#i am exceedingly happy though

[that-fannerd-with-the-glasses]

Guys. Guys.

Guys.

So I went to Goodwill today, decided to browse the DVDs as one does and--

Look. What I found.

Do I own any of the other movies right now? No. But was I about to walk away willingly and let someone else snatch it up? Hell no, it was coming home with me the minute I saw it, it's mine now.

[wordsinhaled]

Charles has settled on Edwin's lap in the wingback chair in a comfortable sprawl, his knees on either side of Edwin's. He'd gone about it with a practiced ease, as though this is something he's done a million times; as though he belongs here; as though he could search out this spot in his sleep, if ghosts could sleep.

Yet Charles being so near to him, and with such deliberate and specific intent—that being their mutual enjoyment—is a relatively recent development, in the grand scheme. Edwin is... ablaze with the newness of it. He has to tip his head back just to get the full measure of Charles perched astride him, of the low lamplight diffused across Charles' face, of the fond, familiar mischief that glimmers in his eyes.

Port Townsend may have opened Edwin to his innermost desires, but if he is very, very honest he can admit that his private longing for Charles is of much older provenance. He would have given Charles an eternity to sort out the shape of his own feelings, if he needed it. And if it had meant Charles' continued happiness, he would have been content to live out their days alone in his regard, content with a cherished friendship that never included this.

By some miracle, he does not have to.

It had not taken Charles anywhere close to an eternity to figure out the rest, so to speak. What is a single year, after all, to a pair of ghosts? Falling in love, Charles had told him, felt like waking up in a strange bedroom which became, as you shook off sleep, suddenly as familiar as your own. "Oh... bit of a weird metaphor, that," he'd said, wrinkling his nose in the way Edwin privately found exceedingly endearing. Then: "Sorry, mate. I'd been building up to this, you know? What I was gonna say to you. Had it all planned in my head and now. Well. Can't get it out right, can I?"

But semantics didn't much matter, in the end.

In the end, being in love with one another had come to them as easily as it had to fall into step walking through the gates of St. Hilarion's, away from their shadowed past and towards their intertwined future.

It is dizzying to acknowledge that this is real—not a game, or a trick, or a trap. Just Charles Rowland, whom he adores, looking equally smitten as he steadies himself with his hands on Edwin's upper arms, the better to give an experimental shimmy of his hips against Edwin's. Like an anchorless ship Edwin drifts on the sweeping tide of pleasure their proximity brings. He relishes how Charles’ gaze rolls over him, terribly tender in its focus and promisingly molten.

"Charles," he says in unspooled wonder, simply because he can. Simply because happiness, in this moment, takes the shape of his best friend's name in his mouth. To his own ears he sounds strangled. Transported. Not himself whatsoever. It ought to scare him, the difference Charles can work through him so easily with the barest effort; it both does and doesn't. "I am certain you'll be the death of me."

"You're already dead, mate," says Charles, "live a little," and he actually giggles, like he's just said the funniest thing in all the world; like it pleases him immeasurably to know he can have this mad effect on Edwin. The giddy edge of his laughter vibrates through his chest, and into Edwin's. And Charles sounds breathless, even though ghosts do not need to breathe.

Edwin loves him so much, just then, that it genuinely aches. Not the agony of hell or the shocking burn of iron, but something new altogether, an incandescence that lances sharp beneath his breastbone. Something else to add to his running mental catalogue of sensations he shouldn't be able to feel, along with the beginnings of a flush spreading over his skin and the welcome heat of Charles' body through their clothes.

It is, all told, rather overwhelming.

Charles must read something of the enormity of his predicament writ plain on his face, for in the next second he reaches out to stroke careful, calloused thumbs over Edwin's burning cheeks. It's only a feather-light touch, back and forth and back again, one that might irk him were it to come from anyone else—but Charles has always been permitted certain liberties, so instead Edwin finds it... grounding. Or exhilarating. He isn't sure which. Possibly both.

"Hey," Charles says. "It's all right. It's fine. Still going slow, remember? This is brills, just this. We can st—"

"I do not wish us to stop," Edwin protests, before Charles can even finish the unthinkable suggestion. He could remain suspended in this precise millisecond for the next thirty years without complaint. "It is only that I... I can feel you. And everything. Everything we are doing. And it—you—you are so very...”

"Good?" Charles supplies, grinning Edwin’s favorite of his grins—the wide, unfettered one that shows his gums and lets a bit of his tongue peek between his teeth. He looks hopeful, impossibly bright in his joy, and just a little wicked.

“Yes,” Edwin says. "Better than good." He smiles up at Charles, some distant part of him registering that he must look utterly besotted.

Charles laughs, delighted.

And he tips forward to drop his forehead onto Edwin’s shoulder; to put his lips to Edwin’s neck, just below his ear. He presses a kiss there, so quick Edwin might think he’d imagined it, except that Charles does it a second time. And a third, this one open-mouthed and lingering, sending little shivers skittering down Edwin's spine and drawing a soft noise from his throat.

“I like this,” Charles whispers into Edwin's skin. His voice is raw-edged, confessional in a way Edwin hasn't quite heard him sound these three-odd decades. “So much. Being like this, with you. Didn't know how much I would, did I? 'Course you'd see it before me. Brilliant, you are, Edwin Payne."

[bigfatbreak]

more mlp au dumps

3 am palette cleanser. tis the season

additional fun for my dorky ass twibra au... twilight's friends mimic the elements of harmony in a way that reflects the magic of their pony selves (bc I said so lmao) and it's what brings her back from the brink after principal cinch grenade tosses her little magical collector in her face and blasts her with equestrian magic

details:

Chrysalis represents generosity specifically because of how she's selfish on behalf of her friends. she's absolutely willing to dupe other people and manipulate them if she thinks it'll help out anyone in the squad, even if the fallout could be cataclysmic. This has led to a really bad reputation following her around, and though its not really unprecedented, her friends still keep her around as she means well. It's a bit hard training her out of fawning over other people to try and make them stay, but she just wants everyone well-fed and happy.

Stygian has the loyalty blessing because he's the real ride or die. He would rather physically staple himself to his friends than possibly lose them, especially since he was subject to losing a friend group in the past which left him deserted at a really bad time. Meeting Tempest around that time was the only thing that kept him going, and now he's fiercely protective of his new friend group.

Spike is laughter because I love him. puppy power

Tempest gets honesty because she's extremely blunt, even though sometimes its to the point of insulting, she genuinely just wants communication to be established at any cost. Her straightforward attitude is very effective at stopping Chryssie's schemes and keeping Stygian grounded, and she doesn't mind being an anchor for the team, especially since she used to be team captain on her volleyball team before she lost her arm. The sense of "these people need me" helps anchor her as much as it anchors them.

Sombra can be exceedingly kind, showering people in gifts and lavish trips, assisting them in whatever programs they're in, and he's more than willing to put the effort in and sacrifice things of his own if it means his friends will benefit from it - but it stops there. His kindness is wonderful only to those in his close circle, and most importantly, to Twilight.

though their dynamic sometimes isn't the healthiest, they're all recovering from friendship issues of their own - some done to them, some because of what THEY did to others - and Twilight's the precious sun they seem to rotate around, as being a shut-in only focusing on her studies has given her zero inclination to have any sort of preconceived notions of other people. For friends with a bad past they're trying to work through, its incredibly refreshing, and they would rather die than lose her.

even more additional details:

Sombra collects pretty minerals, and wears a lot of jewelry as a result. He often compares Twilight to precious stones and seems smug about dating her.

Tempest and Stygian are room mates, but they're not dating, sharing a purely platonic relationship. (Stygian is gay and Tempest is a lesbian. they're each other's beards, basically)

Chryssie lives in an apartment Sombra pays the rent to, but only under the agreement that she stop dating people just to raid their houses. It's worked so far, at least according to CCTV footage

once the magic Twilight absorbed disperses into the team, giving them magic, Spike gets dragon attributes along with being able to talk. This means sometimes he eats Sombra's fancy gemstones and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it because if he yells at his gf's dog/little brother he'll get smacked. Sombra is in hell but everyone else loves it

[shyvien]

Here are 100 random quotes from Lucifer!

Sourced from the OM! Wiki, chats, devilgram, screenshots I found, etc. I made this list to help with studying to write the characters in character. (Not really proofread, sorry if there are mistakes. Also, there may be spoilers. If so, they’re minor spoilers)

✧༺⚜️༻✧

​​“Do you want my attention? Why don't we talk for a little then? I have enough energy for that. As your presence is so very soothing to me.“

​​“Heh, not afraid to get sassy with me anymore, are you?”

​​“Let's celebrate until you cannot stand anymore.“

​​“No need to rush. I won't be able to help you if you fall down in the middle of the street. Rather, I would probably enjoy the sight.”

​​“...Well? How do you like Demonus-flavored kisses?“

​​“I believe it's long been established that if anyone's going to be eating them, it will be me.“

​​“If you want me to keep you from running that mouth of yours, you need only ask.“

​​“Are you poking fun at me right now? I see you like to play with fire. Well, there's a punishment for getting cheeky with me like that. Come here, MC”

​​“I am exceedingly concerned…”

​​“Now Listen, and listen well. I will not be your possession. I won’t belong to you. You will belong to me.”

​​“You seem repentant, so I shall forgive you.”

​​“Are you still tired from last night? After all, I didn’t let you get much sleep.”

​​“I will watch over you. Until the day comes where we must part. And I promise... to love you until the end of your days and beyond.”

​​“You... Release me! Don't you dare try to put me to sleep like I'm not ten million years older than you!”

​​“All of you, out of the way...! I'm going to tear that human limb from limb…!”

​​"Are you trying to please me?"

​​"Do you need a goodnight kiss?"

​​"You are a strange human being."

​​"You want me to praise you for that? Very well… Good iob."

​​"Fine, I'll forgive you just this once."

​​"Do you need something?"

​​“It's as if you're saying that you need me in your life, and that's a wonderful feeling. Is it conceited of me to say that? Well, I am the Avatar of Pride, after all."

​​“Stab it with a fork or something. Anything sharp should do the trick.“

​​"I can't say I mind spending my time with you while Mammon's shrieks echo in the background either. Heh! And Diavolo's laughter is even louder than that."

​​“Well, there are worse demons it could have happened to... Probably.”

​​“Asmo, you stay right there. I'll go get my whip.“

​​“Hush now. Daddy's here to give you a hug.“

​​“NONONONONONO! I'm saying I DON'T want them to see that picture. So, if they ask you for it, I'd like you to tell them that no such photo exists. OK?”

​​“That won't be necessary. I went ahead and blew it up. The entire room.“

​​"If you want to get the better of me, that toy of yours isn't going to cut it. Perhaps try lethal poison from some horrific insect, aged a thousand years for maximum potency."

​​“I know, I know... But why don't we save the killing until after you've eaten your breakfast, hm?“

​​“Mmm, nothing's sweeter than listening to their screams of agony. Heheheh...”

​​“Bring him down to the living room. Use whatever means necessary…though I do want him alive.“

​​”I would never have imagined I would be kissed on the cheek by you. I don't dislike it when you take the initiative. But why on the cheek? You don't need to hesitate with me. Next time, do it on the lips. Understand?”

​​“Hell coffee becomes bitter when you prepare it for someone that you're fond of. It's a special property of the coffee beans. Naturally, I drank every last drop of your feelings.”

​​“Only those that haven't been involved in that dolt's childish antics are the truly happy ones.”

​​“When I get my hands on him, I'll have to be thorough with my discipline.”

​​“Tomorrow I will be handing Diavolo a report detailing how all of the exchange students are faring. I'll be sure to stress how excited you are to continue your education here at our prestigious academy.”

​​“How's the Celestial Realm? Unlike the Devildom, you don't have to worry about anyone grabbing you and eating you for lunch there, do you?”

​​“You've got Solomon with you as well, so you should relax and enjoy your time there.“

​​“If only my brothers were as obedient as you are. It is not every day that you get the chance to have me indebted to you. You can expect a one-hundred times return on the investment of your time, that I promise. In return, I expect that you won't let me down.”

​​“How naive. If you don't want me to have wasted my time by informing you, be sat in your seat at the table within the next sixty seconds. It will be just you and me. Let us enjoy the rare breakfast together before my brothers ruin the atmosphere.”

​​“Don't get cocky, MC.”

​​“One spoke at length about the clothing on the Diavolo sticker. It waxed lyrical about how exquisite the design choices were.”

​​“However, I discovered a slew of insults written in invisible ink on the page.“

​​“How could you tell? You really know me well, MC! Hehehe. I was drinking Demonus with Diavolo earlier. And you know, he kept saying all these nice things about you... Let me tell you, I'm also really happy you're down here with us.”

​​“…Who even came up with the idea that whoever empties their bottle first, wins...? Oh, right. I did... My bad. Ah, my head is spinning. Good night MC. Love you.”

​​“Ugh, you thickheaded fool of a demon! What's your skull made of? Granite?”

​​“That's a curse meant to make you stub your toe on the leg of a table… But if you actually do stub your toe, it hurts quite a bit.”

​​“MC. It has come to my attention that Mammon and Asmo took you out for a drive recently. Well, how was it? Enjoyable? …I'm glad to hear it. We all need breaks from the daily grind from time to time. l'd like you to join me for a drive next time. I'll give you a taste of euphoric freedom that those two could never dream of. Prepare for the time of your life.”

​​“If you'd like, we could take a shower together.”

​​“After all, I haven't managed to seduce you yet. I'm going to need more time.”

​​“The three highest-ranked demons in the realm, frolicking about in a frivolous pajama party? How absurd.”

​​“I didn't hear a word you just said. I know nothing about it, and I'm going to keep it that way.”

​​“I see. Then I should be allowed to take a similar photo of you, no? Come stay over in my room again tonight.”

​​“Don't be stupid. I will not allow myself to be clad in demon garb. I'm going to strip off every last piece of it this very instant and fling it as far away from me as I can.”

​​“You're a demon. I'm surprised someone like you is able to feed me lines like that with a straight face. You've got some nerve.”

​​ “Heheheh. Well, he is my brother, after all, so I thought I'd go easy on him. So, should I make this quick, or go slowly, bit by bit? Your choice.”

​​ “So, tell me. what's with the Little D.? The one looking at me with that moronic expression...”

​​“You think you stand a chance against me?! You think you could defeat Lucifer, Avatar of Pride?“

​​ “Well, aren't you persistent. I suppose you won't be happy until you've pummeled the door senseless?”

​​“...Just what were you hoping to accomplish by knocking me down like this, hm? Because doing something like that to me, right now… is making it much harder for me to control myself...!”

​​“Given that you were the one who pounced first, you can't complain when the tables are turned, can you? …I'm so thirsty, I can hardly think straight. I trust you understand what that means.”

​​ “To show my thanks, I suppose I'm not against giving you some special treatment. You'll have to come closer. I'll give you my lap until you're satisfied. ...You'll keep me company until then, won't you?”

​​"You deserve a thank you."

​​ "Sorry, this isn't exactly my cup of tea. I was hoping you'd know me better."

​​"It appears to me you know what pleases me."

​​"Are you really trying to tickle me? Heheheh, you'll have to do much better than that."

​​"Pff...if you think that tickles, you're wrong."

​​"Well, if you insist on touching me, then be my guest.”

​​"Well, hello. How are things?"

​​"You've got some nerve keeping me waiting. Well now, what are you going to do about it?"

​​"I'm back. Hm? ...Did you miss me?"

​​"*sigh* I've had a long day. But seeing you has a way of making me feel better."

​​"Sorry, I had some business to take care of. Well, well, you certainly seem happy to see me."

​​"Done? Let's continue this in my room."

​​"Good night... We'll meet again in our dreams."

​​ "I feel like we both have a nice day ahead of us."

​​ "I enjoyed our time together. Perhaps we should do this again."

​​“You do know what I'm capable of... don't you?"

​​ "Happy Easter. Will you accept it, my little bunny?"

​​"Once you're officially a sorcerer, I'd like you to become powerful enough to shut up Solomon for me."

“Very well. Here I go. Lucifer Kick!”

“Why should I be subjected to the indignation of a pat on the head from you?”

​​“After all, it's a bit like tossing a helpless lamb into the middle of a pack of hungry wolves, isn't it? But it's also important to understand just who it is you're eating, wouldn't you say?“

​​ “It means that I see you as prey, too. Just like the others. It goes without saying that I'm far stronger than you. If I were to pin you down right here and now, you wouldn't be able to do anything about it, now would you? How about we give it a try...?“

​​“You will soon enough.”

​​ “When a vampire feeds, it's not like his human prey feels only pain. Quite the opposite, actually. They're overcome with a feeling of unimaginable ecstasy. The truth is that you want this as well, don't you? You want to feel my arms around you, to give yourself up to me and offer up your blood... You're special. I won't drink you dry...no. I'm going to kiss you again and again, all over your body. Indulging in you just a bit each and every night. And I do mean every night. No other vampire will ever know the taste of your blood…”

​​“Do you have any idea how hard I had to struggle not to do this earlier...? It was all I could do to resist throwing my arms around you right in front of everyone at the party.”

​​ “MC… I missed you. I can tell just from the way you feel against me. I can sense what you're feeling.I'm sorry, MC. ...Sorry it took me so long to get to you. You should really stay with me tonight. We need to make up for all the time lost.“

​​ “You're drunk, you idiot. Oh well, I'll go along with you just for today. Bottoms up.”

​​“Me? Intoxicated? Preposterous. I'm my usual old self.”

​​“You are also fond of me, no?“

​​ “Then come over here. Are you holding back? Come closer. Prepare yourself. If I win, I get to do with you as I please.”

​​“You know there is no turning back after the first pillow is thrown, right?”

“As a demon, I've never cared when humans bred…”

​​“Stop unnecessarily stressing me out. You're shaving years off my life here.”

​​ “I don't mind. If I am not allowed to nag, then I can simply beat these rules into you.”

​​“Is this how you all amuse yourselves? By sending photos of your exposed body parts?”

​​ “Good grief. I need eyes everywhere to keep track of everyone.”

Extras! (It's hard to pick just 100 y'know?)

1. ​​“Leading unhealthy lifestyles, frittering away your time and money… The extent to which you all squander your lives away is quite intolerable to watch.”

2.​​ “Put two or more of you together, and you start getting ideas in your head. Bad ideas.”

3. “The next time one of you puts so much as a toe out of line… I'lI march you all up your beloved Mt. Imminent Death, and ensure that you NEVER return.”

4. “So as an extra bonus, I'll tickle you...”

5. “How nice that you're not letting our large underground gambling problem spoil your fun...”

✧༺⚜️༻✧

𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

𝒮𝒽𝓎 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 ༝༚༝༚

[anxresi]

She's already been punished enough...

...By being part of one the worst shows of all time, dufus.

A few points here, in the order of the OP presented their dubious 'case' (though I suspect this isn't actually how they feel and this is a somewhat disingenuous attempt was to provoke a reaction from a lot of others when they sent this to Reddit, in which case... JOB DONE).

1. Bullying, as bad as it can be, is not a jailable offence. especially the relative mild incidences we've seen in the show (up till S4 that is, which we'll get to later) Next.

2. As every right-minded person knows, this is 'New Chloe' e.g Chloe specifically created by Mr Astruc for the S3 finale onwards which bears no relation to 'Old Chloe'. 'Old Chloe' actually had personality, layers, humanity, humour, was a great super-anti-hero, the stirrings of redemption in her.... 'New Chloe' is just an out-and-out psychopath with no depth to her whatsoever apart from to be as ineptly evil as possible and increasingly embarrass herself with every tortuous appearance so Thomas can get his sick jollies, so this doesn't count. Sorry.

3. See: 2. Also, Zoe shouldn't exist... so, there's that. If you want to know why, please see my other posts... as I am saving up all my ire for something far more important as you'll find out below...

4. Now this is the one that REALLY boils my piss. How can I put this politely... Fuck off, you fucking cunt. Chloe's fucking father ENABLED her fucking behavior for fucking years by fucking throwing his money at the fucking problem instead of paying for the fucking psychological help she clearly fucking well needed and fucking IGNORED everything when her fucking mother regularly left Chloe alone, told her she was fucking worthless, didn't bother celebrating her fucking birthdays, forgot her fucking name time and time again...

I could go on. And you're telling me Andre is the FUCKING victim instead of Chloe, this FUCKING corrupt mayor. this FUCKING waste of space, this FUCKING pathetic excuse of a man who as her FUCKING FATHER could've put his FUCKING foot down at any FUCKING time and simply said "No?" What kind of a fucking 'mature' adult is he, anyway?! I suppose the OP also thinks fucking Gabriel deserved his fucking statue as well, in fact they should've hung fucking garlands of flowers from it whilst someone played fucking panpipes and everybody else fucking danced around. Fuck you.

Also worth noting here that Chloe fucking ADORED her father until the exceedingly unwelcome S4 'reboot' where she suddenly saw him as a fucking walking piggy bank (I won't even mention how they purposefully ruined her relations with Adrien, Sabrina, even her own butler... Chloe can't have any happiness in her life. It simply ISN'T ALLOWED).

Then they have the cheek to let his daughter be 'disowned' by him in the S5 finale and banished to London as if he fucking did nothing wrong in facilitating her attitude whilst failing to defend her against her despicable mother's abuse. (Yes, I said ABUSE I know the creator doesn't view it as such, but he's a fucking moron so what can you do?) Bullshit. Complete and utter undiluted diarrhea dripping from a bull's anal sac... that's what this is. I hope I painted an accurate picture for all of you. Sorry if you were eating.

So, it was supposably a happy ending that Andre got to fucking adopt another man's child without any reprecussions for his past actions, as he embarked on his new career as a fucking film director. What? You think that wasn't ENOUGH punishment for Chloe, OP? You think she should go to fucking jail as well, for DARING to be a child victim of incessant abuse, both in-canon and in-writing? I never thought I'd meet a person who's more radicalised in their blind hatred of Chloe than fucking Mr Astruc, but here we are. I tell you, some people on this exploding planet of ours scare me. Legit.

5. See 2 again. This huge disparity in writing between the two Chloes is getting stupid now, and anyone who can't see the contrast between now and then... I really can't help you. Either take off your Chloe-hating goggles to smell the coffee, or go read someone that agrees with you 100% and won't pop your tiny safe-space bubble with indisputable facts. Goodbye.

6. I think Chloe is more 14... but it doesn't really matter. Still a child, still should be treated as one. Which makes Astruc's obsessive loathing of her even more disturbing... and even more so this dude's.

That's it. This was probably an entirely unnecessary pot-pourri of hot topics I've regurgitated before, but as soon as I saw this article (particularly Pic 4) I just had to jump on my soapbox once more to regale the world about the kind of arrant nonsense I see about Chloe sometimes online, particularly regarding the subject of parental abuse and whether her treatment by the show's narrative was justified (SPOILER: It wasn't, and if you disagree I need you to fuck off RIGHT NOW).

Because if people like me don't defend her and the terrible writing she's been subjected to for the last few seasons (at least she's in good company there though), who will?

Not the person who made her, that's for sure. She may be a fictional character but... I get the feel her situation is similar to a lot of other neglected and mistreated kids out there who lash out at others for obvious reasons. And by handling her arc (if you can even call it that) in this inexcusable way... I don't just think the show has just done her a disservice. I think they've outright destroyed her and the hopes of many others watching.

What a great message to send to every youngster who could relate. I hope the makers are proud of themselves. Fucking idiots.

[betterfettered]

Can I please have yandere Natasha who wants to pamper her fem daring? However, her fem darling refuses her affection. (As the one shot story if that's okay).

Hey bby! I tried to include a little tid bit about your OCs too :) (AFAB!reader x AFAB!yandere, cis wlw)(noncon)(drugging)(kidnapping)(gaslighting)(18+ readers only please, mdni)(Please let me know if I am missing a TW)[This is fetish content and rape and abuse are disgusting and inexcusable in real life.]

Even after you know that Natasha is long gone, it takes you an hour or two before you try to escape. It feels like she has eyes everywhere, like she can detect your every breath , so you move painstakingly slowly to your feet. As soon as you are standing up completely, your head swims and your legs threaten to buckle out from beneath you; you have been sick for a long time, though, so that does not stop you from shuffling over to the locked window and gazing out at the jarring, sunlit thoroughfare beneath you. You know nothing about the tiny people you can see walking around on the ground several stories below you, an odd twist of fate considering that you have lived your entire life beneath their feet as a citizen of the Underworld, so you can only wonder if they would help you if they knew your predicament. You’d never beat against the glass hard enough for anyone to notice, but if they did, would they wave to you and promise to save you? Would they cry themselves seeing your tears?

            You don’t even make it to the door. Pain shoots out from most of your leg joints after only a few steps until you collapse to the ground, rolling over onto your side to curl into fetal position and sob. It isn’t that you don’t have the will, as you have never wanted more in your life than to leave this room – your body just won’t move, even to wipe away your tears, even though your heart is pounding at the thought of being found here.

            After a few hours, when you’re already in significant pain from staying in the same position for so long, the door swings open and hits the top of your head. You groan, curling into yourself a little, and hear Natasha gasp in horror.

            “Oh, heavens. My love, are you okay?” she says, the door locking behind her with a snap. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

            None too gently, Natasha slides her arms underneath you and stands, raising you from the ground, then carries you back to the bed. She is exceedingly careful in how she lays you down, making sure that all of your limbs are rested in an ergonomic fashion, even though you feel the way her fingers wander.

            “Please, follow my instructions so that we can make sure that you’re not injured.”

            One of her hands lies on your face and strokes your cheek, her expression trying to conceal her fear.

            “Tell me where you are right now.”

            “No.”

            “No, you don’t know where you are?”

            “No, I won’t do what you ask,” you say, shaking your head and feeling tears burning your eyes. “I want to go home.”

            She nods, the smile on her face a little stiff, then brushes your leaking eyes with her thumb.

            “I understand,” she says, turning from you to go and fetch the groceries. “I know just the thing to make you feel better. Then I’ll send you back home as you wish.”

            You’re so shocked for a second that you feel like your body keeps crying while you are completely still. Did she say you could go home? You can’t believe it – you’ve been trapped in this hotel room for so long that you’ve lost count of the days. Your heart soars at the possibility of talking to your sister again, even thought you hadn’t sought her out before and don’t even know if she’s still alive: your memory of her has been your only solace in this unending nightmare of being “helped” by Natasha, your imaginary manifestation of her being the your sole source of happiness.

            Natasha approaches again with syringe in hand, her smile more relaxed now.

            “One last bit of medicine to help with your pain before you go,” she says, and then places her hand on your shoulder, running it gently along the skin down to your inner elbow. Once there, she feels around for a second to find your vein.

            “One two three, be brave!” she says, and then spears the needle into your arm, thumb pressing its liquid into your vein. “Now, let me get your bag ready and write down some discharge instructions.”

            She grabs your chin and tugs you towards her, pressing her lips onto yours snaking her tongue into your mouth and grabbing your hair to pull you closer. You don’t want to waste energy on struggling, so you allow her to invade you like that, clenching your hand to have another sensation to focus on.

            “I would be so devastated if something happened to you once you leave, after all,” Natasha coos after pulling away. She flashes you another grin for a second, and then heads to the wardrobe within your room. Once there, she pulls out the bag you’d been carrying when she lured you in, drops it onto the floor, and begins folding up your street clothes to place inside of it.

            For a moment, you think the strange sensation bubbling within you is anxiety, and then you gag so hard aloud that it sounds like a cough. Your entire body feels bad, somehow, but you can’t tell what it is because you feel distant from it, panicking and gagging over and over.

            “Natasha,” you cry out, unable to lift yourself up from how fast the room is spinning you into dizziness. “Natasha!”

            She continues folding your clothing.

            “There’s something wrong! Help, please.”

            That makes her turn around, her expression curious.

            “Something wrong? Like what?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “That’s fine then, I’m sure you can take care of it at home with over the counter meds,” she says, turning back to the closet and grabbing your jacket to fold.

            “No, I can’t,” you gasp between your retching, starting to sob. “Something’s really wrong. Help me. Please, Nat, I’m begging. I’m…begging, I don’t want to die.”

            At this, she turns from her folding work.

            “Begging for what?” she asks, smarmy innocence in her tone. All the while she walks towards you.

            “For help.”

            “Oh, did you need me?”

            “Please!”

            “Say it.”

            “I need you. I need you to help me. I’m really sick.”

            “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along, darling,” she says, wrapping her arms around you. You can feel the warmth of her breath fanning along the apples of your cheeks. “You need to be here. Without me, you’d be suffering so much, right?”

            You nod.

            She relinquishes you, pulls your arms away from where you’d been instinctively protecting your breasts from her, and injects your inner elbow again with a different syringe from her pocket.

After only a few seconds, you feel so much better, your limbs feeling like jello and your mind a little fuzzy, but free of the continuous gagging.

She presses her lips to yours, exhaling in pleasure at their softness, at the way your plush body yields when she gropes and then presses into you. You lie still and let her do what she wants until you feel her hand groping your pussy, squeezing it and running her fingers along it in tandem. When you start to struggle against the stimulation, she bites your lip hard enough that the taste of iron seeps onto your taste buds.

            “Let’s start your check up again,” she pants, pulling away. “It’s always best to test someone’s well being with all of your senses. So right now, let me check you with my mouth.”

            Your heart sinks, but you don’t want her to inject you with whatever she had before. Letting your eyes press shut, hot tears spilling down to your temples, tears threaten your eyes when she kisses you again. You can’t help but cringe feeling her hands on your tits, massaging them aggressively; at the same time, the way your cheeks heat up feels completely unfamiliar. The sound of a breathy moan escaping from your mouth shocks you – you realize that Natasha pushing your shirt aside and using her tongue to stroke away the pain her fingers pinching your nipples left behind is making your clit a little stiff.

            “Stop,” you whine, trying to turn your chest away from her mouth, the arousal building up in the pit of your stomach getting harder to ignore.

            “Of course,” Natasha says, kissing either of your tits. “I know what you’re looking for.”

            Her hand sliding up from your cunt to the top of your underwear is so quick you don’t notice it happening; how exposed you are only becomes clear when she buries her face in your pussy, sucking and tonguing your clit while her fingers, roughly jammed into you, start to rub up hard against your G-spot.

            You open your mouth to ask her to stop, but only hear yourself panting, your hips bucking and squirming against her face. You dig your nails into the crook of your elbow as though that will take out whatever she drugged you with to make you feel like this.

            “I don’t want this,” you moan, unable to stop pressing your pussy against her mouth. “What did you do to me? I – agh!”

            Your entire body shudders endlessly, strange noises flooding out of your mouth at her unrelenting tongue sliding back and forth against you while you cum over and over. You feel embarrassed at how you’re writhing and yelping like an animal, but she won’t stop until you are trembling and trying to scoot your overstimulated core away from her. At that, she straddles you on the bed, both hands squeezing you all over.

            “It makes me so happy when you feel good,” she says. “I just want to ride your cute face. But you must be worn out, so maybe tomorrow.”

            Shivering from the disgusting mess between your legs and allowing yourself to cry quietly, you wonder if you should have just coped with the poison instead.

[captainwidowspring]

I am currently writing a paper on the music of the Captain America trilogy, and this has caused me to notice an exceedingly interesting detail that I previously missed. In The First Avenger, after Peggy shoots at Steve, a melody that sounds very similar to the Captain America theme plays. This repeats twice: one time when she puts the gun down and stalks away, and again while Steve and Howard are so shocked by what Peggy just did that they stare after her even as they continue their conversation.

This is quite disgusting, as it rather implies that Peggy just did something noble and honorable, or something that Steve would approve of, when this is not even close to the case. Steve would never be so thoroughly irresponsible and reckless, nor would he approve of such pettiness, or partake in it himself. Indeed, it is clear to see how betrayed Steve felt when he was cautiously ensuring that she was done shooting at him. The music also disingenuously tries to reframe the characters' reactions to her outburst as positive. The fact that the almost-Captain-America theme continues after Peggy leaves Steve and Howard staring after her endeavors to make it seem like their reaction is because they're impressed, rather than because they are stunned and dismayed as is far more likely.

And what's worse, this is not even the only time that the music disagrees with how the characters are acting in its haste to glorify Peggy and promote Steggy. Later in the movie, after Peggy kisses Steve without his consent, a happy little horn melody plays, even though it is pretty clear that the kiss upset Steve, and did not please him. The music seriously did a surprising amount of heavy-lifting for Steggy.

But in any case, this does help explain why so many people have no problem with Peggy assaulting Steve, and even see it as a good thing: the music is encouraging them to see it that way. This is yet another example of how influential framing can be.

[sebastianswallows]

Hello! Could I offer you a prompt? I often see fics about Ominis experiencing sight for the first time, but how about Slytherin!MC being the one afflicted with a temporary blindness, and now having to rely on Ominis for guidance, 'seeing' the world from his perspective? Maybe as a result of some unruly student's potion experiment? Thank you for your time and work!

Hello, nonny!

Thank you so much for an Ominis prompt! I love to write about this sweetest boy. And sorry this took so long, my dear 💚

Oh my though, I guess I don't read fics with him often enough, because I haven't noticed that many where he experiences sight. Not sure how I'd feel about those, because it... takes away from his character, sort of. I don't know.

Anyway! I have a fluffy little fic for you 😘 Hope you enjoy it!

I wrote it that it was all Garreth's fault, because of course.

— PAIRING: Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3.8k

She cursed Garreth all the way to the Hospital Wing. The classroom was left in deathly silence after the Gryffindoor’s latest experiment had literally exploded in her face. Professor Sharp seemed… worried, but not very shocked. Clearly, things like that had happened before — especially since Garreth had started studying at Hogwarts. For his part, the boy seemed horribly contrite, or so he sounded as he fretted over her. She suspected at least half of his regret was due to the inevitably harsh detention he had to look forward to — perhaps something even worse, if the damage to her eyes proved permanent.

As she made her way through the castle, leaning on Sebastian and Natty — who both insisted to go with her, the sweethearts — she could think of nothing else. She couldn’t see anything. The last thing she had seen was Garreth’s smouldering cauldron where he was pointing out the way a particular piece of snail shell was melting, and then a great big flash of green, then blackness. She had thought for a moment that she’d fainted, but then she realised her eyes were open. By the time they reached the Nurse, her heart was still pounding at such a frantic rate she thought she was going to be sick.

“Well, she’s blind alright,” said Nurse Blainey after performing a few charms.

“What did you think? That I was lying?!”

“I will wring Garreth’s scrawny little nec—”

“Watch your tongue, Mr Sallow.”

“Can you fix it?” asked Natty in the most politely-frustrated voice she’d ever heard.

There followed a long discussion about what had caused it, which required them to bring Professor Sharp there — who, to his shame, hadn’t exactly been aware of what his students were doing — then Garreth — who also wasn’t sure what had happened with his potion, but he could at least list the ingredients he’d used.

All the while, she waited there in silence, hearing voices all around, footsteps echoing close and far, and tense, worried conversations. The Nurse had placed her in one of the beds in the corner while they decided what to do with her. Natty and Sebastian stayed by her side, quarrelling over what potions they could brew to cure her until she had to tell them to shut up.

By the time classes were done for the day, the Nurse had reached the conclusion that Garreth’s failed experiment, while exceedingly dangerous, would not affect her sight for long. Only a few weeks.

“A few weeks?!”

“Yes, two or three. Four if you’re unlucky.” She could hear the woman shrug.

“What am I supposed to do for three weeks? How can I study? How—”

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re not our only blind student. I’m sure Mr Gaunt can be of some help to you during this time.”

She recoiled at hearing it. “I don’t want to be a burden to—”

“Nonsense,” said Sebastian from somewhere behind her. “Ominis would do it happily!”

“I would,” said the boy. A pause followed as everyone else realised he’d entered the room. From the sound of it, he was standing a few feet in front of her.

The Nurse was happy with this arrangement, which meant fewer responsibilities for her. Professor Sharp breathed a sigh of relief, after which he promised to write to her parents and inform them. Sebastian and Natty, meanwhile, were disgustingly supportive, trying all the while to cheer her up. She shunned all of them, and would only go back to the Common Room with Ominis.

“Do you wish to have dinner first?” he asked quietly as they walked out of the Hospital Wing arm in arm.

“I’m not hungry,” she mumbled. “…Wait, are you?”

Ominis chuckled. “Could send Sebastian out to the kitchens to bring us something… He would do it. Careful, stairs.”

They went down step-by-step, and all through the castle, and after what felt like too long they finally made it to the Slytherin Common Room. She knew she was slowing them down, and Ominis didn’t deny it, but he was supportive the whole way — and not in that fretful, exaggerated, compensatory way Sebastian and Natty were, and not in the anxious manner of Garreth…

If Ominis was worried about her condition, he didn’t show it. As cool and calm as the lake, as sturdy as the rock Hogwarts was built on, he was by her side from the first moment.

The first order of business, while Sebastian fetched them a late dinner, was for her to learn the echolocation spell Ominis used to walk around.

“No, don’t hold it pointing down,” he said as he guided her hand. “Straight forward is better.”

“But what if I stumble onto something?”

“The spell will detect it in time.”

“Well I’m not feeling anything yet…”

“Just… try to cast it harder.”

“Cast it harder? You’re terrible at teaching spells. I want Sebastian back.”

“Yes, well, Sebastian can’t cast it,” mumbled Ominis.

“What can’t I cast?” asked the boy as he dashed into the Common Room.

She could already smell ham and cheese and the salty-sweet aroma of cold sausages. Two plates clinked as Sebastian placed them on the table by the fireplace, where she and Ominis were standing.

“My echolocation spell.”

“Ah yes, can’t cast that,” he said, followed by the soft floof of him plopping on the sofa.

They didn’t make much progress on that first night. His wand was far more accustomed to performing it than hers — but the promise of being able to learn it helped her sleep that night, after an hour or so of crying in fear and anger.

Waking up the next day was disorienting. She felt herself wake, she felt her eyes open, but not seeing anything seemed so… unreal. She nearly panicked all over again. Being in the dungeons, there was no sunlight to feel on her skin to let her know whether it was even morning, but then she heard the other girls shuffling around the room.

Imelda led her to the washroom, and later helped her dress — and for once, she didn’t have a snarky thing to say.

“Must be quite a nightmare,” the girl commented in what she perhaps imagined to be a sympathetic tone. “Can’t imagine flying in this state…”

“Yes, well, thanks Imelda, neither can I…”

She was relieved to hear Ominis’ voice again when she came downstairs.

“Over here!”

“How did you know it was me?” she asked, arms stretched in front of her in what she was sure must’ve been comical.

“You have a distinctive magical echo.”

“Do I…?”

“And Sebastian told me.”

“Morning,” the boy grinned from behind his friend.

Still, Ominis must certainly have been good at detecting where she was, because she felt his hand cup hers within seconds.

“How do you do that?” she asked.

“Just followed the sound of your voice,” he smiled.

“It all sounds the same to me…”

“You might think it does now, but eventually you’ll find it’s easy to tell distance by sound… The whole castle has very good acoustics for this sort of thing, in fact.”

“You make it seem so easy,” she smiled, her eyes tearing up at the sheer scope of all she had to learn to just survive the next few weeks.

“I promise you’ll find it easy too,” said Ominis, placing his warm hand on top of hers as she held his arm. “Open fields, now that can be an issue. But inside, here? You’ll get used to it in no time.”

Sebastian followed them for breakfast, but walked at a bit of a distance, letting Ominis explain things. Going to the Great Hall was a bit faster today than going to the dungeons had been the day before. She walked a bit more confidently already…

Breakfast was spent learning more about judging distance by sound.

“Here, now you try,” said Ominis, handing her a jug of pumpkin juice and an empty glass.

He’d just demonstrated how easily she could guess when a cup was close to filling by the sound the liquid made as it was poured — from a deep sound to a high one. She filled it just the right amount.

“That’s very good!”

“Really?” she grinned.

Feeling around the plate with the cutlery was done easily enough, but finding out what each pile of food held relied more on her sense of smell…

“Ah, I… wouldn’t recommend that.”

“What did I just pick up in my spoon?”

“What does it smell like to you?” asked Ominis with a little smile.

“Mashed potatoes…?”

“Well, I just hope you like parsnip porridge.”

And getting food onto her plate presented another difficulty… A few sausages rolled away before she gave up and picked them up with her hands rather than the fork, her knife kept slipping and clanging loudly on the plate whenever she cut into something, and her fingers landed in mustard sauce more than once.

After a little trial and error and a bit more cursing, she finally managed to get something she really liked. She moaned with pleasure, but it was cut short by Sebastian’s giggling.

“Whot?” she asked with her mouth full.

“Nothing,” he said with an obvious smile.

“What did you take?” asked Ominis curiously.

“It’s a seed cake,” she said defensively. “Just a little syrupy, that’s all.”

Sebastian laughed into his fist.

“What?”

“Nothing!” he said again. “Just… always thought you hated spotted dick.”

“Ewww!”

By the time breakfast was over, she was more angry than upset. Ominis considered it an improvement — at least she wasn’t on the verge of crying anymore. He supported her elbow with his hand as they walked out together. When the sounds of students passing by got louder, he felt her clinging to him more.

“Don’t be nervous…”

“Oh,” she said, her hand relaxing, “sorry.”

“It’s not just that,” he chuckled. “I could hear your breathing pick up, and your footsteps too, as if you were stomping on the ground.”

“It’s that obvious?!”

“It is,” he nodded. “For instance, how do you think I feel now?”

She sighed, feeling completely at sea as they walked together to class, in a direction she couldn’t tell, surrounded by noisy students — and Ominis was testing her.

“I don’t know… Calm, I suppose.”

“Why is that?”

“Your voice is low, and your arm is steady, and… and I can hear you smiling when you speak.”

“That’s quite good,” he chuckled.

What Ominis didn’t say was that he also felt worried about her, and worried about how useful he could be in these following weeks, how good of a guide or a teacher… He thought that it was obvious from his clipped tone and his lingering silences, but was glad to be proven wrong.

The first class of the day was, predictably, horrible. They had Charms, and the girl could scarcely follow the instructions on wand movements, had no idea whether the egg she was given had been shrunken and enlarged according to instructions, and was left feeling around for it awkwardly in order to tell where it was.

“How do you even know where to point your wand?” she sighed frustratedly.

“That’s where the echolocation spell will come in useful,” said Ominis from beside her. “It’s not just the direction, but the depth as well, how far something is from you.”

“We have to practice that more,” she grumbled, waving her wand uselessly. “Undercroft, after class.”

They ended up spending every break in their schedule that day in their secret room, with Ominis placing random obstacles in front of her while she tried and tried and… finally succeeded in making her wand cast the spell. It was just before they had to go to dinner.

“I did it!”

“Not bad,” said the boy — and she could hear his voice approaching, could hear his steps resounding in tighter and tighter echoes. “The cast is still pretty weak though…” She could tell he had his hand in front of her wand, judging the strength of the pulse for himself.

“It’s such a strange sensation… I can feel the shape of your hand in mine, through the wand, but it’s…”

“It’s a bit blurred, isn’t it?” he smiled.

“Yes, as if… as if through a fog.”

“Well, I’ve never seen fog,” Ominis chuckled, “but I’ll take your word for it.”

They went to dinner together and this time she walked on her own, holding her own wand in front. She grinned at being able to sense Ominis’ own echolocation spell, like rings on the face of a lake meeting each other.

“Can you feel people’s features with this spell?” she asked quietly as they entered the Great Hall.

“Not particularly… The size of someone, perhaps, but it is not so fine as to tell you what somebody looks like.”

“Can you tell the difference between, for instance, Sebastian and Garreth?”

“Naturally,” he laughed. “Garreth smells of toxic fumes. Sebastian smells of Confringo.”

Although that dinner was still speckled with splashes of sauce and spilt pumpkin juice, each meal got easier as the week progressed. Her echolocation spell, as well, got stronger. She wasn’t exactly confident enough to run through Hogwarts’ halls, but she found it easier to avoid running into people — and not get bumped into either, as her hearing became better at picking up all motions around her.

Attending class was easier too. She soon learned how to take notes on her own, although she wasn’t sure when she’d get the chance to read them. Ominis taught her a neat trick of holding onto the inkwell and use her fingers to precisely dip her quill in it. To tell whether she’d taken enough ink, she could test it on her finger first and see if the tip felt wet.

“You’re sure you don’t want a self-writing quill?” he asked.

“I want it,” she said, but first I want to do this on my own.

Ominis smiled. “And keep track of the parchment too. Find something as a placeholder for where you left off. Don’t want to write on top of what you’ve already written.”

With his guidance, she mastered a fairly simple system of holding onto the parchment with one hand, finger poised on her last line, and then cupping the inkwell with the other before dipping her quill.

What she still had trouble with well into the second week was spellcasting.

“How… just… how?” she hissed, smacking her wand up and down during a particularly troublesome Transfigurations class.

She heard a subtle laugh, and knew that it was Ominis. “Having trouble?”

“How am I expected to transform this damned ferret into a feather duster when the damned thing keeps moving?!”

Ominis had mastered the spell quickly, she thought, as she could hear no more animal squeaks from his side. About half the class had finished, judging by the mix of sounds from satisfied students and ferret trills.

She felt a warmth approach her from the side. Ominis took gentle hold of her wrist.

“Here,” he said, “maintain the location spell, and do the motions of the transfiguration spell from your wrist.”

She tried it a few times, his hand constantly around her wrist.

“Listen to where the animal is too, don’t lose track of him in case he runs away.”

She grit her teeth and frowned, ready to give up, but with Ominis’s help, she finally managed to do it just before the class was done.

“Bloody annoying,” she sighed, dropping her wand to the desk and wiping her sweaty palm on her robes. “Thank you, Ominis,” she mumbled. “Doubt I could’ve done it without you…”

“You could have,” she heard him smile. “Just would’ve taken you longer.”

To help calm her nerves, the boy suggested they go for a walk around the lake.

They walked and walked until the sun set. They could feel it as the air cooled all around them, as the evening grew loud with nightbirds, as the grounds became silent with all the other students gone inside the castle…

It felt strange to walk beside Ominis like that, without a word, without a touch, only the quiet sound of his footsteps in the grass. The water of the lake lapped on the shore beside them in lazy little waves, stirred perhaps by the creatures underneath or the light breeze. It set her senses on fire to feel how different it was to have that large, cold body of water on one side, and the warm shape of Ominis on the other — because she could feel it, could feel every detail. Even the wet earth underfoot and the grass, the dead leaves and dry branches, they all had a scent of their own that filled her mind more than the mere image of them ever could. Although she missed her sight very much, she could not deny that she felt more connected to everything around her in this way…

Her hand reached out and took Ominis’s arm — his right one, where he held his wand. Not even needing to ask, he switched it to the other hand and held her palm in his.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, but from his tone, she could tell he wasn’t worried.

“No,” she said. “Just wanted to feel your hand.”

“Well, there it is,” he chuckled. “Bit clammy… Sorry about that. Always gets that way when I hold my wand too long.”

“Mine too,” she smiled.

Their fingers interlinked as they kept their slow walk around the edge of the Black Lake. A thought kept swirling in her head, and she was torn between giving voice to it or keeping it to herself. She didn’t know if Ominis could tell, but —

“What’s on your mind?”

— of course he could.

“How did you know?”

“I swear I can hear you thinking sometimes. It’s the same with Sebastian.”

She laughed, but said nothing.

“So?” he asked again. “What is it?”

Her hand tightened slightly around his. “I was wondering if you might seem to the touch the same way you look. The face, I mean, and all that…”

“Ah,” he said, his tone teetering somewhere between amused and nervous, “you want to try to… ‘see me’ with your hands?”

“Could I?” she asked, her face turning slightly toward him as if she could better detect how he was reacting to all of this.

“Only if I could do the same,” said Ominis with a tight smile.

They reached as far around the lake as the grounds permitted and sat together on one large, smooth rock. Beneath them, they could hear the lapping of the water, quiet and gentle, and owls hooting far off in the woods. It felt almost as if she were floating on air, cross-legged, far from the ground, with nothing surrounding her but the cool night.

They tucked their wands in their pockets and fiddled their thumbs, both too timid to start.

“Well, you asked,” said Ominis after a prolonged nibbling of his lips, “so you go first.”

“Alright,” she sighed, her mouth pulled up into a nervous smile.

She stretched her hands before her gently and was almost startled when they reached his chest. His school uniform was much like hers, a little rough, but well tended to. Moving upwards, she reached his neck, and quickly skipped it until she felt the smooth line of his jaw with both her hands. For no reason at all, her eyes closed. Perhaps it felt more peaceful that way…

His chin was delicate and pointed, leading up in soft angles to his ears. Moving inward, her thumbs traced his high cheekbones, his temples, his arched brows, then dipped delicately over his eyes — his were closed as well. She smiled as she tickled the surface of her fingers with his long lashes.

“Well?” asked Ominis. “Is there a resemblance?”

“I think so,” she smiled. “You look the way you feel.”

“Oddly poetic of you,” he chuckled.

Her hands slid slowly down his face, framing his slightly long nose, falling then to his lips, soft and full. She gasped at feeling them, noting things she never realised before: how delicate they were, how defined, and slightly dry… She traced down to his chin again when she felt them part.

“Yes, I suppose that’s you,” she joked. Her giggles filled the tense air around them. She could feel him smile against her fingertips.

“My turn now,” said Ominis.

She squeezed her hands in her lap as she waited, and then the boy surprised her by cupping her face and slowly bringing them together, covering her like a mask.

He felt her from chin to forehead, taking in the full plains of her features, before he began to touch them each in part. He brushed her eyebrows upward, traced the shape of her eyes, ran his finger delicately down her nose to the tip, and brushed his thumb against her lips while his other hand caressed a broad path from her forehead to her jaw. She felt very thoroughly known after this…

They walked back to the castle in silence, hand-in-hand. As they did, she noticed in herself a feeling of… peace, of not caring anymore that she couldn’t see. She missed the colours of everything around, of course, the beams of light, the peaceful glow of the Slytherin dorms, the star-filled sky at night, but she didn’t feel like she lacked anything anymore.

That made it all the more shocking when, three and a half weeks into her blindness, she began to see vague shapes of light. Ominis’ thin face bloomed into a smile when she told him. She could see it in spite of the cloudiness of her vision.

She still used the echolocation spell to get around, and breakfast became easier, but the blending of shapes and colours so overwhelmed her senses that often she would close her eyes when she wished to concentrate.

It was probably for the best, as she fell behind on her coursework and had never gotten to practice reading Braille with Ominis. Her notes, she now could tell, were atrocious, and her fingers were horribly stained even now.

As the days passed, her vision gradually improved, and by the end of the fourth week, she was almost back to normal. Her eyes teared, unused to all the details.

“Come now, no need to cry over it,” said Ominis with an awkward laugh. They were returning from another visit to the Hospital Wing, where the Nurse had checked her progress.

“I’m not crying,” she sniffled. “How could you tell, anyway?”

“You mean aside from your voice being all choked up and your breathing irregular? Just a lucky guess.”

“I’m just feeling… too much, I think.”

Ominis took her hand in his. “I know,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll miss it too.”

And she didn’t need to ask what he meant.

[honkytonkangel]

I-

ok so i looked up the imdb page for the fallout show and there's gonna be one character whose only name is "wife" and she will appear in one episode. who wants to bet that she's gonna die?? bc she's definitely gonna die. most likely for manpain. good to know the show's keeping the game's storytelling traditions alive!

[aziraphales-library]

I *love* any fics where Crowley is hurt incredibly bad and Aziraphale must save him or bring him back to health. I also LOVE fics that delve into trauma or mental health which stripes the characters of their mask and they must rely on someone/each other. Do you have any recommendations for fics that are either, or both? Happy endings are a major must for me, but I am open to any suggestions!

You'll want to check our #crowley whump, #hurt crowley, and #protective aziraphale tags for loads of fics like this. Here are some that may or may not have been recommended before, but mind the tags on all of these!...

Where's My Mind? by ebullience24 (T)

See, the thing is: Crowley is tall. His height had caused a few stares back in the days where the tallest man stood at five foot five. And, because of his height, one might be inclined to describe him as slender with spindly fingers and snake-hips. The pun is never intended on that last one but it stands true nonetheless. And Crowley would be likely to agree with these statements: he is tall and slender and spindly and snake-hipped. But what Crowley would be less likely to agree upon is the statement that he, Anthony J Crowley, is underweight. OR: Crowley has an eating disorder. Trigger Warnings now and at the beginning of each chapter.

Safe Haven by McRaider (T)

When Anthony Crowley stepped back into Aziraphale's life for the first time after eight long years missing, it became exceedingly clear with him came a world of trouble and heartache. But Aziraphale never could say no to his beloved Crowley. Can he help Crowley heal after a failed marriage, a gas-lighting ex-wife with an evil plan?

To Speak the Unspoken by ihamtmus (T)

“Uhhhh… Hi,” Crowley started lamely, scrambling to find a way to explain the situation as quickly as possible. His mind was refusing to work properly, thoughts slow as if doused in oil. He hadn’t really thought about what to say on his way here – he’d been too busy focusing on the getting here part before he would collapse. “I was wondering if I could… If I could maybe die in here, if you don’t mind..?” The expression on Aziraphale’s face changed abruptly, telling him that the angel did, in fact, mind. (In which a mortally wounded demon just wants to get somewhere quiet to die but his Adversary will have none of it. A story of how they both learn just how much they care.)

Death in Love by Aspirina_Effervescente & Cyanidechan (M)

After tempting a composer to fame and success, Crowley is cursed by his wife and tormented by her ghost until the end of his days. Aziraphale would do anything to save him, the only problem is that he doesn't know what's going on and, anyway, the problem could be much more complicated than it seems. Inspired by Giuseppe Tartini’s Sonata “the Devil’s trill”

Drops of Sorrow by EdosianOrchids901 (M)

Ten years after the failed Apocalypse, Crowley is captured by Heaven. Gabriel plans to use him as bait to lure Aziraphale into a fight. Can Crowley survive captivity, and will Aziraphale be able to rescue him without walking into the trap?

A Touch of Heaven by IneffableToreshi (E)

A despondent and defeated Crowley has been through the ringer, moreso even than his roommate, Newt, realizes. After a car accident puts him though a number of surgeries and a temporary - but terrifying - few weeks of blindness, the club owner wants nothing more than to curl up in his bed and refuse to move until things return to normal...or as normal as they'll ever be again. Newt - and his cafe-owning girlfriend, Anathema - have other plans. They think that Crowley just needs some care and pampering, so Anathema schedules him a special, off-hours appointment with a friend of hers who is a rather sought-after masseur. Crowley is hesitant and stubborn, but Aziraphale's soothing voice and comforting nature soon win him over, in more ways than one...

- Mod D

[mtkay13]

Wen Kexing and the most famous male Flower Queen of Jianghu, Su Yue!

And the handkerchief that triggered Zhou Zishu's first little jealousy crisis in TYK hehe. More info and the quote below!

Zhou Zishu knew deep down that he was right, but he still glanced at Wen Kexing’s handkerchief with disdain. It emanated some delicate fragrance, like cosmetics, with a cluster of orchids embroidered in the corner; small, yet exceedingly refined. Too large to belong to a young woman, and the design was too plain by far, yet if it belonged to a man… what kind of grown man would carry around something like this? He couldn’t resist shooting Wen Kexing a strange look. There was nobody else present, so Zhou Zishu teased him back directly: “I say, why do you have a young lady’s token? Could it be that you’ve got an embarrassing secret?” Wen Kexing had been carefully wiping away the coagulated blood and ragged clothing threads, but when he heard these words, he pressed harder and—expressionlessly—tore off the sleeve piece that had been stuck to Zhou Zishu’s wound.  Zhou Zishu hissed; his features contorted. Calm, as though nothing had happened, Wen Kexing replied: “This was a personal gift from Su Yue-gongzi, the reigning blossom of Yangzhou. You’d look less ignorant if you said a little less.” He straightaway ripped Su Yue-gongzi’s personal gift into strips and used them to bind Zhou Zishu’s wound.  Zhou Zishu didn’t know that Jiangnan had such liberal ways. Even in the capital of yore, thirty miles from the Full Moon River and ruled by the old libertine emperor at the height of his extravagance, nobody ever heard of a man being celebrated as a famous courtesan. Thus Zhou Zishu had spoken without thinking.

Chapter 13, translation by Lianzi. I really wanted to represent WKX enjoying some good time before the start of TYK, and not only through NSFW art (which I've done once or twice before). My desire here was to convey a peaceful atmosphere of WKX enjoying what he likes the most, good food, a beautiful man and the atmosphere of brothels. I have personal headcanons regarding his sexuality and relationship to brothels, and do feel like it's a calming, safe space for him. I'm especially happy with the color scheme, even though it's absolutely not what I initially planned to go with, and am glad with how the embroideries came out!

[captn-trex]

technical devotion, part seven: a new post

content warnings: none :)

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Kan was crouched in the far corner of her office when Rex knocked firmly on the door.

“Come in- AH!”

He found the cause of the shriek when he hurriedly opened the door and saw Kan laid out over the mess of her office, her hand clutched at her temple.

“You alright?” Rex asked, rushing over to help her up.

“All good just- ouch, yeah…” She revealed the trickle of blood down the side of her face, “Nothing a bit of bacta can't fix” She said with a toothy grin that looked more like a wince.

“Alright, sit down then, let me get you cleaned up” Rex said with a fond shake of his head. Kan was exceedingly clumsy, but he put it down to her excitable attitude, and she was too good at what she did to not keep around because of a few broken bits and grazes.

Kan did as the Captain said, and took a seat at her desk, retrieving the medkit from the drawer. Rex opened it up and took an antiseptic wipe to clean the blood from the small wound.

As Kan took a sharp breath in at the stinging sensation of it, she realised that Rex probably hadn't come to her office without reason.

“What had you seeking me out then Captain?” She asked with a grin, hoping for something exciting.

He almost laughed at her enthusiasm, “I've got a mission that's perfect for you, if you're interested, but I have a feeling you are”

Kan let out a self-deprecating chuckle, “I certainly am”

“Good” Rex smiled, “It's more of a… longterm thing really”

“Go on” She wheezed out at the feeling of the cool bacta hitting her wound.

“Sorry, should've warned you” He mumbled, pressing a bandage over the area, “I'll be posting you somewhere for a while. It's a hot-spot for imperials and we have intel that they're working on some kind of big technological development there. I want you to find out whatever you can, and we can potentially think about some kind of infiltration, but that's only once we know more”

“So I'll be spying for the most part?” She asked.

“Yeah, that sort of thing. I was hoping you could work out some kind of cover and talk to people under an alias or something like that, get the people to trust you, you know? That way you could get some really good info”

“Right, okay” Kan nodded, “Is it just me going?”

“No, I was thinking of sending someone else with you, either Gregor or Ech-”

“I'd like Echo to come” She said before he even got the name out. Rex narrowed his eyes at her with a skeptical look.

“Can I trust you to be professional if I send Echo with you?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“What? Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” She asked, puzzled at what he meant.

“Hm, you're right, I guess it's Echo I'd need to worry about in that regard” He relented in his scrutinising gaze.

“That doesn't make sense, Echo's very professional”

Rex chuckled, “Mhm, okay. Well then, I'll go let Echo know you want him”

Kan’s breath stuttered and her eyebrows raised at the way Rex phrased his sentence, and he smirked. She had reacted as he had hoped.

“Alright, maybe don't phrase it that way to him though” She laughed nervously, though she really hoped he was taking on what she was saying.

“Don't worry” He said, patting her knee with a knowing smirk, “I won't”

Kan watched Rex leave, and tried not to think about how much his words rang true.

Kan waited patiently aboard Echo's ship, kicking her heel gently against the cupboard as she sat atop the kitchenette counter once more. Her thoughts dwelled on the fact that she hadn't really let Echo have any say in the matter of whether he came with her or not, and she just hoped that he was willing of his own volition. Her worries were soothed when she heard him walking up the ship's ramp, and he smiled softly at her as he came into view.

“Hey there” Kan smiled back at him.

“Hey” Echo replied with as much nonchalance as he could muster. He was truthfully very happy that Kan had chosen him to go with her on this mission, but he was trying hard not to show the full extent of it, not that Kan would've minded.

Kan hopped down from her place on the counter and joined Echo as he walked to the cockpit. She sat in the co-pilot seat as he started up the ship's systems, bringing her knees up to her chest.

“Have you ever done a mission like this?” She asked.

“No, I haven’t” Echo shook his head as he brought the ship into the air and piloted it into the upper atmosphere.

“Cool. We can figure it out together then” Kan smiled, and Echo looked over at her. The expression she wore could've had Echo melting to a puddle right where he sat. She looked so hopeful and full of positivity that she was practically bursting at the seems. He let his own smile creep across his face.

“Yeah, I guess so” He focused on plotting the course they would be taking through Hyperspace, and once he'd finished, he pushed the lever to send them there.

He sat back in his chair and breathed out a long breath. He noticed that Kan was fidgeting about a little bit and looked over to her, then catching a glimpse at the bandage that had been hiding underneath her hair.

“Hey are you okay?” Echo moved from his chair and stood in front of her, brushing her hair from her forehead. Kan's eyes widened as she looked up at him, and her breath became shallow as she felt his fingers brush against her skin.

“I'm fine, yeah” She breathed out, “Just a scratch, nothing to worry about”

“What happened?” He asked, looking into her eyes with concern.

“I fell over” Kan looked away out of embarrassment, “Knocked it on something in my room”

Echo then realised he had let his knuckles rest against Kan's cheekbone and drew back quickly, “You should really be careful in there if you're not going to clean it up”

“Yeah yeah, whatever dad” She grumbled, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry” Echo chuckled sheepishly, retaking his seat.

“I'm just kidding, you're right” Kan shrugged a little as she looked out into the swirling blues of Hyperspace. Echo couldn't help but notice the way it reflected in her eyes, almost a manifestation of the wonder he saw swimming in them so often.

The dwelling that Kan and Echo were staying at was a simple abode; from the outside it looked as if it had been built room by room, smoothed sandstone walls clearly marking the distinctions between each area. There were windows cut from the stone, boarded up with wooden shutters and curtains being the only things that separated the inside from the out. It was in a quiet corner of the town, around the corner from a small park and secluded from the other houses in the neighbourhood.

Kan looked over the dwelling with delight. It was a lot more simple in its construction, but it reminded her of her family home.

“We don't have a lot of funds at the moment, but this was something that Senator Chuchi managed to pull together for us” Echo said, approaching the front door with the manual key in hand.

“I think it looks lovely” Kan said simply, following him inside after her unlocked it.

The inside was as charming as the outside. A wooden table and chairs sat in the centre of the kitchen, checkered tiles and light green painted cabinets lining the walls. Though her specialty was anything erring on the technical side, Kan marvelled at the distinct lack of it in the house. Echo opened the door that lead into what appeared to be a bedroom.

“I'll take this room, there should be another upstairs” He said, placing his bag down by the door.

Kan nodded and climbed the stairs, finding two doors along the short hallway. The first was the refresher, matching the kitchen in style, and the other was a bedroom. It held only a bed and chest of drawers, but Kan loved it. She placed her bag down on the bed as she heard Echo call up the stairs.

“There's some rice in the cupboard, and protein solids, are you gonna be alright just having that for tonight?”

“Yeah of course, anything is fine” She replied from the top of the stairs.

“Alright, dinner in 15 minutes then” He smiled up at her, moving away and not expecting it when Kan accompanied him to the kitchen. “You can get settled in, I've got this”

“Okay well… can I keep you company?” She asked, her head slightly tipped to the side.

“I suppose so” He answered, turning to the stove and flicking it on. Kan frowned a little. For someone who seemed awful sure of themself, Echo sure did evade giving a definitive answer most of the time.

Kan brought a chair out from under the table and sat with one leg tucked under her, the other curled to her chest while she rested her chin on it. She admired Echo's handiwork, watching as he found all the spices and sauces he could in the cupboards to make their meal more interesting.

“Echo, where did you first meet Rex?” Kan asked him.

“Um… He was the Captain of my old legion” He replied, placing the rice bag in the heater.

“You were in the 501st?” Kan sat up straighter and Echo looked back at her, noting the way her eyes had lit up at the mention of it.

“Yeah” He replied simply.

“No way, that’s awesome” She grinned, and he raised a brow at her.

“You’ve heard of the 501st?”

“Everyone has heard of the 501st” Kan said, almost brushing off his surprise. “Did you know Fives?” She then asked and Echo tensed up.

“How did you know Fives?” He retorted, genuinely curious as to how Fives could have met her and not him.

“I met him once on Coruscant. A close brother of his had died recently and he was pretty upset about it” She said, so unaware of the heaviness that her words carried for Echo.

He gulped, “Yeah um, that will have been me, I guess” Kan looked at him purely puzzled, and he turned back to his cooking as he continued, “Uh, I was presumed dead for a while, Fives was my closest brother, my twin, we were from the same batch” Kan could hear the solemnity of his tone and decided not to ask what had become of his brother.

“You were presumed dead? That’s pretty badass” Kan said with a tinge of awe.

Echo actually laughed at that, “I don't know about that, Fives was always the more ‘badass’ one of us anyway”

“He was an ARC right?”

“Yeah, we got promoted together”

“You were an ARC too?” Kan asked, leaning forward on her seat even more, if that was even possible at this point.

“Mhm”

“Woah, I had no idea you had all this exciting backstory Echo”

Echo found himself laughing again, and he was revelling in the fact that he was talking about his past, and it wasn't dredging up any unpleasant feelings. He was just sharing himself with another human being, and they were listening to him, eager to hear more. He finished cooking, and plated up the simple meal, placing one in front of Kan.

“Thanks Echo this looks great” She smiled broadly up at him and he took the seat opposite her as they began eating. “I remember Fives had a super cool design on his helmet”

“Mhm, the Rishi eel”

“That's what it was?”

“Our first assignment off of Kamino was at an outpost on the Rishi moon. The rest of our squad got killed there, one of them by the eel, Fives got it on his helmet to honour him” He remembered his brothers fondly.

Kan nodded, almost hoping he would go on, but he didn't. “What was your armour like in the 501st?”

“Uh… It was pretty standard to be honest, I had a handprint here” He imitated the placement of it on his own chest, “After Rex killed the Rishi eel he wiped a handprint of goo from it onto me, I just painted over the spot in the end”

“That’s cool, so you were kind of honouring your brother too” Kan noted.

“In a way, I hadn't really thought about it like that” Echo replied, once again enamoured by the way Kan could be so positive about anything.

The next morning, Echo awoke to the golden light of the sun filtering through the curtains from the window, and sat up in his bed, rubbing over his face with his hand.

He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stretched his back, feeling a tightness lingering there. He grabbed his headgear and slipped it on, before noticing that his chestplate was missing from the neat pile of armour in the corner. He frowned, slipping on a plain tunic and trousers, lacing up his boots and making his way into the kitchen.

He saw that Kan had opened up the shutters and had seemingly cleaned the space a little bit, and she already had an engineering project underway on the dining table. Echo saw Kan notice him as she walked past a window and went to intercept her at the door.

“Have you seen my-” He stopped talking as he saw her holding his chestplate with giddy grin plastered on her face. “What did you do?” He spoke hesitantly.

“Take a look” She handed it to him, turning it so he could see the new addition.

The chestplate now bared a red handprint, exactly where his blue one had been in the 501st. Echo's eyes went wide, and he looked back up to Kan, a warmth filling his chest at the touching gesture.

His pupils dilated and his breath shortened. The feeling that gripped him finally found its name, and as he looked at the newly painted armour, and up into the deep green eyes of the one who made it so, he realised - without question - that he cared for her deeply, and it certainly wasn't in any kind of platonic way. It never had been, and if he was being honest with himself, he had known the whole time.

He liked Kan.

Kriff. So much for keeping it professional.

“Kan… Thank you. This really means a lot to me” He said, his eyes conveying a deep emotion that Kan couldn't really decipher.

“It’s no problem, I think it looks cooler this way anyway” She smiled, “Take a look on the inside”

Echo looked inside, and turned it over to see that there was a small aurebesh 5 where his heart would be positioned if he was wearing it.

“So it’s like, he's there with you all the time, or something. I can remove it if it's too-”

“No. It's perfect” He looked at her with such feeling, he felt he could almost cry.

“Good” She smiled and moved away, beginning to talk about the mission, the reason they were here, but Echo couldn't hear anything over the quickened beating of his heart pounding in his ears.

[canarydarity]

(Happy Team Rancher week!! :D this is for today, the last day, AU fest. this is an au that I've had on the back burner for a while, but its for a ya book series I read in middle school and absolutely adore, and so I'm really glad I was able to finish this scene up and get it out here for the event!! The very basic premise is that Tango, Impulse, Skizz, and Etho are students at a teenage spy school. On their first ever field training mission, Tango meets Jimmy. Exceedingly, exceptionally normal Jimmy. Enjoy :) <3)

Hermitville looked as if every store-front was painted neatly on wooden slats and propped up from behind by a 2-by-4, its display perfectly weathered and distressed to look as if you could turn the cardboard handle and walk through the door of a family-run business, 75 years strong. But the fact was that you actually could do that—these were real stores in a real town, no matter how striking their resemblance to the set of every small-town-America movie in the world, ready to be broken down and disposed of to make room for the next.

The phenomenon was always made worse by how little Tango actually entered the town despite living 12 miles down the road from it. Its existence was just close enough to feel, parsable from the air like the scent of rain off asphalt, and simultaneously far enough to be alien to him, made all that much weirder by its small town charm, suffocatingly mundane and unconditionally normal. No strings, no contingencies, no Christmas dinners interrupted by last minute covert missions to foreign embassies. 

There were string-lights hanging between the lamp-posts, it was cute. Tango felt unbelievably itchy. 

The comm in his ear crackled. “How ya doing up there, Legacy?” 

Skizz sounded like he was enjoying himself entirely too much. It made Tango grumble a little under his breath, not caring if it was loud enough for the comm to pick up or not. Maybe if he was lucky, the others would attribute it to static. 

Or maybe they’d attribute it to Etho, giving he whined back, “I hate that code name.”

“Okay, Prodigy.” Tango cut in, knowing Etho would hate that one equally as much if not more. What could he say, he gets bitchier when he’s grumpy, and wandering around in the cold stuck in the state of perpetually failing his first CoveOps mission was certainly doing it for him. 

“Tang—”

Maybe he went a little too hard, though, if he got Etho to break protocol and use his real name over what technically counted as a confidential communications outlet. Oops.

“Tango,” Impulse interrupted—not overly-peeved enough at his friend to use his real name, just equally as hopeless when it came to CoveOps to the point he likely forgot they were supposed to be using code names in the first place. “Where are you, I lost you again.” 

Tango didn’t have to turn around and face the direction he’d last seen Impulse to be able to picture the frown that he absolutely wore. Besides, that would give up his cover, and staying hidden—unmemorable, ignorable, unnoticeable, any of those were fine—was just about the only field trait Tango had. 

“Over by the bank, Impy.”

“Well, wave your arms or something.”

Tango nodded at an old lady who was walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of him, glaring like they were in a store and Tango was sweating carrying too large and heavy a bag as he suspiciously made his way toward the door. She glared harder at his attempt of being polite and turned her head away as they passed one another by. Tango just really couldn’t get enough of that small town charm. 

When she was behind him he dropped the grin and responded, “That kind of defeats the purpose, now doesn’t it?” 

What could’ve been a break of static but was probably Impulse groaning cut through the comm and Tango winced. At least he was good at getting passed by, he imagined Impulse was failing to do even that at the moment. “Well, how am I supposed to follow you following Doc if—”

“He’s flipping,” Etho cut in, and Tango didn’t glance to the left at the park where Doc—their certifiably batshit insane countries of the world professor—was currently using every trick he’d ever been taught on how to lose a tail; not that he knew he was being tailed, he was just that vigilant. Constantly. Cause that was how every normal and well-adjusted person lived their life. 

Instead, Tango kept walking the way he’d been going, stopped to look both directions before crossing the street, approached the closest vendor and bought himself the first thing on the menu without stopping to look at what it was. 

Why on Earth Professor Beef thought the best way to ease them into the field of Covert Operations was to assign them to tail their most paranoid and least sane staff member was beyond him. He could imagine what Beef would say if Tango dared question this decision of his out loud: well you don’t have to get it, you just have to do it. Yipee, he was so glad to be taking this course. 

He couldn’t look for Doc, so he looked for Etho instead. He scanned the street, the sidewalk—hell, even the rooftops—but there was no sign of him. He was that good. 

Show-off, Tango thought as the vendor whistled to get his attention and he turned back with a smile and a thanks accepting a corndog. Nice. 

Tango headed off again, this time towards the park, the direction Doc had been going in, presumably, before he’d flipped. He saw Skizz amidst a sea of letterman jackets, smiling and laughing and miming throwing something with his hands; the crowd he’d accrued laughed with him, boys of all shapes and sizes slapping each other on the arm and guffawing over a guy they would all swear later that they’d had to have had a class with at some point. 

Their methods were different, but it was undeniable—mission one, and Skizz and Etho were good at this. They’d all known they would be. 

Tango wandered around for a while longer, ate his corndog and listened to the chatter of his fellow operatives over the comms, always keeping their updates on Doc’s position in mind and staying busy as he steered clear enough as to not get noticed but close enough he could keep his options open should an opportunity arise. 

In theory, the mission was simple: what soft drink did Professor Doc like to drink with his funnel cake at the Hermitville fall carnival? In practice, it was a lot harder than it looked. They’d all been students of Doc’s for almost 5 years, and while this meant they might know him well enough to predict his patterns in what was maybe a reasonable way, it also meant he knew them well enough to call out their first and last name if he spotted them—and to skip the questioning portion of the interrogation in favor of going directly into doling out detentions. 

This was their professor who used a trusted—and highly confidential—surgeon to give him a new face before the start of every school year for the sake of avoiding some long list of threats still interested in apprehending him that he constantly alludes to but never explains. And Beef wanted them to tail him. It’s not like they had any chance to succeed. And Tango was missing Below Deck for this.

The carnival was beginning to thin out, slowly, by the time anything interesting had begun to happen—at least to Tango. The square had one of those large metal things that looked like a lamp-post but actually had a giant clock in the center, and based on the last time he’d seen it and his impeccable internal clock, it could only be nine-fifteen p.m. It was like this place couldn’t get any more boring if it tried. Tango couldn’t stand it. Tango was jealous. 

He was cutting through the alley behind the town’s lonely diner, heading towards Skizz’s last known location, and was about to throw a line out over the almost eerily empty silence of his comm when Skizz spoke first. Something about the sound of his voice nagged at Tango, and it occurred to him before he opened his mouth to respond that he’d heard Skizz speak out loud, not directly in his ear. 

A second later, and it wasn’t just Skizz. At the first raise of Doc’s voice, Tango stopped walking and leaned as hard as he could into the brick. “I don’t even want to know how you got out and—actually, how did you get out?”

Tango only spent a moment questioning whether or not he was about to make a mistake before he leaned towards the edge of the alley until he could get enough of a picture of what was going on. Doc’s back was to him—thank god—but Skizz and Impulse were done for, the two of them sitting on a bench before their increasingly irate professor. Skizz was at his most diplomatic, sitting still and face severe with the kind of look that said I am listening to you and I understand. Impulse was cringing so hard at the having-been-caught that his left eye looked swollen shut.

Skizz raised one of his hands to halt Doc’s tirade—a risky move, but if anyone could pull it off it was Skizz. “Professor, if you’d just let me explain—”

“Explain what!” Tango winced with his friends in solidarity, even though he wasn’t the one getting reamed. “You’ve been following me for thirty minutes, which means you have to be—wait,” Doc said, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him. “Wait a minute—where’s Beef?”

Tango watched as Skizz and Impulse—spies in training, yes, but still teenage boys at heart—shared a look with each other that gave away exactly what Doc needed to know. Skizz said: “Why I don’t know what you could mean, Professor, we were just—”

“Oh you—” From behind, Tango watched Doc shake his head to cut Skizz off, and then he did something kind of miraculous: he turned and tossed something—something shining and made of brown glass, something suspiciously bottle shaped—into the closest trash can. “Go on, now. Back, back to where you came from.” 

Tango stared at the garbage that couldn’t be more than twenty feet from him, even as Doc herded two of his best friends off of the bench and on into the night, the vague direction of the mansion; in his peripheral Skizz turned to glance at Doc and open his mouth, one more attempt at reason, before Doc departed one more and I’ll be giving you an extra credit assignment to really complain about. 

Tango honestly wasn’t even sure they were out of sight by the time he left the wall and the relative safety of the alleyway, not even considering the risk as somewhere inside he reeled at the thought it couldn't possibly be this easy. As he crossed the street, half of him expected to get scruffed by the back of his shirt and dragged all the way to his dorm, the other half expected to look inside and find the bottle to already be gone, even though his eyes hadn’t left the can, and for Etho to wander out of some shadow with it already in his hand. But the street was blessedly, amazingly quiet the whole time Tango made his way over. 

The garbage can was mostly empty even though the town had just had a carnival—because of course it was, towns like this probably didn’t produce any trash at all, Tango should’ve goddamn known—meaning Tango had to brace one of his arms on the lip of the metal can and hop slightly with his other arm outstretched to grab the bottle and pull it safely out of the trash. 

The condensation had made the paper labeling start to peel away in places, but the brand was still, for the most part, entirely legible—their mission was complete, and by Tango no less. He couldn’t wait to get back and rub it in Etho’s face. 

Tango tossed the bottle in the air and caught it, mood turning around for the first time all night—not even the 12 mile walk home in the dark could daunt him now. 

He turned around to begin his trek and found himself instead frozen immediately to the spot. 

There was a boy. 

Across the street, paused in the middle of the sidewalk and staring right at him, was a boy. And he’d seen Tango. 

Tango, whose only natural talent in CoveOps was going unnoticed. Tango, whose codename was cipher, after a joke Impulse made about his tendency for hiding in plain sight. Tango, who’d just rooted around in the garbage for someone else’s trash. 

The boy stopped to look both ways before crossing the street, even though it was now almost 9:30 pm and seemingly passed town curfew by how empty it’d gotten. There were no cars by sight nor by sound on this road or any of the surrounding blocks, but the boy looked to his right, then his left, then his right again before stepping off the concrete and onto the asphalt. There was even a moment of pause when his foot touched down on the road, and a slight furrow to his brow that had Tango imagining him thinking but there’s no crosswalk here! 

A better spy might’ve done something else—found the closest out, used the perfect excuse or expertly timed joke—but Tango just stood there, and watched the boy approach. 

“Hi there,” he said, a slight Virginia twang to his words that really drove home the all-American look about him, the swoopy blonde hair and lithe but athletic build—perfect for winning throws at football games or moral-gathering posters of government propaganda. 

“Do you….dig through trash cans often?” The prom king illusion shattered immediately as the boy cringed and shook his head, descriptive adjectives like polished becoming more awkward, perfect turning into endearing. “No—that sounded rude, I’m so sorry, I meant it as more of a joke, really…an unfunny one, I guess.” The rounder part of his cheeks pooled, filled deeply with blush. 

Tango opened his mouth, unsure what he planned to say, but then the boy went, “Oh my gosh, not that I judge that—or, well, maybe a little. But I—I’m sorry, and I shouldn’t, that’s wrong and, and—“ he paused abruptly, his head clearly moving faster than his mouth, the level of disaster that was this conversation running away from him and seeming far worse than it was when it’d started. 

“There are nicer trash cans, even,” He said when he opened his mouth again, and Tango nearly lost his mind, turned his laugh into a cough and wondered if all exceedingly normal people were so…cute. “Closer to the center of town. I can…show you where those are instead, if you prefer?” 

Tango couldn’t help his smirk. “You offering to take me on a tour of the nicer trash cans in town?” 

“I—“ Tango watched the boy's face buffer as all the things he just said caught up to him, and he looked down, bashful. After a moment, he smoothed out the embarrassment like wrinkles on fresh sheets and looked back up at Tango confidence renewed. “That or a milkshake, maybe?” 

The boat had stopped rocking, they’d made it to solid land, and the conversation righted itself and worked its way towards something normal—or at least, what Tango thought normal was supposed to look like. He’d never been asked something so simple as would he like to get a milkshake with a cute and utterly mundane boy. 

Things that Tango most definitely was not. His cover, on the other hand…

Right, his cover. In a logical and completely sane move, Tango blurted out, “I have a cat.” 

The boy blinked a blink that pushed his whole head back an inch from its force. “Ex…cuse me?” 

“I have a cat,” Tango repeated, begging his brain to fill him in on the rest of the reasoning behind why he said this particular thing at this particular moment. Were cats deathly allergic to milkshakes, or something? Well, screw his imaginary cat, Tango wasn’t! 

He said: “She…likes to play with bottles. I kinda grab them whenever I can.”

“Etho!” He added, and then mentally slapped himself upside the head. This was precisely why he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near field work. “That’s my cat’s name, yup! Mhm, so, I’d take you up on that, but—“

“But you have to get back to your cat?” The boy said, his cheek bunched under one of his eyes like he wanted to believe that but had heard one-too-many a ridiculous excuse before and wasn’t quite sure. 

“Exactly.” Tango let out a breath. Jesus Christmas this was hard—where the hell was Skizz when Tango needed him? Oh, right. This was not at all how the night was supposed to go.

Conversation lapsed, but Tango failed to notice his opportunity for an out. The spy in him knew deep down that this was his chance to leave, to apologize for the lack of a milkshake and laugh off the fumble that was their interaction and begin his long walk back to school, knowing by the time the boy god home he’d forget all about having met Tango at all; the teenager in him stared at the freckle at the inner corner of the boys left eye. 

“Sorry, you’re new around here, aren’t you?” 

Tango continued staring. This was the third time the boy had apologized. 

“What makes you say that?”

“I’ve lived here…all my life?” His voice lilted higher at the end, almost like he was posing a question rather than making his case. “Everyone here has lived here all their life and I’ve…never seen you before.”

Tango has too, in a way. Home was a complicated concept for a spy; he may not be one yet, but his parents were—he knew enough to understand. It wasn’t like his childhood went untouched from the transient nature of spy work, a suitcase and go-bag always ready by the door. Even if he was the one being left and not the one doing the leaving, Tango knew flexible, he knew inconsistent. 

For years his most stable constant had been school, his mom in the headmasters office, Skizz Impulse and Etho. Where was home but here? 

He couldn’t say that, that wasn’t the cover. After years of being told I’ll be back soon with no indication of when soon was and little clarification of back from where and absolutely zero certainty that was something that could be promised, Tango resented lying. He wasn’t meant to be forming covers—he was meant to be locked in a lab somewhere, but one term of CoveOps at the start of sophomore year was a requirement. A requirement Tango would have to get through. 

Tango had never seen the boy before either. He didn’t know how to respond. 

“But, hey, I guess I’ll be seeing you around? At school?”

“No!”

The word was short and sweet, one syllable, something if the rampant apologizing was any indication the boy had not insignificant experience hearing. But his head tilted on the axis of his chin, lilting higher into the air and away from the middle of his chest—the dog that thought it’d heard a word it knew and was trying to determine if it was of the good or bad variety. “…No?”

Tango cringed. Probably visibly. “I’m…homeschooled,” was the lie, this time. 

“Oh, alright,” Tango hoped the drop in his tone was disappointment and not disbelief. He hoped the boy blessedly naive of the ways Tango was being false and not incorrectly assuming him indifferent to their chance encounter. 

Unwilling to bet on the chance and deeply reluctant to do what he knew a good spy should—remembering too many holidays gone remiss, and birthdays of the ill-get-you-next-year variety—Tango said, “I’ll be around, though.” 

The boy brightened, one of those artificial lamps that mimics sunlight where sunlight doesn’t reach, from darkness to light in mere seconds—like it was simple, easy. Ill so readily forgotten. 

“Good,” the word was delivered with an amicable nod. “Better get home to Etho, then.”

There was a moment of pause as Tango prepared to exclaim Etho?!? Suddenly in fear that he’d somehow found the one normal boy who wasn’t normal at all and was actually some sort of enemy spy, Tango accidentally blubbering his way through giving up national secrets he didn’t even know he knew—and then he remembered what he named his fake cat. 

“Right! Etho, yes…right, gotta get back to,” —had he given his fake cat pronouns?!— “yup! Okay, bye then.” 

Tango turned with great effort, his eyes shut and the rational part of his brain begging him to get a grip, his hands clasped tightly around the slightly icky with condensation bottle of soda that he’d come here to claim and by some miracle had. He hadn’t gotten more than a step or two away before the boy called, “Hey, what’s your name?” 

And Tango made possibly the stupidest decision of the night—despite all the competition, that’s pretty impressive, he knows—and called back, “Tango.”

“It was nice to meet you Tango!”

Tango smiled over his shoulder at the boy, walking backwards down the road he’d been so cautious to cross before, wanton joy on his face and something Tango didn’t dare to name, hands in his pockets. “You too,” Tango laughed. 

“My name’s Jimmy, by the way!”

The comm in his ear crackled to life after too long staying suspiciously silent before Tango could do anything about that, and he heard what he knew to be Etho saying, “Cipher, meet me at the corner of Pine and Cherry.” 

The sobering bucket of ice water dumped on your head after a particularly rough all-nighter, Tango felt his nerves wake up one by one; his spine was suddenly straighter and everything a little more on edge than it’d been a few minutes ago. He resisted the urge to scan the roofs and the streets and the shadows. He ignored the shame that said he just got caught doing something he shouldn’t have been; he kind of already knew that, but something in him also wished this had just been for him. Bye Jimmy, Tango thought in reply before saying, “Yeah man, on my way.”

Forget milkshakes and normal boys, Tango had some bragging to do. Other than to resent lying, if there was anything being the child of spies taught him, it was how to mask disappointment. 

He turned the corner toward Etho without looking back. 

[delimeful]

Defender

warnings: bickering, theoretical violence, that's basically it this one's fluffy

Part 8 of MC AU!

-

“And you’re sure that this will prevent the village’s valiant defender from attacking Anxiety on sight?” Roman asked, visibly concerned. “Absolutely sure that there won’t be hitting or striking or slaying of any variety?”

Logan disliked repeating himself, and this would be the third time he had done so, hence his rapidly waning patience. “Yes, Roman. I’ve been researching this exact matter for weeks, and I’m very confident that my alterations to the iron golem’s runic carvings will prevent it from targeting Anxiety. I had to perform a similar adjustment for my own person when first creating the golem, as well.”

“Alright, alright,” Roman relented, though when Logan turned away, he could see the adventurer shoot the iron golem a wary look. “I’m just a mite concerned for Tall, Dark, and Spooky, that’s all. I mean, have you seen how bony that guy is? A single punch would practically bowl him over!”

“I think you’re underestimating him,” Logan replied, absently hoping that Roman didn’t notice the way he was triple-checking the images in his reference book and the runes painstakingly carved into the iron golem’s armor. “Endermen are far more durable and far more dangerous than they look.”

A brief stretch of silence, and then he paused his work again to lift his head and elaborate: “Not that Anxiety is a danger to us.”

“Pat’s got us well-trained, huh,” Roman mused, as though he hadn’t just been fretting over the enderman in question. “I swear, one day he’ll bring the Ender Dragon home, and we’ll all just have to adapt to it just to make the guy happy.”

“Please do not speak that into existence,” Logan replied dryly, brushing away some stray metal shavings as he stepped back from the village’s golem to look over his work. “I have no doubt he would be the only one even capable of such a thing.”

Roman hummed in agreement, coming to stand by his side. They surveyed the updated runes together for a long moment.

“And this won’t prevent it from realizing that other endermen are still potential threats?” Roman asked, an eyebrow raised at the complex interwoven symbols. “That’s a pretty specific condition to set for a construct, Specs.”

“It is,” Logan allowed. “Luckily, I am an exceedingly skilled witch.”

The brag earned him a snort and an eyeroll, both gestures a far cry from the wariness that had marked the beginning of their strange enemies-turned-friends dynamic.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop pestering you,” Roman said, lifting his hands up in a gesture of faux-innocence. “But if Anxiety gets punched into next week by one of those metal tree trunks your golem calls arms, I reserve the right to say I told you so.”

Logan sighed, the noise coming out far fonder than he wanted it to. “Very well. Though, I will remind you how many times you’ve gotten to exercise that particular right over the course of our friendship.”

He wasn’t in the habit of being wrong, especially because letting Roman say ‘I told you so’ to him would be galling beyond belief.

Roman grumbled wordlessly for a moment, before turning on his heel to lead the way back towards the small clearing near Patton’s house. “Regardless, I maintain the right! One of these days, your hubris will be your undoing, and on that day, my powerful intuition and sense for danger will triumph!”

The adventurer accentuated this particular claim by immediately getting his boot caught in a stray pumpkin vine, tripping, and nearly eating dirt.

“Doubtful,” Logan replied with poorly-concealed smugness, preoccupied with carefully replacing the golem’s lodestone and observing it shuffle back into awareness. He paid no mind to the indignant muttered complaints growing fainter behind him.

Once he was satisfied that nothing was amiss and all the inscribed runes were still properly lit up, he turned to follow Roman, beckoning to the golem to follow.

Now came for the nerve-wracking part: ensuring that the runic alterations would take proper effect, something that could only be done by introducing the two.

It was a relatively short walk to the clearing, and once they were close, Roman picked up his pace to sprint ahead and let Patton and Anxiety know that the first test of Logan’s handiwork was about to begin. Since the golem was relatively slow unless agitated, Logan remained behind, walking slowly at its side to keep it on course.

By the time they reached the clearing, everyone was prepared. In Anxiety’s case, perhaps even over-prepared, going by the characteristic ozone scent that cropped up whenever the enderman teleported too many times in a small space. Roman’s apprehension must have unsettled him as well— they did call him Anxiety for a reason, after all.

Concealing a sigh, Logan stepped forward into the clearing and to the side to make way for the construct trailing behind him, clearing his throat as though everyone’s gazes weren’t already locked on his approach. “Anxiety, our iron golem is right behind me. If it locks onto you and begins to move quickly, teleporting a chunk away should be far enough for it to calm down. It won’t harm any of us, as I’ve said before.”

There was an otherworldly hum of acknowledgement, and he noted that Anxiety had settled in front of Patton, rather than behind. By now, everyone had become well-adjusted to making sure to avoid eye contact with their easily-agitated friend, but usually, Anxiety still showed a clear preference for teleporting directly behind any one of them.

(Personally, Logan believed it was at least in part due to the way Roman would always shriek in startlement when Anxiety appeared behind him. Their unusual enderman was difficult to parse at times, but his penchant for mischief wasn’t particularly hard to pick up on.)

This test must have had him truly on edge. Logan turned to watch the golem lumber into the clearing, keeping his own posture forcibly relaxed as he mentally prepared to do damage control if this little experiment failed.

The iron golem drew to a stop a few steps in, its field of vision sweeping over all of them, and the moment stretched. It then made a grinding stone-on-stone rumble inquisitively, as though curious as to why all of them were so tense.

The sigh of relief was audible, even in Anxiety’s warped voice. Logan adjusted his glasses and only barely refrained from flaunting his success over Roman in the name of keeping the current peace. “Anxiety, you should be safe to approach, and I encourage you to do so. If you’re able to interact at close range with the iron golem, that should confirm that each and every one of the adjustments have set in properly.”

Anxiety warbled, teleporting back and forth a few blocks as he often did while nervous, and Patton reached out to give him a supportive pat on the arm.

“This is the one who was looking out for me before I met you,” he told Anxiety, offering an encouraging smile. “I think you two will get along well!”

Anxiety was quiet for a moment, and then walked forward on spindly legs, approaching the guardian with all due tentativeness. The iron golem tilted its head upwards to look at the enderman, making another rumble as it swung its arms back and forth absently, entirely unconcerned with what would normally be a serious enemy to it.

Anxiety ‘vrrp’-d back at the golem, circling around it in an unsteady circle, like a bee around a flower. The golem turned in a slow rotation to follow the enderman’s movement, still languid and unhurried. It painted a rather cute picture, if Logan was honest.

Patton clapped his hands together in glee, happy that they’d managed a successful interaction. Somehow, Logan was reminded of the first time he’d introduced his familiar to Patton’s pet cat. The felines’ resulting tolerance of each other had earned a similar reaction.

“There we have it,” he concluded, satisfied with a job well done. “Anxiety is no longer at any risk from the town’s guardian.”

Roman sidled up next to him, apparently content to ignore Logan’s somewhat self-satisfactory tone. “You know, if you’d told me this was what I’d be helping with a month ago, I wouldn’t have believed you for love or diamonds.”

“Yes, well, I could have said much the same at many points over my acquaintanceship with Patton,” Logan replied, watching as the iron golem slowly offered Anxiety a poppy, as though confused as to why the enderman was still persistently bobbing around it. Anxiety seemed immediately charmed by the gesture. “By now, I suspect I’m growing rather used to it.”

“At least I handled our newest friend better than our first meeting, hm?” Roman said wryly, and Logan exchanged an amused look with him. “Maybe I’m getting used to it, too.”

A few yards away, Patton was still practically jumping for joy. He turned to the two of them, beaming. “Now we can introduce Anxiety to the rest of the village!”

The look they exchanged this time was far more alarmed. “Patton, I’m not so sure that’s the best idea…”

Across the clearing, the iron golem tilted its head curiously as the enderman next to it abruptly teleported a fair few blocks away to hide behind a tree.

Huh. Seemed the latest and strangest addition to the village was shy.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (Part 25)

Tw: Some harsh words from Yves, homewrecking allegations

short chapter guys

damn yall this was originally suppsoed to be a "yes" option, but beyond 21 voted yall voted for a 'no', guess u guys still simp heavily for Yves to sacrifice entertainment

but 2 be fair, the outcome is pretty similar to this

emjouy

Part 26

"Well done, (name)." He praised, not out of malice or sarcasm, but out of genuine proudness. Yves was happy that you've been engaging with your critical thinking, that is something Yves does not witness very regularly.

You felt a load taken off your shoulders, finally, you have done something right today. That has to quell some of his anger, right? You hope.

You sighed and asked him if there was anything you could do for him now.

"I would very much appreciate your company. Your first class will begin 25 minutes later, I would love to hear your voice until then." His sensual, caring demeanor is back. You are so glad to hear him purr again. You agreed much to his delight.

You looked at Evangeline as she stared at you expectantly. You shook your head, gesturing that Yves does not wish to talk to her.

However, Evangeline did the unthinkable and snatched your phone out of your hands. You gasped, trying to grab it back, but all she did was pull it away from you.

She pressed the Speaker button so that you could also hear the conversation between her and Yves.

"Hello, Sir Yves? Yes, this is Evangeline. First of all, I would like to say (name) is a wonderful friend! They are also very lucky to have you as their partner."

Yves did not reply. You gave up trying to take it back, you paced around while letting her deal with the mess she created.

"Secondly, I am thankful that you have allowed my father to work alongside you. You have treated us well and we are grateful for that."

"Are you finished?"

Her blue eyes widened in shock, taken aback by the unexpected animosity from Yves. She cleared her throat and said yes.

You heard him pouring something into his glass.

"I find it quite interesting that you chose to forcefully take the phone out of their hands. You chose to switch their speakerphone on without consulting me beforehand. What was your rationale behind them?" She stiffened up a bit but eventually composed herself enough to provide a coherent answer.

"Well, I have been noticing that you and (name) are going through a rough patch. So, I offered to be a mediator. I was trying to create an open environment with adequate space for communication between (name), you, and I."

You are not sure how to feel about Evangeline's formally chatty side. You know this will not end well, because she did not once say an apology.

"Evangeline. I have worked with your father for years. I fully expected him to have taught manners. At least, fundamental ones. But I was proven wrong today by your audacity." Her smile completely dropped off the face of Earth, now replaced with a neutral but somber look.

"Deepest apologies for my offenses, Sir Yves," she spoke with clarity.

"How dare you attempt to meddle in our relationship, manipulate (name) into thinking you're helping, but all you did was nothing except drive a wedge between us? How dare you invade our privacy and touch (name)'s personal items without their permission? I am exceedingly disappointed with you, Evangeline. You were taught better, I am in disbelief that you have decided to disgrace yourself like this. To disgrace your father's name." Your jaw drops to the ground as you hear Yves dish out his scoldings to Evangeline. She seems to take it like a champ, though.

"I am sorry, sir Yves. I don't know what has gotten over me." She replied to his devastating verbal blow.

"I do, Evangeline. You take pleasure in appearing as the savior to everyone. Your intentions were never to mend or strengthen my bonds with (name), it was completely self-serving." Her gaze was downcast as soon as he told her his thoughts.

"You are too undisciplined, too careless to consider the consequences of your behavior. All was done in favour of feeding your inflated ego. You're selfish." He spat.

"You're right. My apologies. I will do better." You looked at her, she smiled back at you as if she's having a friendly conversation about the weather instead.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the rumors surrounding your homewrecking tendencies have their merits." She gasped at his remark. You did too.

"Sir Yves, I... I don't think it's fair for you to--"

"Stay away from my (name)." He interrupted her, mid-defence.

"Dear, turn the speakerphone off. I would like to talk to you in private, please." Yves reverted his tone back to the honeyed version that makes you weak in the knees, in a good way.

You did as you were told and brought the phone back up to your ear.

"(name), I do not like Evangeline nor do I trust her." Your eyebrows shot up in shock, you don't get to hear him express his disdain for someone so directly. Not even Montgomery received such hatred from him. "I want you to reduce the time spent with her."

You were expecting him to tell you to cut her off entirely, seeing that he suspected you were cheating on him with Evangeline earlier.

"I allow you to remain acquaintances, solely because you still need a degree of social interaction each day to maintain your health. You don't have friends on campus other than Jones's daughter."

The last point reminded you how awkward you are.

"It's not good to isolate yourself, (name). Even if it is just for a few more days." He added. "I would prefer it if you could befriend other students. Perhaps even join a club. But in the meantime, if you cannot help it, go ahead and interact with her. Remember not to take the friendship too far."

You told him okay.

"You still have 20 minutes left, (name). Tell me about your dreams last night." You thought it was an odd prompt. But regardless, you looked up and started to retrieve patchy memories of what you witnessed in your slumber. You began giving him the gist of it, then slowly built up until the conclusion.

That was all you remembered. You don't know what else he wanted.

"That's fascinating, dear. What do you think it all means?" You hummed and spewed out your theories, no matter how strange, idiotic, or random it is, Yves enjoyed listening to it. He was recording everything down, noting that you managed to take his bait.

Eventually, you found that you couldn't stop blabbering from topic to topic. It felt nice to let out your true thoughts, even the most atrociously boring ones-- these are things that you refrained from telling Evangeline about because you think she's probably not interested. Yves is like your journal and you still to this day could not comprehend how his influence managed to make you bleat like a goat. Like you had no shame.

The thought of Evangeline completely slipped your mind. You walked away as a chatterbox, A bag of now cold fried chicken and waffles in one hand, a phone in another.

The blonde watched you slowly disappear into a building where your class would be. Her lips are pressed into a thin, fine line. She pulled her phone out of her tote bag and unlocked it, dialing a number that you might have seen before.

[littlemessyjessi]

I feel, deep in my bones, that one could summon fae!Felix by repeating that bit he does in Topline thrice over in a mirror: BOM DIGI DIGI BOM BOM BOM BOM and maybe it works faster if you try to 'go deep' with it... or maybe this is just stuck in my head in an audio stim kind of way and I live in the land of delulu

A Guide to Summoning Your Faelix: AKA Faerie Felix / the most sweetest thing in the world.

FAE FELIX?

Ok!

SO let's do this!

First, we'll need to set the mood. Obviously, we're gonna need blue. It is his favorite color. Even though poor baby was recently heartbroken because the color analyst told him that blue doesn't work for him. Even though OBVIOUSLY that is incorrect! He is gorgeous in blue. Precious baby. How dare they? Unacceptable.

So, I just feel like it's absolutely NECESSARY that we include blue for the baby chick. Fuck them color swatches.

NEXT! Brownies as an offering. Non negotiable. Here is his recipe. Enjoy. They are fantastic.

Third.... we must call on the spirit of Bang Chan for he can always find his Lixie. Plus, he's our resident source of Lixie information. If he doesn't know, he'll figure it out for us. Bang Chan for President.

Now, it's time to get down to business. This is very serious. Set the lights. Turn on the music. Look in the mirror and say it.

Put all the bass you got in your voice and ..... POOF!

Congratulations! You have completed your very first summoning.

Now, let's discuss care for your Fae Felix.

First and foremost, he is going to require lots of love and affection. If you do not feel as if you can provide adequate love and affection for your Faelix then please reconsider.

If your Faelix does not receive adequate time, care and affection then he will cry. And subsequently, I will come to beat your ass.

BECAUSE HOW DARE YOU! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! DON"T YOU DARE MAKE THIS BABY SUNSHINE CHICKEN CRY! THIS MEANS WAR!

And! I'm telling Minho! And he'll help me whoop ass. So be prepared and think about that when moving forward with your Faelix.

Minho is watching...

Always watching.

Perhaps, a Hyunjinnie would be more suitable for you or perhaps a Minho. They still require love and affection but they do understand that everyone needs alone time.

Though, if you do choose to summon Minho... god help you.

If you have an aversion to copious amounts of physical displays of love and affection, PLEASE AND I AM BEGGING YOU... do NOT summon yourself a Changbinnie. He WILL be giving you his love and you WILL like it.

Fair warning.

But back to Faelix.

Now, please remember that your Faelix can handle some spice but not exceedingly so.

Be mindful of his dietary needs.

If not he'll scream.

On that note, you are going to need to stock up on rice cakes. Trust me. And probably fried chicken. Just do it.

It is also important to note that your Faelix is also sensitive to scary things so he's not likely to be a horror movie buddy for you. If you really, really, REALLY want him to... he'll do it to make you happy. However, he will basically turn your room into a nest at night and cover you with cuddles all night long... because he's scared to death. Poor Lixie. You will have a much better experience if you pick a comedy or action. He'll still cuddle you (if you want it) but it won't be out of fear. And nobody wants a scared Lix. He deserves to be happy.

Also, on this note of Fae Felix. Just so you know, you're not supposed to give fairies your name. No matter how much they beg.

However, Felix is literally the one that you could tell anything and he wouldn't use it against you. You're secret is safe with him. As is your soul.

Now, in summary : It's all important but here are your TOP 3 to remember!

Number One: Please provide adequate love, affection and care for your Faelix.

Number Two: Please mind his dietary needs and plan accordingly. Give him whatever he wants. Or else he is going to become insane.

Number Three: The Final and Most Important Rule of All

Remember that Minho is watching... always watching.

He sees all.

He knows all.

I know, You know, We know, Lee Know

Thank you for coming to my presentation and have a nice day.

Please help yourself to a treat on your way out. We're serving brownies. Obviously.

..............

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this crazy tangent of mine and thank you so much for sending it in!

Love, K

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