#edge phone

[shelandsorcery]

I am mad about cellphone cameras hiding the processing they do, and I am glad about software that lets me control it and opt in and out, and I dictated this rant on insta so I am resharing the images here and will attempt to turn this into a useful text post on my blog in future, when my hand is working better 🤘👍

[techsole-blog]

Motorola Edge 2023 Price, Official Look, Design, Specifications, Camera,...

[hollow-head]

there's a joke that goes: NASA hired Stanley Kubrick to fake the moon landing, but he was such a perfectionist he made them film it on location

(click on image to read at better resolution)

[tsuchinokoroyale]

Happy new years… let’s stay hydrated together ✨

[asmogorna]

WSW and MKW doodles because killing myself is wrong

[roboticchibitan]

-Haemin Sunim, Love for Imperfect Things

[emry-stars-art]

You may ask “Emry how do you imagine it goes down if Neil and Andrew are comfy enough to use the pool they miraculously have to themselves”

Shameless flirting and simply enjoying each others company ✨

[bipolareffigy]

I have this headcanon that Logan texts like a boomer and I had to make it a reality.

Bonus texts from Wade below the cut.

[milkbreadtoast]

Christelle de Sarnez🌊💙 wanted to draw her in some historical outfits i found... (her original novel design is rly close, u can tell the artist did their research 🥹)

[dont-offend-the-bees]

’Cause You Cut Through All the Noise

Happy Painland Week! Day one is LOVE LANGUAGES! I could've picked touch or gifts or quality time or whatever as my love language but you know what? No. Life-affirming therapeutic domination. Edwin's love language is ordering Charles around. Fight me. Anyway, no smut here, but some steaminess/flirtation/allusions to sex. Some light angst bc Charles starts off in a bit of a spiral, bless his heart. Don't worry, Edwin'll put him right <3 (Quick translation note for any Americans reading: I'm referring to Charles' suspenders in British English, i.e. as braces rather than suspenders. Suspenders for us are generally the little sexy straps for stockings and would instantly up the kinkiness of the scene at least 70% (which I am in favour of, it's just not the fic I'm writing right now lmao)) 5.3k, M-rated, also available on Ao3. Thank you @painlandweek for putting this all together! Enjoy! 💛

Sometimes it seemed that the more Edwin learned, the less he knew. Or rather the more he thought he knew, the more he had left to learn.

Acquiring knowledge on any particular topic, it seemed, was only building the groundwork to question it further. Perhaps that's what an expert was, in the end: not a vast repository of facts, but one skilled in the art of digging for more. Not a pursuer of answers, but a pursuer of more interesting questions. Edwin had found it to be much the same across fields, across all his broad areas of interest and study.

Charles Rowland was one such area of interest.

It was quite astonishing; but thirty years into their partnership, Charles still managed to elude Edwin's understanding. Frequently. He was a lively, complex butterfly who simply would not be pinned (metaphorically, that is. In the more literal sense, he was most certainly not opposed to being pinned by Edwin. But he digressed.) They must have exhausted every conversational avenue two dead boys could traverse by now. How, then, could they persist in finding new things to say to one another? How, despite a mere sixteen years apiece of life before death, could they still find anecdotes unshared, secrets unspoken? Despite knowing Charles better than Edwin knew himself there was always, always more to learn.

And a great deal of learning had been done over the last eighteen months or so, indeed. Since the chaotic inciting incident: the now infamous milestone Case of Crystal Palace. Crystal, in all her messy human glory, had taken a battering ram to their comfortable routine. She'd rather shaken things up in the process — and thus, shaken a fresh slew of secrets from Charles and Edwin both.

Edwin's biggest secret was no longer a secret, of course. It was now common knowledge — though Charles, loyal to the last, hadn't shared it with another soul. He hadn't told anyone of Edwin's confession, nor had any official announcements been made by either of them as the 'situation' developed. But develop it had, in ways difficult to overlook. In touches, in kisses, in soft words and flagrant flirtations. Edwin imagined their friends and colleagues must have put two and two together by now, vis-a-vis Edwin and his feelings for Charles. And if they hadn't... well, it would certainly raise some concerns about the quality of their detective work.

Charles, likewise, had revealed a secret or two. Far less pleasant ones. Secrets that, in his more cynical moments, Edwin wondered if Charles would ever have told him without external pressure. Without Crystal's well-meaning badgering, or the Night Nurse's former villainy. Secrets about his family, his father, himself — or at least his own perception of himself. Harrowing they may be, but Edwin had filed each secret away carefully. Each bitter truth was a new supporting fact, a new data point. A fresh insight that peeled away Charles' brave face, and shone an interrogating light upon decades of behaviour.

Edwin had always known, of course, that Charles was not merely the plucky optimist he purported himself to be. Glimpses under the mask were rare, but inevitable. He'd have been foolish not to notice. But Edwin was not inclined to go picking at scabs. So what if Charles wished to maintain an image of himself? Image was everything; or so Edwin had been raised to believe. How a man chose to present himself to the world spoke volumes. Charles wished to be seen as a positive force, and Edwin had always respected him for that. Loved him, even, though he hadn't known it at the time. Charles' insistence on being a stubborn idealist had awed, amused and frustrated Edwin in almost equal measure. He wouldn't have changed it for the world.

But it was one thing to know that the chipper, animated, relentlessly positive Charles he'd come to know was a crafted image. Finding what lay behind the mask was another. It was a new level of understanding, of intimacy, to finally know the bedrock that lay beneath every too-bright word or action.

Charles Rowland was an inveterate people-pleaser.

In retrospect, of course, it made perfect sense. Edwin had sat with it, applied his new knowledge to a thousand interactions, and found it fitting. It had been a relatively easy fact to accept into his broader understanding of Charles.

The bitterer pill to swallow had been in realising just how often Edwin was, himself, a person Charles felt the need to please at all costs.

Edwin liked to think that their relationship had improved since those various revelations. It had certainly changed in notable ways. Especially since last November. Bonfire night. The night Charles had kissed him under the fireworks and thanked him, sheepishly, for 'waiting for him to get his head out of his arse'.

But the kissing and... other activities weren't the only new additions to their relationship. Moreso than ever before, there were repeat and regular attempts to open the lines of communication. They did not always succeed in those attempts. Charles' fear of rocking the boat and Edwin's discomfort with emotional outpourings were at odds with one another, and often left them at an impasse.

Nevertheless, Edwin was determined to try. Charles deserved nothing less; there had never been a person, alive or dead, more deserving of Edwin's trust. And it was the dearest wish of Edwin's afterlife that he could be the same for Charles. That he could be a person Charles need not perform for, or hide from. That he could be allowed to know Charles, to learn him, inside and out.

And while there was still, undeniably, work to be done, Edwin truly believed progress had been made. Through trial and a considerable amount of error, they had come to... understand certain things about one another. About what they each wanted, what they needed. Edwin was making leaps and bounds in the highly specialised field of Charles Studies.

So when Crystal stormed out of the office after another of her and Edwin's (admittedly rather petty) spats, he knew Charles needed attention before her footsteps had even faded.

"Charles?" Edwin prompted, with caution. He was not always an expert at 'reading the room', but in reading Charles he was growing more fluent by the day.

His dear friend's eyes snapped to him with a hunted look. Just as Edwin had thought they might.

Edwin cleared his throat. "Are you... alright?" he asked.

Charles, in that practised manner of his, plastered on a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, mate." He couldn't seem to look Edwin in the eye. "I'm brills."

Hm. A likely story.

He should have suspected this might happen, in the wake of such a heated disagreement. The very air in the office still seemed to ring with the reverberating slam of the door. An overreaction, really. Even mere minutes later, the whole altercation seemed rather silly. But such things were bound to happen on occasion. Edwin had certain opinions, and no qualms about arguing in their favour — and in Crystal Palace, he'd met his match. The two of them often wound up in the unfortunate scenario of a minor dispute devolving into a full-blown tiff. Such squabbles generally didn't end until someone (Charles) laughed and broke the tension, or someone else stormed off.

Edwin didn't doubt that all would be well shortly enough. If their pattern held, Crystal would come slinking back in a few hours. She and Edwin would exchange either sincere regrets or stilted half-apologies (depending on the severity of the argument). Then they would smooth over any remaining awkwardness by finding something minor to agree on (usually something Charles-related), and go swiftly back to normal.

But that resolution was some time away, yet. And in the meantime the air hung heavy; saturated with ire and discontent. Charles, emotional sponge that he was, was clearly bearing the brunt of it — and, as usual, trying his utmost to 'laugh it off'.

Edwin responded to the blatant fib with a single raised, questioning eyebrow.

Charles flinched as if struck.

Oh, dear. The situation was more dire than Edwin had thought.

“Charles,” said Edwin again, softer this time. It was important not to go on the offensive; in his current condition, Charles was liable to take any careless word as keenly as a knife in the back. “Please tell me what’s on your mind.” After a moment’s consideration, he added: “I promise I won’t be angry.”

It felt like utter nonsense to say out loud, a patronising placation as one might give to a child. But Charles, in Edwin’s experience, responded well to directness. His panic thrived in the mires of ambiguity.

Releasing a ragged breath, Charles rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “Just… dunno what to do sometimes. When you two go off at each other.” He peered at Edwin with his uncovered eye, and tried for a smirk. It fell short of the carefree, playful expression it was aiming for. “Dunno what side to pick, do I?”

He voiced it like a joke; but Edwin was listening well, and he knew an incomplete sentence when he heard it. He stepped closer and, slowly, giving him time to retreat, took Charles’ free hand and squeezed it.

Charles closed his eyes, dragging his hand down his face. “Can’t keep you both happy,” he admitted on a low mumble, like it was a shameful secret.

Guilt curdled sour and heavy in Edwin’s stomach, but he kept it from his face. Any indication that Charles had made him feel bad was bound to make him shut down further. “It should not be your duty to keep the peace,” he said, choosing his words with care. “I will speak to Crystal later, clear the air.”

Charles nodded, but remained hunched unhappily in on himself. Propped against the edge of the desk as if he needed the support. Edwin could see his brain turning itself over and over in miserable little spirals; wondering if he should have stepped in earlier, said something else. Wondering what he could have done differently to make everything better. To make everyone happy.

Edwin swallowed tightly, and placed his hand upon Charles’ shoulder. “Charles. Look at me, please.”

He did so, without question or hesitation. Responding with ease to the polite command as if it had come from his own subconscious. Quick, and keen. Already Edwin had a strong suspicion of what was needed to calm him; but it was always important to test the waters, first.

Edwin, with great care, hooked a finger through the gold chain around Charles’ neck, and tugged.

The effect was instantaneous. Charles’ wide, fraught eyes softened, slackened, his lined eyelids drooping. His lips parted around a quiet sigh, smoother than his last ragged exhalation. His shoulders slumped as if a great weight had been released from them.

Charles may be an ever-unfolding and expanding area of study. But to Edwin’s expert eye, on occasion, his needs were remarkably simple to interpret.

Meeting his now somewhat unfocused gaze, Edwin leaned in. “Put Crystal out of your mind for now,” he said, a quiet command. “In fact, put everything out of your mind.”

“She’s upset,” Charles mumbled in half-hearted protest.

“Yes — and she will continue to be so for a while longer, regardless of what you or I might say.” Edwin smoothed the collar of Charles’ polo shirt. “When the dust has settled, I will find her and smooth things over. I promise. For the time being, you’ll do none of us any good with your overthinking.”

Charles snorted. “Overthinking? Me?” he joked.

With another gentle, but recriminating tug of the chain, Charles gasped and quieted. Already, his bright eyes were taking on a dreamlike haze.

Edwin sighed and leaned close, ‘til his nose grazed across Charles’ cheekbone. “Granted, your tendency to underthink before making dangerous choices borders on the pathological,” he teased. “But I suspect you’re thinking a lot of very unkind thoughts about yourself right now, and I’d like for you to stop. Please.”

Breath shuddering, Charles’ hands lifted, fisting in the front of Edwin’s waistcoat.

“That what you want?” He asked, his voice a small and broken thing. For all his strength of body and character, he felt as vulnerable in Edwin’s hands as a baby bird.

“How about I tell you exactly what I want for a while,” Edwin offered. “And then all you have to do is listen.“

He delivered a swift, dry kiss to Charles’ cheekbone. "No detective work required.”

It was a very simple solution, albeit one Edwin tried not to employ too often. He and Crystal had a sort of pact in place to discourage Charles' need to please others, rather than lean into it. Within reason, of course — Edwin had no wish to change Charles fundamentally as a person (or to discourage him from doing what felt good to him in intimate settings. If it made Charles feel good to make others feel good, who was Edwin to begrudge him the pleasure?). But they'd agreed that it was probably the healthier option, in the long term. To steer Charles away from hingeing his self-worth on what he could do for others.

But sometimes, the damage was already done. Sometimes Charles was simply too vulnerable to rejection, too stuck in his own head. And on those occasions, Edwin had learned the kindest thing to do was to take him by the hand, and take the guesswork out of the equation.

Charles sniffed. His soft curls tickled Edwin's forehead as he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, alright."

"Good." Edwin gave him another kiss, pressing this one to his temple. Charles melted under his touch, leaning into him, his hands tight and hot on Edwin's chest. "Thank you, dearheart," said Edwin.

Charles shivered. "Fuck me..." he swore, a dazed mumble.

"Hmmm... No, not tonight, I don't think," Edwin quipped — gratified when Charles managed a snort of mirth. Edwin thumbed up under Charles' jaw, finding where the tension still lingered and soothing it out with firm strokes. "I have something better in mind," he said. He released his hold on Charles to roll up in his own shirtsleeves in brisk, meticulous folds.

Charles watched his every motion with a hungry gaze. "Yeah?" he breathed, somewhat stunned; eyes devouring each newly exposed inch of Edwin's skin up to the elbow. He did have a fascination with Edwin's arms; it was a tried and true method of holding his attention.

"Yes." Edwin glanced over Charles' shoulder with a hum, and settled his hands upon Charles' slender waist. "First things first; let's get you sitting comfortably, shall we?"

He braced himself and, with careful exertion, lifted Charles to deposit him in his usual spot on the desk. Charles went without struggle, and with a gasp that morphed swiftly into a groan. His legs flopped open at once, one ankle hooking around Edwin's thigh in invitation. He tugged on Edwin's waistcoat with a soft whine of his name.

Edwin, maintaining his composure admirably, shushed him. He removed Charles' hands from his own chest — though he pressed quick, apologetic kisses to the heels of each. "Later, my love. Now. Where did I put it..."

He patted down his trouser pockets. When that yielded nothing, he sifted through the stationary cup on the desk. He suspected the object he desired might still be in his coat pocket, but he was loathe to step too far from Charles. Luck, however, was on his side. He recovered the coil of string from a box of spellcasting odds and ends with a small sound of triumph.

Charles watched Edwin's hands unwind the string; rapt despite the slight glaze of his eyes. "You gonna tie me up, then?"

Edwin tsk'd. "What a one-track mind you have this evening," he teased. It wasn't a scold. Having Charles focused and fixated on trying to get Edwin into bed was vastly preferable to the jumble of insecurity. "Hold out your hands."

"Sure you're not tying me up?" said Charles, brow furrowing as he lifted his hands — palms up, beautifully willing.

"I suppose that depends on your definition," said Edwin, as he tied the ends of the string together to form a wide loop. He nudged Charles' hands into place, about a foot apart with palms turned inwards, and draped the loop over them.

Charles, through the haze, finally twigged. "Cat's cradle?" he said, with a slight chuckle.

"Do you object?" asked Edwin.

"Why'd you wanna do this?"

"Because I like playing games with you." Edwin directed Charles to rotate his wrists, winding the string into loops around his hands. He indulged in a gentle touch as he did so, tracing his thumbs along the creases of Charles' skin. The smooth stretch where once a 'life line' would have resided. Edwin had not set much stock by the art of palmistry, until he'd discovered that little commonality between he and Charles. "Again, please. One more loop."

Charles didn't argue — of course he didn't. Edwin doubted he currently had the capacity to argue; so deep had he already descended into that quiet space in his head. The one he occupied only in their moments of deepest intimacy, when Edwin took charge, took him in hand. His eyes, such quick and clever things, now gazed down at Edwin hooded and glassy. Perfect, still pools of pleasantly addled warmth. He'd sunk so readily, so splendidly, all but curled up in the palm of Edwin's hand.

Edwin watched him a moment before proceeding, soothing the ragged edges of his own Hell-torn soul. Whatever he'd done in life to earn the trust Charles placed in him, it must have be something very good indeed.

In next to no time, they had the string pulled taut between Charles' hands, forming the neat double cross of the eponymous Cat's Cradle. Edwin hummed in approval. "Well done," he praised, as he pinched the crossed strands and pulled them outwards. "And now to me. Soldier's Bed, please."

Though Charles appeared to be away with the fairies, he was attuned to Edwin's voice and acquiesced to his command with ease. This was a game they had played many times, on long and quiet nights. When they'd had nothing to hand but an old bootlace, and nothing they wished to do but keep each other's company. Charles didn't need to strain to recall how to release the strings into Edwin's hold. Or how to begin forming the next shape after that, his confident fingers pinching and tugging the relevant strands.

Peaceful and methodical, they worked together, shape by shape, hand to hand. When Charles was pulling the strings for Edwin he was focused, intent, a little wrinkle in his brow. Once or twice his tongue darted out, bitten between his teeth in concentration, and Edwin resisted the impulse to distract him with a kiss. When Charles was merely holding the strings he subsided into utter relaxation. Breathing slow, eyes closed or halfway there, watching Edwin's face and hands with hazy satisfaction. Occasionally he dropped a thread, but it was never a serious blunder, and Edwin got them back on track with a polite command to pick it up. In a customary game they'd have to restart, but this was no customary game. Now was not the time to dwell upon harmless mistakes.

The game served as Edwin had hoped it would. After a few rounds of he and Charles working in perfect tandem, he could feel the air had settled and Charles with it. The grounding touches of their fingers and the face-to-face contact couldn't have hurt. Edwin had fallen into a rhythm, politely requesting each new shape by name and praising the end result. Charles had likewise fallen into a rhythm of mellow compliance. As the rounds wore on he even offered the odd cheeky verbal acknowledgement of Edwin's commands. A 'comin' right up' here, an 'on it, boss' there. His voice was thick and sweet, his tongue succumbing to the same submissive, slumberous spell as his mind. But a little of his bright, energetic spark was creeping back beneath the haze.

By the time they'd worked through the established shapes, and exhausted their own catalogue of invented ones, Edwin was satisfied. He felt they'd left the storm behind and sailed into calmer waters.

"Good game, Charles," he said, as he took their last custom shape — the aptly named Nail in the Coffin — into his own hands, and unraveled it. "Thank you."

Charles hummed, drowsy, swaying a little where he sat. "What'chu wanna do now?" he asked, dark, glassy eyes intent on Edwin's face. Like it was the most important question in the world.

He looked so lovely like this. Of course he always looked lovely, as handsome a boy as Edwin had ever seen. But like this especially, so far gone in his peace and pleasure, there was nothing to compare. Warm and golden, soft and tousled; his eyes black and bottomless and only for Edwin. Gazing at him as if he'd hung the moon and the stars.

Edwin faltered, a small gasp catching in his throat. He remained adamant that he wouldn't take more than Charles should give, at this moment. But... perhaps a small indulgence.

"Kiss me," he said, tucking a finger beneath Charles' chin. "Please."

Charles nodded — a hasty gesture compared to his otherwise lethargic motions — and swayed forward. He crashed his lips against Edwin's in an artless kiss, his hands finding Edwin's waist and gripping tight. Like he couldn't get him close enough.

Edwin sighed into it, stepping into Charles. Into the comfortable vee of his sprawled legs, where he'd come to spend many a peaceful night of late. He tilted his head, guiding Charles into a gentler kiss. Leading him as he would in a dance and letting him fall, gratefully, into step. Edwin explored the curve of Charles' jaw with his fingers, the charmingly pointed shell of his ear. He thumbed across his sparkly earring, and Charles huffed a little laugh into his mouth.

"Magpie," he mumbled.

Edwin chuckled as well, a natural release of the warmth suffusing him. He broke the kiss to dust smaller, feather-light ones across Charles' cheeks. "Well," he said, a thumb pressed to Charles' plush lower lip. "I do seem to collect the most beautiful things..."

Breath hitching, Charles wrapped his arms around Edwin's shoulders and squeezed. Edwin returned the embrace without hesitation. Never before Charles had he felt at ease with this sort of thing — this effusive, uncurbed physical affection. With anyone else it was still a struggle. He had little desire to touch, or be touched. But inviting Charles into his embrace was never a hardship; it was simply his proper place. It was a fact of the universe: Charles belonged with Edwin. In his arms, on his desk, in his bed, on his nerves.

Charles belonged with Edwin, as Edwin belonged with Charles; holding his hand, steering him true. And, where necessary, using a firm word and a firmer hold to put those wretched doubts in his head to rest.

Edwin pulled away with a parting kiss to Charles' temple. Charles felt warm, in that strange, prickly way. Ghostly body heat wasn't so much a thrum of blood as an excitation of atoms. To Edwin's mind, he felt warmer than usual at present. "Are you hot?" he asked.

"Dunno," said Charles with a lax, flirtatious smile. "Am I?"

Edwin rolled his eyes. "In the non-figurative sense, please, Charles."

"Mm. Yeah, bit hot." The smile widened into an impish grin. "Or maybe that's just you."

"You're incorrigible," Edwin muttered — but there was a smile in his voice and likely on his face, as well. His own cheeks were beginning to feel rather warm. He cleared his throat and tugged, meaningfully, on one of Charles' braces. There was a tantalising give and take to the elastic as his fingers slipped behind it. He was half tempted to release it, let it ping back, see what sound Charles made at the slight shock. But now wasn't the time for that sort of play.

"You may remove a layer, if you like," Edwin offered magnanimously — no ulterior motive whatsoever. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

Charles didn't need telling twice. He slid the braces off his shoulders and grabbed his polo shirt at the back of the neck, dragging it off over his head. It was altogether a clumsier attempt than his usual so-called 'strip teases', but his hooded eyes burned on Edwin's face throughout. Afterwards he was left in just his sinfully tight white vest — and, of course, the enticing glimmer of his golden chain on top. But he remained pleasantly flushed and glowing, with not a hint of cold or discomfort. Charles was prone to chills in times of stress; a morbid sense memory of his last night alive. But he always seemed to warm in Edwin's presence.

Edwin, with an exhale that was just a tad on the ragged side, bowed his head and grazed a kiss across Charles' exposed collarbone. "Better?"

He could feel Charles' soft groan ruffling his hair. "Yeah. Yeah, feels good." He pulled on the hem of Edwin's waistcoat. "Bet you're hot too, yeah?"

Increasingly so, yes. Edwin was clinging to his composure by a thread. "It is a touch close in here," he agreed. He could feel Charles' restless fingers tugging, so he took them in his own hands, and guided them to the top button of the waistcoat. It was only fair he restore the balance. "Would you be so kind?"

Charles groaned again, this time so close to Edwin's ear it sent a ripple down his spine, and obeyed. His hands, as was often the case when disrobing Edwin, tripped over the buttons, rendered all fingers and thumbs in his eagerness. But they were in no hurry. Edwin closed his eyes and waited, tucked into the crook of Charles' neck and perfectly satisfied to be so.

When the final button surrendered the fight, Charles made haste to shove the garment off Edwin's shoulders. Edwin corrected him with a polite "Gently, please," and Charles took it in more careful hands, mindful of causing wrinkles. It made no difference, of course — Edwin could will his clothes to look as pristine or rumpled as he pleased. But Charles shuddered sweetly at the direction, and Edwin so enjoyed directing him. Besides, there was never any harm in promoting good habits.

"Fold it, please," said Edwin — stepping back to give Charles space. He watched Charles take the waistcoat in hand and, inexpertly, fold it in half twice. Lengthwise first, then the opposite. Hardly proper protocol, but Edwin didn't much care. He just took the haphazardly folded garment with gratitude and set it aside on the desk. "Thank you."

"Anything else?" Charles mumbled — his fingers teasing Edwin's shirt, itching to tug it free of his waistband.

Edwin sighed, and stilled Charles' hands. Perhaps he was letting the situation get away from them a bit. Charles was quite the difficult temptation to resist. "Perhaps later," he said. At Charles' disappointed pout, he made an amendment. "Definitely later."

Charles snorted, and let his head flop against Edwin's chest. "Alright," he mumbled. He sounded tired. Overwhelmed. It was a lot for him, this complete surrender, and Edwin well knew it. "Whatever you say, love."

"I say it's time for a rest." Edwin took Charles' face in both his hands, holding him still as he bestowed one more kiss upon his forehead. "Go and sit down, please. Comfortably, on the sofa. I'll join you momentarily."

Charles grumbled, but nevertheless did as he was told. He hopped off the desk, hand trailing across Edwin's chest as he passed him by. Edwin caught it for the barest second, just to give his fingers a parting squeeze. An altogether impossible urge to resist; and the loving way Charles' eyes found him over his shoulder affirmed his decision.

Tearing his attention from Charles and his smiles and his soft, trusting eyes, he turned it to the bookcase instead. He knew exactly what he wished to do with Charles, now. Something they'd had neither the space nor quiet for in quite some time. He scanned the shelves, deep in thought.

"Charles," he called out, careful not to cut too sharply through the peace of the room. "Douglas Adams, or Sir Arthur?"

It was a gentle prompt, and a simple choice. The stakes couldn't be lower. He waited to see if Charles would hand it back to him, anyway — still unwilling and unable to bear the thought of making an incorrect decision.

"Mmm... Doug," Charles mumbled.

Edwin smiled to himself. On the mend, then. "Excellent choice," he said; sliding their well-loved second edition of Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency from the shelf.

He turned on his heel to find Charles, folded onto the sofa in a loose tangle of limbs, chin on his fist. He bore sleepy, squinting eyes and a dopey smile, both directed at Edwin and warming him through like late afternoon sunlight.

"Like how it sounds in your voice," said Charles, nestling in further. The very picture of contentment. Seemed he could scarcely keep his eyes open; but he must not have wanted to look away from Edwin just yet.

Edwin could sympathise entirely; he rarely wished to look away from Charles, either.

Edwin smiled as he stepped in close, a hand on Charles' knee; a smiling kiss dropped to his head of rampant curls. "Quiet, now, darling boy," he softly commanded, tugging on Charles' knee to make room. "And enjoy yourself."

~

“How long did the Monk believe these things? Well, as far as the Monk was concerned, forever,” Edwin read, his thumb tracing circles on Charles’ wrist. “The faith which moves mountains, or at least believes them against all the available evidence to be pink, was a solid and abiding faith, a great rock against which the world could hurl whatever it would, yet it would not be shaken. In practice, the horse knew, twenty-four hours was usually about its lot.”

They were a scant few pages into the book, and yet Edwin suspected that Charles had drifted into a doze. It was hard to tell without facing him. They'd settled on the sofa with Charles tucked up against the arm and back, and Edwin reclining between his sprawled legs. Edwin's back pillowed on Charles' torso; Charles' arms wrapped around Edwin, like a large teddy bear. Edwin could feel Charles' chin propped atop his head. On occasion, he nuzzled into Edwin's hair with soft hums as he listened to the story. But the hums and nuzzles both had grown less frequent already, subsiding to near silence.

Edwin read on regardless. Charles, like all ghosts, rarely if ever actually slept, and was likely still listening. Even if his mind was wondering elsewhere for the time being, he'd find his way back. He always did. And Edwin would be waiting for him.

A few chapters later, as Edwin recounted the thrilling mystery of the horse in the water closet, he felt Charles stirring. Soon, Charles' wrist was slipping free from Edwin's grasp, the hand coming to rest instead atop Edwin's hand in a gentle hold.

"Thank you," Charles mumbled, nuzzling into Edwin's hair.

Edwin smiled. "There's no need to thank me for reading to you," he said. "I enjoy it."

"I meant, like..." Charles sighed, squeezing Edwin's hand. "Thanks for, y'know. Bossing me around a bit," he said, sincerity threaded through the lighthearted tease. "Seriously. It proper helps."

Edwin laced their fingers, and brought Charles' hand to his lips. "Charles," he said, simple and serious. He kissed him on the knuckles. "I shall always be here to boss you around when needed."

Charles laughed. Quiet, unobtrusive. It seemed neither one of them was quite ready to break the spell just yet. "Love you," he murmured.

Marking his page with a finger, Edwin leaned back onto Charles' shoulder. He tilted his head back, all the better to look his beloved in the eye. "I love you, too."

He only had to lift his lips, a silent prompt.

Charles needed no further instructions.

~~

Thanks for reading! Consider dropping us a comment/reblog, they do so make my day/week/month 💛 Might not manage every day of this week but I will defo see you tomorrow for a fic/collab I'm SUPER excited about!!! Painland Week Prompt List

[lisondraws]

The Handwriting of God.

My illustration for the @edgeofhopezine , what an honor to be part of such a beautiful 10 year anniversary tribute to this great movie!!!!!!!!!!! And I even got to draw my favorite character!

[itsguysnightitsironic]

The jaws under the gums

For there's no friend, there's no kind eyes, there's muscle and teeth, muscle and teeth.

I hear the Springtrap monologue in an edit and my brain when "Virgil, my friend! What are you doing here?"

[panvibez]

I've been seeing peeps with their avantris phone themes and I've had my phone on a cos and eom theme for a while

Credits to @/itsguysnightitsironic and @/gorebek for the art and theming idea

[countingstars-17]

scuderiaferrari: "gold and cold content"

[dandyads]

Mitsubishi Cellphones, 2000

[daemon-is-perfectly-unhinged]

HTTYD List of Dragons that I’ve compiled including some of the most important, the freakiest, and generally ones I loved the most. And plenty of them that I believe Rhaegar would geek out about in a Viserys-Lego-Years-Long style.

@syndrossi I hope you enjoy the read.

I figured to start out with the main dragons we meet in the first film as well as the ones we follow the most in the series since the main characters are their riders. These are the ones that have the most personality as well since we spend so much time with them, but almost always see personality in every dragon we meet in the show. The fun thing about these dragons is that not one of them have a whole ‘monster’ vibe ‘we gotta kill it’ no, there’s a reason why they act this way, sometimes they’re hungry, they’re searching for something, it’s about survival, but overall, the majority on this list are intelligent but wild animals. Some can be trainable, some can’t be, and that’s fine.

Dragons in this universe have a type of Class. I’ve never delved fully into it but from my recent research I’ve seen:

Stoker Class - mainly fire types, although a majority of all dragons have fire-breathing these are the main direct fire ones that rely on it the most.

Boulder Class - heavy, tough scales, mainly shoot lava type fire and eat rocks.

Sharp Class - contain some sharp anatomy body-types or sharp extremities, like spikes or horns.

Strike Class - very fast, very agile, amazing accuracy.

Tidal Class - water dwellers

Tracker Class - a new class in the show, it can be given to other dragons from other classes, it’s in the name, they’re able to track almost anything from miles away.

Fear Class - stealth, sneaky, terrifying.

Mystery Class - generally where dragons are placed when there isn’t much known about them or they’re very rare. It isn’t unusual for dragons to show up in Mystery Class only to be placed in a Class they fit in better after getting to learn their abilities and traits.

Now, onto the dragons! Dragons in this universe are ‘trainable’ in the sense that with enough time and trust, a dragon can technically be bonded to any human. This does not apply to all dragons of course and not to all humans, as a human needs to be as open as the dragon to form a bond. A rider is also not limited to their dragon and vice-versa. While they don’t typically switch around, there have been moments when main characters ride other dragons momentarily or their dragons are ridden by other people (again, rarely.)

Their diet is also mainly fish-related and raw. Although it depends on the dragon, some prefer chicken or goats, even fruits. And as we know, Boulder class enjoy rocks.

Night Fury

The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. The only one we ever really meet is Toothless. He is the fastest of the other dragons, a Strike Class and his flame is typically referred to as Plasma Blasts. Quick and powerful projectiles that land heavy damage to their enemies. Night Furies also tend to dive-bomb in a fight, using speed as their weapon and they have echolocation! They have retractable teeth and amazing accuracy, Hiccup himself says that Toothless “never misses”. They also have great acute senses, in the first movie, Toothless was able to hear his rider screaming all the way across the village in a hidden cove. This also showed how loyal Night Furies are as Toothless clawed his way out of that cove to get to Hiccup (something he tried before but couldn’t achieve before their bond was formed). They’re also intelligent creatures, when Hiccup spares his life upon their first meeting and decides to let him go, Toothless could have just killed him but recognizing mercy, let him go as well.

Deadly Nadder

Nadders are very beautiful and they know this. They enjoy pruning and keeping themselves clean. Nadders are in the Tracker Class (used to belong to the Sharp Class). They have folded spikes on their tails that they can extend and shoot like projectiles at enemies. Nadders are similar to birds or chickens in their walking stance, they have a blind spot right below their jaw but be careful! They have excellent hearing. They enjoy hunting in packs. Nadders are also very loyal to their riders, putting themselves in harms way to keep them safe.

Gronkle

A Boulder Class dragon, Gronkles love to eat rocks and shoot molten lava (and lava rocks) as their main fire power. They have thick heavy scales and a tail made for offense. They’re not the fastest with their small wings and they prefer to be on the ground (thats where you find rocks!) In the show, our main Gronkle, Meatlug, was fed a particular combination of rocks that led to her molten lava coming out and forming a type of light but incredibly tough metal. (Think of it as their version of Valyrian steel.) Sociable and like packs.

Monstrous Nightmare

These can be a bit of a show off, they like to think they’re the toughest of the tough in their Stoker Class. Perhaps that’s because they can light themselves on fire! Yep, Nightmares’ scales produce this flammable gel that they can activate to light on command. Hookfang, our resident Nightmare, doesn’t get to do it as often because it would burn his rider.

But since Jon and Rhaegar don't burn it wouldn't be much of a problem, although I doubt they'd like going into battle naked. OTOH, Daemon next to a flaming Caraxes is a new-level of terrifying.

Hideous Zippelback

Our only main Mystery Class dragon, oh! And did I mention he has TWO heads? Meet Barf and Belch, one head (on the left) breathes a green awful gas while the other has a sparking-type flame that sets the gas ablaze. After a while, dragons tend to mimic their riders personalities more often than usual, so when their riders, a pair of twins called Ruffnut and Tuffnut, start bickering or fighting, it’s not long before Barf and Belch start literally butting heads with each other.

Zippelbacks are also notoriously loyal to those that help or save them. When Hiccup and Toothless save them from a rock avalanche, the dragon sticks to the pair, in debt to them until it was repaid.

I particularly love how each head has a specific function and it isn't just random or basic like fire and ice (IYKYK). They're part of a cohesive system and work together, they need each other.

all these previous dragons mentioned are easily trainable and sociable with both dragons and humans after the effort is put in.

bonus: Hiccup reading the Book of Dragons for the first time, we see a bunch of different dragons here for the first time! This is where we get to see the different types of dragons as well, and we do eventually meet all of them throughout the large franchise.

Time for more dragons! The following are dragons we get to see in the show, a few more recurring than most. The show does have a usual dragon-of-the-week format but not always. And it always depends on the situation but regardless we always add more to the dragon lore.

Whispering Death:

Boulder Class dragon that prefers to be underneath the earth than flying above it, uses its thousands of teeth to drill into the very earth.

Very lamprey-esque that still fills me with nightmares.

Have poor eyesight and a terrifying roar.

Hold grudges against dragons and humans.

Not the best fliers as they prefer to be on land.

They don't often travel in packs but they can, although it isn't brought up much.

not trainable.

Screaming Death

He’s just a lil guy.

An albino giant Whispering Death called the Screaming Death in the show. It's said that a Screaming Death only comes to be every one hundred years. This one is a recurring obstacle in season 2 for the gang of dragon riders.

The Screaming Death we meet is a thousand times more ferocious than any previous Whispering Deaths’s we’ve seen before. He’s also barely a year old.

More than that, he was taken from his mother which is the cause of most of his behavior until he reunites with her in a season finale where he had been an ongoing obstacle for the the mains.

untrainable— DON'T EVEN TRY IT

Boneknapper

What a name.

A Mystery Class dragon that, because of its weak scales, uses the bones of dead dragons to protect itself.

Very stubborn, it will go far and wide for years on end to find the perfect fit for his armor, even risking its life in the process.

Has a deafening roar that can send Vikings ten feet away from him. He's incredibly stealthy and able to sneak up on anyone.

We meet this dragon in a special short film.

trainable after some effort and offering something he wants.

The Scauldron

A Tidal Class dragon, meaning he's a water dweller.

The Scauldron shoots boiling hot water at its enemies.

Typical loners, and like most water dwellers they can't go long when stuck on land.

That’s how we meet Scauldy, a Scauldron that is stuck on land and the riders wish to rescue. He forms a bond with Ruffnut thanks to her fish-scented hair.

trainable, but rare and under the right circumstances.

Timberjack

A Sharp Class dragon that we actually don't get to meet in the main series but rather the sequel series set in the future (it's eh)

Timberjacks have sharp wings that can cut through entire forests (and enemies).

They closely resemble Monstrous Nightmares in a way.

Loyal to their riders regardless of anything, these aren't dragons to mess with.

Trainable

Usually solitary.

Extra extra: EVEN MORE dragons for Rhaegar to go crazy over.

Terrible Terror

So, in the books, Toothless was just a small common Garden dragon that got his name from the fact that his teeth just hadn't come in (and then when he got one, he lost it in a fight to an adult dragon).

When the writers began planning for the movies, they knew they wanted Hiccup to have a dragon big enough to ride, thus the size and species changed.

And so the Terrible Terror was born as an homage to the original Toothless.

Terrors are the size of a large cat or an iguana, they purr like cats and are part of the Stoker Class, so they are fire breathers.

But what they lack in size they make up for by attacking in large packs.

Terrors ended up being something of a comic relief from time to time. Although Hiccup did begin to train them to deliver messages, inventing 'Terror Mail'.

trainable

Thunderdrum

One of the few Tidal Class dragons able to breath fire although they don't use it often, their main method of attack is actually a strong concussive sound that can kill a human in close range.

They can dwell easily on either land or water, and they can expel the oxygen from their body to flaten their bodies to be able to glide across the surface and easily catch their prey.

They can be reclusive but enjoy travelling in pods.

Thunderdrums are also hard of hearing, making them the only dragons known to be immune to the Deathsong dragon.

trainable but they are stubborn and a challenge.

Changewing

This Mystery Class dragon is able to camaflouge using its chamaleon-like scales to blend into their surroundings.

Instead of fire, they shoot hot, corrosive acid that burn rocks and wood (as well as humans). They're also incredibly fast and stealthy.

One alone is a threat but can be taken down, thus why they hunt in packs. But they're large enough to defend themselves too.

Their packs also follow a typical lion pride style, as their females are the hunters.

Aggressive to humans and other dragons, they're also not opposed to eat both.

not trainable

Night Terrors

Not exactly cousins to Terrible Terrors although they do receive their name from them.

These nocturnal Stoker Class bat-like dragons opperate best as a team.

They unite in masses to form a large shape as their main defense to scare off predators, typically following their Alpha (a slightly larger sized and white scaled Night Terror.)

We meet them in the beginning of Race to the Edge, the riders claim an empty island of their own and come across these little guys. By taking away the leader, the rest scramble and run, not able to function together as a group. They get along well and name the Alpha Night Terror, Smidvarg.

Since it's their island too, they come to an agreement and the Night Terrors act as sentries or sentinels for the island.

trainable.

Armorwing

Not unlike the Boneknapper, this Mystery Class dragon uses metals to protect their scaleless bodies.

Their bodies are also somewhat magnetic, any metal coming into direct contact stays there until they can properly forge it.

Speaking of forging, when they do melt metal onto their body, their fire is unsually bright and one of the hottest seen.

I wouldn't be surprised if they were to be reclassified as a Stoker Class, even their shape is very Monstrous Nightmare-like.

Some actually have a preference for specific metals. It could range from iron, bronze, silver, or even gold.

Smothering Smokebreath

They get their name from the fact that they can't breathe fire but rather exhale extreme thick plumes of black smoke.

These guys are not inherintly aggressive at all, they actually prefer to avoid fights.

They're always in packs due to their small size, only slightly bigger than Night Terrors. Together, their joint smoke breath appears like a natural fog bank, keeping them hidden and safe from predators.

Their reputation has been quite supernatural for years, thanks to their smoke, no one has ever gotten a good look at what they look like, making them larger than life and spreading scary tales.

They're also little thieves that like shiny things, typically stealing anything metal to keep in their caves.

not trainable, they don't like to leave their home, although i wouldn't 100% rule it out.

Speed Stinger

Okay, I know, they look like velociraptors from Jurassic Park, bear with me.

For decades they were believed to be a rumor or legend.

The ultimate of the Strike Class, they don't have wings but are the fastest dragons on land that you'll ever meet. And I hope you never do.

They're scavengers and hunters, always in packs and never alone, using their poison tipped tails to paralyze any victims they claim.

Incredible aggressive and not an easily susceptible threat.

They typically get to places by running across glaciers and frozen bodies of water, but over time other packs have evolved and even developed webbing to be able to run across water.

They aren't trainable but it's not impossible, the riders once found an injured adolescent Stinger, nursed him back to health and managed to train him for months before sending him back to his pack.

This was a specific circumstances case, so I would still call them untrainable.

Deathsong

The Deathsong is one of new dragons we get to meet and name along the way.

Very beautiful on the outside, resembling a butterfly to attract prey from afar but that's not all it can do. Coming from its name, the Deathsong's most potent form of attack is its siren song.

Able to attract and disoritent humans and dragons alike.

Once prey has arrived, the Deathsong is able to shoot out an orange hot type of lava at its victims that hardens instantly like amber.

This way it keeps its victims on standby before consuming them, dragon and human alike.

Aggressive and solitary.

Not trainable as an adult, but we did see the riders train one since he was a hatchling, forming a bond that lasted even years after being in the wild.

Foreverwing

The only dragon we don't get to see in the movies or the shows but I included him since he was just so interesting.

He's one of the Titan dragons due to his colossal size and has thick foliage and trees that grow on his back.

Foreverwings sleep for a long time, typically on mountains so their backs grow larger and denser, becoming homes for all matter of creatures, dragons and animals alike, able to live in peace and harmony amongst each other.

It also spews copious amounts of lava able to take down entire villages.

More dragons:

Dramillion - this dragon is capable of mimicing fire blasts of other dragons

Snow Wraith - a cold dwelling dragon, entirely white with red eyes, solitary and impossible to find

Catastrophic Quaken - her mouth opens in a split way that makes it terrifying. also can curl into itself like an armadillo and smashing themself against enemies or large rocks

Typhoomerang - A new species of dragon that the gang encounters. Their first dragon that isn't in the Book of Dragons actually, so they get to name the species and spend time with a hatchling for a while. These Dragons leave scorch marks on the ground not unlike a typhoon sigil and tend to come back down the same way, like a boomerang.

And there are so, so, so many more.