#i just remembered that a feline friend of mine YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE

[muckyschmuck]

THAT unemployed friend at 4:27 pm

[woniedarlin]

A Tale of Crushes and Clumsiness: Yang Jungwon

pairing: crush!Jungwon x clumsy admirer! reader

synopsis: Jungwon, with his feline eyes and adorable dimples, was the subject of your biggest crush. Who could blame you? So, you frequented the local library, just hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But one day, in a bold move to get a closer look, you ventured closer, unaware of the chaos your clumsiness was about to unleash.

warnings: Jungwon likes physical affection, a little suggestive, injuries such as a bruise and a broken leg.

note: I decided to make this one inspired by a friend of mine who is very clumsy. As you read, remember that the physical descriptions may not mirror to your own, but the essence of the story remains heartwarming. Happy reading darlings!

caution: Reading may cause a sudden urge to visit your local library and fall in love with the nearest charming bookworm.

Jungwon was the kind of guy everyone in your small town admired. He had a presence that was hard to ignore—loving, handsome, humble, and a gentleman. The kind of guy you’d see at an airport, exchange a fleeting glance with, and then spend the rest of your life wondering about. His kindness and the way he treated everyone with respect only added to his appeal. Together with his popular friends, they were somewhat of local celebrities.

You had more than just a little crush on him. In fact, you harbored the biggest, fattest crush imaginable. You’d never admit it out loud, though. It was easier to admire him from afar, to steal glances when he wasn’t looking, and to dream about what could never be. Confronting him and confessing your feelings? It was out of the question.

You’d convinced yourself that he was way out of your league. Jungwon deserved someone who was as poised and perfect as he seemed to be. And you? You were the embodiment of clumsiness. You had a knack for tripping over your own feet, spilling drinks, and generally making a mess of yourself. You couldn’t count the number of times you’d embarrassed yourself in front of others. How could someone as composed and well-liked as Jungwon ever notice you, let alone like you?

Dude, you don’t even know if he knew you existed.

  One particular afternoon, you’ve found your usual spot in the library, a secluded corner where you can quietly admire Jungwon from a distance. He’s at his favorite table, surrounded by a fortress of books, his concentration unbroken. You watch him with a small smile, appreciating the way his brow furrows in thought or how he occasionally scribbles notes with quick, precise movements.

Today, though, your heart races more than usual. You crouch down beside a shelf, peeking through the gaps to get a better view. Just as you’re about to lose yourself watching him, his eyes suddenly meet yours.

Panic surges through you. “MAYDAY!! MAYDAY!! HIDE! ”Your mind screams. In your frantic attempt to duck out of sight, your elbow bumps into a stack of books. They tumble to the floor with a resounding crash that echoes through the library.

Your face flushes crimson as you scramble to pick up the fallen books, mortified by the spectacle you’ve just caused. You silently berate yourself, wishing you could disappear into the floor.

As if things couldn't get any worse, you glance back up to find Jungwon standing right in front of you, a bemused expression on his face.

You freeze; the embarrassment is overwhelming. Your cheeks are probably an incriminating shade of red. The books in your arms seem to mock you with their titles, "The Art of Subtle Obsession: Hidden Emotions."

You want to sink into the floor right now. He's so close now, his eyes fixed on you. Why does he have to be this good-looking, anyway? And what's with that small smile on his lips?

Jungwon can't help but chuckle, his gaze fixed on you, taking in every flustered movement you make. He watches as you pick up the books and arrange them back on the shelf, each move as uncoordinated as the last. Oblivious to his eyes on you, you continue your efforts with a clumsy haste.

It was endearing, he thought. You were a walking contradiction—equal parts cute and awkward in a way that was undeniably endearing. The way you moved, the way you blushed, and the way you tried to hide your awkward, flustered presence.

Without so much as a greeting, Jungwon extends a hand, a silent gesture for you to stand up. His voice is as melodious as it always was.

“Let me help you with those,” he offers, a hint of warmth in his eyes.

You nod, speechless with nerves. As you accept his hand, a rush of sensations floods through you—the warmth of his skin against yours, the gentle pressure of his fingers, the soft yet firm grip that makes your heart skip a beat.

A moment passes, and Jungwon finally breaks the silence with a soft, melodic chuckle. It's not one of mockery. Instead, it's filled with understanding and warmth.

His eyes sparkle as he speaks, and his voice is gentle. "You know, you could have just come up and said hello. No need for the impressive 'book-falling Olympics' exhibition,"

“What? ”You tilt your head, your heart skipping a beat. Does he know that you were staring at him like a creep?

Jungwon smiles with a knowing gleam in his eyes. "You've been staring at me," he says bluntly, the corners of his lips curving into a wider grin. There's no accusation in his voice, just a casual acceptance.

You freeze, your face flushing an even deeper shade of crimson. It's impossible to deny it. He's caught you. The books in your arms can't hide your secret crush on him.

Amusement dances in Jungwon's gaze as he catches your confusion. He carefully takes the books from your arms and puts them back on the shelves accordingly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You must think I'm completely dense, don't you? I've noticed you peeking at me, you know," he teases, his tone light and friendly. "I've seen you trying to steal glances every time I'm here at the library."

The admission makes your cheeks burn. You feel incredibly exposed, as if he'd pulled back the curtain you'd hidden behind. You stammer, trying to find a coherent response that doesn't make you sound like a total stalker.

“Oh, I’m really sorry. You must feel uncomfortable with the way I stare at you,” you mumble, looking down at your feet.

Jungwon's smile only grew as he gently patted your head. "Uncomfortable? Not at all," he reassures you. His laughter is as melodic as ever. "Quite the opposite. I think it's endearing how much you like watching me. It's flattering, really." His voice is like a gentle melody that washes over you, each word a comforting balm to your nerves. He's not creeped out; he isn't upset. He thinks it's cute!

“I don’t mind your staring. Really. It’s harmless admiration, right? Besides, I understand how hard it is to look away when the view’s so captivating,” Jungwon says, giving you a smile, his dimple showing.

“After all, isn’t it normal to appreciate something beautiful? Like you, for example. You’re quite the stunner yourself. Even when you’re trying—and failing miserably—to fly under the radar.”

“Beautiful? Me? ”You blink at him repeatedly, unable to process his words.

Jungwon chuckles, seemingly amused by your surprise. “You don’t think you’re beautiful? ”He questions you, his gaze roaming over your face. “I happen to disagree. Your skin is radiant, your eyes sparkle like precious jewels, and your lips…” He trails off, his eyes lingering on your mouth for a few beats too long.

“Everything about you. Stunning.”

He pauses, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Should I go on? ”

“I don’t know what to say, to be honest,” you manage to stammer, still reeling from his compliments.

Jungwon grins, clearly enjoying the banter. “You don’t need to say anything. The blush on your cheeks speaks volumes,” he teases, his eyes soft and warm. “It’s nice to know I can make you blush, though. Not many people can do that, you know.”

He reaches out a hand, gently fixing your bangs. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, like a kitten, all flustered and fuzzy.”

You muster a bit of courage and respond, “You look like a kitten yourself, and you should know that a lot of people admire you too. Not just me.”

Jungwon shakes his head, his cheeks coloring slightly under your words. "Flattery will get you everywhere, you know. Keep it up, and you might just win my heart," he says in a half-joking manner, clearly touched by your compliment. "In all honesty, though, I've gotten more than my fair share of attention. But to have yours? Someone as fascinating as you, quietly watching me from the sidelines? That's a different kind of thrill."

His words make your heart flutter, and you feel a smile tugging at your lips. “Really? ”

“Really, really,” Jungwon confirms, his grin widening and his eyes sparkling with warmth and honesty.

“The way you secretly watch me, it’s adorable. The way you tried to hide from me just now with those books and ended up making a cute mess? I could watch you blushing and fumbling all day,” he admits, a playful glint in his eyes.

You can’t help but chuckle nervously at his words, feeling both embarrassed and flattered by his observation.

“Is it weird that I’d love to be the object of your focus? Your ‘fascination’? You’re just different. You see me in a way that makes my heart race,” he continues, his tone sincere and genuine.

He looks directly into your eyes as he smiles, his dimple deepening and his gaze unwavering. “So, how about we get coffee together? I’d love to hear more about you.”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you blush, nodding in a fast manner. “Yes, I do,” you manage to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungwon's smile widens into a cheerful grin, his eyes lighting up at your agreement. “Perfect!'' he exclaims, holding out a hand for you to take, ''There's a quaint café not far from here. The coffee's the best you'll ever have, and they bake the most delicious pastries. Let's go; I'll even pay.” He gently intertwines his fingers with yours, his touch light and warm.

  For months, you get to know Jungwon on a deeper level, just as he is getting to know you. You two would spend time together, often finding yourselves back at the library where it all began. Sitting closely together, it became a habit for Jungwon to hold your hand underneath the table while both of you lost yourselves in books or even shared a book, your heads close together as you whispered and laughed over the pages.

Today, it was Jungwon’s birthday. He had a small gathering planned with his family and closest friends, but he also wanted some alone time with you afterward. You were confused by the request, but since it was his special day, you complied. He wanted to visit you at your house to celebrate another birthday on the same day, in your own space. So, you told him to come at 7 p.m.

Your place was a disaster. Specifically, your kitchen resembled a war zone, splattered with flour and batter. You were in the midst of attempting to bake a strawberry shortcake for him. You knew it was a risky move—having no experience in baking—but you were determined to make something special, knowing Jungwon’s fondness for strawberries. Panic set in as the clock ticked closer to 7 p.m., and you were still adding whipped cream and fresh strawberries on top of the barely baked cake. It was a messy affair, and you felt like a complete novice.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  Your heart sank. The cake looked hideous, and you, yourself, were covered in flour from head to toe. You place the cake on the dinner table, putting candles and lighting each. You had no choice; you didn’t want to keep Jungwon waiting. So, with a guilty face, you hurried to the door and opened it, bracing yourself for his reaction.

There he stood, looking handsome in a casual shirt and jeans. His smile widened as he took in your appearance, the mess of flour on your cheeks, and the guilt on your face. But instead of mockery or disappointment, all you saw was affection and warmth.

“Well, don’t you look like a walking piece of art? ”He teased, his tone light and playful. “The artist at work, I suppose? ”

He stepped inside, his grin never wavering as he took in the state of the kitchen and the messy cake on the table before wrapping you in a tight embrace.

‘’…don’t hug me. I’m a mess. Your clothes will get flour,’’ you said, worried, attempting to push him away gently.

Jungwon laughs, unaffected by your warning. Instead of pulling away, he holds you even tighter, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His laughter vibrates through you, tickling your skin.

“Oh, you sweet, considerate soul,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your neck.

Jungwon chuckles, his hands gently squeezing your waist. “It’s okay; I don’t mind a little flour on my clothes. Besides, you look adorable like this. A tiny little baker with a big heart.”

He pauses, his eyes filled with warmth. “But mostly, I just wanted an excuse to hold you close, kitten.”

‘’Well, happy birthday, Jungwon,’’ you say softly, feeling a warm rush of affection for him.

Jungwon’s smile widens at your words, happiness shining through his eyes. “Thank you, kitten,” he whispers, holding you close with his arms wrapped around your midriff.

“But I should be the one thanking you,” he adds. “You put all of this effort into baking me a cake, and you look so darn cute while doing it. I’m a lucky man.”

He presses a gentle kiss on your neck, relishing the closeness between you.

You look at the cake, feeling a bit sheepish. ‘’Um.. Wanna blow out the candle? ’’

Jungwon follows your gaze, his eyes landing on the messy, lopsided cake with a single candle on top.

“Absolutely,” he grins, his eyes filled with delight.

He gives you a wry smile. “Let’s pretend I didn’t just see you light it a few minutes ago.”

He pulls away from the hug slightly, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as he leans forward towards the cake. With practiced ease, he blows out the candle, his breath sending a gust of air that extinguishes the small flame. As he does, he murmurs a silent wish, the corners of his lips lifting into a soft smile.

Jungwon stands back up, his arm still wrapped around your waist. He looks at you with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with affection. He rubs his thumb over the small of your back, a gentle gesture, before he speaks again.

“Well done, little baker,” he chuckles, a teasing lilt in his voice. “That cake might be a mess, but let me tell you, it’s the sweetest mess I’ve ever seen.”

He reaches forward, gently swipes some batter off your cheek, and pops his thumb into his mouth with a wink.

“And quite appetizing too.”

You giggle, feeling a rush of warmth at his playful antics. ‘’Now you got flour on your clothes,’’ you point out.

Jungwon shrugs with a mischievous smile, his gaze never leaving your face.

“Who cares about my clothes? They’re just going to end up on the floor anyway,” he says cheekily, raising an eyebrow and giving you a suggestive smirk.

“More importantly, I’ve got you, kitten. I’m happy as long as I’m in your company.”

You blush at his words, feeling a flutter of butterflies in your stomach. Unable to meet his gaze, you hide your face in his chest, feeling his warmth and steady heartbeat comfort you.

Jungwon lets out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the room. With one arm still wrapped around your waist, he uses his free hand to gently tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his.

“Don’t hide that adorable blush, kitten. It’s one of my favorite sights,” he murmurs. His thumb strokes your cheek delicately.

“Besides, I’m quite enjoying this hug.”

‘’Well, since I kind of screwed up the cake, is there anything I could do to make up for it? ’’ You said, tilting your head.

Jungwon chuckles, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he looks at you with a fond gaze. “Kitten, the cake didn’t turn out the way you hoped, sure. But it’s still a sweet gesture and the most adorable thing I’ve seen in a while. Besides, you did your best, and I love you for it,” he teases, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your hip.

“Honestly, the sight of you in this outfit, covered in flour and looking utterly cute, is more than enough compensation. But if you really want, maybe you could be mine. That would be the best gift ever.”

‘’What? ..’’ you said, feeling a rush of surprise and warmth.

Jungwon laughs softly, realizing you might not have completely grasped the depth of his words. He gently cups your face with one hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheek.

“I’m talking about us, kitten,” he murmurs, his voice low and tender. “Be mine. Officially. Be my partner, my other half. I know it’s a bit sudden, but I can’t hold the feeling back anymore. I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

‘’Of course…I..I’d love to,’’ you said, your heart racing with joy and love.

Jungwon’s eyes widen slightly at your unexpected response; the surprise is soon replaced by a wide, radiant smile. His eyes shine with happiness, and his dimples deepen as he pulls your body closer to his, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He pours all his emotions into the kiss, the love and affection he feels for you overflowing like a river breaking free from its dam.

He pulls away slightly, breathless but elated, a look of adoration in his eyes.

“I love you, kitten. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

‘’I love you too,’’ you said, feeling like the luckiest person in the world to have him by your side.

Jungwon beams at your words, his eyes lighting up with joy and relief. He presses a series of soft, tender kisses all over your face. He whispers the words “I love you” between each kiss, each declaration punctuated with a brush of his lips against your skin.

  You two fell deeper in love with each passing day, building a serious and meaningful relationship that brought joy and fulfillment to both of your lives. You reached milestones together, including meeting each other’s parents, a moment that was truly beautiful and heartwarming. Jungwon adored your clumsiness, seeing it as a charming part of who you were, but he also worried about you, especially when you got injured, whether it was a small bruise or a more serious mishap like when you broke your leg after misstepping on the stairs. He was by your side at the hospital, his heart aching with worry and fear, his tears flowing as if he were the one in pain.

Today was like any other day, filled with plans to spend time together. You had decided to bake cookies at your place, but as you prepared to start, you realized you had forgotten the flour. With a sigh, you began to put on your shoes, intending to make a quick trip to the grocery store. Jungwon offered to come with you, his concern evident in his eyes, but you reassured him that you could handle it on your own.

“Don’t worry, baby! I’ll be here in no time. It’s just flour,” you said with a smile, trying to ease his worries as you opened the front door.

As Jungwon watched you open the door, a slight frown creased his forehead. Being protective of you was second nature to him, and he couldn’t shake the worry that something might happen during your quick errand. He tried to suppress his concern, however, not wanting to come off as overbearing.

Giving you a small smile, his eyes still tinged with worry, he spoke softly, his voice laced with concern. “Be careful, kitten. Take it easy and text me if anything happens.”

With a gentle squeeze of your hand, he reluctantly let you go, his heart heavy with worry, until you returned safely home.

Jungwon knew he should trust you, but his worry was overpowering. It had only been five minutes since you left, but he was already getting sick with worry. Glancing anxiously at the front door, he couldn’t shake the images of worst-case scenarios playing out in his mind—what could happen to you on the way to the grocery store, at the store itself, or on the way back home? He doesn’t want his kitten to get more injuries.

After a moment of not-so-careful thought, he immediately put on his shoes and dashed towards the grocery store. His heart raced with each step, the fear of something happening to you driving him forward, determined to find you and ensure your safety.

As Jungwon rushed towards the grocery store, his heart pounded in his chest. He tried to keep his thoughts positive, hoping that you were doing fine and that he was overthinking the situation. But no matter how much he reassured himself, he couldn’t shake the worry that something was wrong. Reaching the grocery store, Jungwon quickly searched for you in the aisles, his gaze fixated on the shelves and the people passing by. He called your name, scanning the place for any sight of you, his anxiety growing with each passing moment.

“Kitten? Kitten? Where are you? ”He called out, his voice tinged with urgency, his heart racing as he desperately searched for any sign of you amidst the bustling store.

As Jungwon’s voice echoed through the store, you were oblivious to his calls, lost in your own world at the back section, scrutinizing the sacks of flour on the shelves. Your focus was solely on choosing the right one, unaware of the worry creeping into Jungwon’s heart as he searched for you.

As Jungwon walked through the store, his eyes darted from aisle to aisle as he called out your name, but he couldn’t find you anywhere. Frustration and worry grew within him, but he refused to give up. He finally reached the back section of the store, and there you were, standing in front of the shelves, completely engrossed in choosing flour.

A wave of relief washed over Jungwon as he saw you there, unharmed and safe. His heart finally began to settle, and he immediately closed the distance between you.

He approached you slowly, standing just behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. He let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing as he rested his chin on your shoulder, making you flinch at the touch.

“Kitten,” he whispers, his voice muffled by your hair. “You scared me. I was so worried. I thought something had happened to you.”

He tightened his grip, his concern evident in his touch. “Kitten, I’ve been searching for you everywhere. I was so worried. Why weren’t you answering my calls? ”

‘’Baby? Why are you here? ’’ You said in shock.

Jungwon tightens his hold, his fingers splaying against your stomach.

“Why do you think, kitten? I was so worried. I couldn’t stay put, knowing you were out there alone. I had to see you safe,” he mumbles, his voice filled with relief and concern.

He presses a series of soft kisses on your cheek, his breath slightly shaky. “Promise me next time you’ll bring me with you. Or text me the whole time.”

‘’Ok.. I promise,’’ you said, feeling a rush of warmth at his caring gesture.

Jungwon nods, his embrace relaxing slightly, but he still keeps you close, his chin resting on your shoulder. His fingers gently rub circles on your stomach, a soothing gesture.

“Thank you, kitten,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss on your neck. “I’m glad you’re safe. I love you, you know that?”

‘’I love you too,’’ you said, feeling the love and warmth in his words wash over you.

Jungwon turns you around to face him, his gaze soft and loving. He cups your face gently, his thumbs brushing over the contours of your cheeks.

“I love you with everything I am; you know that? Seeing you safe has eased my worries. Now, let’s get that flour and head back home. You got anything else on the list, kitten? ”

‘’Well, just the flour. Let’s purchase this first,’’ you said, feeling grateful for his presence and love as you both continued with your errand, knowing that you were always there for each other through thick and thin.

Jungwon nods, giving you another heartfelt kiss before taking your hand into his.

“Alright, let’s grab that flour and get out of here. I can’t wait to get you back home.”

He leads you to the checkout counter, carrying the chosen bag of flour, his grip on your hand never loosening. Once you’ve paid, you both leave the supermarket, walking back towards your home.

“I was so worried,” he admits, his grip slightly tighter on your hand as you walk.

‘’You might be overreacting,’’ you tease him, enjoying the playful banter between you.

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, a sly smile tugging at his lips. He bumps his hip into you playfully. “Am I? Maybe. But I can’t help it. You’re just so clumsy, kitten. Can you blame me for being so worried? ”He teases, his tone filled with affection.

As you both walk, Jungwon rolls his eyes, but a small smile plays on his lips. “Hey, you never know! You’re the biggest magnet for trouble I’ve ever seen. I just couldn’t sit there doing nothing while your cute little butt was out there somewhere. I don’t exactly want to see my wife injured again. The hospital traumatized me enough.”

‘’Wife? ’’ You said, surprised by his choice of words.

Jungwon chuckles at your reaction, his smile growing wider. “Of course you’re going to be my wife someday, aren’t you, kitten? ”He murmurs, his fingers tracing soft circles on your cheek.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he continues. “The wedding, the ring, our future. I don’t want anyone else. I’m madly in love with you.” He presses a tender kiss on your cheek.

‘’I’m madly in love with you too, my husband,’’ you said, a playful glint in your eye.

Upon hearing your remark, Jungwon’s cheeks flushed, his heart skipping a beat. “Oh, so I’m your husband now, huh? ”He teases, his eyes sparkling with affection. “Is that so, kitten? ”

He laughs. “Guess I have to live up to the role, huh? I’ll be the best husband ever,” he whispers, his voice soft and tender.

He gently tugs you closer, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss, full of promise and affection. He holds you tightly in his arms, knowing that this is just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

  As you walk hand in hand with Jungwon, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not as clumsy as you thought—you just needed the right person to catch you.

[yourlittlebunnyy]

fawn -tamlin x reader

masterlist

summary: Y/n is the youngest Archeron sister. The Cauldon trasforms her into a fairy, and there's only one certain thing in her life: she doesn't belong in the Night Court.

warnings: slightly suggestive, Tamlin (haters step back🙏🤺)

wc: 5,5k

enjoy😉

The Cauldron made you a fairy. A fairy. You scoff at the thought. Nesta has become death itself, Elain a seer. You a stupid, little, useless fairy.

That day, when Fae warriors came into your and your sisters' home and forced you into that place, you never thought you would end up with pearl-colored wings and be able to talk to flowers.

You've always been shy, you've always made yourself small in front of others, and when they threw you into that pile of magic, the Cauldron was generous, in the telling of your sister's lover.

"You went in last. It could have given you nothing, as it could have killed you, but it gave you wings. And flowers, plants, and everything a fairy possesses. You shouldn't pout." But you never asked for that.

When they pulled you out everyone's eyes were on you. How could they not? They had never seen such a thing. Sure, the Cauldron could turn a mortal into a Fae, but a fairy?

You didn't look anyone in the face that day, or the weeks that followed.

"I would like to learn to fly," you once said to Azriel. He replied that he could not teach you, that the fairies belonged to the Court of Spring and that even there they were so rare and secretive that no one knew anything about them.

"But you have wings, too. You just need to teach me how to move them. Please."

Azriel shook his head, a neutral expression on his face.

"I can't. Besides helping you support its weight, your wings are shaped differently from mine, they are smaller and more fragile. I cannot put your life in danger." The authoritative tone makes it clear that the conversation is over. You would have hoped to find a friend in him. Instead, every time you try to talk to him, his gaze has only coldness to offer. Perhaps all his warmth-which doesn't seem much to you at this point-is reserved for Elain.

So, for you, the days go on with no clear meaning. You are not allowed to leave the house, and you can only afford to observe Velaris, such a beautiful city and full of life, from the balcony of the house.

When Feyre returns, you thought for a moment that things would finally change. That she would convince someone to help you get to know your new form, your new being. But you were okay, sure, you were a little confused, but you were living. Elain was much sicker, and all your sisters' priorities belonged to her.

You found comfort in Lucien instead. A charming, red-haired Fae who had lived in the Spring Court for years. That's how you became friends: no one would take you into consideration, and you were desperate for some information, some help. And Lucien fortunately seemed to have answers to your questions.

"I remember you. That day, I mean." You and Lucien are playing chess. It is rare that you talk about that day, but sometimes it happens. You don't care much, talking about it with him has helped you in the past, "Actually, I don't remember much. I remember what Tamlin reminded me of."

Now that's new. Never once had the Fae told her about his High Lord turning his back on her sister. She knew something about it, but she didn't know the whole story.

"Did Tamlin recall to you about that day?" She asks a little incredulously. Lucien nods and tightens his lips, makes a move with a chessman, and a feline smile lights up his face.

"I think...," he freezes for a moment, as if to think carefully about his next words, "he's playing some kind of double game, with Hybern. To get information. He's a good male, only sometimes he struggles to show it."

You feel a twinge in your heart. You don't know why, you should be furious with the man who took your life to give you this. The man who hurt Feyre so deeply. But the way Lucien talks about it, with so much regret....

You are sitting on the armchair in your room, already wearing your nightwear. You have a book in your hands and are completely immersed in reading, so much that you don't hear someone's footsteps outside your door. You gasp when they knock. You place the book in the small coffee table, and you don't bother to fix yourself: Lucien had told you he would come by and deliver a few things before he leaves Velaris for good. You get sad at the thought.

When you open the door you find not the familiar face, but Feyre's.

"Hey." She greets you. You return the greeting and wait for her to tell you why she is here. Although your new life started off on the wrong foot, feeling ignored by your family and useless, everything healed over time. Now the relationship between you and Feyre is closer than ever, Nesta is doing well, Elain is working on it. You have also learned to accept your sister's Fae friends. You even talk to them from time to time.

"I'm sad that Lucien is leaving. Especially for you" You nod, you know there is something else she is not telling you, "You know how much I told you about the High Lords meeting? I'd like you to come too, if you feel like it." You don't hesitate when you say yes. Your sister told you that not everyone had confirmed their attendance, of whom Tamlin. And she did not tell you about what happened with him. But something inside you urges you to go and meet him. It's for my being, you think, I just want answers, that's why I'm so impatient.

That night you struggle to sleep. At dawn you stop tossing and turning in bed and start getting ready, by now you give up: you won't rest that night anyway.

"You look wonderful" Feyre's words make you smile. She takes Azriel's hand, and in the blink of an eye they transmute into the palace of the Court of Dawn.

After greeting the others politely, you realize that Tamlin is not coming. You do not understand the reason for the disappointment you feel. Perhaps it is even better, so you avoid any awkward situation that might arise with your sister and Rhysand.

The meeting begins, and it is just as you start to disassociate yourself from the High Lords' boring talk that Tamlin appears.

He is alone. You don't remember him from that day in the Cauldron. But he is as you always imagined him. His blond hair reaches a little below his shoulders, clearly unkempt. His green eyes remind you of the blossoming plains. His skin tone is a rosy tint, his facial features delicate, almost princely. He is the very definition of spring, you think. He is a beautiful man, and you understand why his sister was once in love with him.

The silence in the air is tense. Tamlin looks at each person and takes his time with each one. And when he gets to you -- you feel his gaze run through your body, but you ignore him. You make a mistake, though. You look up too soon and meet his eyes. And now the thing is clear as day to you, what you feel in the center of your chest.

A bond.

Tamlin is your mate.

His expression turns surprised, his lips tight and his jaw contracted. He doesn't say anything. He moves on to the next person as if he hadn't heard it himself. But you can't contain yourself, and before you can stop it, a gasp escapes your mouth and tears cloud your eyes. You back away, stumbling back in your chair.

"Are you all right?" Feyre asks you, visibly concerned. You do not answer, but it is Beron, High Lord of the Court of Autumn, Tamlin's friend, who answers for you.

"A bond." He says simply, his tone both haughty and amused. Feyre sniffs the air, looks at you. Then she looks at Tamlin. And then back at you again. The look in his eyes... Rhysand says something, but everything around you is a blur.

First the Cauldron made you a useless fairy. Next the Mother punished you by tying you to Tamlin.

You listen to no one, with hurried steps you leave the room. No one follows you. Good, you think, I don't have to explain myself to anyone for a while.

With one exception, someone has followed you. Your body recognizes him before you do, your heart beats wildly, and you could cry from how wrong this all simply is. Your sister was going to marry this man. And she didn't, she ran away because he did something terrible to her, and now it was going to be your turn.

You stop in the middle of the hallway, and Tamlin grabs your arm gently, leading you into a small room. You try to ignore how such a soft touch puts a pleasant twinge in your stomach. No, you would never do that to your sister.

When you enter, no one says anything for a while and you feel his gaze on you, making you blush. He doesn't even know your name, probably.

As if he hears your thoughts, the Fae speaks to you. "Y/n." His serious tone makes you set your eyes on his. This is so wrong, yet looking at your mate feels like the right thing to do.

"How-how do you know my name?"

Tamlin smiles at your words. An expression so different from the one you saw on his face when he first walked in. It fits him, you think, and fear invades your senses because of the things you realize you would do, because of that smile...

"I remember it ... from that day, with the Cauldron..." Your body stiffens, as if remembering who the male in front of you really is. What he did to you. What he has done to your family.

It doesn't matter that he is your mate, you think. Your body may react to his look and touch, but you will not be betrayed by it.

Tamlin probably feels your emotions through the bond, and with a step forward he grabs your arm gently. He needs to touch you, and you don't realize how much you needed him to touch you, too. You welcome his warmth without fighting back.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. I'm not just saying this because you are my mate, " Both of you seem to feel satisfaction when he says such words, the bond in your chest seems to glow and sing "I... had to do terrible things to protect my court. To protect Prythian. It was not in the plan to do such a thing to you."

You think about his words, his eyes shining with sincerity. Lucien has told you things that would explain Tamlin's words, that actually make him a good male.

"Tamlin." To the sound of his name on your lips, the man suppresses a growl. "I... Lucien has been telling me things. And I believe you, and I believe you are good male. But the thing with my sister..."

The look in the Fae's eyes becomes embarrassed, and the emotions you feel through the bond are a mixture of shame and remorse. You don't know what happened between the two, but it must have been really difficult if it causes him such a reaction.

"I regret how I behaved. What I did. I was broken, as was she, and I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to protect her, and to this day I realize my mistakes."

You study his face. You find nothing but honesty and pure feelings, and he is really putting your instincts to the test. He's so handsome that you want to jump on him, but on the other side of the coin-you still don't know if you can trust him. But he's your mate, and he deserves at least a chance. There's such a battle inside your head.

"I forgive you. For the Cauldron, I mean. I don't know if she has forgiven you, or will but..." Your hand moves to his where he still holds your arm, both of you smiling. "I think you deserve a second chance, Tamlin. And I -- I'd like to try."

The smile he gives you, so genuine that it makes his eyes sparkle with brightness, makes you realize deep down that you made the right choice.

You have not made the right choice.

Neither you nor Tamlin ever returned to the meeting.

When you see your sister and the Inner Circle again, they are all furious with you. As if you chose the bond. You scoff at their looks.

"You disappeared all day with Tamlin. Do you realize that? What was I supposed to think you were doing with your mate, huh? Do you realize who we're talking about?" Rhysand yells at you. Feyre, who does not look angry but grieved, lays a hand on his arm, and after what seems like a brief mental conversation, the High Lord comes out with one last murderous look directed at you. Tears sting your eyes.

"Y/n, he didn't mean to be so mean, it's just that they have so many unfinished business..."

"What about you? What unfinished business do you have with him? Why do you all hate him here? And I'm not talking about the alliance with Hybern."

"None, Y/n. I have none. I have had my revenge. In all sincerity I wish him the best. And I want the best for you, too. So if you-if you've talked to him and he seems to-you seem to like him I won't have anything against you, or him, if you accept the bond." Saying these words seems like a great effort for her, but you appreciate it very much. Mor grimaces.

"No one? That male locked you up - no, he let you drown locked up inside his house. Don't you remember what condition I found you in? Well, in case you don't remember, I'll remind you, Y/n. That male after she was turned into a Fae locked her up in a room, denied her every single space of freedom until she went crazy and we rescued her. So don't-"

"Enough, Mor." Feyre says annoyed.

"You want the best for your sister, and you send her into Tamlin's arms without warning her what he would do to her?"

You are speechless. Tears wet your cheeks.

"But he told me-he told me he regretted it. That he was just as broken as you and that he just wanted to protect you..."

"Those are just words, Y/n. But in actions--what do you think is keeping him from doing the same thing to you? We will have no right to rescue you and bring you back here, because you are in fact his. Think carefully about what you want to do with such an individual." And with these words, Mor leaves the room, leaving you whimpering and afraid. Feyre approaches you and wraps you in a hug.

"Everything will be all right. I know you are afraid, honey. You just try, never stop trying, okay? You don't have to accept the bond right away. Even when you move in with him, if you decide to, you can wait and see if it's worth it. And in case it's not worth it, you can always come back as a free woman."

"I thought you hated him."

"No. Everyone deserves happiness, honey."

Before you can even consider your sister's words, war breaks out. Tamlin takes Hybern's side, but as you expected, it actually turns out to be all a double-cross.

You can feel his emotions through the bond, and you know he can feel yours, too. Sometimes your dreams come together and you are able to talk. If you were uncertain about trying before, now you are convinced.

Once you even woke up in the middle of the night. The bond in your chest overflowing with emotion - lust. Excitement. Pleasure. It didn't take long to realize that your mate was pleasuring himself. Just the thought of it was able to make you damp between your legs, and you discreetly slipped a hand under the sheets and touched yourself fantasizing Tamlin in front of you, rubbing his hard cock with one hand, while his eyes were fixed on yours. You reached your climax in the same moment he did, and you could have sworn you heard his laughter on the other side of the bond.

It was also the first time you tried to touch that bond, pulling on that sort of golden thread that connects the two of you. Tamlin responded by doing the same, and when you went back to sleep, you fell asleep with a smile. That night you dreamed about how your mate taught you how to fly.

The next day you were not able to look anyone in the face, though.

But that was a long time ago.

Now you are not in the comforting warmth of your bed. You are in a tent in a war camp and you are freezing. Your body shakes as you try to rub your hands together. Your wings are sore and have taken on a worrying purple tint, you are almost tempted to go to some healer's tent and ask for an extra blanket, but surely they would be full of injured people, and they would need it much more than you do.

A wave of warmth through the bond radiates through you, and you are grateful to have Tamlin right now, but it doesn't stop there. He touches the bond, like he did all those nights ago, and you find yourself out of your sleeping bag, but not to go to the healers. You meet no one as you head to the Spring Court camps. Your heart pounds - you haven't seen Tamlin since that day at the High Lords meeting. A slight blush covers your cheeks. How will you look that charming male in the face after what you did that night?

You don't know which tent is his, but your body seems to know. The bond takes you straight to him. You can smell him - citrus and spice - even before you see him. You enter without even knocking or warning of your presence, aware that he is able to feel your closeness just as you are able to feel his.

"I've been waiting for you." The male offers you a mesmerizing smile. He is different from how you had seen him. He has cut his hair, and it now reaches just below his ears. He no longer has such dark circles under his eyes and looks decades younger. He is now the living definition of spring more than ever. The mere sight of the man could bring you to your knees.

"Hey." You greet him softly, still a little embarrassed. He notices, because his smile now turns feline. You're my little prey and I want to play with you, he seems to say. Only now do you notice a pungent note in his scent - blood. Your worry fills the bond. Yet you have felt no pain through it lately.

He seems to sense the direction of your thoughts, because he shifts his gaze from your figure to his chest. That's where he bleeds. He has been wounded in the chest.

"Tamlin... You're bleeding." He nods, then offers you a reassuring look.

"Oh, don't worry, it's just a little scratch. You, on the other hand, looked very cold earlier." He cannot hide his concern.

"It's already better here, much warmer." You still feel the tips of your wings sore, though.

"To get to such a situation you must have been freezing for a long time, Y/n. Didn't they teach you how to take care of your wings in this situation?"

"Not really-I tried to ask, but I never got an answer." The anger on his face is impossible to mask. He takes a couple of deep breaths before speaking again.

"'Brute bastards." He hisses through his teeth. You feel in awe at his words; they are still your sisters' family.

"Tamlin..."

"No, Y/n. I'm fine, but you...fairy wings are different from Illyrian wings. They should have done some fucking research. You could have lost them, and do you know how painful that is? You could still be losing them." He finally realizes, and jerks around to get his blanket from his sleeping bag. It's thick and woolen, and as he wraps it around you, it smells of him in the best way.

"You're taking care of me." He looks at you surprised.

"Of course I'm taking care of you, Y/n."

"I want to take care of you, too. These days I've treated the cuts of the wounded, I can help you." Tamlin lets out a low growl, then shakes his head. He sits you down on his sleeping bag and positions himself next to you. Shoulder to shoulder. Even this small contact, divided by several layers of fabric, is capable of making your heart race.

"Please, mate. Let me take care of you." Tamlin sighs, then murmurs an unenthusiastic consent. You get up with the blanket still tangled around you, leave the tent without a word, and return a few minutes later with gauze, alcohol, and a clean bandage. You freeze in the doorway when you realize the man has taken off his shirt.

A shirtless male body was no stranger to you. You had often accompanied your sisters to see their males working out. You had gotten to appreciate the muscles. But Tamlin... seeing your semi-nude mate activates something in you, something similar to that night when you came with his name on your lips. You blush and approach slowly, he still has his back to you, as if he didn't hear you come in.

"Didn't they tell you it's rude to stare?" You know he's only joking, yet you still get embarrassed. Yes, you are used to a shirtless male. But to a shirtless male flirting with you? Absolutely not.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, but the thing that cools your blood is the wound you see ripping through his chest as he turns around. You look at him surprised, anguish and disquiet flow freely through the bond.

"It's nothing, Y/n. I'll live." You find it ironic how he is the injured one, yet you are the one being comforted. You approach in silence, your eyes fixed on the injury, and let him rest his back on the sleeping bag. You kneel beside him, the blanket now forgotten on the ground, and soak the gauze with alcohol.

"Put the blanket back on, Y/n. It's cold." You ignore him, focused on wetting every last millimeter of the fabric. Tamlin is about to get up, but you place a hand on his chest, blocking him. The contact with his warm skin makes your cheeks warm, but the blood on his chest freezes them.

"What is it?"

"The blanket. Put it on."

"No, I'll be uncomfortable while I medicate you." Tamlin growls when you answer him. You snort a laugh, protective males. "Do you find my worry funny, fawn?"

"Fawn?" You startle at the nickname.

"Don't change the subject, put it on."

"But I'm uncomfortable, Tam."

"Then sit on my lap and wrap it around both of us." You don't let him tell you twice. You do as he says and start dressing his wound, which reeks of Faebane. That's why it didn't heal. You notice Tamlin clenching his teeth from the burning and as if on instinct, you reach down to kiss his chest above the wound. At the level of his heart. You both smile, but do not utter a word. When you finish bandaging his cut, you give him another gentle kiss, this time over the bandage.

"So you heal sooner and feel better." You smile at him.

"You are such a little fairy."

"Is that an insult?"

"No, fawn, how could I ever."

You don't converse much longer, the fatigue of battle preventing you from doing so. You get off his lap and lie down beside him on top of the sleeping bag. You remove the blanket and he seems to inspect your wings. A satisfied expression appears on his face and without needing a word, you remove the blanket and use it to cover yourselves. Just five minutes, you think, then I go back to my tent or I'll risk worrying my sisters.

Five minutes turns into the whole night.

When you wake up, Tamlin is not there. You are under the sleeping bag, though. You smile at the thought. His side is cold, and you wonder how long you slept for. You get up and stretch, and take some time to poke around his tent, something you didn't do the night before. There isn't much there, but you were expecting it. You find a blanket with a note.

Take care of your wings.

You smile like a little girl under her Christmas tree. You leave the blanket there, but take his instead. It smells like him.

A little alarm bell rings in your head. Oh, God. Your sisters must be worried sick. You quickly grab your new blanket and run through the camps until you get to your tent. God, why did they put the Night Court and the Spring Court at opposite ends? It's an almost 10-minute walk.

You enter your tent panting where you find a very, very worried Feyre.

"Are you crazy! Where have you been!" She shouts without even looking at you. But then she does. She smells Tamlin's familiar scent on you. His blanket in your hands.

"Feyre...I can explain, I swear-" She turns a mocking smile on you.

"Ooookay. Maybe next time you warn before you leave. You gave us a scare!" She says without even time for you to respond, leaving you standing in the middle of your tent like a fool.

You and Tamlin have a kind of unwritten agreement. In the evening he pulls the bond slightly and you join him in his tent. The Inner Circle knows this, but says nothing about it. It's better that way. Once Nesta even came to call you, making Tamlin chuckle and you die of embarrassment.

He never tried to do anything more than cuddle you. And you are fine with that. You don't want your first time with your mate to be in a war camp, on a sleeping bag, with the screams of the wounded in the background. One time he even took you to the top of a hill and you stayed and watched the stars until dawn, then he had to go back to fighting, and you had to go back to helping the healers.

You are afraid to admit it to yourself, but you are falling in love with that wonderful man. And you are afraid of not knowing what will happen once the war is over.

The fear of not knowing doesn't last long, though. Because the war is over. Hybern has died by the hands of your sisters, and Rhys has even died and risen again. You meet Tamlin as the camps are being shown.

"Hey, fawn." He says, smiling at you.

"Hey, Tam." You return his smile, but a motion of sadness contorts your lips into a grimace. Tears are quick to stream down your face. You don't want to cry in front of everyone. Tamlin seems to understand this, because he grabs your arm and within moments you are on the hill where he took you to see the stars a few nights ago.

"It's nothing, it's just ... I don't want us to be apart." Tamlin can swear he feels his heart break and recompose itself at the same time at your words, at your tone. At the emotions you are sharing with him.

"Neither do I, y/n. Neither do I."

Tamlin kisses you. It's sudden and unexpected. It is not a real kiss: he simply lays his lips on yours. His hands caress your face gently. After a few moments, you relax and respond to the kiss with just as much sweetness. Just as much love.

"Come home with me, Y/n. Come stay with me at the Spring Court." You think about his words. The words of the male you are in love with, your mate. Your heart tightens with happiness at those words. You will think of your sisters later: for now you just want to be in Tamlin's arms.

"Yes."

Communicating this to Feyre was easier than expected, and since you had nothing significant in Velaris, you went straight home with Tamlin.

The Spring Court is... beautiful, breath-taking even. You can't hide the warmth in your chest, the feeling of home it communicates. And seeing your mate in the place where he belongs enhances the experience.

It is warmer than the dry cold of the camps, and you begin to sweat under the layers of heavy clothing. Tamlin notices, and invites you to follow him inside his palace until you reach a bedroom.

You take time to look around. The house seems full of life, smells of flowers and nature, and glows with gold. It is different from what you expected: Rhysand had mentioned, years ago, that he had paid a visit to the High Lord of the Spring Court, and found him in a miserable condition. And like him, so was his house. But to you that sounds like a far definition from reality.

The room he takes you to is beautiful. It is very different from the typical ones in the Night Court. There the wood is dark, the floors are rough, and everything looks like it's been through a battle. They're not ugly, they're just - gloomy.

While the Court of Spring is full of light and warm colors. The bed frame is made of a light, delicate wood and is carved with flowers and leaves. The room does not have much besides the well-prepared bed. There is a closet that echoes the pattern of the headboard, and Tamlin heads straight there.

He opens it, revealing a surprising amount of clothing.

"You can choose whatever you like, I'll wait outside." He smiles at you and you smile back.

You leave the room wearing a new dress. It is the one you liked most. It makes you feel like a fairy, but positively. It is definitely better than what you wear in the Court of Night. The fabric is softer, the pinkish white of the skirt is a color you've never seen before but already love. Tamlin's face lights up as soon as he sees you.

"You look beautiful in my Court clothes, Y/n." Your cheeks take on a rosy hue as you whisper a vague thanks. He holds out his hand to you and you immediately take it. Without a word, he begins to drag you through the corridors you admire all the way to outside. Into the gardens.

As soon as your eyes meet such beauty ... your breath catches in your throat. Your mind immediately wanders to your sister, Elain. How she would love it.

Your mate looks at you smugly.

"Do you like it?" You can do nothing but nod. Tears well up in your eyes at the relief you feel, and you realize you have lifted a burden, the opression of the Night Court.

The words come out of your mouth before you can even think them, let alone stop them, "I want to accept the bond."

Tamlin looks surprised. "What?"

"I-obviously if you want to. But-"

Your mate interrupts by kissing you. You are surprised the first few moments, but you quickly recover, responding to the kiss. The bond in the center of your chest seems to sing with joy.

"Now?" He asks when he pulls away from your lips, a gentle blush covers his cheeks and he is short of breath. He has never looked so good. You nod.

"A little further on there are some fruit trees. If you want we can go there."

You nod, and he takes you by the hand, fingers interlocked with yours, and once again leads you to some fruit trees. You take the opportunity to admire the beauty of his court again. Which will now become yours as well.

You stop in front of a loquat tree. In a comforting silence you turn to pick a fruit. You have nothing with you, and you struggle a little to peel it. You split it in half and offer it directly in front of his lips. He bites into the loquat with his eyes on yours. He finishes the whole fruit.

The bond seems to rejoice and shine and seems to unite your two souls even more than before. His gaze communicates to you that you have a long day ahead. A long night, too.

He kisses you fervently, his hands gripping your hips making you moan in the kiss. You didn't expect to feel this way. Sure, your sisters told you something about the frenzy ... but experiencing it firsthand is something else entirely. The intensity of what you feel is almost overwhelming.

You pull away from the kiss with a heavy breath. Tamlin's predatory gaze, the lust in the look, is impossible to mask.

"Fawn... tell me no now, or I won't be able to stop later." You don't even think about saying no. You desire him as you have never desired anyone. You want to feel him all over.

"Please, Tamlin. I want to be yours."

You spend all afternoon making love on the fields, careless of who might see you. You return only when it begins to get dark. A huge smile on your face.

You made the right choice.

@rcarbo1

[positivelybeastly]

So, a very dear friend of mine asked me why I think that Hank is such a performer - why he's so good at it, why he enjoys it so much - and it's one of those things that I think is so integral to Hank's character that really determines if you 'get' Beast or not.

I think the brass tacks of it is - he enjoys the attention, he enjoys the affirmation, the praise. There's some lines of dialogue from his parents that state that he was basically the best case scenario they could've hoped for, considering his father's radiation accident - sure, he was weirdly strong, sure, his limbs were oversized, but he was otherwise extremely healthy and intelligent and not deformed like they feared he would be.

So there's a degree of a miracle baby thing going on, where they showered him with love and attention and found it hard to be genuinely angry with him, and especially as he went on, as he got more and more plaudits for being brilliant, I think he chased that high a little bit.

He throttles back a bit when he's older, to try and hide because mutant and he does like being normal even if he loves being praised and affirmed as well, but everyone is telling him to keep going, to be as brilliant as he can be - which, to him, means be VISIBLY brilliant, be VISIBLY great at what you do.

And even when he joins the Avengers, even after he achieves that status symbol, he's STILL chasing that affirmation, he's starting to create impossible standards for himself. He feels notably down when he isn't contributing in fights or with his scientific acumen, he takes it hard when people criticise him, and he starts to feel the need now to be a public face for mutantkind.

It's not really something he mentions as being a thing in Avengers because 70s Avengers wasn't all that interested in addressing the mutant angle, but it does become a plot point in New Defenders, where a college student calls him out for being one of the most public mutant faces there is (remember, this is before Xavier outed himself, so, like, the public mutant faces are probably Hank, Magneto, Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver . . . PROBABLY A LOT OF VILLAINS, and the X-Men, but they're secretive and known only as a weird paramilitary group) but not DOING anything with that status. And then he takes that hard, and forms a mutant advocacy group, because he wants to be good and be seen to be doing good.

There's also the aspect of needing to aggressively perform both masculinity and humanity - especially in Avengers, he's so hypersexual and so casually intelligent (he spends an entire issue just alternating between the dozen languages he knows for fun) because he wants you to consider him a man, and a human, before he's a Beast.

That's an element of his character that you see really obviously in his human form, where he's a fucking walking thesaurus, but there, it's to stand out, to seem smart, there's a degree of smugness and 'look at meeeee,' but the instant he turns blue and furry, it's more about 'look at me not being a freak.'

That only intensifies when he becomes feline, where you see a sort of melding of the two - he's a lot less casual with his speech, he almost slides back into his Big Words mode, but he also wants you to consider him friendly and approachable, so how much he drops a million dollar quote or word starts to oscillate depending on his audience. He changes depending on who he's talking to.

He also almost never shows his teeth when he smiles.

As for why he's so good at it - practice, a lot of reading, and I think a degree of underrated emotional sensitivity. In his way, he's more empathetic and kind and gentle than Jean can be - granted, Jean was fucking MEGA PISSED over the affair with Scott, but if you look at the way he treats Emma, it's very soft and teasing and nurturing, and he stands up for her even against his best friend Jean, who had psychically brutalised Emma.

She has the cheat code of telepathy, but Hank is just - naturally warm and tender. He's a very sensitive soul, not just in terms of being vulnerable but just knowing what people need to hear and being there for them. He's even capable of empathy for Mr. Sinister of all people.

If Percy had even an ounce of this insight into Hank's character, X-Force Beast would just be a performance. "This is what Krakoa needs, so I'll become it," but he just. Doesn't. Get. That. There are glimmers of it! HE'S SO CLOSE. SO CLOSE TO GETTING IT.

This SHOULD be why X-Force Beast is so overtly evil, why he's so despicable, why he's so stupidly villainous - because it's a performance, because that's the only kind of evil Hank can do, and it's KILLING him to do it. One last great performance, to save everyone he loves.

THAT. THAT. WHERE DID IT GO, BEN?

And, like . . . he's getting . . . a reaction. It isn't the reaction he wants, it isn't a reaction he enjoys, but it's a reaction, people . . . ARE paying attention to him, so in a way, that's telling him to keep going. Like, that'd be such an interesting, fucked up dynamic to lean into, that this is just a bit that went too far, that Hank can't stop himself, that his emotions are all fucked up and no-one can tell it's a performance anymore and no-one can pull him out, that he became the performance, but no.

Just evil.

It just sucks because I bet we're not even going to get a resolution on X-Force Beast's feelings about Krakoa and the Hellfire Gala. About the idea that he was the necessary bastard but it didn't keep them all safe, that all of his plans and gambits failed, that he sacrificed everything for nothing. Judging by X-Force #48, he's probably just going to do some Bond villain shit and get taken down. In his own villain turn, he's just - stripped, of all emotional complexity. There isn't a character there. It sucks, man.

It isn't even subtextual. It's just. It's there.

Like, Hank's fatal character flaws are: a complete insecurity in his own self-worth, a worrying fear that he's failed at everything he's ever tried to do, an anxiety that he's not truly human, never will be, never can be, and will in fact only get worse.

THOSE ARE ENOUGH TO BE GETTING ON WITH.

And he ameliorates those things by being charming and funny and playing to type so people like him.

Like, if these writers understood Hank, they would USE that by emphasising the fact that Hank's insecurities and fears and anxieties are growing to such a scale that it's affecting his ability to make emotional reads on people, and thus he's playing the WRONG role that he thinks they want from him, because that's tragic, and that's understandable, but instead they make it that he's just got an ego, or that he's just plain evil.

LIKE.

YOU COULD LITERALLY HAVE HANK BE PAGLIACCI.

"Heard joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain.

Doctor says, "Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up."

Man bursts into tears.

Says, "But doctor...I am Pagliacci.”

Hank is always playing the clown, because it makes people happy and that makes him happy, but when they aren't happy, when the jokes don't work, there's no clown to make him feel better. That's when the bottom falls out. That's when you start getting the troubles. And that is tragic.

THAT is how you justify Hank doing horrible things, by making him chase ever greater jokes to tell, ever greater acts of devotion and amusement and entertainment for his audience, desperately hoping it'll bring the soothing balm of someone telling him he did good, because that is horrible, and that is real, and that is so sad.

But nah, evil.

[catsofcalifornia]

Daffodil and Tulip from Animal Rescuers Without Borders in San Diego, California

Click here for more information about adoption and other ways to help (as well as lots of videos of Daffy and Miss T)!

Hello! My name is Tulip, but you can call me Miss T!

I am looking for a furever family who is READY for a lifetime companion in me.

Let me tell you a little about myself now that I have lived in a foster home in San Diego. I was rescued from a high kill shelter in San Bernadino when my foster mom read about my plight being red listed for lack of space. I found myself in that shelter when someone turned me in as a stray. I was exited from the shelter a couple of days later along with another feline friend who happened to be rooming in a kennel next to mine who also had the same fate as me AND another friend. So, our foster mom named us Daffy, Tulip and Sebastian and away we went to safety. She made room in her home for us all and Daffodil and I ended up being roomies in her spare bedroom while the boy named Sebastian took the bathroom. We were saved the first week of march and had to wait to be ready for adoption since we were ALL extremely sick with nasty shelter germs that made us sickly with what they called a upper respiratory infection. Our foster mom had to give us daily medications, fluids and help us eat because we all had lost our appetite, we were a little depressed remembering what we had to endure in the streets and then that shelter. Once we realized we had lucked out being chosen and under a loving safe home we decided to trust humans and slowly got to know them and trust them. We are SO happy now and our quarantine and medical has been finally finished and we are now READY to find loving families of our own so this amazing human can continue to help friends we left behind who will also need her home to be saved. To find the right family for me, this is what our foster mom has to say about me on 03/29/23 "........

Tulip and her best friend Daffodil were rescued together from a high-kill shelter in San Bernardino.  They were found together in a field. It is not certain if they are siblings, but they sure act like best friends! Tulip is about one year old and is a tabby over white domestic short hair. She is on the smaller side but big personality! She loves to rub up against her human and give lots of head bunts. She enjoys sleeping in her cat tree by the window and acting as the neighbor watch. She also likes playing with her rainbow string toy and scratching on her cardboard scratcher. She will also get on your lap and love on you. Tulip would do best with her friend Daffodil in any home. She is not phased by household activity, and just wants to hang out with her partner in crime. ..... Daffodil is about one year old and is a medium haired black and white kitty. She is more on the petite side. Daffodil is so curious about everything! She likes to follow her human around everywhere and check the surroundings out. She enjoys hanging up on the highest part of the cat tree and rolling around with her catnip toy. If you stand there she will put her paws out to love on you as she's purring. Daffodil would do best with her friend Tulip in any home. She is not phased by household activity, and just wants to hang out with her partner in crime "

I have EXCELLENT Manners in the 'sand box' and I do like to look out the window but never tried escaping, I am content with this lifestyle. I have only lived in the same room as Daffodil and we are friends, NOT sure how I would be in a home with other cats BUT I am happy to try it if you would like to foster to adopt me. However, I do know I would LOVE to stay with my friend Daffy, if you are open to adopting us friends? I think I would be happy as a single cat as well, but I just wanted to mention I enjoy the companionship of my friend "Daffy" as well. I have not lived or seen dogs so I am not sure how I would feel around them, nor have I lived with little humans called 'children' but I suspect they would be good friends to have, especially if they want to adore me and present treats through the day for me.

[quewea]

I SO GREAT STUPI- i- i say and here is my presentation in English! :D

About me!: I just remembered that I should introduce myself to dpjvkpo well let's start precious person who see me right now

Call me Danny (you can call me whatever you want too! No problem with nicknames, in fact I love them!) and my gender is hermaphrodite :D sometimes I draw (I swear, my mom says we're cool) my sexuality is: Pansexual

I am originally from Ecuador and I have been following Missasinfonia for about two years or more, in fact he is one of the first YouTubers that I followed and continue to follow (right now I follow him on Twitch and I don't usually talk in the chat because it makes me sad-) and I don't know if I can consider myself a Missasaur…but if I could then I would consider myself one

My favorite color is four and my favorite flavor is cyan, I half-know English but sometimes I don't understand it, I have a certain obsession with Cuarteto de Nos and Missa's songs (I love "Tiempo" and "Cancion al Mar") Sometimes I drink too much coffee (my bestie wants to annex me so that the coffee goes down) and I also usually drink a lot of chocolate milk… (I add coffee secretly, don't tell Sofi that she annexes me later), currently I am someone who doesn't usually talk or socialize much but if you want to talk to me you are free or if you want me to draw something I will always do it when you ask in a respectful way! (Everyone deserves respect, especially those you don't know yet, it's your decision what you will do next nvn)

My age used to be a secret for fear of being doxed or not being believed or something bad happening but with Sofi's help I feel like I can be honest, well I'm around 15 years old, I'm almost 16 now and in two years I'll I will go to uni if ​​I pass the exam and all the procedures, I would like to study something that will give me money so I can repay all the love and help or financially support those little people who always gave everything for me, and I would also like to study law and criminology!

My favorite songs are: bonsai, Cancion al mar, and soldier poet and king My tastes usually vary but I also like musicals such as: Hamilton, Epic and Ride the cycle + heathers

Content creators I usually watch other than Missa: Philza,Roier, Quackity, ElMariana, and German, Estailus, Aquino, Locochon, Soaring, Duxo

My favorite animals are among the top (including birds and sea animals!): -Crows -Sharks -Felines like cats and leopards! -Capybaras? capybara!! :D -I love dogs too! (in fact I took care of one of some uncles and ended up getting attached)

My phobia: Orcas-, I really don't know what it was called or if this phobia exists, but I'm really afraid of orcas, they cause me a certain rejection and I feel panic when I see them (maybe in another life I was a penguin or a Polar bear… Would that make me furry?)

I have around 13 cats and I usually look for a place or home for them, because I can't have them forever, so I usually see a kitten and I take it home to find a home for it (hehe, toy looking at your beautiful cat hehehehehe)

My laugh according to my friends is like cleaning a window or a hyena or idk, but my laugh is pretty… right? :,D

favorite insect!: Dragon tail butterfly (I will upload it again but only in English and through Google Translate… I'm sorry I don't know English very well - my teacher always tells me to try hard and I do it, I swear-)

(please ignore what they say deathduo shorts…it was the only pin of mine and I know, the presentation was very colorful but it was so that it wouldn't look serious :,) )

[rockheadcd]

Although not nearly as experienced as other defenders, Stonedge is selected for an operation under Rhodes' contingency contract plans. The operation doesn't entirely go as smoothly as the team liked it to. Takes place before he discovers a certain runaway feline. cw for crush injuries. Just a lil supercut for worldbuilding. :)

"Operator Stonedge?"

"Hey, hey, we're on base, you can call me Roark. No need for formalities here."

The archosaurian looks up from his work, perhaps some of the most agonizing for those unable to sit still, handheld drill with the most precise of bits painstakingly stripping away raw stone from fossilized bones. For someone so loud with his laughter, his cleanroom was eerily quiet when he was working on something in there. The Rhodes associate squints at him through the clear panel—she's not here for casual conversation.

"The Doctor has selected you for a mission. I'm here to brief you."

Ah, that makes a little more sense. Roark switches off the drill and carefully sets aside his tools, peeling off of a rolling stool and eventually coming around to exit his little office, carefully removing and hanging up a mask and gloves in a peg right near the frame. "Sorry, what's up?"

"You'll be assigned under our contingency contract with Leithanien."

Oh. That wasn't expected to hear on this fine, bright midday morning that didn't penetrate this lab. Not even a year in, and he's being picked up for this.. he'd heard from more seasoned operators the kinds of difficulties these operations incurred. They paid well, unsurprisingly, but they had a tendency to push people to their breaking point. Roark vaguely remembered some sage advice from a fellow defender hired on as a merc.

'Don't get yourself killed out there.'

( yeah, no kidding, huh )

"Not a training ground?"

"Nope. We've evaluated overall risk to be nine," she explains, remaining calm in her briefing, but even her thrill of the upcoming operation leaves much to be desired. Her eyes are distracted by the resigned flop in the archosaurian's tail. At least she understood, he figured, continuing on, "Although, it should be fine. You've been recommended for this phase of the contract—fourteen days total. They're mines."

A crack at a joke gets him to scoff. "Ha, ha." Alright, he does appreciate the sentiment here. "I thought that area was cleared, though?"

"It's never empty for long, it's too lucrative of a waypoint for those who don't follow any sole monarch." Alright, that makes sense. She finally waves towards Roark to follow her—better, more precise information was available elsewhere, clearly. Perhaps it did make plenty of sense that it was a caprinae that could provide intel and round up the people about ready to be shipped off to god knows where. "The subcontracts are in other areas of Terra, but this one is the most desirable," she explains, "Unfortunately our reconnaissance has verified there are some very strong creatures patrolling the depths of the mines. They're reminiscent of Sarkaz minions."

Roark gives a hum of thought, following his escort to one of war rooms across the landship. "I thought we hired Mudrock...?"

"You'll see."

"Those constructs have no life to them. They are.. reanimated, on a technical level, but rest assured they do not behave like my friends."

Mudrock's presence is demanding in the war room despite her soft voice, muffled behind mask and voluminous suit. Roark has long gotten used to her manner of reference, having understood with the way he handles bones found with dirt caked between worn joints. Hell, she's probably more attuned to the earth far more than anyone else due to her peculiar methods of witchcraft—but it's fascinating nonetheless. No wonder she managed to attract so many lost souls here. Still, she manages to tower over most of the operators in the room with presence and seniority alone, Roark included, as they sit around a flat table, purely neutral, it's only burden the sprawl of reports that all have to do with this new operation. Roark pouts a little. "So, there have been knock-off constructs around and these ones are also held together by arts, but not necessarily in the same way you were able to imbue them."

"Mm."

"And then, the actual caster has been identified, but doesn't seem to be related to Reunion, but as a local Leithanien?"

"Mm."

Another voice speaks up—a Rhodes Island special op. "With this level of arts, we can narrow down our suspect belonging to the Witch King's Remnants," he adds, and the rest of the team doesn’t seem particularly thrilled. Those of Leithanien roots are especially perturbed. It makes sense why this particular contract was prioritized, and more importantly, why Rhodes was contacted to carry out the operation.

"—So, that leaves us with a unique strategy to handle these constructs, between heavy defenders, and our ranged operators, doesn't it?" Another operator takes the moment to muse aloud, and eventually the entire room begins to chime in on options of how to tackle this interesting repeat that had brought Mudrock and her squad here. In the end, she was a dissenter and wanted the best for the people who found hope in her presence, but in this case, the motives of the new threat in question could easily be presumed as nefarious at best, and downright cataclysmic at worst. Regardless, a unanimous observation noted was the certainty of broken bones, and if someone were to break some bones, it damn well better not be the ranged operators.

Roark finds a little excitement as much as he finds significantly more concern about the very real dangers that exist. The mines themselves offer very little by way of space, limiting the squad to only seven operators, among other variables. This isn't an operation in which they can retreat and try again—it's all or nothing. No leaks, more danger, less space, and a lot of sheer will. Something like this was bound to happen, right? Roark's history in Columbia made this his home turf, abandoned or not. He knew he'd be one of the first choices like the other operators here.

When discussion eventually finalizes, the objective is clear: find and eliminate the caster. Secondary objective? Don't bring the house down with the squad in it, if it comes down to it.

"We depart at oh-seven hundred. Any questions?" The caprinae looks up from her papers and looks around at the assignees. Not a single question remains. "If nothing, then you're all dismissed."

In unison, "Yessir."

The deployment of juggernauts is intentional in this situation, with the limited resources at hand. The sole arts healer that was dispatched with three other ranged operators would prioritize them over both Mudrock and Roark. The latter two's responsibility was to prevent their fellow vanguard from getting squashed from the far more dangerous constructs. The vanguard needed to flush out the spellcaster if they couldn't finish the job alone. With these kinds of limitations, it would have been a much higher risk having a sole executor specialist among the ranks. If something happened, there would be a slim chance anyone could go retrieve them. It just wasn't in the books to lose another head.

Even so, Roark still feels like he's pressed in a sardine can with how close the jagged tunnels come close to his shoulders. It's dark and cold save for the originium lanterns hanging off their belts, but if nothing has collapsed since the recon mission, the layout of the mines should be consistent—there should be some natural clearing ahead of them, where much of the mining had occurred prior to the operation being shut down. It also meant the general surroundings would be large enough for the constructs to patrol about—a caster following the Witch King would never let their guard down ( a smart one, anyway ). A hand signal from Mudrock ushers the team to extinguish the lights, and they soon find themselves in dim surroundings once more, save for some natural lighting ahead.

"The constructs are awake," she says softly, barely heard past her mask. The caster must have been aware. The team presses on.

Most of the team has seen this battlefield, but Roark is not one of them. The earth overhead shows signs of erosion, stalagmites and stalactites share the ground they stood upon, shaken loose over time. The night sky peers through scattered holes along the ceiling, fragile enough to crumble under the weight of a heavy animal, if any remained after wayward catastrophes. Their only light is the moon, but at least their blood gives them a slight advantage, the ranged operators especially. So far, the haphazard masses of stone and debris work as excellent cover and platforms to perch upon.

Roark has been asking himself when shit will hit the fan for the last half an hour.

The constructs are not silent in their footfalls, but they feel so much closer than they really are without line of sight. "When one finds a target, the rest will follow. Stay alert," the Sarkaz advises quietly, and the squadron begins to disperse, the four ranged operators moving to scale the rock face for a vantage point, and the vanguard staying with the other defenders to a pre-negotiated escort point—the intent is to draw the constructs into the same lane of traffic, giving their much faster cohort a clear route to flush out their target, receiving easy aerial cover from one of the rangers. It was a simple plan on paper, aside from the fact it relied on both defenders to survive against the brunt of as many constructs as could fit, and be intuitive enough to know when their landscape will crumble around them.

( phew, you can do this. everyone can do this. quiet breaths. be aware of your surroundings. don't get killed )

"We're in position," comes communication from above, out of sight from the ground floor of this cave. Thankfully, they can hear one another nicely with feeble landmass blocking signal—with how quiet the old mining quarry is, such low volume still sounds as if they never detached at all.

"Roger," the archosaurian replies as quietly as he can. He and Mudrock follow suit, each lane of jagged rock formations and rubble within their sights. It's time to make some noise. "—Begin Operation: Lead Seal."

Overhead, the ranged operators open fire, arts manifesting and flinging through the air inaudibly until they pierce into the constructs, some igniting against the living rubble, others diving into the faux ligaments of dirt and dust that give shape. Out of his peripheral, Roark sees Mudrock's enchanting finish as a shield manifested by her arts bubbles around her. Roark braces himself, hammerpick between his hands and arts conduit activating under his will, encased in the steel and iron of his weapon. The constructs bring their attention to the defenders nearest them, just as planned, and now it's up to them to ward off these giants to exhaust the caster behind them ( and that, he knew, would take much longer than he wanted ).

The construct lunges, three-fingered fist colliding into the flat edge of Roark's hammer with a force that pushes the breath out of him. His arts is rigid, much like Mudrock, but it stays on his person. He pushes his swing forward, parrying stone as it crashes awkwardly into the ground, tremors causing loose gravel to shift and tumble in the neighboring tunnels. ( ah, this will be tougher than anticipated... ) Roark twists his weapon to the spike on the other side, taking the moment to wail on the joints of the construct in the small window of time he has as it recoups itself, signaling the ranged operators to focus on toppling the constructs' balance. The strategy seems to work each time the construct gets up and attempts to reach towards the defenders as they dance out of the way and focus on dismantling as much of the rock armor as possible.

"—I see a core between all of the rocks!" Roark hears one of the operators above from the earpiece clinging to him. Mudrock observes in kind.

"I see.. that must be how the constructs are controlled—it seems my hypothesis was correct. We must break the core to break the enchantment."

"—Seems easy enough, right?" Roark responds, gaze searching for said core and eventually spotting a glint between the plates of stone. "That looks like originium—it's a conduit?"

"This must be how our target can use arts from a distance. We do not know how many they can control at once."

Thundering steps clamor down the aisles of stone, loose dirt dropping to the ground from overhead. Roark finds another colossus racing towards him like a bat out of hell. "—I, uh, at least four of these, apparently." Ah, he's going to be tired after this one, huh. The juggernaut braces himself once more, cracking into the chest cavity of stone for his comrades to remove one of his problems, turning his attention to the other one. He's worried, all things considered—there should have been more, right? If this caster was a follower of the Witch King... there possessed some kind of freakish use of arts, right? If these weren't behaving like Mudrock's own as she so claimed, then where else was all of that concentration going?

Ah.

These colossus were a distraction.

The explosions that occur sound muted to the archosaurian, even as he sees the surrounding rock and dirt crumble, crack, and disperse around him and the team, thud after thud causing tremors in every direction, chunks falling with no resistance from overhead. "A cave-in! MOVE—! Prioritize our vanguard!" Roark shifts his hammerpick's brute force to the shrapnel in a meager attempt to pierce larger obstacles, but other, smaller, faster pieces scrape against his skin and tear at his utility uniform. Others do their best to shield from the blasts around them, faring better than the defenders on the ground.

( ugh... hurts... )

There's always risk in manifesting arts like this, especially as an infected with this level of assimilation. There's a vague thought about the beating he'll get from the medical staff by the time they get out of this—he feels the familiar stiffness, a fist balled around his joints, squeezing. It's the warning sign of over-exertion, but what the hell was he supposed to do? The only way to handle the brunt forces is to hunker down and use his arts on himself! Still, it's only a matter of time before the disarray settles and their target can identify where everyone is. He doesn't need their assassination foiled in the commotion, and when he feels the relief from somewhere behind him, he remembers his objectives. They could make use of all of this, too, couldn't they? "Thanks for the back-up," he huffs out over communications, happy that the medics were okay so far. Nearby, Mudrock is faring better than him, her arts' shield a bubble strong enough to negate much of the projectiles from all around when it shatters. Man, he is so jealous.

"—I'm going in," he hears another voice in his ear, and his head snaps towards the general direction of the planned route that was in no doubt unstable. Shit, that's their vanguard. Really?!

"Texas, you sure? This cave wants to come down!"

"Don't worry. It's only a slight deviation from the route." Calm and collected as always, isn't she?

He's going to worry. Even though she is fully capable, he's going to worry.

Roark holds in a stress sigh.

Alright, well then. With the knowledge of her approximate location, they can make this easier for her in the little time they have to work with in this new labyrinth of theirs. Offshoots inevitably interconnect in this area, there's a good chance this particular room was going to be a proper quarry, but perhaps such a project didn't get that far before major incidents took place. It's not all that different from abandoning the mines back home in Columbia before a catastrophe hit, really.

"—Okay. Diverting attention away from vanguard route. Let that caster know where we are!" Roark hefts himself in the opposite direction of Texas, towards Mudrock's position—a feint to believe they've been cornered ( which, isn't far from the truth, really, he has no idea what exits they have that aren't too high above them ) as the colossi tremble in the wake of resurging arts.

Mudrock seems as if she's squinting behind her mask, looking at the remaining colossi that seemed to have regain vigor despite being simply animated, her posture leaning towards it just a little as if scrutinizing. Roark missed the core on this one after the commotion of all the explosions. "This doll contains a stronger connection to it's host... he was diverting his Arts between all of the explosives, after all."

"He's gonna hit like a whole landship, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"—We found stable ground, we've got you covered, defenders!" comes assurance over the radio, and Roark heaves a breath. This is the most both of them could do—stall.

( don't get yourself killed out there. )

"Alright—we'll take it, then!" Roark finds his vigor, knowing the worst that could happen is if he doesn't give his all and lets this whole cavern swallow the team under all of this rubble. He exhales, mustering up his arts between the conduit and himself—such things accelerated the disease, but he sees it as a necessary risk in order to help his comrades. All they need to do is survive until Texas takes out her target. It'll be fine. The grip on his weapon tightens as the colossi approach, any spare jutting rocks crumbling against the sheer weight as they move closer. The resilience from the arts... it's still intimidating.

"Here they come, Stonedge," Mudrock alerts him, and Roark takes that as he cue to take a stand next to her. "Whatever they do, we must not relent."

"We won't!"

The colossi bring their stone masses together, large, dense boulders as fists, and Roark can only assume the arts is being channeled right into the impending slam—they feel so small under the shadows of this, and even the ranged arts doesn't seem to be affecting the colossi at all.

"Nothing's working! Just get out of there!"

Roark grits his teeth. He's not moving, and neither is his fellow juggernaut.

The colossi throw their entire weight onto them, and the archosaurian's voice strains under the exertion—clipped to his ankle, his oripathy monitor beeps. Joints and muscle strain under the weight as the spikes on his hammerpick lodge themselves into the rock. Mudrock fares no differently, straining under the weight. Roark feels it in his knees the most, and he desperately tries to reinforce his own body, drawing on his own infection to get there. Drawing thoughts is impossible, as it all just sounds like white noise, and anything vocalized is involuntary.

The colossi bear down and he feels no give even as he pushes against it with everything he's got. The fear that his body will give out before it's over is the only thing that he can begin to feel ( of course it's fear, that's the only other real thing isn't it! ), coupled with the adrenaline and refusal to fathom what awaits him if he eases up even for a moment.

"No..!" The half-whine comes out in a struggle, for the caster's arts isn't simply bound by his own body's limits like Roark's is. Such a keen difference is exactly why the oripathy has grown so wildly along his tail, for he has to use more than what he has available. It's another step in an irreversible direction. He strains, pushing and pushing and pushing, arts feeling like joints have grown over, cemented into place. The blood that runs through him ignites, and the burn is inescapable—his monitor whines at the sudden delta in biometric data, and Roark can't bring himself to care—he just knows his arts are working overtime.

God, it feels like wildfire.

The oripathy manifests, he realizes, the burn peeling into splitting pain enough to throw his body into a dissociation—it was instant, the dizzying sensation of being forced out of his body and yet still being just aware of enough of the sensations in his joints, this piercing, splitting, nails puncturing a stream of lava—Roark is barely aware that there's something coming out of his mouth, some kind of noise.

Shit.

This is it. He's overdone it this time. This peeling, burning sensation is at the surface of his skin and he's glad he can't even so much as look. His limbs feel frozen in place and yet they physically ache to move, unresponsive despite the efforts.

( i can't take this anymore i can't— )

The colossus shifts suddenly, as if the tether to it's host is yanked in some direction, disturbing the equal force placed upon the defenders. It shudders, and the distribution is uneven, heavy and biased.

Stonedge screams, knees finally buckling from under him.

What little he acknowledges thereafter is lost for days. Mudrock uses her might and arts to force the colossi back, veering it away from Roark as the core loses the brilliance it once had as a focus. Such dead weight was far too dangerous, but in the wane of impenetrable defenses, the ranged operators' arts pick away at crumbling the heaving masses of stones into smaller pieces, before it eventually crumbles into the heap it once was.

The force upon the archosaurian disappears in seconds, but his body still feels as if the shadow of weight is there, fighting it off despite collapsing against his hammerpick, arms failing and letting the heavy end crush into the ground first. He doesn't even acknowledge the busy communication in his ear, unresponsive aside from the inability to catch his breath and difficulties standing. He remains unaware of the blood that stains around his knees in slowly growing dots that speckle upon his uniform's pants, the medics immediately aware something has gone horribly wrong.

Texas gives the all clear of the objective. Mudrock, even in her exhaustion, scoops Roark over her shoulder while another operator takes his weapon. Mission complete, casualties observed.

"Whatever you do, Stonedge, don't pass out on us, okay?"

"The readings on his tracker aren't going to be good, we need to get out of here, now!"

"Stonedge, say something!"

Roark struggles to find where his body is, and the sensation—rather, lack thereof—feels vaguely familiar. This is not that far from the beginning of his oripathy, when the pain of originium manifesting was new. He fights to curl his fingers, and finds relief when they finally obey, sore, burning. One foot can limply jostle, and the other doesn't feel like it responds. That's... not good. Although his breaths are labored and deep, his chest feels like it's pounding, still.

"I'm here... I'm here," he finally breathes out, "I just... I'm in a bad... bad way."

Mudrock settles her shoulders as they make their way out from the abandoned mines, operators ahead scouting for cave ins and obstacles from the minor quakes brought on by the colossus' attempts. For as long as this cave system has been utilized and constructed, there was much less to worry about. One of the medics examining Roark finally comments on the blood. "Your joints collapsed under the weight when that caster was taken out—if we get out of here in time, we can save your legs. One is worse than the other, but we've tightened up the safety straps to limit the backwash of minerals entering your bloodstream."

Oh.. oh, that would make sense, huh. Roark grimaces, aware of said tightness, even in his daze. The medic speaks up again.

"There's crystals on your elbows... your arts exceeded your body's natural limitations."

"No wonder I'm out of it.."

"Just keep talking to us, our route's clear. And don't look down, either."

"Roger..."

Roark has never been a fan of being incapable of standing on his own two feet, be it figuratively or literally. Yet, what he relies on the most isn't something he was born with, anyway. He didn't ask for it, either, and for a little while, saw it as a mark certain for death—a punishment for caring about others in an uncaring world inside of the borders of an exponentially uncaring nation. When he realized it allowed him to handle the more dangerous work, it became a boon. Understanding the complicated relationship between his own biology and oripathy turned it into a weapon he relied on. Adding layers upon layers of usefulness, in the end, didn't change that it never belonged to him. He was just another patient, another Infected. He could believe he was something more than that if such exposure to these abilities of his made others happy.

Being faced with the damage done now left him a little lost in that regard. There was no way he'd be back in operations anytime soon. He wasn't even sure if he'd be able to get around at all for the time being, which, is restricting for an active guy like him.

In the end, all he's been trying to do is distract his thoughts from the IV plugged into his forearm and the mess that was the discolored swelling that bellowed at his knees. The bruises that appeared over the few hours of transport evolved into deep purples and more gruesome yellow, saturated enough to display on his darker complexion. To his dismay, much of the blood that had taken the liberty of oozing between ruptured skin was, in fact, the sprouting of oripathy crystals, the same as the tough, obsidian-like crystals that remained along his tail. Sure, he was numbed to the pain as one could reasonably be allowed, but the exhaustion was something else—stressing out the medical staff wasn't his intention, but everything directed at him just felt so delayed. It didn't help that the initial observation was that the muscles around his joints ruptured, painting a very unappetizing visualization while he was stuck in the gurney like a ragdoll.

"You really screwed yourself this time, Roark," quips a fellow archosaurian—Gavial, with clipboard in hand, likely documenting this whole mess and looking mightily unenthusiastic about his most recent decisions. She had been the one to give him his screening when he first boarded Rhodes, one of the few operators with excellent knowledge of archosauria as there weren't many at all. She had also been the primary surgeon for the arduous process of giving him the mobility back in his tail back then as well. He just likes to keep her busy, it seemed. She goes as far as knocking him on the head to get him to react sooner, and he blinks slowly.

"Little bit, eh? How's it look?"

"Like shit."

"...Fair point. I also feel like shit."

"We don't have a lot of time to do this right, but lucky for you, the oripathy's the only reason you're not in anaphylactic shock. Blood's seeping out enough to not poison your body as fast as these injuries normally would. Unfortunately, you still need a blood transfusion."

"But, I'm tired, Gav."

"If you do so much as close your eyes I'll beat a headache into that thick skull of yours so hard that it hurts too much to sleep. Wait 'til it's done, and tell me if you feel something different." Her recording is finished, and she's already fishing up the right tools for the job—whatever that job may be. Roark knows better to protest, even as one of the few operators that aren't terrified of her and her practice. Her efficiency in emergency care is unparalleled, and given they can hold a conversation, perhaps Roark ended up blacking out the worst of the stabilization.

"Maaan—alright, alright. Walk me through this, I'll try to follow."

"First thing's first, our resident vampire's gonna work on all the blood loss you've had on the way back, and cycle out the damage from your crush injury. As for us," Gavial vaguely gestures towards the small team that Roark was unaware even existed, scrubs and all, "We have to extract all of the originium out of your joints, or you're not gonna like it."

And he's gotta stay awake for this? Maybe being unable to feel his limbs makes the anxiety flop in his stomach worse.

"And, you better tell me if you feel anything painful. I mean it."

Considering his knees are the description of what it means to be blown, Roark nods in full compliance.

He tries not to focus too much on the instruments that far too quickly turn a fresh crimson as the team preps according to Gavial's instructions. The main objective here was to extract the new growths, remove any tissue that showed signs of necrosis, examine his joints at the source, suture up his legs back into shape, repeat the process for his elbows, check the rest of his body for signs of crush damage, and all the while, pump and cycle him full of fluids to keep his body from going any further than shock.

Oh, shock. That's probably why he wasn't panicking over the potential chances of losing his limbs, huh. There's the trust in the medical staff at Rhodes, too, of course.. and, maybe the acceptance of the risk. He's not particularly upset at being the only one to sustain any major injuries in such a high risk operation. He was asked to perform, and perform he did.

Roark appears as zoned out as he feels, vaguely aware of Warfarin's presence, hooking a blood bag to the wheeled rod that was carrying a plethora of fluids, labeled with words Roark couldn't even begin to understand the purpose for, much less read at all. Maybe his condition was more serious than he was told, or, maybe he was told and had already forgotten. Ah, well.

He not aware of the time, either, but seeing Gavial take a moment to crack her back and shoulders gives him a vague indication it's probably been a few hours. And then there's the travel time back from the mines. It's been awhile.

"Good news is that he's stabilizing. We might be able to begin surgery after he receives two units," he hears Warfarin report as Gavial and now familiar assistants drop shards of obsidian crystals into a metal bowl, each plink a different signature than the one that came before. Roark lolls his head to one side, trying to keep his arms from moving too much. He's tired.

"Works for me. He looks like he's about to take a nap, anyway. We'll likely need to borrow some donor skin for his joints, but soft tissue loss has been minimized due to the crystallization taking place. The worst of the muscle trauma is partially from being stabbed by his own oripathy." Gavial is the only doctor capable of being surprisingly easy to understand, although he wonders if it's for his benefit. "Skin from the thigh should suffice. His recovery won't be as bad as the initial report, but he's going to need several weeks of PT and making sure he doesn't volunteer himself for anything stupid." She clicks her tongue, another thought coming to mind. "Examine his tail afterwards, his charts need to be updated for an unexpected increase in his originium-cell assimilation. A scan for his spine as well. That's his problem area. Let's prepare for reconstruction surgery. Knock his ass out."

Roark, naturally, doesn't remember anything else after that.

When he comes to, he's no longer in the operating room surrounded by other operators and medical personnel alike—he's alone, bandaged up and stiff and surprisingly relaxed. Well, that simply had to be the intravenous pain medication in his system, considering his joints don't want to cooperate, held back by stitches. After a sigh, Roark settles back, resolved to be stuck only moving his arms by shoulders alone. Lifting his legs is even less practical, and all the interesting things to look at ( that is, all of the wounds ) are dressed in gauze. Damnit.

This is going to be a long recovery, isn't it?

"Ah, Stonedge, you're awake, perfect."

When he looks up, Gavial is there, arms crossed with clipboard in a hand, dangling. "You've been out for a whole day so far, I almost thought we lost you after all."

"Nah, I wouldn't go down that easy," Roark laughs tiredly, "Although I can't really go up at the moment, either."

She nods, a smirk playing on her lips, "Guess you figured that one out by yourself, huh? I need to change your bandages and check those stitches, anyway. We'll give them a bend before wrapping them up again. Otherwise, surgery went smoothly, aside from all those crystals we had to extract. Don't do crazy shit like that again, alright?"

Ah, well... "I didn't really have a choice, but—I'll try! I'll try! Don't hit me with that!"

Gavial just laughs before she grabs a fresh roll of gauze out of the medicine cabinet standard to these rooms. "Your arts do better when you're about to get the crap beaten out of you, anyway. Here, how's your arm when I bend it...?"

Changing bandages allows Roark to finally see just how much damage his oripathy required without completely ruining his mobility—the bruises are the worst he's ever seen, especially on himself. Between the stitches and the muscles crushing under the pressure, he much preferred them to be wrapped up. Thankfully, the worst he feels is soreness, and the stitches don't tug dangerously taut. Still, he can't be throwing himself around until the skin adheres to itself. Being bedridden sounds more boring than anything, and he asks Gavial if she can bring a few books from his labspace, to which she eventually obliges. It's really all he can do between these check-ups, trying to eat small meals, and otherwise being unable to stand for the next couple of weeks while his muscles heal. The process required more mental sanity than Roark had after the operation, and Gavial surprises him with another notice.

"By the way, you're also getting mandatory psych evaluations for the trauma."

"Huh—"

"To prevent phantom pains, or at least to learn to identify them from reality. It's common after experiencing severe pain, and with your track record—" Roark looks a little sheepish, "—you've got a tendency to compartmentalize trauma. We have to make it easier before you're cleared for operations again."

"Oh. Right. That would make sense, wouldn't it."

Gavial sighs and shakes her head. "You defenders are the worst, I swear. Anyway, I'll handle your PT when you have enough strength to stand, but it'll depend on how easily your joints recover from all the extractions. Two meals a day, hydration intravenous. Vitals every two hours. Bandage changes every morning or as needed if sooner. Counseling program will be two weeks, ten sessions. And you will tell us if you need more, understand?"

Roark scratches at his head, trying to keep track of everything, but for the most part, he'll be subjected to whatever the medic on duty will give him. At least he's not completely abandoned. "Yeah, just make sure I can see it somewhere since I can't write it down myself."

"No problem. If something feels off, give us a holler."

"Ah, hold on.. how is my back?"

Gavial's expression flattens some, much to his worry. "The amount of activity required of the originium in your body went beyond what your current suppression was capable of, so the crystals had a spur in your problem areas. That's the other reason why you'll be on mandatory bedrest for a while. Some crystals expressed on your spine, again, and a CT showed growths spawning in your tail, but we were able to do some preventative extractions while you were under. Those will heal sooner than everything else, but your assimilation rate has gone up by three percent. Still moderate, though, since you're not exposed to dust all day."

"Ah, Dad wouldn't be happy to hear that, but, oh well. I guess I gotta take it easy."

"Were you planning to get knocked out?"

"No—!"

"Then you better take it easy."

"I will, I will—"

"Good! That's what I like to hear. I'll see you in a few so I can get you some books." With that, Gavial is already on her way out. Roark can only look at his fresh bandages and sigh.

There's the psych evaluation to consider, he eventually comes to remember—not that he's ever lied through them or anything, it's just... difficult to word things when he's never had a reason to find words for some of the shit he's experienced. But, while he's not allowed in combat, he'll be allowed off the landship eventually as part of his enrichment. Mandatory excavation time... yeah, maybe that sounds nice to do. He'll have to bring it up with Gavial when she comes back then. This was going to be a long few weeks, wasn't it?

The flex in his joints feels more smooth, less taxing and fearful. Where stitches joined his skin together was now several crescent scars, raised and pale against tanned skin. His degree of strength in them still had some months to go, especially now that it was safer to do lighter reps in the training room, but Gavial had ensured he was not going to be completely feeble and unable to hold up his own weight in the meantime. Well, really, she beat his ass in physical therapy, and certainly made sure he hadn't lost an ounce of flexibility required of him against his will.

He could still feel his hamstrings stretched in ways he would remember in nightmares.

But.. all things considered, his body hadn't faltered as much as he had feared, granted, having a fellow archosaurian had helped immensely with the knowledge about their race and what sorts of training responded best. Even the shortcomings were addressed, even if Roark felt like he was about to snap his joints in half at times. The weeks felt like years, but he couldn't deny that Gavial's regimen prevented the muscles around his healing joints from total atrophy. The rest he could maintain on his own, and he was able to walk freely with weight.

"Lucky for you, Roark," Gavial overlooks her notes, incredibly long and detailed, but she skims as if there's no more than a paragraph, "Looks like you're finally cleared to take excursions off the landship. Good timing, too, we'll be in Higashi for about a couple of weeks for onboarding and supplies. You've shown good progress picking up that hammer of yours, and you'll need to work those muscles back for... two months, based on your weekly trend."

Roark looks hopeful, hilarious on a rugged looking alligator like him. "Can I go fossil hunting then?"

Gavial rolls her eyes. "Yes, as long as you don't overdo it. Snap your joints and I'm letting you rot with 'em."

Now, he's beaming. "Hell yeah—! Thanks, Gav!"

"That's Doctor to you." She gets a chuckle in return. "Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind. I'm signing off on approval for recreational activities, so you can request whenever you want. You're still not cleared for operations, though."

"I'll take it for now, I'm gonna go digging—" and Roark is taking her words seriously, bounding up and out of her office to go find the nearest administrator to give him his leave notice for the day.

Gavial adds another note to her report.

Patient's mental stability relies heavily on access to hobbies and manual labor. Continue to monitor damaged areas and evaluate oripathy response. Advise as necessary. Patient excels in outdoor activities. Update physical therapy location to the landing strip.

Roark is aware of the way he feels different in carrying himself—emotionally, he recovered far faster with the acceptance of his role, and those in the operation had checked in on him sporadically to ensure he was doing well. Of course, that was consciously. Physically, he wasn't near where he was at prior to the contract, with his endurance temporarily squandered and slow to rebuild. He was getting impatient, and being able to excavate in a completely new territory was too much of an exciting opportunity to give up.

What history did Higashi's lands hold? Was it anything like Columbia? Sargon? The possibilities excite him and it's near agony that he can't carry himself across the landship faster. Ugh, right, he needs to check in with the administrative office to get his leave. Fine, fine. Any faster and his legs will end up too sore from the exertion. Everything is so behind.

( you have time, you have time... ) The reminder drilled into him during his wellness visits repeats over and over, and Roark tries to slow himself down. He can't help it, he argues with himself, all the way down the hallways, through the conversation with a Rhodes Island receptionist, all the way back to his lab, while gathering his equipment, and it finally ceases when he retrieves his weapon from his room. It's heavier than it used to be.

( that's why we're going on an excursion, 'cause this is also part of the tools. this pick has been with him for almost a decade now.. )

He settles the heavy end against his shoulder, easing the strain on his arms. That feels better. Alright. Time to go hunting, then.

[billythesquid]

CW: brief mentions of animal abuse and death

Honestly reading this post for the first time was really baffling to me.

I live in England, and I've never encountered anywhere before where having an indoor/house cat is the 'norm'/ideologically right thing to do.

In the UK at least, it's kind of a case-by-case basis - I live kind of in the country side, me and my neighbours houses all have back gardens, and we're away from any particularly busy roads, so my family have always had cats that come and go through the cat flap (except at night when we tend to close it to stop other cats getting in). Same for my neighbours. My aunt also lives on a farm in Wales, and ofc her cats roam free as well.

I think the first time I came across a cat who was kept specifically as a house cat was when a friend of mine moved into a house right next to a busy road, and they thought it was a safer decision for the cat. Still, I remember mentioning it to my parents at the time, and they actually viewed it as a less ideal situation - that really the cat should have been able to roam outside, and that it was a shame that the road was stopping that. This is not to say that my parents' views were necessarily 'correct', but I just wanted to highlight the difference in perspective here.

I'm obviously coming from a particular perspective as someone who lives outside of a city, so I can't speak for everyone living in the UK, but even when I lived in the city for a while as a kid we had cats who could leave the house - one of them was hit by a car, so honestly I'd say probably house cats in cities are the way to go. But again even though that happened, it wasn't seen at the time as us being terrible owners for allowing him out of the house. Letting cats outside is just the norm in the UK.

I've also now done a bit of digging about this, bc I was really curious about where this really uniform message of 'keep your cats inside, the outdoors exposes them to disease and they pose an ecological threat to wildlife' was coming from - I wondered whether it was sth that you always see in vets offices, or if its a particular line/standard of veterinary practice.

Bc of tumblr demographics I assumed this was a North American thing, and it looks like it is - I'd be interested to know the actual demographics of the commenters though.

Anyway, I looked up 'indoor cats America' and found a PETA article about it, which sure enough gives a p strong assertion that cats should without exception be kept indoors (https://www.peta.org/living/animal-companions/caring-animal-companions/caring-cats/indoor-cats/). One of their main arguments was around FIV (feline immunodeficiency virus) and how keeping a cat indoors was the only way to prevent them catching this disease (it also started off with a very harrowing story about a cat that got sick from being outdoors, which... came across as kind of emotional manipulation and generalising, frankly, but I guess that's PETA?).

And then it went on to give honestly what reads as a bit of a moral panic around the dangers of humans hurting cats???

Idk seems a little bit,,,, scare mongering to me but tbf I don't know the statistics, and maybe this is an American thing? But I'd honestly highly doubt this level of catnapping and abuse is as rampant as the article makes it out to be????

Anyway I was also wondering whether maybe the reason why North Americans see keeping cats indoors as so critical is bc FIV is particularly prevalent there, whereas it's not so big elsewhere? So I looked up 'FIV cats' and it came up with an article from the RSPCA (https://www.rspca.org.uk/adviceandwelfare/pets/cats/health/fiv). The RSPCA (Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals), probably the biggest UK charity for animal rights (kind of our equivalent to PETA? ish? Although maybe more establishment irdk). The article said:

And I was just struck by the very non-alarmist tone of it all - how FIV cats can also 'have a similar life expectancy to unaffected cats'. Also, instead of making a blanket statement about how all cats are equally at risk, the RSPCA article breaks down the risks, highlighting how FIV is most commonly spread by unneutered males fighting for territory, and can therefore be avoided through spaying male cats - which is highly recommended for all cat owners to do in the UK.

And then, when talking about keeping fiv cats as indoor cats to prevent the spread of the disease, there's a link to the RSPCA's article on looking after house/indoor cats (https://www.rspca.org.uk/adviceandwelfare/pets/cats/environment/indoors), which says:

there's a very big emphasis here on an indoor lifestyle being suitable for some cats, in some situations, and the additional benefits of allowing a cat outdoors.

I kind of meant for this post to not just critique keeping cats indoors and argue for letting them outdoors, which I kind of failed to do. To clarify, I'm definitely not saying that the UK way is the 'right way' - I genuinely do think we probably don't think enough about the ecological impact of cats killing birds, and I actually think it's helpful to see how keeping cats indoors could be a very easy solution to that. And there are big dangers to cats outdoors, especially where there are humans.

Also I'm aware PETA might not be the best source of info for the mainstream North American feeling re animal treatment - please tell me if I'm completely wrong, or where you actually learnt this from, or if you don't even know a 'source' it's just 'common knowledge' (like me and cats being let outdoors).

However, I did want to counter the tone of moral purity that a lot of people seemed to have in the comments re indoor cats, by gently reminding everyone that keeping cats indoors is a (country specific) norm with it's pros and cons, rather than a moral necessity. I'm sure other countries also have other very different attitudes to the best ways to treat cats, and I think it's better not to make a moral hierarchy out of it (reminder to myself there as well).

I'd be really interested to learn what the norms are for keeping cats in different parts of the world, and what you're told about the 'best' way to care for your cat, if anyone wants to share.

Thanks for reading!

ideologically i disagree with outside cats but i cannot deny the allure of being able to just meet a little guy anytime anywhere

[cletusthurstonbeauregard]

11 Things You Didn’t Know About Hello Kitty

Istill remember the pocket-size Hello Kitty colored pencil set I had as a girl, and I am delighted that my two Gen Alpha kids have embraced her and her ever-growing cast of Sanrio friends. She turns 50 on Nov. 1, and over the past five decades, she has collaborated with brands ranging from Adidas to Pottery Barn to MAC Cosmetics and more, run for president, been the subject of her own museum exhibition, is at the center of a thriving businessand thats just for starters. But while she’s recognized around the globe, the Hello Kitty origin story is still a bit of a mystery.

I recently had the opportunity to speak with Christina Yano, arguably the worlds foremost Hello Kitty expert, about Hello Kitty’s universal and timeless appeal. Hello Kittys design is brilliantly simplesomething you could probably draw yourself, says Yano, co-curator of Hello! Exploring the Supercute World of Hello Kitty, the museum exhibit celebrating her 40th birthday, and author of Pink Globalization: Hello Kitty’s Trek Across the Pacific. In that cute blankness, she speaks to people, and they think shes mine. Thats certainly true in my household, where my kids think they discovered Hello Kitty, but I know better.

Yano shares more about Hello Kittys allure. In the ’70s, when Hello Kitty was created in Japan, she struck a specific niche of cute goods, geared toward girls. Sanrio took utilitarian objects like a beach slipper and made it special, Yano says. “‘Cute-ifying’ everyday stuff became a kind of genius, and Sanrio expanded licensing to adult things, such as vacuum cleaners, rice cookers, etc.

Read on for more about the Hello Kitty origin story.

Fun facts about Hello Kitty’s origin (and more)

1. Hello Kitty is a cat, not a girl. Lets get this controversial Hello Kitty fact out of the way first. Despite what you may have heard to the contrary, Hello Kitty is indeed a cat. When I asked Yano about this rumor, she shared that it stemmed from the 2015 museum exhibition that she co-curated. I wrote all the captions no one reads and flippantly wrote feline this and feline that. When she shared them with Sanrio for review, she says, they asked me not to emphasize her as a cat and said, We think of her like a friend, like a girl. She is always supportive, always there. That being said, her ears, whiskers and the fact that she comes from a family of cats is enough to convince me that Hello Kitty is a cat.

2. Hello Kitty was born Kitty White in London on Nov. 1, 1974.

3. She has a twin sister, Mimmy, who wears a yellow bow on her right ear to mirror Kittys red bow on her left ear.

4. Hello Kittys motto is You can never have too many friends. Aside from Mimmy, her circle has expanded to her boyfriend, Dear Daniel; her close friend My Melody; Cinnamoroll, who has been voted the most popular Sanrio character for four years running on the brands website; and a cast of more than 200 others.

5. She ran for president of the United States in 2016 on the Friendship Party.

6. Hello Kitty has collaborated with countless brands. Recent ones include Adidas, McDonalds, Crocs, Gund, Forever 21 and Glamnetic Nails.

7. There are even more unlicensed Hello Kitty products in the world, including the infamous Hello Kitty AK-47. In 2013, Sanrio issued a statement, Sanrio has not and will not authorize the manufacture or sale of any gun or firearm and does not condone the use of our intellectual property for the purposes of marketing such merchandise.

8. At KittyCon, which ran in conjunction with the 2015 exhibit, attendees had the opportunity to get a free Hello Kitty tattoo from a top tattoo artist, reports Yano, who shares that the line for tattoos was long.

9. Hello Kitty and her friends have been the stars of dozens of TV shows, most recently Hello Kitty: Super Style! The show, which is in its 12th season and airs on Amazon Prime, follows Hello Kitty as she uses her magical bow to transform into a detective, pop star, chef and more to come to the rescue of her friends around town.

10. Hello Kitty has her own theme park, Sanrio Puroland. Unfortunately, for my kids, me and every U.S.-based Hello Kitty fan, its in Japan. The indoor theme park, located just outside Tokyo, features rides (picture a Sanrio version of Disneys Its a Small World), character meet and greets, shows, themed dining and, of course, plenty of shopping.

11. While youll need a passport to visit Sanrio Puroland, there are three Hello Kitty cafes stateside: the flagship Hello Kitty Grand Caf in Irvine, California; a smaller outpost in Universal CityWalk in California; and a takeout branch in Las Vegas. Heres hoping they expand to the East Coast soon!

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 29

Chapter 29 : Will you grant me this dance ?

But me, I only saw him.

*

Nevra's voice suddenly rang out, bringing me back to reality.

- Ladies, he said, bending slightly. You are both beautiful.

Taking my eyes away from the dragon, a polite smile nestled on my face in hopes of putting on a good face. A ball of apprehension having nestled in the back of my throat, I felt unable to say anything.

Luckily for me, Karenn answered for me.

- This is not news, laughed this one.

But the rest of her sentence buzzed in my distracted ears because, even so averted from Lance's azure gaze, I could still feel his attention turned towards me. He didn't seem to want to take part in the lively conversations of our comrades either.

Without realizing it, I had placed myself slightly behind the group, wishing to be forgotten. Or rather, disappear away from the intense gaze of the dragon.

I couldn't help noticing, however, that tonight he had swapped his usual armor for a white suit to match those worn by Nevra and Chrome, this one adorned with insignia reminiscent of those found on Earth among the members of the army. His shoulders, enhanced by golden shoulder pads, looked even wider than they already were while a red sash wrapped around his already marked waistline. Dazzled by the elegance that emanated from him, I could no longer take my eyes off his tall stature.

Lance had always had something different. He had always emanated from him a kind of natural poise, a grace both feline and bestial which counterbalanced constantly. I had never seen him in such clothes.

And I had never eyed him so much as at this precise moment.

Absorbed by the contemplation of his outfit, I hadn't realized that he had approached. His deep laugh sounded close to me.

- Everything is fine ? he asked me.

I shook my head to myself to collect myself as my flushed cheeks probably betrayed my thoughts. But I didn't have time to answer because Karenn suddenly intervened just to my left.

- It's been a long time since you've worn these outfits.

Damn, I had almost forgotten them.

The boys looked at each other before the vampire spoke.

- It's true. We're returning from a special mission and Huang Hua is going to make an important speech. Our ceremonial outfits were necessary.

- I had never seen you wear these outfits, I wondered, finally taking part in the conversation.

- It's because you haven't had the chance, he said in an almost embarrassed tone. All members of The Sparkling must wear it during certain events. The badges on our chest signify the number of honors we have received.

My eyes locked on the little brooches that glistened on each one. Lance and Nevra both sported more than a dozen.

What exploits could they have achieved to have been thanked in this way ?

There were still so many things I didn't know about them.

- And I guess you are the ones who have the most, I raised with a sardonic air.

The two began to smile smugly.

- We must admit that we're the two best warriors in this place, answered Nevra, showing his canines.

- Come on, Karenn breathed while raising her eyes to the sky. Chrome has been in the Sparkling a lot shorter than you, but I'm sure he would have just as many. Isn't that my loulou ?

It was the wolf's turn to adopt an almost embarrassed pout.

- Yes, but these two are still really impressive.

Turning to me, he continued :

- You left with them on a mission Andraste, you must have realized that.

I remembered the last events in Genkaku. These two used to step in together, there was no doubt.

- It's true, they're really...

As I opened my mouth, I realized the weight of Lance's gaze once again planted on me, which confused me for the umpteenth time.

- ... impressive, I conclude while fixing my turn.

The voices of our friends continued to echo near us, but neither he nor I sought to add anything more.

I had to talk to him.

This evening.

Heart beating a hundred miles an hour, I then approached him. His gaze with unreal shades crossed mine when I planted myself in front of him.

- Lance, I threw over the music.

Turning to face me, he let a small smile escape his full lips.

- Andraste.

Without thinking, I stretched my palm in his direction and, despite the apprehension that animated me, I breathed as much confidence as possible into my voice when I proposed to him :

- Will you grant me this dance ?

Hearing my question, he raised his eyebrows in surprise and curiosity.

- The little human wants to dance with me ?

"Little human".

My heart always skipped a beat when he gave me those nicknames. I shrug my shoulders with an air that wanted to be detached.

- It seems to me that this is what is done during this kind of evenings, right ?

- You're definitely still surprising, he laughed in a voice that was much too low compared to the ambient noise, which accentuated his serious and warm appearance.

Instead of just taking my hand, he gently wrapped his fingers all around mine in a slow yet possessive gesture before planting his eyes directly on mine, thus stopping time.

- It would be an honor to dance with the most beautiful woman of this evening.

Then, without giving me time to answer, it was without another word that he guided me through the crowd without ever letting go of my hand.

Behind his broad back, I moved around under the curious eyes of the people around us, visibly surprised to see us together. Lance and I, in the eyes of the world, was a taboo affair, even almost forbidden.

But, nevertheless, I had always known that one day I would only see him.

He finally stopped before turning to me.

- Do you know how to dance ?

With a quick glance, I observed the bodies moving all around us before feeling the panic win me again.

- If I tell you no ? I say while squeezing his fingers a little tighter. I have never danced the waltz or anything close to it. I'm sorry, you must not like it eith...

I stopped short when the frank laugh of the young man echoed between us. Raising my eyes in his direction, I remained glued to his hilarity.

- You're kidding me ! I groaned.

With his free hand, he wiped the corner of his moist eyes.

- No, absolutely not, he assured me without losing his smile. You're just really cute, that's all. It's okay if you can't dance, I'll guide you.

Because he knew ?

With a sure gesture, he wrapped one of his arms around my hip then raised our still intertwined hands, pressing our bodies against each other. Without my realizing it, his movements then guided me. It's with disturbing ease that Lance manages to make me follow in his footsteps without my having to think.

- Where did you learn to dance like this ? I questioned him suspiciously as we moved slowly down the trail.

- Unfortunately, being Head of Guard requires certain things. Besides having to wear such an outfit, we are also taught to move without too much disgrace, he quipped. I took lessons a long time ago, even before Miiko became leader of the Sparkling.

- Are you talking about the time of Master Kaze ?

The surprise is read immediately in his blue eyes but he didn't stop his gestures which moved almost by themselves.

- I didn't know you'd heard of him before. But yes indeed, it's about him. How do you know his name ?

I bit my lower lip. He wasn't going to like my answer.

- I heard you pronounce it when I explored your memories, I explained slowly. He was in the Crystal room with other men, he had just summoned you. You arrived just before the memory changed.

For several seconds, he was walled in a dead silence. I knew Lance didn't like the fact that I was able to explore his memories, even though it had been unintentional and, for his part, still totally unexplained.

- I see. There's one thing you haven't fully explained to me. How does it go, when you go through my memories ? I mean, are you physically present ?

- Well...

These memories brought me back to this same room but years earlier, before I even arrived on Eldarya.

- Yes, we can say that. I'm present, I can see myself but the others cannot.

As if lost in thought, the dragon's fingers began to play with the back of my dress.

- I remember that moment perfectly. It was the only time Master Kaze summoned me like this. The entire Watch was against sending me there for a variety of reasons, including the fact that I was very young and unstable for a Watch leader, although Obsidian has always had unpredictable people. That day, I felt a touch. When I turned around, no one was there. However...

His gaze locked on mine, preventing me from looking away.

- Did you... did you feel anything ? I questioned him. Like you hit someone ?

My breath hitched for a moment as I waited for his answer.

- Exactly, he concludes. Now that I think about it, I didn't know you then, but I would recognize it anywhere.

Without warning, Lance tightened his arm around my waist so that I was a little closer to him. His scent permeated all around me when he spoke again.

- What I felt was your presence, Andraste. How is that possible ?

- You were the only one who seemed to feel me. When our arms touched, you looked at me, I explained with a shrug.

His eyes fell behind me for a moment, as if lost in thought. When he finally came to me, a soft smile suddenly lit up his face.

In a way so touching it made my heart pound.

- It doesn't matter the reason for our bond. All I know is that I'm the luckiest man, he smiles proudly.

Taped, I forgot to follow his movements, stopping us in the crowd.

- Lance, you are...

Searching for my words, my voice trailed off as I felt his gaze drift to my lips for a brief moment.

Visibly amused by my sudden silence, he arched one of his eyebrows.

- I am... ?

Then without warning, he leaned over me until he caressed my ear with his mocking mouth.

- You can say that I am absolutely irresistible, he whispered to me in a deep voice. But you'd have to try to restrain yourself from tearing off my clothes here, it could be annoying.

When he straightened slightly, he added playfully :

- Whatever...

His laughter echoed when I gave him a light pat on the shoulder.

- You are irrecoverable, I breathed while restraining myself from laughing in my turn. I see you don't need my compliments to trust you. It's too bad, I was going to say that you were barely presentable.

His laugh sounded a little louder this time, bringing us a few external glances.

- You hurt me there, my angel. I am deeply touched, he mimed a hand on the heart.

I couldn't stop my lips from stretching too.

Pulling on his hand that still surrounded mine, I moved closer as he had done a moment earlier. My voice with soft intonations then came to caress his ear.

- Alright, you won. I must admit that you're issued beautiful in this outfit. But let me ask you a question.

- All that you'll want.

- How many women have you danced with to do so well ?

But my tone of reproach rang false. In truth, I was totally admiring of this talent that I didn't know him.

- None was as beautiful as you, he dodged.

- You're not answering my question.

- That's true, but I maintain that none came up to your ankle.

I can't explain why, but seeing him so relaxed and playing reminds me that I can't pretend not to know anymore.

- Lance...

My voice wavered slightly. Was this the best time to tell him such news ?

Or rather, was there really a better time to do it ?

- There is something I need to talk to you about…

Lance, tonight, your laughter lit up the whole room.

And I sincerely wished that you would never stop smiling at me like you did right now.

(Chapter 30)

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - January 23

Happy Sunday!! Here’s what I’ve been reading this week. As always, leave your fic authors some love if you read and enjoy their stories! 

And for my friends on Twitter--STW is there now, with the weekly list and daily spotlights! 

**Indicates my recent favs 

~*~ 

after you woke by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes)

Tony's daddy issues have daddy issues. This is common knowledge. What isn't common knowledge is how, exactly Tony got those daddy issues. Steve's about to find out.

Breathe and Release by exfatalist

Since being honorably discharged from the Army after an injury sustained while deployed in Afghanistan, Steve Rogers has found a new center of balance as a yoga instructor at a small Manhattan gym. It just stands to figure that one day media crisis-plagued billionaire Tony Stark would come waltzing in and throw everything off. As he guides his controversial new student on the journey to inner peace, Steve learns to deal with some negative energy of his own, and finds something unexpected on the way. [ Non-Powered AU, Modern!Steve. ]

Breakfast is the Most Important Meal by CherryIce

In which Steve is kind of a fossil but his squishy parts and feelings are still intact, Bruce hates blueberries, there's a mysterious banging coming from Tony's lab in the basement, and Emma Frost is not actually a stripper.

Wonders of the World (The Keep Me Safe from Harm Remix) by Sineala

Steve, America's top cop, meets Tony, in the middle of launching Resilient, in a hotel room in Seattle. There, Steve finds unexpected comfort in Tony's presence. It wasn't supposed to be an assignation. But then, a snowstorm wasn't supposed to strand them together, either.

Unmasked by Sineala

All the rifts of the Civil War have been healed, everyone is alive again, and the Avengers can finally relax... and party! It's time for a marathon viewing of the Avengers TV show! Of course, Tony doesn't remember what happened in any of the episodes that aired while he was the director of SHIELD, but he's positive he wouldn't have approved anything... inappropriate. He absolutely wouldn't have. As it turns out, Tony shouldn't think so highly of himself.

Your Lips and Mine (sharp as knives, sweet as summer berries) by IamShadow21

In which Tony Stark kisses and is kissed, makes poor choices and good apologies, and ends up with a family of friends despite himself.

***Get Some Now by Sineala

Avengers Mansion has a mysterious feline infestation. Meanwhile, Steve just can't figure out how to ask Tony out on a date. And the thirteen teleporting cats sure aren't helping matters any.

Blank Slate - A Tony Stark Mystery by navaan

He doesn’t remember who he is or who his friends are, but he knows he’s in a Nazi prison and needs to get away. He doesn’t remember anything about Captain America either, but the man seems to be the kind of guy you trust.

And apparently they share more history than meets the eye at first glance.

Your Knight in Shiny Armor by magicasen

Steve gets hit with a memory spell, and now everyone's worried over him. Mostly over the fact that no one can figure out just what he forgot.

Your Mirror Image by magicasen 

The Maria Stark Foundation hosts a superhero-themed gala. Who Steve and Tony come dressed up as is really no surprise.

All That Remains by kijikun

In retrospect, it was the answer to all of the questions he'd carefully avoided asking, all of the things he hadn't wanted to look at too closely.

Seeing Stars by BlossomsintheMist

“I want you to ride me,” Steve said, his hand closing around his dick. He slid it up slow, pushing his foreskin up before circling his palm over the head, pulling it back down so that Tony got a view of his sweet, leaking tip, the copious precome welling up and spilling over.

Tony gives Steve a ride (and a few more things).

Hold Me Down by Elspethdixon, Seanchai

Steve takes Tony back to his apartment to recharge and get warmed up following a fight with a supervillain. PG-13-rated shower sex ensues.

three weeks by orphan_account

Tony Stark is missing and he's pretty sure no one's coming for him.

***His Mark on Your Skin by nightwalker

So he gets the tattoo. For Steve, who likes to see Tony marked. But also for Tony who likes to be marked, to be reminded in that visceral, physical way that he’s Steve’s now.

***The Adventures of Leonardo da Sneezi by soniclipstick (veriscence)

… and his pet human, Steve.

This is the story of how Steve Rogers and Tony Stark fell in love due to a fortunate series of extraordinary events, including but not limited to: the courtship of a cat and his beloved tree, the drinking of much paint water, and an entire pharmacy worth of allergy medications.

With My Own Two Hands by Sineala

When Steve and Tony's safeword jokes turn serious and the two of them embark on a D/s relationship, Steve discovers just how much he enjoys taking care of Tony.

****Forty-Seven Flat by geekymoviemom

Steve Rogers was on the top of the world. He was one of the top students in his class, a world-class athlete, and had a man who loved him. Winning an Olympic Gold Medal seemed like the perfect addition to his picture-perfect life.

But only four years later, Steve’s entire world has come crashing down around him, leaving defending his Olympic title the only thing lying between him and utter ruin.

And then, the unthinkable happens.

Inside the Absence by laireshi, runningondreams

Steve doesn't really believe in Christmas miracles. No one unexpected is going to eat from the empty plate at the table. But sometimes tradition is the only thing he has to hold on to.

Cincinnatus by laudatenium

Behind the counter were mirror-backed shelves filled with black-and-white photographs and a folded flag in a frame. One of the most prominently displayed was one of Steve, in the ridiculous uniform he had worn during the USO tour. He had the cowl off, and looked exceptionally uncomfortable as he posed with what looked like several railway officials, a couple of the Star-Spangled Singers sitting smirking around spoons in the booth behind them.

“Sorry – I gotta –“ Tony motioned outside.

He Blinded Me With Science by orbingarrow 

The Security Admin Department at Stark Industries has a point system in place to pass the time.

+10 points for tagging management with a "Kick Me" post it note

+10 points for paging a punny fake name over the office intercom without getting caught

+10 points for stealing any office supplies off Clint's desk and returning it in jello

+20 points for making Steve swear

It's a good thing productivity isn't in the job description.

***The Last Love Song of Anthony E. Stark by jibrailis

After contracting an Asgardian virus, Tony starts forgetting things. And people. And Steve.

[skellebonez]

Happy Birthday Winter!

Hey @winterpower98 it's your birthday! I really hope you enjoy this, I know I had a ton of fun writing it for you! Actor AU is one of my favorite AUs you've made and coming back to play around with it again was a blast and a half!

Painter MK cackled, taking the brushes filled with bright pink paint into his fists.

“Yes, yes!” He exclaimed, brushing them against his cheeks and bringing another to run up the center of his face. “The art is-OW! OW, THE ART IS IN MY EYE!”

“Cut!” The director yelled, bringing the entire film production to a halt in an instant. “Xiaotian, what happened?”

The young actor dropped the paintbrushes into the hands of a stage worker to rushed over to help him, one hand covering his right eye as he tried to keep himself from laughing. “I think some of it splashed when I waved the brush at my face. I guess the art really IS-”

“Don’t say it,” Heshang said from the other side of the set, doing his best not to join his co-star in laughter.

“-seeping into my pores!”

The entire cast and crew groaned as Xiaotian cackled again, with a few added ows, before another stage hand came by with a bottle of water.

~3…2…1~

“Uh…” Xiaojiao pulled, attempting to pull the prop sword from above her head out of the wall only to be met with… a lot more resistance than should probably be there. “UH…? It’s stuck?”

She stood, attempting to pull it out normally only to be met with just as much resistance.

“It’s stuck!” She laughed, out, bracing a foot on the wall with no change.

“Let me try,” General Ironclad, or rather Red in the costume of General Ironclad for the episode, offered, attempting to do the same with the exact same result as his co-star. “What did you use to hold this in place? Cement!?”

“It should have only been stuck in with force!” A stage hand yelled as Xiaotian and Heshang joined in, both failing to pull the sword out from the false wall and Heshang nearly toppling over backwards with his additional costume pieces.

“Whoever stuck that in there needs to be moved to making sure the safety equipment stays connected!” Xiaotian offered, watching as even more people tried to remove the sword. “That is not coming out.”

~3…2…1~

Heshang held Mo in his arms, waltzing around the set as he waited for places to be called for with the shockingly content feline in his arms.

~3…2…1~

“You are selling beautiful vegetables today?” Pigsy said, leaning over the the display to give an awkward smile to the disguised Spider Queen.

Tang looked over the produce from where he knelt, looking back up at his companion with a concerned and confused look. “Are you… a-are-PFT-FUCK.”

Everyone on set burst into laughter as Tang did, both of his fellow actors holding back from laughing themselves.

“Why is it this line!?” Tang yelled in frustration as he continued laughing. “It’s not a hard line! I wrote this line! Why do I keep laughing at the last word!?”

“Maybe if Ganglie wasn’t making goo-goo eyes at me you’d keep straight face,” Zhi-Zhu Jing managed to get out through her laughter.

“That’d be the only thing straight about me.”

~3…2…1~

Dicky Cheung, or the actual Sun Wukong disguised as a human actor in full costume of himself, took a running leap and jumped onto the counter of Pigsy’s noodles, sliding to a perfect stop with a wink toward the camera.

~3…2…1~

“MK, there’s something I wanted to tell you…” Mei said, looking at MK with sparkles in her eyes before snickering. “Stop looking at me like that, it’s hard enough to keep a straight face during this scene!”

“Sorry!” Xiaotian yelled to the camera. “I can’t help it! How are Jin and Yin this wrong about these two in the show?”

“Himbos!” was the shouted answer from Tang at the other end of the set.

~3…2…1~

“One of the rare talents that no one knew the great Sun Wukong possessed…” Xiaojiao said ominously, camera panning over to Mr. Cheung in full costume. “Surprisingly good peach juggling!”

“Gotta keep myself occupied somehow!” The actor laughed out, catching two peaches in either hand while the last one was caught perfectly in his mouth to the applause of everyone watching.

~3…2…1~

“Thanks for the Key los-AH!”

Red flung his arms wildly, key flying into the air as Tie Shan rushed forward and caught him just before he face planted into the ground.

“Mine!” Mr. Cheung yelled as he caught the key mid air and rushed through the frame.

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN IN THIS EPISODE!”

~3…2…1~

“Thank you… for giving me all o-ooh, whoa!” Lui Er Mihou, or unbeknownst to nearly all Six-Eared Macaque in disguise much the same way as Sun Wukong was, yelped as the cable that was supposed to gently raise him and make him look like he was floating yoinked him as good 4 feet off the ground way too fast. “That’s too much power!”

“SORRY!” The line operator shouted, fiddling with the controls. “Someone loaded the weight setting for Xiaotian into your line instead of yours.”

“I already feel bad enough treating him like garbage and beating him up in this role, this is just rubbing salt in the wound,” Liu Er muttered, leaning back and swinging limply much to the amusement of everyone who couldn’t hear him before raising his voice. “When will my beloved friend Sun Wukong come to rescue me?”

“SPEAK MY NAME AND I SHALL APPEAR!”

Liu Er yelped in surprise as Mr. Cheung rushed in and grabbed him from beneath to hold him bridal style with a shit eating grin. He couldn't help the flush on his cheeks in response.

“HOW DO YOU KEEP SHOWING UP IN SHOTS WHEN YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE YET!?” The director yelled with more than a little amusement in his voice despite the disruption.

~3…2…1~

“You!” DBK said, rounding on Red Son. “You have brought me nothing but failure! Time and time again! I keep telling you I… shit, I can’t remember the next line when you look that sad, I am so sorry.”

“Nothing but disappointment?” Red offered helpfully, immediately breaking out of his downcast somber gaze to the floor with a wide smile.

“It is scary how fast you get in and out of character sometimes, kid,” Niu Mowang laughed out, clearly resisting the urge to ruffle the younger actor’s hair lest he ruin the styling job that took far too long every time they got dressed.

~3…2…1~

The White Bone Spirit stood at the entrance to the Silken Web Cave, looking at the camera before far too much time passed from when she was supposed to say he line. She moon walked backwards out of the frame without changing her expression one bit as the other actors devolved into cackles.

~3…2…1~

“The Year of the Spider starts tonight!” Spider Queen proclaimed from her high vantage point before she muttered something under her breathe, narrowing her gaze and then looking off to the side. “Or next year ‘cause I don’t remember my line.”

~3…2…1~

Huntsman slowly lowered into frame, upside down and gripping the rigging holding him up like Spiderman.

~3…2…1~

“Oh yeah?” Sun Wukong said, appearing in frame as he walked down the wall MK was embedded in. He grabbed his staff, yanking it out of the wall and jumped down and smacked the wall with it.

… only for it to go through the wall once again and crack it. Or, rather, the false wall that was on a tilted angle to make it look like he was talking down it, rather than a heavily slanted floor.

“I’m sorry!” Mr. Cheung yelled, looking at the damage he caused. “I must have hit at weak spot!”

He hoped no one noticed that when MK offered to get the prop staff for this shot and put it into the wall… he grabbed the real one by accident.

~3…2…1~

Nui Mowang held the little bird that was Wukong’s transformation stand in for one of the final scenes, gently petting the little head with a big goofy smile on his face.

~END~

The entire cast sat around on various travel tables right outside the small Lunar New Year Festival set they had set up, various extras that had answered the open invitation for the shoot going about and getting the free food that was available at the functional stalls provided by the catering they had hired.

It was an odd sight to see Red Son and Spider Queen and Sun Wukong and everyone else sitting around together, but Liu Er Mihou being there outside of his Macaque costume broke the illusion a little bit.

It was the final day of shooting for the season 2 opening special to Monkie Kid, Revenge of the Spider Queen, and everyone was there. Even people who didn’t have to come in wanted to give a temporary farewell to Tie Shan, Nui Mowang, and Red before season 2 proper began shooting. There was still a chance they could bebcalled in for bit roles, the scripts weren’t entirely finished yet, but as far as anyone knew the Demon Bull Family wasn’t going to be returning properly any time soon.

Maybe in season 3, Tang had teased, holding the begun scripts for that in his little tablet away from prying eyes. And they were always welcome to help out in bit roles, background characters or voice over or to use their other talents to work other jobs that were needed around the set.

But even before then it would be a while.

And so that’s how Red found himself sandwiched between Long Xiaojiao and Qi Xiaotian, with the newly added member of their quartet in her full White Bone Spirit costume hanging over his shoulder to watch the compilation that Xiaojiao had expertly edited on her phone for them all.

“The director gave me permission to use whatever I wanted and I though that… maybe we could all have it for ourselves,” Xiaojiao offered, pulling up the wireless transfer option on her phone. “To watch when we miss each other being on set together. I know we’re going to probably be back together with Red Son eventually! But…”

“I’ll miss shooting with you too,” Red said smiling softly as he pulled out his own phone to accept the file. “Hopefully Mr. Tang isn’t just teasing us about season 3.”

[yourlittlebunnyy]

a court of shadows and darkness

masterlist - previous chapter

chapter four

summary: Selaene, Rhysand's sister, Azriel's mate runs away after the High Lord of Spring tries to kill her.

warnings: none

enjoy 🌝

"I mean, how is it that I am only now learning of your origins in my court?" Selaene's laughter echoes in the emptiness that has now, century after century, become comforting. "My grandfather was part of the Night Court, but then he fell madly in love with my grandmother and decided to go with her to the Dawn Court. But you know the story."

After so many years together, Selaene and Vanessa can say that they have become more than friends, they have become sisters. The friend had seen the tiger a few times and had been amazed by her elegant and feline form: she had a white coat with black stripes that shone like the moon under the soft light of the passers-by, as they had called them. She had a sweet little face, and one could almost imagine her human form. From time to time, a passerby would come close enough to walk past her, but never close enough to catch her in time, and in recent years, the number of passersby had dwindled, making her doubt her plan.

"You know, Vane, I'm grateful you're here with me, I would have gone crazy without you."

"I was on the verge of madness when I found you. Maybe Mother wanted to give us a sister. You don't have one, do you?"

"No, only a brother, as you already know."

Another pause between the two as they continue to watch the darkness. A sad, bitter smile makes its way through the Fae's voice.

"We deserved a history like your grandparents'."

"But we got it. You have Azriel and I have Thomas."

"Vane..." Selaene did not have the heart to admit to herself that her beautiful mate, after her family thought her dead and after all these centuries, had probably forgotten her and moved on with his life. Not to mention telling Vanessa, who had so much faith in fate to envy.

"No, don't say that, Elle." She knew the tiger was haunted by such thoughts as well, and coming to terms with reality hurt too much. The conversation faded into a heavy silence, like at the beginning of their journey.

If Azriel had moved on, she would not have blamed him in any way, in fact, as much as it hurt, she would have let him go for his sake. Sometimes loving means knowing how to let go.

"Please, Selaene," it is rare for the friend to use her full name, and when she does, she is aware that she is beginning a serious and poignant speech, "remember. If you are lost in the darkness, seek the light."

"Or light it up." She cannot see her friend, but she knows she is smiling and nodding at the same time, as she is wont to do when she is pleased with something Selaene does.

This little play on words, which has become their phrase, has been with them for nearly four centuries, and every time they repeat it, that little spark of hope in their chests shines a little brighter.

A snort comes from the Fae's mouth. "What's wrong, Elle?"

"Nothing, it's just boring." Vanessa chuckles, "Come on, tell me about your family again, last time I think you missed a few adjectives about your brother's eyes."

The two women laugh, and Selaene is grateful that Vanessa enjoys listening to her so much.

"Rhysand's eyes tend to be more blue than mine. Mine are all purple. When he looks at the stars, he dreams. You know, Vane, I think he would be a big believer in if you get lost in the darkness, seek the light" Her friend's laughter echoes in the now familiar darkness, warming the atmosphere.

"Let me guess, he is also the biggest dreamer you know?"

"Of course. But only after me."

"After us. There is no one who dreams more than us."

Azriel sighs, the last breath as a free male of the evening.

Like every weekend, he and his family join in a dinner party at Feyre and Rhysand's house, and after Nyx's birth it is a rare event, which is why he could not say no.

He hasn't spoken to Feyre since what was said in his room, and he hopes she hasn't mentioned it to her mate, or tonight he will have to endure yet another lecture about how in life one must move on, that he also loved Selaene but that they must let her go.

Dinner doesn't go on so badly, it allows him to clear his mind a little and spend some light time, and Feyre doesn't seem to have said anything, doesn't even seem to remember what happened. She does not look at him with pity, and Azriel would like to hug her.

Later that evening the family is divided between those who play cards, those who drink and chat, and Azriel. Actually, he was part of the players, but after winning three out of four rounds, he was kicked out by a slightly tipsy and irritated Cassian. He wanted to retort that he only let Amren win the fourth round because he is slightly intimidated by her, but he opted to keep quiet. Now he stands on the terrace to get some fresh air. He gazes at the stars and the moon, smiling to himself as he remembers nights spent stargazing with his beloved. A sad smile. Azriel always thought Selaene was the reincarnation of the Moon, she shone with her own light, but not blinding like the sun, no, she was beautiful and deep and mysterious like that silver orb in the sky.

"Azriel?" the voice of Feyre distracted him from his thoughts.

"Yes?" Azriel sang victory too soon. He hoped Feyre had forgotten the whole thing, or simply decided to ignore it, but of course not. If it is not Rhysand, or Cassian, now Feyre is added to the list.

"I wanted to talk to you. About a few days ago...," the Fae's sea-colored eyes stare at his face for signs of despondency. Azriel continues to look at the moon. His Selaene.

"I... I haven't talked to Rhysand about it. I know Selaene's history, though, and I know-I mean, I see how your brothers look at you. Or how you're still loyal to her."

At the sound of his mate's name, Azriel grits his teeth. His body stiffens, but he forces himself to breathe. Once, twice, three times, before he looks at Feyre, meeting her eyes full of pity for him. But when he does, he finds none.

She looks at him understandingly, as if to say "I am here, talk to me."

He is surprised.

"Do you want to know my - our story, so then you will look at me as if I were a puppy left alone?"

Feyre smiles sadly, her gaze following that of the Illyrian warrior to the moon. There is a small pause before she responds.

"No, of course not, Az. Clearly I'm saddened, because from the way Rhysand described her, from the way you react just to hearing her name, she sounds like a really special person, and I would have liked to meet her myself. But I won't look at you with pity."

Azriel weighs his words carefully before speaking. Feyre for a moment thinks he might pull back, his posture stiff and his breaths short. But then the male sighs, muscles relaxing almost imperceptibly, and Feyre smiles at him before gently stroking his hand, as if to invite him to speak. As if he is saying "talk to me, I won't judge you," and only then does Azriel relent.

"She was a very special person. She was ... she was my moon."

The female senses the pain he is feeling from the squeaky voice, and knows it must be the first time he has spoken of this to anyone. She has never seen the ShadowSinger so...human, so fragile. And yet, her gaze remains fixed on his face, and her eyes do not make him pull back, but urge him to vent.

"She, we planned to accept the bond the week when she... On evenings like these I would sneak into her house and fly with her to Velaris, we would lie on the rocks and as we watched the stars, we would talk all night. She was...she was everything to me, Feyre. I've never loved anyone the way I loved her, and I don't think I can. Rhysand wants me to move on, to find someone to keep by my side. But I can't even think of another woman when my wound is still so fresh."

When Azriel finishes his speech, he feels a weight lift from his chest. Perhaps this is the first step, he thinks, to moving forward.

He looks at Feyre, searching her blue pools for something he cannot find. And he does not know what he finds there, but he is happy with what he sees. She smiles at him.

"You know, Az. Maybe sometimes loving someone is also knowing how to let go, maybe you've kept this weight on your chest too long, too afraid to show yourself vulnerable to your brothers. I'm glad you trusted me."

A comforting silence falls over them, and Azriel smiles. Feyre tries to speak again, but is interrupted by Cassian.

"Come on, you two! Who wants to play mime?"

And with that, the two return and take part in the games.

next chapter

[sclfmastery]

Together

sclfmastery: — Together. Together is good. But...  "....d'you regret knowing it all?" Her fingers, mine.  Her hands, my hands. One being.  No. Don't lie to yourself. Don't romanticize it. You tried to become her by eclipsing her.  It's nowhere near the same as the one thing you desperately want.  She should have left you there.  She is best at leaving. You are best at being forgotten. No matter how loud and glitzy and defiant and outrageous you may try to be.  "What I found out. What I told you."

mostincrediblechange — She grows quiet as she feels his thoughts shift, but she squeezes his hand reassuringly. "No, I don't regret knowing. I might regret you knowing, though," she admits. "I felt it in your-- our-- head, in my memories of being you. You think it changes things. My life with you wasn't my first life, and you think that makes it less important. You might not have been my first, so it diminishes the value of it... And that's not true."  The Doctor's voice is gentle, and she watches him with sad hazel eyes.  "I wish you knew that wasn't true. Our history is a part of me, of who I am now, Timeless Child or no. You've always been a part of me, even when we are as far apart as we can be..."

sclfmastery — The tremble beginning in his hand spreads up his arm  until his entire form quakes. The way it makes his head, his lips, and his brimming eyes shimmer, is both strangely beautiful and pitiable.  "I swear, Doctor....I killed them all for us...and for what they did to that child....but that's never what you want, a-and....a-an...nd....I just...n-never have believed....that...I...I deserve you.  So how to catch up? To  the diamond bright m...magnitude of the universe and every friend in it that you could ever...ever make?  How could I be a part of you unless I...?!"  He smacks a fist into a palm, and makes a strangled explosive sound.  "....became you? But that, that was wrong, too. So   ...together...?"  Contact. Call me by my name.....the old one. The real one.

mostincrediblechange— The Doctor sits up a little straighter and looks at him. Really looks, and sees something in him she hadn't seen before. Perhaps it's because she has been him, but all the pain, all the anger, the violence, the destruction, she understands. She doesn't agree, but she understands, and that's an important start.  "I hope you know..." She stops, and opens her mind, instead. It's much harder to lie this way, so maybe he'll know it's the truth.  Contact, Koschei. My dearest Koschei. My friend. I hope you know that I never stopped missing you. I never stopped hoping... We came close, a few times, but I never gave up on you, not entirely. I don't think I ever can.

sclfmastery — If he weren't so angry.... If the Master weren't so angry, what would he say to the Doctor?  .... I love you.  Koschei. Come closer, come home.  Their heads have been together, propped up against each other, for a while now. He turns his face toward hers, and begins to bunt, rub his cheek, his nose and lips, against hers. After that initial declaration, all that can be heard is a thrumming she'll remember from ages past: not unlike the purring of a blissed feline.

mostincrediblechange — She loves him, too. She has since she can remember, but has since locked that tightly away to protect her hearts. So when the Doctor hears him in her mind, in a way that is nearly impossible to speak falsely, she finds that the door she's hidden her hearts behind has become weathered and cracked.  Part of her is afraid of what could happen if she does open that door completely, but another part of her desperately wants to find out.  ... I love you, too. I think I always have, Koschei. I'm... I'm sorry. For... everything.  Tears sting her eyes as he nuzzles against her, his stubble scratching her face, and his lips coming dangerously close to hers. She turns towards him, her other hand coming to rest over his hearts as she closes her eyes and simply basks in his presence, his warmth, his... love.

sclfmastery — His mouth pauses against the corner of her lips.  Would you ask me again? What you asked me, on the ship under the black hole?  Ask me again.  You think I walked away.  An image of the same being at two points in time, walking away in the bleak twilight into a woodland, away from a thin old man with a shock of gray curls. It shifts, polluted by Cyberium silver, pockmarks, puckermarks like water stains, like gasoline and burned paper edges, but through it, one staggering back from the other, stabbed in the back. The other, shot in the back in return, on her way toward an obvious direction.  I didn't. I was coming back.  Wet brown eyes peer up at the Doctor. Something is prying at the breaking door in her mind. A child's hands. Ask me again. One more time. Just one. Don't leave me.

mostincrediblechange —  The Doctor's lips part as she exhales the softest breath. She thinks she might be trembling, but she's not sure, she's far too focused on him.  I'm sorry. I didn't know. Until I was you and I saw it in our memories, I didn't know what had happened. I thought Missy left. I-- all that anger, all the hurt you felt when you regenerated into this you. It was justified, but you have to know I didn't know you were still there, I--   "Stand with me," she says, barely a whisper, her eyes still closed, but tears cling to her lashes. "Stay. It's all I've ever wanted. It's all I've ever wanted."  The door in her mind creaks, and a crack rends it in two. Warm, silver threads of memory begin pouring into the child's hands. A gentle breeze could knock the door right of its hinges now.  Stay. Just... don't break my hearts, Koschei. I don't think I'd survive it this time.

sclfmastery  — The Master's low-set eyebrows soften and raise.  He peers at the Doctor carefully, his oft-roving gaze rising from the corner of the Doctor's mouth, to the edge of her nose...finally to her eyes.  Chapped lips part, and he licks them absently.  His stare finds focus, and locks on.  He doesn't blink, even as his eyes water.  Every small detail of his stare in this face, in this present moment, is on display for her purview. For her judgment.  The thin red rivulet of a blood vessel in the right corner of his right eye.  The thick blackness of his eyelashes.  The generous ovular shape. The urgency, and the sadness.  The deep, deep, longing sadness.  "Okay"--his answer, soft but aloud, real.  Don't break my hearts, she asks, offering no other condition or ultimatum. Only that. Something, at last, earnest, without ulterior motive, "noble" or not.  One friend to another.  Equal.  Below their unbroken stare, his left hand takes hers once more.  He places it over his left heart.  And then he rests his hand over hers I give you one of my hearts. You give me one of yours.  That way we are the same person, who cannot break their own hearts.  If I don't erase you, then I become you....and you become me....yeah?

[julianottheastrologer]

19 Secrets about Scorpio

Please ... this type of post is done with my own knowledge, please don't take everything too serious

This series is made to show love to our sun signs, for me no matter how many details you look for about astrology, the person knowing how their sun sign works is already the best thing, it is our greatest light and we need to know it better than anything else.

The secret list is made by this person, the description is mine.

◇☆★☆★☆★☆◆◇☆★☆★☆★☆◆◇☆★☆★☆★☆◆◇☆★☆★☆★☆◆

🔒 They have selective humor - they will not appear to be the same person in all their living environments, with the family if they want to be more stripped down, they will have a more cheerful character, at work if they want a position of power they will be more rigid and direct.

🔒 They are intense until ... - they live a normal life like everyone else, they don't live at 100 an hour. Scorpios demonstrate their intensity in two moments, when they are angry and when they talk about their passions.

🔒 They like solitude - Scorpios don't just watch TV or read a book to have a moment alone, they like to have an activity in which they practice a skill, such as painting, writing and spend hours on it.

🔒 They are extremely smart - or as you might say, with an active instinct, they pick up a lot of the lines that will stay in the air and detect lies, usually telling their friends about it.

🔒 They have mysterious souls - they need to keep their secrets as a form of protection, when they open up to a person they feel they are speaking into a megaphone for everyone to know.

🔒 They admire - they admire people from different areas, usually having an idol, a favorite clothing brand, an artist who is a fan and they do everything to be close to that someone.

🔒 They are collectors - when they look at an object they remember many memories about a moment, and for that reason they like to keep everything very close, which can result in the next item ...

🔒 They can be accumulators - as they feel more attached to objects emotionally, they are not to throw things away and can be accumulators, so it is good to select what they like and keep in their hearts what they no longer need.

🔒 They are activists - they are extremely connected to the world around them and that is why they charge for a better environment, whether at home, work or in the city.

🔒 They praise once in a life - the Scorpio's praise is based on that person's admiration, so they praise very little and don't do it lip service.

🔒 They are great critics - they analyze situations and critiques a lot at all times, but only speak their point of view when asked.

🔒 Trust that is gold worth - they appreciate the honesty of those around them and when it is broken it does not go back.

🔒 They have magnetism - the attraction of scorpions occurs in a very natural way, as people get involved in mysteries, people always want to get closer to discover more.

🔒 They are people of ups and downs - in many moments the scorpions have their energy drained, especially in those with a lot of demand and discipline, and can live many hours of zero energy.

🔒 They like to travel alone - they love to explore and venture out but they don't want anything holding them back with new obligations, so they prefer to travel alone and have their own space.

🔒 They are spiritualized - they have modulated spirituality, the one who seeks self-knowledge and gets involved in "if it does me good I practice".

🔒 They love animals and nature - they like the outdoors and nature, especially in environments with water, they protect animals and have a self-love for felines.

🔒 They are conquerors - they like the challenge of flirting and like to go up, not being still and receptive, when they don't like the person they already cut it off.

🔒 I finish it - Scorpios know how things have to end, but it must be they who do it, if by chance the other ends the courtship, they devise a whole plan to return and then it is they who ended the relationship.

[lady-wallace]

Sharing an excerpt from my other original novel The New Emperor’s Concerto today! It’s like Kingsman meets Good Omens and is an enemies to friends action adventure novel.

If you want to read the synopsis or find out where you can get a copy, check out this post HERE

Lysander came to slowly, groggily. His training kept him from making a move, from tipping off his captor that he was conscious. Simply continuing to put on the façade of unconsciousness as he tried his best to make sense of his surroundings in his current state.

The first thing he noticed was the rustle of paper as if someone were turning the pages of a book and identified the familiar scent of English breakfast tea. The clink of china confirmed that fact. Was the knave really sitting there reading and drinking tea while he was lying there captive?

He tried to ease his eyes open, staring out through his lashes when he realized something else. Something moving against his side. He froze, his breathing hitching in surprise before the thing seemed to simply leap onto his chest, digging something sharp into him. Lysander tensed, almost not wanting to look.

“Unless you want to keep pretending, I know you’re awake, so you may as well get up and have a cup of tea. I’m sure it will help your head,” a familiar voice said.

Lysander opened his eyes and found himself staring face to face with his attacker: A black cat with green eyes, staring at him reproachfully, flipping its tail, claws digging through Lysander’s clothing and into his chest. He turned his head, confused, to see Eidolon. The other man was sitting comfortably in a chair to the right of the sofa Lysander was lying on, a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose, a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other, balanced across his knee to hold his place.

“What is this?” was all Lysander could ask, still muzzy from the drug.

“My flat, which you broke into, in case you don’t remember,” came the rather defensive reply.

Lysander huffed indignantly, reaching up to feel the side of his neck, which smarted from the dart. “You drugged me.”

“You should have knocked like a civilized person,” Eidolon replied. “It’s quite rude to just go breaking into people’s residences willy-nilly, King’s Righteous Man or not.”

Lysander was still trying to get a hold of his faculties, so the only thing he could think to say next was. “You have…a cat?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?” Eidolon said, motioning to the feline still resting on Lysander’s chest who looked proud of himself as if he had been the one to single-handedly apprehend his master’s intruder. Eidolon waved a hand. “This is Oscar Wilde—as aloof and utterly indifferent as his namesake.”

The cat finally jumped off of Lysander’s chest once the introduction was over and the King’s Agent finally sat up, closing his eyes briefly as the movement made his head swim. He realized for the first time, however, that he was not tied or cuffed. Eidolon must not expect him to make it far if he did try to escape.

“What did you use on me?” he gritted out.

“Oh, something my coworker of mine came up with. How about a cup of tea, old chap? It’ll help the head.” Eidolon reached up to take his glasses off. Lysander snorted slightly at that.

“What? Apophis won’t pay for corrective surgery?”

“Oh, they’re just reading glasses,” Eidolon replied. “And, you know, girls do love that hot scholar look. Plus, it’s rather disarming when you get tired of being recognized as only an expert in the ungentlemanly arts.”

“Hm,” Lysander grunted.

“Now, then—tea?” Eidolon insisted.

Lysander didn’t protest and the Apophis agent stood up, setting his book aside for the moment as he went to the kitchen. Lysander craned his head to read the title, admittedly curious, and registered that it was a copy of Good Omens which he found…interesting. Not exactly what he would have expected from someone like Eidolon.

Come to think of it…he looked around the room and realized that one whole wall was devoted to bookshelves, with actual books. Books weren’t quite so common anymore, and were only really printed for collectors, most people preferring to read things on tablets,¨ but Eidolon’s books looked well-loved and well-read unlike most untouched collector’s libraries. And they were all classics, ranging from Jane Austin and Arthur Conan Doyle, children’s classics like Brian Jacques, and fantasy like J.R.R. Tolkien and Terry Pratchett. And Lysander had just been wondering earlier what an Apophis agent’s flat would look like…he had certainly never suspected this.

He was so confused, or possibly enamored, of his surroundings, especially adding the cat into the picture, that he started when Eidolon reappeared with a second cup of tea, not having realized he’d simply left him there, not seeming to care that he could have escaped easily.

“You take cream or sugar?” Eidolon asked.

Lysander shook his head and accepted the cup and saucer a little clumsily, still lethargic. Alright, perhaps not quite so easily. He didn’t even know if he could stand up by himself at the moment, let alone make it to the door. He stared down at the tea, smelling it, trying to detect if there was anything unsavory in it.

Eidolon sighed as he took his seat again. “It’s not poisoned. I already drugged you, and I think it’s very bad form to poison a man’s tea—even that of your nemesis. I do have standards.”

Lysander snorted, but after another second, took a sip. When he detected nothing but tea, he took another. After half of the cup was gone, his head finally began to clear up.

“How did you find me?” Eidolon asked, causing Lysander to glance up at him again.

“I went through all your identities while you were unconscious in my flat,” Lysander told him.

“Oh, devil take it! Now I’ll have to burn all of them,” Eidolon said but didn’t seem too bothered by it. After all, he had to have known Lysander would take such precautions. Actually, Lysander began to realize that he had probably been expecting this outcome as well, which made him rather furious that he had thought to avoid one trap and neatly fallen into another.

He set his cup aside and fixed a glower onto his face. “Alright, Eidolon, what’s with the cryptic note?”

Eidolon sighed and put his own teacup aside. “I have my reasons that I won’t divulge yet. I just had a sudden epiphany: what if we…I don’t know…perhaps come to an agreement?”

Lysander narrowed his eyes. “What sort of agreement?”

Eidolon smirked. “I think you know the kind.”

Lysander glanced again at the book sitting beside Eidolon, a suspicion forming about this whole setup. “No,” he said firmly.

Eidolon frowned. “You didn’t even hear my terms.”

“I don’t need to hear your terms. I don’t work with anarchists.” He stood up, forcing his legs to support him, and started toward the door, when the sound of a gun cocking made him freeze. He turned slightly to see Eidolon on his feet, pointing Lysander’s own gun at him. He reluctantly realized that his thigh holster was empty, though that was only to be expected.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave just yet,” Eidolon said, his voice low and icy. “You see, I’ve put myself in a rather compromising position, meeting with you. If word got out that I did this, I would be killed instantly. To avoid that, I could easily take you in right now and hand you over to Apophis. I’m sure Lars would jump at the chance to dig through the Righteous Man’s head. And his men are a lot more willing to get their hands dirty than you.”

“What do you want?” Lysander said quietly, dangerous. He stayed still, but he was tense, ready for any chance to make a move. He still had a dagger that Eidolon hadn’t found and he would use it if he had to.

“You were right,” Eidolon said. “There is someone high up in the government that is working with Lars.”

Lysander’s breath stopped for a second as he stared at the other man. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Lysander shook his head. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because we’re not so different,” Eidolon said with a humorless smile. “My comrades abandoned me the other night, allowed me to be captured. Your precious king is not so different. You think he would shed a tear if you were to die in action? If I were to kill you now?” He took a step closer.

Lysander raised his head. “It is my duty to protect the king with my life. Dying in the line of duty would be an honor.”

Eidolon laughed bitterly. “An honor. Just the kind of tripe I would expect from the Righteous Man! Is that what your father did? Die honorably in the line of duty?”

Lysander gave a small, dark chuckle. “If you think you can get to me by mentioning my father, you’ll have to try harder. The cold bastard was hardly what could be called a father at all.”

Eidolon cocked his head to one side, perhaps somewhat surprised by his reaction. He shrugged. “Fair enough. But still…” He tossed his head flippantly. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’d be better worth my time shooting you in the leg and dragging you back to Lars. I could use a commendation after all my recent failures.”

Lysander snarled and flicked his blade from the secret pocket in his sleeve, about to rush the other man when there was a knock on the door.

Both of them froze and Eidolon clenched his jaw, looking like he was making a calculated decision. Lysander was about to use that as an opportunity to strike, when a feminine voice sounded from the other side.

“Oliver? Are you home?”

Eidolon’s shoulders slumped slightly and he turned a furious look at Lysander, jabbing a finger at the couch. “Sit. Now.”

“I’m not…”

“Sit!” Eidolon snapped, shoving the gun into the back of his belt, covering it with the jumper he was wearing as he crossed to the door.

Lysander sat, wondering why he was bothering to be obedient, until he saw the figure on the other side of the door—a young woman with dark hair, dressed in neat office attire.

“Clara,” Eidolon said with a smile as if he hadn’t just been pointing a gun at his ‘guest’.

The girl smiled. “I brought you your mail, Oliver…oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”

She had looked past him to see Lysander sitting stiffly on the couch and Eidolon seemed to make sure to put himself between them, all the time keeping up his smile.

“Ah, he’s just an old friend from school. Thank you for bringing my mail over. I’ll see you again soon.” He took her hand and kissed it, making her blush bright red, then closed the door and turned back to Lysander. “She’s sweet on me. I would love to take her out if I had the chance, so don’t you dare tell her who I really am.”

They both stayed the way they were for a long moment, both waiting for the other to make a move. When neither did, Lysander sighed and decided to take the first step.

“Why did you really call me here?” he said.

Eidolon ran a hand through his stark white hair, revealing a bit of weariness that Lysander hadn’t detected before. “Lars wants war, and war means destruction, not just between armies, but to people who never asked to get caught up in it. You may see me as nothing but a heartless agent to anarchists, but believe me when I say, I don’t want that.”

Lysander studied him intently for a moment. There was a sincerity there that surprised him, and a weariness that betrayed his honesty. Lysander himself hadn’t really thought about it before either, but Eidolon was right. He’d been so caught up with the king’s orders to stop Apophis, he hadn’t realized the consequences of what would happen when things escalated. Especially if Apophis managed to reverse engineer the amount of Element X they had stolen and decided to make bigger bombs than the grenades Ares had used the other night. If it was really as powerful as the boffins claimed, all of London—all of Britain, or even Europe—could be laid waste to in a shocking amount of time.

Still, working with the enemy…of course there was a long history of double agents in wartime, and Lysander’s own family had certainly not shied away from working with unsavory characters in the past, but still…Lysander just didn’t feel right about going behind the king’s back like that.

And yet, if it did help him to take down Apophis…then wasn’t it his duty not to refuse an opportunity?

He finally stood up, facing Eidolon warily. “This Apophis mole…do you know who it is?” he asked finally.

Eidolon shook his head. “No. But I could help you find out.”

Lysander made a calculation before he said, “The king suspects a member of parliament, but any investigation I’ve made so far hasn’t turned up anything useful.”

Eidolon seemed to relax as if he had been waiting for Lysander to open up. Lysander wasn’t sure he was doing that exactly, but he had also said he was going to get to the bottom of this issue. And if Eidolon could help him gain information about who was feeding Apophis information, then he would take it.

“What are your terms?” Lysander asked the other man. “I need to know before I agree to this.”

Eidolon gave a small smile, shoving his hands into his pockets as he shrugged. “Really, nothing much. I just thought that we could come to an…arrangement of sorts. You understand? I do the good thing and you do the bad? We cancel each other out and hopefully divert the coming apocalypse?”

Lysander rolled his eyes slightly. “I suppose something like that wouldn’t be…unheard of. But this isn’t a partnership, you understand? We would simply be sharing information, nothing more.”

“Of course, I would expect nothing less professional from the Righteous Man,” Eidolon said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Lysander ignored it and nodded. “How do we pass information?”

“Oh, you’ll know when you see it,” Eidolon assured him. “As for your end, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Lysander pressed his lips into a thin line, wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into, and if perhaps his sanity had grown wings and taken flight.

“If we do this, I need you to understand: if you breathe a word of this investigation to anyone I will kill you.”

“If you go shouting around that you have an informant in Apophis I’ll kill you,” Eidolon replied matter-of-factly.

“Then we have an understanding?”

“An arrangement,” Eidolon corrected and smiled genuinely this time.

Lysander grunted. “You have to call it that?”

“Not with a capital A or anything, but it is a bit poetic, isn’t it?”

“Is that all?” Lysander asked him.

“Unless you want to stay for supper, but I’m afraid all I have in the flat is cat food and maybe some salad cream.”

“I’ll pass.” He reached out a hand. “My gun?”

Eidolon hesitated only a second before he reached behind him and pulled the gun out, handing it back to Lysander. The Righteous Man slid it back into his holster and gave a small nod.

“I’ll be seeing you then, I suppose?” Eidolon called as Lysander turned toward the door.

“I suppose,” Lysander told him, then stopped, one hand on the door handle. “Oh, and thank you for the tea.”

He left the flat and hurried back to the car, wondering what on earth he had just done.