rolls bianca’s bolts around the room and chews on the feathers of varric’s quills. that cat is a pain in the ass, varric says constantly, loading his crossbow with bolts that bear tiny teeth marks. i can’t get anything done with it around. but then he’s in charge of writing identical letters to anders, to fenris, to aveline, to carver… and he’s glad for the distraction, glad for the spunky little cat chewing on the tips of his quill as he tries to write impossible words. varric laughs once at the kitten’s determination, burying his face in the kitten’s fur and letting the tears fall onto its warm purring body.

Imagine your OTP waking up after a long night and teasing each other about how cute they look with their bedhead. (x)

In Grantaire’s mind, Enjolras is perfectly put together, every moment of every day. In Grantaire’s mind, Enjolras is like one of those girls from a face wash commercial who wakes up looking impeccable. In Grantaire’s mind, Enjolras rolls out of bed with every hair in place and enough energy to take on the world.

Grantaire is apparently wrong.

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Today in ‘KL’s attention span is the actual worst and she can’t even complete’ No Expectations prompts: @trixietricoter wanted something cozy. So here are Adam and Ronan being cozy, because fluff is good for the soul. Probably.

Adam reaches out from under the blanket and snags his History text from the floor next to the mattress. Ronan’s arm is draped over his waist, so he rolls slowly onto his stomach, trying not to wake him. He takes a moment to appreciate Ronan’s calm features in the grey light slipping through the window. It’s just enough light to read by. It’s just enough light by which to appreciate the pinkness of Ronan’s lips and eyelids against the pale of his skin and the sheets.

Sunday mornings are for them.

Weekday mornings belong to Aglionby and shitty coffee and cold showers. Saturday mornings often belong to Gansey, who is too excited to let anyone have time to themselves when there are things left undiscovered in the world. And it’s not that there are no responsibilities on Sunday mornings. Ronan has church and Adam often has work. It’s just that those responsibilities don’t carry the weight of urgency like everything else. On Sunday mornings, between the hours of six and eight, they can wait. Everything else can just wait.   

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Kenma professional gamer THO

(Sorry I just have Kenma anxiety feelings and I– this is gonna be long AF LIKE ACTUAL FIC LENGTH I THINK SO Z)

imagine kenma playing games for so long since he was a kid that he joins a gaming software development company. Unsurprising, and they have access to the latest shit in the market. Nice. He’s like what, 23 now?

When Diablo III was announced, it takes little convincing for him to get into a game like that. Concept looked promising, D and DII was alright. He received a copy waaaaay early and is pretty low key excited for it. What he doesn’t expect is that he’s expected to play as a beta.
His boss recommended him for his gaming skills as a joke, he was in the company of someone who was looking for a goodass gamer, and now he’s got to stick it out. Fucks sake.

First time kenma’s playing beta, so he’s deathly quiet and nervy in game - there are people callin him noob shit all the time because beta testers can be a little elitist once the top dogs band together like cliques; they think kenma made it as a beta tester via connections or sheer luck


gamers coming up to him all the time, asking to form parties and for help - kenma getting hundreds of friend requests, and yet he’s still going solo. He makes a name for himself as a solid player. He never goes on voice chat, never types a word. Just gets into the game, goes hardcore till he can’t keep his eyes open, and logs off. Not a single peep outta this mysterious beta, even after the game’s past its launch and open to the public.

Kenma is one of the top 50 players in the world. he gets invited for the first major tournament in Japan. Turns them down. There’s hate for that, but it doesn’t last. It gets peaceful by the third month that goes by.

The next year. Kenma is one of the top 20 by now. He’s an anonymous player that literally being begged by the Japanese gaming societies to accept the invitation to the tournament on social media. It’s regional now. He turns them down. not as much hate this time, just confusion. Who is this guy? Why’s he so adamant on not going for the tournament? why—

it was easier with the hate. Kenma takes a hiatus, and his fans take a hint. He comes back to silence, and games like he did before. Silently, alone, not for any kind of recognition, and happy.

But Third times the charm. Kenma’s in 3rd place internationally now. Tournament comes around, it’s international this time, and the begging and pleas come in. It’s everywhere - social media, magazines, even on a couple of middle-exposure TV channels and on the radio. Kenma’s cornered hard, and pressured this time. The money they’re offering this time isn’t a joke either. Kuroo’s Kenma senses tingle, and he catches his childhood friend in a vulnerable state of indecisiveness. Kenma mumbles that he’s been invited for a competition. In a moment of weakness, Kenma forgets how crafty Kuroo can be.

He wakes up with the invitation gone. The application filled in. Kenma wants to cry because now he’s going to the gaming capitol of the world, and he’s never been less ready to PEOPLE. Worse; he’s expected to played with Japan’s top players; complete strangers. He’s at the top of that list, obviously, but it doesn’t make him feel any less uncomfortable, being a part of a team after running solo for a few years.

Kuroo tells everyone from Nekoma literally three months in advance. They take precious days off work to follow Kenma. To emotionally support him, so that even in what their bby setter felt like was a solo tournament, he felt like he had a team.

Yaku packs Kenma’s Nekoma jacket. Kuroo pays to bring Kenma’s cat along. Everyone pools to buy Kenma authentic expensive AF apple pie and they prepare cool towels and a comfy pillow for him to sit on at the tournament. They sign the underside of the cap he’s sponsored to wear.

It’s d day and Kenma is sweating nervously. The anonymous beta player wants to throw up the second he steps into the tournament hall. Everyone’s rushing about. People are screaming. There are posters with his username and a black silhouette against the Diablo III decals that looks too buff to be him plastered everywhere. After a quiet life of seeing no one but his boss, his family, a couple of colleagues and Kuroo for a few years ago, he’s starting to regret everything. This is too much.

Before he steps up to the stage, hes told he doesnt need to say anything - they’re only introducing him. Kenma doesn’t hear a word. He’s thinking about crawling under a table and hibernating.

he staggers up and they introduce him. The crowd goes batshit insane and right at the forefront of the audience, reporters are shoving microphones at him. There are camera flashes. He can’t get a word out - no ones listening. It’s pandemonium. Kenma feels, for the first time in ages, that he wants to cry. This was all such a big mistake–

Strong hands reach around him and his face is suddenly smushed into a familiar jacket. ‘What was it Shouyou would have said? … Ah. It smells like air salonpas–’ it smells like home, and Kuroo and high school and of good times with friends and just raw, raw comfort–

Someone is trying to feed him apple pie, and getting it all over the stage AND Kuroo which is fucking hilarious. Yamamoto is intimidating the fuck out of reporters with broken English and for awhile Lev tried to… pick Kenma up? But after 5 whole minutes of Kuroo not budging Lev is now yelling something aggressively at the press and crowd in Russian, and fuck, Inuoka is joining in except he’s literally just yelling iconic angry manga quotes– Yaku is speaking with the organizers about how irresponsible they were for allowing Kenma to be faced with such an overwhelming response from the media without any prior preparation, this is poor event management and horrible, how could they even–

Kenma’s cat is clawing at one of the reporters and someone is screeching – Kenma just doesn’t know if he’s crying or laughing but he feels relief course through him like a welcome flame in winter and he clutches to the teammates he can reach like a lifeline because that’s what they are, really, what else could he do but hold onto them like they were the last breath of fresh air in the room when they W E R E–

Kuroo loudly (and vulgarly) demands Kenma is removed from the tournament, but Kenma stops everything with resolute eyes and non-shaking hands and a non-quiet voice and a spirit in his eyes that could not be quelled as he said, “I will play.” No more, no less. Just three words, before he inclines his head to the organizers, apologizes, and turns to leave the stage. It takes some time and more than one “Yamamoto, stop with the face,” but the Nekoma team follows after him offstage, too. It takes a whole hour to convince them, yes. He’s sure.

Kenma plays in his Nekoma jacket, with his cat in his lap, apple pie next to his mouse pad, sitting on a pillow with down features in it (fuku’s), as the entire Nekoma team standing around his gaming station like a fortress. Media doesn’t even dare approach after awhile. More than Kuroo or Lev or even Yamamoto, it’s Yaku that scares the press and persistent fans away when he tells them politely but firmly to leave. Kenma feels like he’s gaming with blinkers on - it’s peaceful. It’s like he was at home again.

He’s team leader, courtesy of his ranking worldwide. Hes not any less uncomfortable with this team of strangers, or being in a party at all, but old habits die hard. He knows their weaknesses after 15 minutes of softcore playing. He knows their strengths. He sets their positions in his head and the strategies that best implement each of his team mates. He leads. Guides. They clear areas solidly. The Nekoma team look on silently; not entirely understanding this new and strange world Kenma was so deeply immersed in, but astute enough to know Kenma was doing something fucking amazing here. Their setter is a damn good strategist, and he leads with his actions, refraining from speaking to improve concentration in his party. At most, it’s “cool down,” or “regroup,” or “rez needed for seat 3.” Quiet. Efficient. Wit. Waste not, want not. That’s how Kenma played.

That’s how Japan won the national tournament for the first time.

- submitted by  shishido-ryou

Hiccup was never sure what he was doing. Astrid’s parenting instincts seemed to have kicked in the day their daughter was born, but he just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it.

He remembers when Astrid went out with Ruff once, leaving him with Novella. She was only one at the time, and ended up having a fever. She drove Hiccup up the wall with all the crying she did. He had no idea what to do to make her feel better, and ended up having to disturb Astrid’s away time.

Novella was three now, and walking and talking. Most of what she said was just a bunch of words that she put together, but her parents always figured out what she meant.

Astrid woke up early that Sunday. Father’s Day. This is Novella’s first chance to make the day special for Hiccup. Astrid looked over at Hiccup, making sure he was still asleep before slowly getting up, and quietly making her way out.

On her way to Novella’s room, she stopped, picking up Toothless, who was surely going to get in the way. She looked at the cat, and scratched his ears “I’m putting you to bed with Hiccup today.” she mumbled to him.

Astrid opened Novella’s room, poking her head in “Hey Ella, you need to get up. We have to surprise your dad today!”

She mumbled something in reply, but rolled out of bed. Astrid swears up and down that she is just as lazy as Hiccup is in the morning. Neither of them like getting up before noon, and it’s something that almost bothers her.

Novella walked towards her mom, rubbing her eyes “Why do we have to make somefing for daddy? It’s his birfday?”

Astrid shook her head with a chuckle “It’s not his birthday. It’s Father’s Day!”

“What’s dat?”

“Well,” Astrid started as they walked down the hall, stopping at her and Hiccup’s room to put Toothless in “it’s a day where you appreciate your daddy. It’s a day dedicated to him. It’s kind of like Mothers Day, but for your daddy.”

Novella clapped her hands together, letting out a squeal “Daddy’s day!”

Astrid rolled her eyes “Yes. Daddy’s day.. But keep it down, we don’t want him awake yet!”

Novella nodded her head, and followed her mom to the kitchen.


Hiccup woke up to the smell of something.. Something burning maybe? He stretched before sitting up, looking over at the cat curled up on his wife’s pillow. “Well… Morning Toothless. What’s going on down there?”

He picked Toothless up, setting him in his lap before reaching to the floor for his prosthetic, putting it on.

Hiccup opened the bedroom door. The smell of breakfast, and something burnt was the first thing he noticed. He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “What could Astrid be up to?” he asked, mostly to himself.

He walked to the living room, tossing Toothless onto the couch. “Astrid?”

Astrid came walking out of the kitchen a few seconds later, a smile on her face “Morning!”

“Good morning, Milday.” he looked past her shoulder, raising an eyebrow “WhTs going on?”

Astrid grabbed his hand, pulling him into the kitchen, and making him sit. She placed a kiss on his cheek “Father’s Day is going on.”

“Oh. Right. That’s a thing.”

Hiccup didn’t even remember that the day was coming up. He’s been so busy with work, and helping Novella learn to talk properly. He just didn’t really care for the day.

“Daddy’s day!” Novella squealed, rushing over to Hiccup. She jumped into his lap, throwing her arms around his neck “Happy daddy’s day!”

Hiccup kissed her forehead “Thank you, Ella.”

Astrid set a plate down in front of him, and a cup of coffee “We’ve got a lot in store for you today, father.”

Hiccup chuckled, an arm going around Astrid’s waist “And I’m looking forward to it. Thank you, Astrid.”

Blow On It

(I’ve had some serious writer’s block the past little while, and I think the fog is just starting to clear. So apologize if this isn’t up to snuff.)

“Is it safe?” Carter asked, pausing in the entrance of the kitchen.

Kara reached into a nearby drawer, and pulled out a set of utensils. She turned towards Carter and the island. “No,” she said adamantly, double checking the tray she was preparing. “Definitely not. Stay downstairs until she’s asleep, or the exorcism is over.”

Carter laughed, as Kara passed by with her tray. “You really are a superhero.”

“Good thing I’m bulletproof.”

“Will that protect you from balls of snotty Kleenex?”

Kara grimaced, as she reached the stairs of the penthouse. “If I’m not back in half an hour, call Alex. I might be in need of a rescue.”

Carter nodded. “Good luck.”

With a deep breath, Kara headed up the stairs as quietly as possible, and cheated by floating down the hallway. Balancing the tray in one hand, she opened the door to the master bedroom, cringing as it creaked.

“Go away.”

Kara slipped into the room. “No,” she countered, making her way to the bed, and setting the tray on the nightstand. She grabbed the forgotten garbage can from the floor, and started collecting discarded Kleenex. “I brought soup and crackers, and tea. You need to eat, and get lots of fluids.”

The ball of blankets in the centre of the bed moved, but Cat remained buried beneath them. “I’m not hungry. Go away.”

Kara sighed, and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to rub, what x-ray vision confirmed, was Cat’s back. “No. You need to eat and drink to get better, so you can get back to work by Monday, and the world can keep spinning.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” Cat groaned, sniffling. “I’m disgusting. Riddled with germs. Order us a new mattress. I’m burning this one.”

Kara smiled. “Okay, I’ll do it after you have some soup.”

Cat huffed, and flung off her blankets. “Don’t look at me,” she moaned, rolling over.

Kara smiled, and pushed sweaty curls from Cat’s forehead. “You always look beautiful to me.”

Cat would normally have rolled her eyes, instead she used the energy to scoot over, and lay her head in Kara’s lap. “We’re married. You have to say those things.”

Kara shook her head, and stroked Cat’s hair. “I’m not just saying that. I thought you were beautiful long before we were married, but the vows I took are why I’m up here risking my life. Sickness and health right?”

Cat buried her face in Kara’s stomach. “I don’t feel good.”

Kara chuckled. “I know, love. I’m gonna make it better,” she assured, rearranging the pillows and helping Cat sit up against the headboard. She gave Cat a quick appraisal. Her wife’s hair was matted and greasy. Her usually sharp eyes, cloudy and unfocused. Her damp pajamas clung to her thin frame. No doubt they, and the sheets, would be incinerated as well.

“Let’s start with soup,” Kara said softly. “And then we’ll get you in the bath.”

“You didn’t make it did you? The soup?”

Kara picked up the bowl, and spoon. “Ah, no. It’s from the place on the corner. Chicken noodle. I only reheated it, so it’s safe for human consumption.”

Cat groaned, as Kara held out a spoonful, tentatively leaning forward to let it touch her lips. She pulled back immediately. “It’s too hot,” she whined. “Blow on it, baby.”

Kara sighed, but smiled, blowing a puff of cool air onto the spoon. Once it was the right temperature, she managed to get Cat to swallow a few more spoonfuls, before hazel eyes started to droop.

Kara set the soup aside, and helped her wife slip back down under the covers.

“Hot,” Cat mumbled, pointing to her creased forehead.

Leaning over, Kara blew a whisp of cool air across heated skin, before dropping a tender kiss there. She smiled as Cat’s face relaxed. “I love you.”