#poor little meow meow indeed...

[northern-passage]

another batch of these 💗

[inky-thoughts]

대취타

[sillymeter]

[asgardian--angels]

LISTEN TO THE NAKED MOLE RAP

[hotboiessek]

i cannot wait for the show to start and see everyone defend the fact that the filthy wizard who has stink lines is their fav 

[nullshocked]

A friend once told me Jack has the vibe of a Tumblr sexyman and I still haven't recovered from that psychic damage.

[sweetaspiesammy]

god jimmy is so pathetic it’s kinda hot what is happening ? 😭

[eggsaladstain]

in retrospect, daniel’s entire storyline is incredibly hilarious because while all the other passengers are stuck in a loop reliving their worst memories, daniel is more or less a walking cheat code and he’s somehow having the worst time out of all of them. he hasn’t slept in 8 days and he’s wet all the time. he has a wife who doesn’t remember him and a dead son. he has to watch his wife fall in love with a handsome brooding sea captain over and over again. his only friends are a virtual version of his son who clearly prefers his mother over him and his son’s pet bug. he gets the absolute shit beat out of him by a background character. he’s done this simulation countless times before and somehow his wife is still always two steps ahead of him. the man’s really out there just barely passing an open-book exam. poor little meow meow indeed.

[asktimdrake]

I've got just one question for you Mr. Drake (if that is indeed your real name) 🤨🤨 do you or do you not consider yourself a poor little meow meow

[khaleesiofalicante]

"That child is staring at you." Malec

“That child is staring at you.”

Magnus pauses his inspection of the dessert table and twirls around to find his friends.

Catarina tugs at the lapels of her jacket and not-so-subtle tilts her head to the right, gesturing towards a little boy who is indeed staring at Magnus – not-so-subtly either.

When Tessa said ‘come as you are’ to the wedding, this is probably not what she meant, Magnus thinks. 

“I told you not to wear that jacket,” Ragnor hisses as he adjusts his bowtie for the hundredth time. Magnus just knows Catarina is going to pluck and throw it off the balcony any minute now. “The thing is a choking hazard for children. Poor thing is probably thinking you’re here to murder him.”

Magnus looks at the child again. 

He doesn’t look scared. If anything, his brown eyes are curious. Maybe he likes choking on sequins. Children are odd like that. 

“He’s probably wondering how you come you’re having dessert, and he is not,” Catarina coos, ready to feed the boy herself. “We should probably get him a plate-”

“Yeah, you do that,” Magnus hums and turns around. 

He has a strict policy about these things - Stay away from children, vegans, and Peruvians. The last time he interacted with one of those things, he almost died. One of his biggest nightmares is dueling with a Peruvian child who just happens to be vegan.

Ragnor tackles Catarina and drags her away before she decides to babysit yet another abandoned child at yet another party. Magnus chuckles to himself as he returns his interest to much sweeter things. 

He’s barely served himself the chocolate mousse he’s been eyeing since he got to the venue when he feels something pull at his jacket.

He immediately worries he’s somehow subconsciously brought Chairman Meow to the wedding – against Tessa’s strict orders. He’s pretty sure it’s all a ruse to stop her husband from bringing his own. 

Magnus thinks it’s a stupid rule. How come children are allowed and cats are not? Sure they both get messy easily, but at least cats know how to clean themselves up. 

“Um, hello little one,” Magnus greets the child awkwardly. 

Okay. Now what?

“Do you like boys?” the boy asks him seriously. 

Magnus frowns a little. 

Sure, no heterosexual creature would wear this outfit – as if they can pull it off! But it’s not very nice to assume, is it? Where are this child’s parents and what have they taught him?

But Magnus doesn’t have the energy or patience to educate this boy on gender norms, so he simply nods. “Yes.”

“Okay, thank you,” the boy replies and then runs away.

Okay then. 

Magnus turns back to the dessert table. Chocolate Mousse, here I come!

He takes his dessert plate and makes his way back to his table. A loud child runs past him, mouth covered in what could only be from the now-ruined chocolate fountain. Magnus shudders as he takes his seat next to his friends. “Why would anyone want one of those?”

“Chocolate mousse?” Catarina steals a bite from his plate. 

“Children,” Magnus corrects.

“Ah,” Ragnor says. “I thought we had the talk, Magnus? Do you need a refresher?”

“I didn’t ask how people have children, Ragnor, I asked why,” Magnus rolls his eyes, stabbing at his dessert with a spoon.

“We need alcohol for that conversation,” Catarina informs him with a huff, before lowering her voice. “This wedding doesn’t have an open bar.”

“That’s because our dear Tessa knows what certain people get up to when there are open bars at weddings,” Ragnor hums into his glass of white. 

“Hey, you’re the one who dared me to make a champagne tower of my own!” Magnus argues. 

“Magnus!” Catarina giggles, already a little tipsy from the limited wine they’ve been hogging all evening. “You must have an open bar when you get married.”

“When I get married?” Magnus glares at the certainty in her voice. “I’ll have you know that I never intend to tie the knot. If anyone is next in the group, it’s Ragnor.”

“Unless I’ve been secretly married this entire time!” Ragnor gasps dramatically. 

Magnus rolls his eyes fondly at the man’s theatrics, who is also tipsy now, and pulls his glass of wine away. Tessa, the wisest among them, made a good call by cancelling the open bar. 

“My point is,” he clears his throat and turns his attention to Catarina again. “I don’t know understand why anyone would want any of that. Marriage and children, dear god, the children-”

“Excuse me?”

Magnus turns around at the voice and then blinks slowly. A pair of dark blue eyes blink back at him.

Neither person says anything for a moment. They simply stare at each other. 

In Magnus’ defense, there is a lot to stare at. 

Ragnor clears his throat loudly behind him. Magnus coughs. “Can I help you?”

“Sorry,” the tall, hot, stranger clears his throat, shaking his head a little. “I was gonna-But then your face-”

“Is something wrong with my face?” Magnus frowns, dabbing his mouth with a napkin to wipe off any excess mousse. 

“No. No. Nothing’s wrong,” the man replies quickly, looking horrified. “Actually, everything is right with it. Perfectly right.”

“Uh,” Magnus replies eloquently. 

Catarina, ever the helpful one, parrots off a list of digits. “That’s his number if that’s why you’re here.”

“Catarina!” Magnus hisses under his breath. 

Not that he minds. But it’s not very helpful. What if the man forgets it? Maybe she should write it down in a napkin or something.

“Oh, uh, actually, I wanted to ask you if you mind talking to my son and telling him you’re married?” the man replies. 

Magnus blinks at those confusing words. “Pardon?”

“My son,” the man repeats slowly, as if he thinks Magnus is inebriated like the rest of his friends who are giggling behind him right now. “He asked me to ask you out.”

“Oh,” Magnus says.

Maybe children aren’t completely useless after all. 

“You have a son?” Magnus asks the important questions first.

“I have two,” the man smiles fondly and then points at the distance. 

And there they are. 

The inquisitive and slightly unnerving one – and the little, loud one who looks like he stuffed his face in the chocolate fountain again.

“Those are your children?” Magnus inquires and the man nods. Well, this is very important information indeed. “I see.”

“Rafael can be a little intense,” the man chuckles awkwardly. “He’s not gonna take no for an answer unless there is a logical flaw in his plan.”

“I’m sorry, how old is this child again?” Magnus asks curiously.

“He’s five,” the man replies. “Max is three.”

“Great age for them to adjust to new family dynamics,” Catarina provides unhelpfully.

“Okay, that’s enough wine for both of you,” Magnus glares at her before moving away her glass too. 

The stranger looks horrified by that. “Oh no, I wasn’t propositioning you or anything-”

“Why not?” Ragnor frowns, offended on behalf of Magnus. “He does have a face where everything is right. Your words, mate, not mine.”

“Ragnor!” Magnus hisses again and turns to the stranger, taking pity on him. “I am so sorry, eh-”

“Alec,” the man provides.

“Alec,” Magnus smiles at the man. It suits him. “It seems I have two children of my own.”

“They grow up so fast, don’t they?” Alec sighs wistfully.

Magnus laughs at that and then sighs softly. “I am happy to talk to your son. Although I am not actually married, and I don’t condone lying.”

Ragnor and Catarina cough loudly in unison. Magnus chooses to ignore them. 

“Oh,” Alec says, nodding in understanding. “That’s fair. Maybe you could just say you’re not interested? I’m sure Rafael would understand. I’ve been teaching them both to take no for an answer.”

“That’s very important,” Magnus nods appreciatively. And then. “But as I said, I don’t condone lying.”

“Oh,” Alec says again. And then. “Oh.”

“Hm-hm,” Magnus grins at that. 

“Right,” Alec clears his throat and turns to Catarina. “I’m sorry, can you say his number again? Wait, I might need a napkin-”

“I’m sure I can put in your phone directly, darling,” Magnus chuckles as he gets off the chair. “Now, should we go tell your children that you’ve succeeded in your quest?”

Alec smiles before frowning again. “Rafael is gonna be insufferable about this.”

“Not to scare you away already, but I am worse,” Magnus informs as he grabs the man’s arm. “Lead the way.”

“I told you you’re next!” Catarina yells after him. 

Magnus doesn’t flip her off. Not with the wedding photographer lurking about. Tessa will have his head if she finds evidence of his unruly behavior at her wedding. 

“Hey, quick question,” Alec stops, looking a little worried. “You like kids, right?”

“Oh,” Magnus says and then smiles. “I love kids.”

[fillingthescrapbook]

Let's Talk About: A Change of Plan

Not episode-related but… is anyone else seeing the yellow oval shape on the bottom right corner of their screen when they watch anything on Dropout's website?

That out of the way--

Brennan making Evan a long-backer was not on my bingo card… but it makes sense. Regardless of how Erika, Danielle, and Aabria feel about it. Evan's energy from the very beginning was giving plank-body.

And since we're on the subject of Evan-- I am definitely vibing more with this aggressive and allowed-to-be-angry side of Evan more than the poor little meow meow we used to get before. Like, sure, I get that he wasn't sad all the time during the first season, but the energy was there. He was a sad boy. And I am learning now that I really really do not like sad boys.

Last episode, I mentioned Erika as being exceptionally great at shrinking. I did say that Lou and Danielle were doing amazing jobs as well (although not with those words exactly), but this week's MVP is Danielle Radford. Those lines of improvised dialogue that were a mile-a-minute long were simply incredible. Impeccable. And that's not to mention how she had Sam react to Evan freaking out about the discovery of how he died. "Together. Alone. Not us." Indeed.

Oh and that small reveal about Sam's family life? I want to hug Sam (to)B(decided).

And then we get to Cocaine Sam. And having her be the one to greet Boudy-boots. Amazing. Exceptional. No notes. (Also: Cocaine has to be an integral part of the Never Stop system mechanics now, right?)

Now, I'm not gonna go through everything that happened one by one. I never do. But here are the things that really stood out to me this episode, and why Misfits and Magic Season 2 is winning me over from my…lack of enthusiasm for the first season.

Number one: The breaking of wands. Erika's was sort of an accident. As explained in the Adventuring Academy, Erika saw that a tiny score was made on her wand. To allow it to break more easily. This discovery helped inform her decision to break it "accidentally" in the previous episode. The other players then realized that all their wands had been scored. And that a mechanic has been put in place for when said wands were broken. A mechanic that has now been fully explained in this episode.

I love this mechanic. I love that it--whether intentional or not--is a symbol for breaking Misfits and Magic off from "the franchise." Because the wands have become so intrinsically linked to said franchise. Although, I must admit--from a sentimental point of view--it hurts to see them break the wand. Although, at the same time, I guess that's why it's so powerful. It's their link to the magical world. It's one of the first things that showed them their potential. Much like the franchise was for many of us. And it's become very important for us to break off that connection to see that there's more magic to explore. That we are not limited to the wands. And the brooms. And the familiars.

And oof. The familiars. Aabria caught me off guard with that reveal. Like the road we were walking on were paved with figurative bones but the confirmation still took me aback. Because funny season, ha ha! We killed a player's character. We killed a major NPC. And we're killing familiars. Funny!

That's not a dig at Aabria. I love what she did. One of the most affecting episodes of television I've seen in recent memory is from How I Met Your Mother. It had a visual gag of a countdown. And the whole episode was filled with mishaps that were propelled by humor and love. And then when the countdown reaches 1--it punches you in the gut. And you were warned. But you still didn't expect it. And it feels so bad--but it's done so well. That's what Aabria did.

And that brings me to my second reason why Misfits and Magic is beginning to win me over.

Aabria is handing us character progression that is steeped in gray morality. Characters who rubbed us the wrong way are learning to be better people, while still being their snotty selves. Characters we liked have found themselves getting lost not because they're inherently evil but because of inaction, because of self-preservation coupled with their avoidance to step out of their comfort zone. There's grace in the way Aabria shows the players how their friends have fallen. And I think it's beautiful.

So, yeah, I am coming around to Misfits and Magic. Will it beat both Burrow's End or A Court of Fey and Flowers as a better Aabria season? I don't know. ACoFaF is one of my favorite Dimension 20 seasons ever and Burrow's End is also pretty high up. So probably not. But will I look back on Season 1 more kindly now? Definitely yes.

Last two things I wanted to mention:

First, the sudden volume drop when Evan stopped yelling-- I can't imagine what the poor sound guy who got the full burst of Brennan's highest vocal had gone through. Thankfully, Sam Reich takes care of the Dropout crew well.

And last, when K responds with "maybe the Tumblr users are gonna help?" to Evan's diatribe? Oh, K. Most of us are already struggling with one thing or another and are paralyzed by bigger things. If we had wonky magic to deal with on top of that? Oh ho ho, K. Oh ho ho.

[purplekissinger]

The Cat That Looked at a King

The first magical war. Animagus Y/N spies on the Dark Lord. When she is caught, Voldemort decides against killing her.

Lord, what you're doing to me?

tw: psychological manipulation, crucio x 999, hurthurthurt/questionable comfort

‘Lumos’.

The weak light made you close your eyes, as if it was a spotlight. You tried to get up, but your aching head was pulled down, back to sweet unconsciousness. Dolohov looked at you with disgust, and for a moment it seemed to you as if he would slam the door and leave you in the blissful darkness, but this hope has fast  evaporated. He stepped forwards and forced you to your feet.

‘Did you sleep well?’, he said. Every sound caused a painful shiver through your body. ‘You made Mulciber work pretty hard yesterday. I believe your memory has returned, eh?’.

You were silent. You were still getting used to the idea that your life was over, and that the remaining days or even hours of it would be spent in a nice company of Death Eaters. You had no time for retaliatory witticisms, and indeed no time for answers at all.

“Not the talkative type, are we?” Dolokhov was not even offended. “Well, suit yourself. Hope you haven't forgotten how to walk?..”

You nodded slowly and sank back to the floor, into the darkness, into the silence, into the calmness, and neither Crucio nor Avada Kedavra could stop you from that.

***

The summer of 1978 was probably the happiest summer of your life. Hogwarts was over, Aurorial Appraisal hadn't started yet, and between this and that James and Sirius decided to throw the Very Last Party on the coast: picnic, dancing, everything is top-notch, for Marauders and their girls only. You were a little bit of both, and you were invited even before Lily.

How you crammed into the unfortunate, well-worn Ford Anglia, wheeled by James, was a whole  different story. Marlene McKinnon climbed onto Sirius's lap, Remus pressed himself against the door and rode like that the whole way. As for poor Peter, at first they wanted to push him into the trunk until he got the idea to transform into a rat and save space.

‘Oh!’ you exclaimed. ‘I’d do that too, otherwise Lily and Mary are not going.”

‘Just don’t eat Peter on the way!’ Sirius chuckled. It was an old joke that everyone got tired of back in fifth year, and no one laughed, so you just shrugged your shoulders and turned into a shaggy calico cat. Lily picked you up in her arms, and the race began.

‘Slow down, James, for Merlin’s sake!’ Mary Macdonald screamed, clutching the back of the seat. ‘You don’t even have a license, and we still want to get there alive!’ but he just laughed and entered every turn at such speed that made you meow pitifully. He couldn’t care less about the car that he got after his parents passed away, and he did not believe in his own death.

And then!.. And then you pitched the tent, jumped into the still cool water from the tower, then Remus took the gramophone out of the trunk and played “Somebody to love,” which everyone knew by heart, and when it became completely dark, you sat by the fire and roasted marshmallows . Lily rested her head on James' shoulder, the firelight playing on her hair. In the darkness, Peter timidly touched your hand, and you didn’t twitch, you didn’t even laugh.

‘We are all joining the Order, I presume?’ Sirius suddenly asked, biting a blade of grass. Marlene and Mary shushed him, but James snorted and waved his hand carelessly.

‘Come on, that’s no secret... Besides,  you are either in Voldemort's team or playing against him nowdays, no ifs or buts. And how else can you be against him, if not joining the Order?’

‘But there’s no need to shout about it, you know’,  Remus noted.

‘Who is shouting, though?’ Sirius seemed surprised. ‘Just saying. And there are no random people here, so?’.

‘Peter and I should be spies,” you said. ‘We both have the makings of a spy, like, no doubt. Sorry to tell you, James, but you’re out of luck with this one. Your animagus form is only good for an assault’.

James threw a marshmallow at you.

***

A lamp was on the table, an ordinary Muggle one, the kind of lamp you usually see in a library. The light was somehow cozy, and you stared at it mindlessly, trying to either forget yourself or gather your thoughts. Neither this nor that worked out. The room was tiny, with a high ceiling, no windows, and you couldn’t tell whether it was night or day, or which day even. Mulciber was making you wait. You probably really tired him out yesterday.

“I’m going to die here,” you thought dully. “That's it.  My number’s up. I’m not getting out of here alive. Nobody is to the rescue. Mulciber will go on and on until I die or break, and if I break, he will listen carefully to everything I can tell and then finish me off anyway. Merlin, oh Lord, oh dear Lord, oh God, oh Lord, oh dear God?!..”.

The latch creaked outside, and you  straightened yourself involuntarily, trying your best not to look at the door. The door slid aside and he entered the room.

For the first time in your life, you heard your heart beating.

“Good evening, Y/N,” Voldemort said in a casual and even somewhat disinterested tone, but the mere sound of this voice made you want to stop breathing, and you even tried to do so. ‘How are you feeling, how was your sleep?’

“It was fine,” you said, barely moving your lips. Your tongue seemed frozen. The lamp hit your eyes, and his face was hidden from you in the shadows; you only had enough strength to look at his hand.  Strangely beautiful, with thin pale fingers, it was lying relaxed on the table.

“It was fine, my lord,” he corrected you.

“What?..”

“Crucio”.

Next frame: for some reason the legs of the table, ah yes, a spasm threw you out of the chair, and now you were silently writhing, scratching your nails on the plank floor. This went on for millions of years. When the pain subsided, leaving a ringing emptiness, he said peacefully:

“Get up, please”.

You obeyed.

“Sit down”.

You did.

“You and Mulciber didn’t get along, and I can’t blame him for that, you’re very stubborn. But maybe you’ll make an exception for me, huh, Y/N?’

‘Oh God oh God oh God oh God oh dear Lord oh my God’

“I already told you everything,” you sobbed. Merlin, you've never been particularly brave. Cheerful, yes, loved by everyone, yes, loving,  yes, but not brave.

“First, you didn’t tell anything, at least not what I needed to know. Second, Crucio”.

This time you rose as slowly as if your bones were made of glass (and it felt like they were), but Voldemort waited patiently.

“I want to believe that you learned at least one lesson,” he said boredly. The lamp was now shining so that you could see his face very well.

“Yes, my lord,” you said drearly.

***

The autumn of 1978 was harder for you.

Back then it seemed that the most difficult thing was to become an Auror, and then everything would go like clockwork. A dream job, friends, fun, you’ll stick it to Voldemort in no time, and all your youth is waiting, and the war will end soon. The real-life reconnaissance turned out to be both more terrifying and much more boring than the fantasies.

In November, Lily and James threw a housewarming party in Godric's Hollow, this time only for Sirius, Remus, you and Peter. It was somehow quieter and more modest, but still very nice, and you brought pumpkin pie, although Halloween had already passed. You left early that day, because an operation was to be set tomorrow (nothing too serious, breaking into the house of one of the outer circle and casting some good ol’ wiretap spells). You desperately needed to get some sleep. Peter wanted to take you out, but you laughed it off. You didn’t want to see anyone, you wanted to cover yourself with a blanket and lie down, and never move again.

Of course you learnt to treat it as a job, otherwise you would go insane, and that’s when boredom set in. Probably, you reasoned, it’s one of two. It’s either you become a bundle of exposed nerves, choking with fear every time you are almost spotted, or you yawn (or meow) boredly, memorizing the names of the agents on the other side. You chose the latter.

Things were no better at Order meetings.

“Our poor Cookie looks a little down,” Marlene said sympathetically when, after discussing tomorrow’s plan, she had a free minute. “Cookie” was your call sign, assigned for the spottedness of your animagus form. ‘Did you quarrel with Peter?..’

“We didn’t really make peace in the first place,” you answered sharply. Then you said, tone softened: “Sorry, Marlin. Too much stuff on my plate’.

‘Well, feel free to take comfort in the fact that you are not alone in this!’ she winked at you cheerfully and climbed up onto the chair, her feet on the table.

But it felt like you were alone in this. There were a few targets that you kept an eye on, but it still was tough, too much information, too much responsibility, and doing all the tasks with a cat’s brain was oh so difficult. You were exhausted, staggering back and forth on the roof in the rain, pretending to be a stray kitty, and if anyone wanted to check you for traces of magic, you would instantly lose your disguise and then your life.

The first big success happened only at Christmas, as a gift, perhaps. You've began to close on Nott.

* * *

‘I was turning into a cat. Spied on Nott and Avery, no one else. I only kept in touch with Dumbledore,” you said in a whisper. “My lord, I don’t know what else to say. I really don't’.

He didn’t record your words the way Mulciber did (apparently, he wrote down your indistinct cries just in case). He just looked at you, tilting his head.

“That is, I have to believe that you were so special that Dumbledore made separate projects for you only and did not allow you to contact the rest of the group,” Voldemort nodded. “Seems like we have a top dog here. More precisely, a cat’.

‘My lord, I don’t know anything else!..’

‘You're lying’.

* * *

And from that day you started to close onto the Headquarters, slowly, very, very slowly and painstakingly. It was like you were unraveling a ball of yarn.

This ball could catch fire at any moment; any hurry could’ve become a deadly mistake. Losing one of the Order’s members wasn’t even the biggest problem, that’s what they are for, after all, but in January 1979, you and Dumbledore had a short conversation in a muggle coffee shop. He let you know that you had gotten ahead and were now getting closer to the inner circle, closer than anyone else. You couldn't lose at this point, there's more at stake than just your life.

You left the coffee shop in a strangely high spirits. You're finally starting to like your job.

Peter came to see you again on Valentine’s Day with a bouquet of conjured forget-me-nots, but you politely and carefully sent him - no, not to Mordred, to the Order headquarters, so he could finally get down to business. Spring was coming, and you wanted to stretch out like a cat before a hard day, work out all the leads and then kick Voldemort’s ass at last.

* * *

Of course, you didn’t fill him in on this detail.

The interrogation lasted only an hour or two, and you no longer knew where to look so as not to see his face: in the corner, at the lamp, at your feet, in the corner, at the lamp, at your feet, at the lamp, repeat. You wished to go blind, you wished to go deaf, you wished you could die. You wondered if he really had nothing else to do. Why is he clinging to you so much, is he teaching Mulciber a lesson or what?..

“I could help you with that, you know,” Voldemort said thoughtfully, playing with his wand. ‘ I could tell you what we already know about you, so that you don't have to lie. Not so obviously, at least. Would you like that, kitty?

‘I’d like that, my lord’.

You no longer understood what you were saying, you just knew that you had to agree with everything.

“We spotted you back in the summer.”

But isn’t it October now?!..

* * *

‘What will you give Harry for his birthday?’ Marlene asked, leafing through the “Prophet”. On the front page there was a column about yesterday's terrorist attack. Marlene's boots were resting on the coffee table again, and you pushed them off with a sharp movement. When will she learn to sit normally?!

‘A key to Voldemort's Headquarters’.

This was almost true, because now you knew its location down to the block, and it was a matter of time to get inside. When this finally happened, you were struck how ordinary it felt. There were no dungeons, no gargoyles at the entrance, no skulls on the walls. What you’ve found inside was furnished as in one of the most ordinary muggle offices, and everyone behaved like the most ordinary clerks, scurrying back and forth, cursing at each other, drinking coffee.

There were so many illusion spells on you that you feared they might start to conflict with each other. “I’m in the heart of the enemy,” you whispered to yourself as your own heart beat feverishly. How come they can’t hear this throughout the ventilation? “I am in the heart of the enemy, I am in the heart of the enemy. You’re all going down, bitches.” But it was still far from that. First of all, you had to build a floor plan, and slowly, inch by inch, you did it.

“Well done, Y/N. Smart kitty. Ten points to Catffindor,” you said to yourself in Dumbledore’s voice when you found out the date of the first major meeting.

* * *

“I still remember that thrilling moment,” Voldemort said mockingly, leaning back in his chair. “At first I thought there might be rats in the ventilation. Then I caught the eye of this one rat through the bars, and everything fell into place’.

You remembered this thrilling moment too, oh Merlin, you remembered it.

‘I gave the go-ahead to Avery, he began to dig into you. Since that day you have not taken a single independent step’.

The room floated before your eyes.

* * *

This probably explained the attacks of painful paranoia that began to torture you in August. Sometimes you woke up screaming, either at Order’s headquarters or at a safe house (you hadn’t been at home since July, and Peter didn’t know where to look for you), sometimes you walked along the Diagon Alley and turned into an side street, looking at a shop window for a minute or two, hoping to see something in the reflection, sometimes you would leave your unfinished coffee and rush out of the cafe because the man in the corner had his eyes on you. You became nervous, and, alas, in your job this meant professional incompetence.

“Our Cookie is completely depressed now,” Marlene told you as you left Dumbledore’s office. As gently as he could he suggested that you hand over matters to Sirius or Peter, then he said that this was not an offer and that you needed to start tying up the threads. Dumbledore probably suspected something.

In August, you went on yet another picnic. Without Lily and James, who could not leave the house anymore, everything was just not the same. Remus showed card tricks, and Sirius got drunk on firewhiskey and sang ABBA songs the whole night. You needed to talk to Peter in private because the project was supposed to be handed over to him, but you couldn’t make yourself talk about the job, and you didn’t want to spoil the last day off. You two sat on the cliff, watching the setting sun sink into the water, dangling your legs, throwing shells down and remembering Hogwarts. Peter didn’t seem to hold a grudge against you at all...

“Stop thinking about that rat,” said Sirius.

You turned to him and saw Voldemort's face.

“I’ve been looking through your memories for three hours now, trying to snag at least a grain of useful information, and you’re wasting my time on Pettigrew. You really don't want to cooperate, do you?

The setting sun turned into a lamp.

* * *

Not even Cruciatus curse made you scream this much.

Voldemort winced, rose from his seat like a huge black shadow, approached you (Merlin, let me die, let me die) and took you by the chin. His cold fingers made you fall silent obediently. After a short pause, he said softly:

“Let’s think about it together, Y/N, since you can’t do this by yourself. You already know that I could have killed you six months ago, that the information you conveyed to Dumbledore was fake, that your greatest achievement at the moment is to look at me. Thoughts?’

Well, here comes Avada, you thought happily. Is it over yet? He mocked you enough and now you can die? You did pretty well, come to think of it... Occlumency failed you, but he never pulled out any specifics…

“A cat may look at the king,” you said, relieved and ready to die. You seemed to be smiling.

He studied your face for a full second, and then instead of merciful death or even pain, your brain just turned inside out.

* * *

You are sitting by the fire. Lily laughs and taps out the rhythm of the song on James' knee.

“each morning I get up I die a little can barely stand on my feet”

Focus.

Peter with a bouquet of forget-me-nots tries to squeeze through the door.

How much longer do I have to look at this?

“i spent all my years in believing you”

Party at Hogsmeade. Sirius dances on the Ford’s roof. Quidditch match, snitch in the sun rays. Knockturn Alley massacre, Marlene is dead. Ford comes into the turn,  Marlin is alive, she is yelling at James. Harry on a toy broom, laughing. Explosion at Mungo's, nurse sobbing. Knife plunges into the pumpkin pie.

So much garbage. So much unnecessary rubbish you keep in your head, dear Y/N.

“i just gotta get out of this prison cell someday i’m gonna be free Lord”

You look at Voldemort from the vents, he looks at you. Headquarters layout. Nott's window. Marlene's boots on the coffee table. Order’s headquarters layout. James throws a marshmallow at you. “Calico cats bring good luck,” Remus says seriously. “You will be our mascot.” The entire Order wishes you a happy birthday, you blow out the candles on the cake, but they just don’t go out.

‘somebody somebody somebody somebody somebody’

That’s more like it.

‘somebody to’

The setting sun falls into the water as the world plunges into darkness.

* * *

You're lying on the floor. You can't even remember your own name.

“It’s Y/N,” Voldemort prompts. He sits next to you and holds your hand, touches your fingers, strokes your wrist, and it’s so bizarre, strange and wrong that it can’t even be a dream. ‘Believe me, it can. But I would like you to gain the gift of speech and not force me to read your thoughts’.

“Yes, my lord,” you say slurredly.

‘Splendid. So, we concluded that any information you can give to me is useless, that you don’t like to cooperate and that you’re definitely not the brightest one. Of course, it would be easier and cheaper to kill you, but I decided against it. Why do you think I did that?’

‘I don't know, my lord’.

‘I’m going to break you’.

‘What?’

No Crucio this time. He just gives you a long appraising look. Works like a charm, just for one indulgence you already feel grateful and almost happy.

“We’ll take on you, sweet Y/N. In the Order, you had no one to look after you, and still, having no techniques, only raw talent, you plunged into the thick of it and even achieved something, and all it took was one word from Dumbledore. You managed to look at the king. Well, he looked back at you and decided that he needed a calico cat. As a mascot’.

“I'm going crazy,” you think. “The Cruciatus curse can do that.”

‘Why not? I think I can afford it, can’t I?’

“Yes, my lord,” you answer indifferently. Let the nightmare continue, it doesn't matter anymore.

“The old man kept trying to awaken mercy in me... Well, it seems like he had achieved his goal by throwing a kitten at Headquarters. I didn’t even expect such stupidity from him’.

Ceiling. You look at the ceiling,  counting the cracks.

“I’ll break you into pieces,” he says, and for the first time in that voice, the voice that was so cold and unforgiving at meetings, so paralyzing, slips something that sounds almost like... concern? Tenderness?.. ‘I’ll take you apart and put you back together again. And the new you will serve me. I expect nothing but undying devotion. Is that clear?’

All right, absolutely nothing is wrong. It couldn't be more normal. The Dark Lord decided to make you the mascot of his team, this happens all the time.

“Don’t be afraid to be broken, Y/N,” Voldemort says almost tenderly, touching your cheek, slowly lowering his fingers to your neck. ‘For it is the first step towards becoming perfect. I wasn’t afraid of this in my time,” he smiled sadly. His smile is almost human. “Maybe I’ll even tell you about this someday, Cookie.”

[zeroducks-2]

Sometimes I think about Thawne admitting he has done some heinous stuff to Barry that Barry doesn't even know and I'm like ok did you fuck him? Did you stick your dick in this poor sod at some point and Barry doesn't even realize it cause Thawne's faster than him and his fast healing is making him think his body ache feels good? Thawne was saying shit about turning back time to adopt Barry and groom him like he got my head running shamelessly saying his kink to his crush's face like that hmmm

Okay I KNOW this ask is not serious but I have the chance to talk about my beautiful little meow meow and I will take it, so I will split my answer in two, the unserious answer and the serious answer.

The unserious answer is that I love it about Eobard that he's so open about what he likes. He went (paraphrased) "Hey did you know I was in love with your uncle :D" at Wally one time, and then proceeded to beat the shit out of him. He used to write in his diary about how alone he was and how just thinking about Barry made him feel better. Gayass nerd dweeb he had a crush on Barry since he was a damn child. We could just go on and assume he did stick his dick in there (maybe when Barry hadn't still been hit by lightning), because at this point I wouldn't be surprised (I do believe he used to touch and hold Barry at superspeed back then but that's just me we don't really have canon confirmation of this YET! YET!!! ahem.)

The serious answer is that he's just playing. Eobard is good at saying things that will rile people up, but it doesn't always work on Barry (because Barry knows him), and so he will say a bunch of shit in the attempt to get a reaction. When he says that he did unspekable things that make killing Nora pale in comparison, when he says that he's going to kill Iris (or any other "flashfamily" member), when he says that he'll go back in time and do this and that, adopt Barry (I really fucking loved that one btw), whatever, he's just provoking. He's trying to make Barry mad basically.

I'm saying this because he does not do any of what he says even if he could, at any given time. He can move through time easily, and he does it constantly. He says himself in Finish Line that this is not his first rodeo in this timeline, and we have the confirmation that during the events of Lightning Strikes Twice there are two Eobards around.

Look at this:

This is the beginning of Lightning Strikes Twice. As you can see Eobard is there spying on people, but the thing is that we also know FOR SURE that he is currently locked up in a cell, looking like this:

(the person speaking is August btw)

So yeah, he's in two places at the same time, running around and watching things unfold, and also tied up to that freaky bondage contraption from which Barry will break him out lol.

Also it's worth noting that he's so fast he runs laps around Wally and can go entirely unseen by him, and Wally calls himself the fastest man who ever lived. His powers make it so he can come in and out of the timestream and run through it without any kind of external aid - he does it while being "trapped" in Paradox' dimension, and is precise enough when he interacts with the timestream to not cause any kind of ripple effect (like again when he saved Chris in Flash Age).

If he wanted to hurt Barry like he says he does, he could. If he actually wanted to do any of the shit he brags about he'd just do it without threatening Barry about it. He's just playing, trying to get a reaction out of his crush, and sometimes it works! Sometimes Barry actually gets worked up. But in fairness, most of the time Barry's reaction is 😒🙄 because all of what I just said, Barry knows too lol.

(indeed Barry is also very scared that Eobard might actually hurt the people he loves, because he knows that Eo could and is aware of how easily he would do it. Not many people can defend from a speedster especially if they don't know he's coming. And no one can defend against this yellow menace of a banana man altering the timeline however the fuck he prefers. Luckily for everyone involved, he's not interested in altering the timeline any more than he already did, at least for now)

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Listing a few funny things that happened when Angel had to deal with the media, post rescuing everyone from Playtime Co:

Angel, still shaking from spending one week inside the factory and with dried blood still glued to their hair, smelling like hell, politely answering some questions while in the hospital while waiting for Dogday's emergency surgery to finish.

The media being obsessed with calling Angel, whose actual name is Raphael Taylor de Oliveira, "Angel" the moment they hear one of the toys referring to them as that.

Combine the religious imagery with Angel's poor little meow meow wet kitten born in a cardboard box with every disease face and we have a very, very easy way for making the narrative out to be "a kind ex-worker at Playtime Co. discovers that children were used as experiments inside the factory and risks their own life in order to save them".

Angel is instant-loved by Brazil the moment the first news start to arrive, which is something they're very proud of.

Angel having to hold Catnap and Mommy Long Legs by their hands while giving out an interview in their home, so neither one of them would be too mean to the poor reporters. Angel still has to tell them to be nicer though.

The cops and investigators having to explain why they didn't figure out there was something wrong with the factory when all Angel had to do was walk inside and say hello to the Huggy Wuggy statue.

A reporter explaining the horrific events while in the background Huggy stares at her like "smoll person :0}" and boops her. Cue to Angel saying sorry and anxiously guiding him away.

"What did you have to eat while trapped down there?", someone asks, and the toys all go "oh hahahaha. uhm. rats. and the bodies of our friends WHEN THEY INEVITABLY DIED FROM A DISEASE. we didnt hunt each other dw dw hahahahahaha".

Angel a few months later, after buying the farm, giving a "house tour" so people will know the kids are doing okay and stop pestering them about house-related questions. Angel is very excitedly telling the reporter about how much more space they have now while Catnap is eyeing a bird in the background. "Theo don't you think about that, you have food right there".

One of the mini critters listing all the toys that were gifted for them and saying "it's very nice, very chewable", I like how it tastes" and Angel looks at them like "so it's YOU who has been chewing the toys??????", with the reply being "and the doors as well!"

Catnap going from referring to Angel as "our savior" to simply "our mother" during any interviews or news reports where he somehow talks.

Everyone wanting to interview Dogday because he does, indeed, have a radiant and happy energy and audiences love him.

Angel saying "and the hut is the house of 1006, the first one to ever happen, but he would prefer if we just left him alone".

Poppy being someone who's always SUPER pleasant to work with, and excitedly telling the reporters everything they have been doing around the farm.

Angel sighing after finding out Prototype is Elliot Ludwig, KNOWING they'll have to tell the authorities so they can have license money and control over the Playtime Co. brand.

Angel turning to the family's lawyer like "you won't believe what I just found out", the lawyer saying "oh, this won't be the most absurd thing you told me yet", then after hearing Angel tell her about it going "oh, you are always full of surprises, uh. Uhm. Now that makes things complicated", and Angel laughing to the point of tears after that.

ALL the news reports during the trial against Playtime Co.'s higher ups and the negligent authorities. Kickin keeps a collection of the "best moments", which include Angel beating the ever living shit out of a higher up after he refers to the toys as "things" and "collateral damage" instead of "victims of human experimentation".

The news about the fact that apparently Elliot Ludwig became the first PlayCo. experiment ever, and Angel + Poppy having to deal with THAT.

Prototype's single public apparition, around 4/5 years post-rescue, because he had to go to court as well so Angel would have a chance of getting the rights to PlayCo. and all of its properties back to them.

The news when Dogday and Catnap get married, a whole decade post-rescue.

Angel just dropping the most cryptid information ever in social media or during one of the rare interviews they're willing to give after the initial years post-rescue. They tweet things like "I saw some people asking if any of the toys ever attacked me during the week I stayed at PlayCo, and I want everyone to know that all of them at some point did. But don't worry, I bit them back, we're all good now" and one time say "my husband and I like to grow tomatoes like this, but one of our daughters has been trying another way" and that's how everyone finds out Angel and Prototype are a Thing.

Craftycorn happily blogging her life as an artist and featuring all of the other toys during her videos, while Poppy does makeup and sewing tutorials, and the two of them doing collabs and livestreams often. During one of the streams Angel screams "THEODORE GRAMBELL LUDWIG OLIVEIRA DID YOU JUST HUNT A COYOTE AGAIN", and that's how Crafty and Poppy's fans discover everyone decided to add Ludwig Oliveira to their names.

I would say more but honestly this post has been getting pretty long so rip

[strayheartless]

Little paws make light work:

** I’m not apologising for what I’ve done here.**

Picking through the rubble of what was once Midgar was harrowing on the best of days…

Cloud had been avoiding thinking about how many bodies would never be recovered all because of his failure. Tifa would argue with him that he wasn’t to blame for this but the fact remained that he had been the one to hand Sephiroth the black materia. He had failed Aerith, gotten Zack killed. He had been the one who had weakly failed to drag himself to his mother -

Green flashes behind his eyes and his centre of gravity tilts dangerously. There’s a voice ringing out, “CLOUD RUN! RUN AWAY CLOUD YOU HAVE TO LIVE! PLEASE BABY RUN!” His vision blurs with tears at the memory of her voice and he’s suddenly on the floor.

It’s not the place to be having a breakdown. He can’t be crying in a pile of rubble that could have people under it. But he is, and there is no way to stop this hurtling Frait-train of emotion that slams into his chest.

He’s sobbing on his knees, tears mixing with the masonry dust that coats his cheeks. He can’t breath. It’s all wrong, all of it! He should be the one who died! Zack should have left him to die! Zack was the hero, not Cloud. If Zack was here Aerith would still be alive. He would have saved her, she wouldn’t have been put in that position.

Oh Gods the world was swimming in front of him. He was going to be sick.

Hewasgoingtobesickhewasgoingtobe-

Meow

What?

Meow

“He-hello?”

Meeeeow!

Cloud crawls on his hands and knees to the edge of the slab he’d been balanced on, face ruddy, Noe’s and eyes still streaming. He’s sniffling pitifully but now his eyes are lit up with curiosity rather than agony. He locks his foot in a hole in the cement to try and lower himself into the gap between the broken slabs.

It’s dark in the hole, and if he hadn’t been enhanced he probably wouldn’t be able to see a thing. As it was he could see the gray little face of a meowing fluff ball…

It was a kitten!

He sniffs trying to force the tears to a stop and reaches his hand down towards the kitten who latches on to the leather of his glove without a second thought. With a little bit of manoeuvring, Cloud manages to get the Kitten out of the hole without too much drama and once he’s got a good look at them he realises that the poor thing isn’t grey at all, it’s covered in dust.

He huddles it close to his chest, using the edge of his shirt to wipe off the worst of the dust from the cats watering eyes. There’s a hint of brown peeking through and from the two tone of the dusty coat, Cloud would guess that they’re mostly brown except for the ruff.

“There you go little one, I got you” he mutters to the kitten who murps weakly in reply.

He was thanked with a sneezing fit that sent up a little plume of dust that would have been funny if it wasn’t caused by something so horrific. So he continued to sacrifice his shirt for the sake of taking the worst of the dust off of its coat.

There was a collar with a rather big tag on it around the kittens neck and as Cloud tucked the tiny baby close to him, he rubbed the tag between his forefinger and thumb to see if this little guy had a name.

SQUALL was printed on it in big letters. Cloud resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the universe as he turned the tag over to see if there was a contact number or a name that he could trace. Of course the cat had an air related name, one so close to Cloud too. He’d think it was fate except he and fate were not on speaking terms right now.

The back side of the tag did indeed have an owner name, but it wasn’t what cloud had expected to see.

“For Cloud” it read. “From your bro, Wedge.”

The tears were back again. Streaming down his face at a force that he could never hope to stop. This can’t be real. This wasn’t FAIR. What the hell did the universe want from him so badly!? Why does it keep throwing things in his way just to cause him pain?! He just wants to stop crying over dead friends! Is that too much? Was he asking too much of Minerva? Of Gaia? What had he even done to deser-

The kitten meowed again butting it’s head into the bottom of his chin and nibbling at his jaw.

“Ow,” cloud said, more out of reflex then reaction. It effectively pulled him out of the spiral though, and maybe that was the point.

He remembers very briefly, before the plate drop spiralling in front of Wedge. He had been helping the other man feed his cats and Cloud had been locked inside his own head thinking about how he couldn’t differentiate between his feelings on the animals or the phantom opinion he now knew to be Zacks.

Zack had never been a big cat person. He wasn’t against them, but he’d always preferred the company of dogs. Said they were always pleased to see you and cloud tended to agree. However Cloud liked both animals, he always had. There had been a few strays around Nibelhiem that he fed and Tifa’s cat was forever coming to cuddle with him on nights when he’d been excluded or beaten up. Dogs were really cool, and Wolves were even cooler, but Cloud had a special place in his heart for cats.

Wedge had watched, intrigued when a momma cat had come to say hello to him whilst he spiralled. He’d been particularly interested to watch Clouds breathing re-regulate itself when she did.

Cloud had never thought much about it… but apparently wedge had thought about it enough to pick out a kitten from that same momma cats litter for him.

Squall squirmed and Cloud suddenly realised that he wasn’t actually all that small. He had the lanky signs of kitten hood but he was a big baby. Absently Cloud considered that he might just end up being something the size of a Gongagan jungle cat or a Mideel coon. If that was the case he’d need to think over his food options…

“Your gunna cause me all sorts of problems Hm?”

Squall batted at a strand of his hair and purred.

“Yeah yeah, your lucky your so cute.”

In the distance Cloud could see Tifa and Yuffie climbing over rocked to get to him. He secured Squall in one arm and began to climb down towards them.

How to explain this new house guest without a home?

[blep-23]

Oh my

God.

Bro

He’s so sad

A poor little meow meow is indeed what he is.