the-flick

Daring [Chapter 4] - Newt Scamander x Reader

In which the reader finally holds a proper conversation with Newt


 The greenhouse is warm and filled with chatter, the aromas of numerous different plants mixing together in the air. A flick and swish of my wand sends watering cans dancing through the air, trickling into a number of plant pots.

 "Those charms are almost as charming as you,“ A housemate of mine slides up beside me, flashing a dazzling smile.

 "Oh, uh, thanks?” My eyes flicker away from the Charles’ face, meeting with Newt’s on the other side of the greenhouse. The Hufflepuff boy looks away quickly, but for a moment, my gaze lingers. Lingers a little too long, apparently.

 "Ugh, the freak bothering you?“ The Gryffindor asks, following my line of sight. He slings an arm around my shoulders and I narrow my eyes at him. ”Oi! You in the Hufflepuff scarf! Yes, you, Salamander! You should learn to leave pretty girls like this one alone. They don’t want to talk to the likes of yo-“

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Prepared. 

Legs bent over the edge of the porcelain bathtub, Kai’s knee poked out through the rip in his jeans as smoke twisted up into the air and out of the room through the extractor-fan. Kei felt a kind of cognitive dissonance from being fully dressed and sat awkwardly in the bathtub, the coolness o the porcelain seeped into his skin even through his clothes. Neck against the rim, he stared up at the stained and peeling ceiling, the only feeling he got from it was an apathetic neglect and an odd sense of aging. 

“Are the answers to the universe written on the ceiling?” Kai asked, voice soft and gently inquisitive. 

“Maybe on someone’s,” Kei murmured, unwilling to do anything but allowing Kai’s warmth to crawl up his side where he and Kai touched. 

“I wouldn’t want to know,” Kai said, flicking the ash off of his cigarette and into the toilet bowl. 

“I’d want to, no matter what the answers were,” Kei said, wholly sure of himself, fingers twitching to tap nails against the bottom of the bathtub. 

“Even if they were meaningless?” Kai asked, brows raised slight as he stared at Kei, expression as muted as always. Just a mild curiosity upon his face, it was as though his genetic code was written in pastels. 

“I’d rather know than wonder,” Kei said, feeling his answer right down to the marrow of his bones as he watched the smoke get sucked into the fan. 

“I’d rather be a wonderer,” Kai replied, smiling softly as he took another drag on his cigarette. 

Kei could almost believe that in another life he and Kai would have been pioneers of science and philosophy, rather than waking up from bleeding out in Kai’s bathtub for millionth time as the other sat patiently beside him. 

anonymous asked:

How about something non-angsty, simple yet fluffy and romantic? Denmark and Norway getting lost in a midnight city after a party, half-drunk adventures around the city with the two of them sharing a bike or something like that?

‘After the Party’ - a DenNor fic I’ll never write

Copenhagen, 1960
The smoke of celebratory cigarettes fades away, and the party guests see the new decade clearly. Everyone is young. Most is those present have written a book, or at least a few poems married to sketched-out guitar chords. No one is famous. Music floats over them as they cluster by the large living room window to watch the fireworks, a French singer singing of the past in a language all those at the party wish they could speak.

The host is an insouciant young blond, an aspiring playwright who threw the doors of his flat open tonight and hardly knows the friends of the friends now drifting away from the window and laying themselves liquidly over his furniture. His eyes flick from stranger to stranger, lingering long enough to offer a welcoming smile to each. There are tears. A decade has ended. Nothing’s going to change, says a young woman in blue. All your talk about a new decade, new world, and when you wake up in the morning you’ll have to do the same things you always have.

A frisson of change nonetheless. A beautiful stranger in the corner, turned almost towards the corner, his empty glass beaded with nothing but water.
‘You’re brave to let them all come pouring in,’ he says to his host.
‘I don’t know you either.’
'You have to earn me.’
'Why did you come?’
'Alone on New Year’s. I know one of the girls you work with.’
'I’m so glad she brought you here.’

A frisson of change, of excitement. The clouds close over the first clear sky on 1960, then split open again and release the moon.
The host to his guest: 'You must be bored.’
The guest to his host: 'Interest me.’

A party abandoned, left in the charge of a near-successful artist. A bicycle unlocked and uncovered. Hands, half-burnt, half-numb with the chill of the new January, working to set the mechanism spinning again. Laughter. An awkward tandem position established. Sobriety no match for glorious impulse.

The empty streets yield before them, unknown upstairs windows gleaming with parties. They go over the river, which looks as though asleep, for the streetlight is a dead yellow and the water shines black. An hour goes by, two. Arms around a waist, a forehead against the first abacus bead of the spine. The city all lit, all glowing. The stars of a new year singing eternally in the sky.

Guest to host: One more thing, and you’ll have earned me.
Host to guest: And what might that be?
Guest to host: Take me home. And come home with me.

(More prompts! More prompts!)

anonymous asked:

How about Kenma feeling pukey to start with but Kuro doesn't really see that so he keeps basically keeps force feeding him until Kenma ends up gagging and running outside and throwing up on the grass. Lots of puking and perhaps some sympathy vomit too?

“Your hands are shaking.”

Kenma kept his eyes trained on the game he’d just lost.  Kuroo was right.  The handheld was vibrating, making it hard to play.  His brow furrowed in mild annoyance.

“Have you eaten today?”

Kenma shrugged, knowing what was coming.  Kuroo gave him a flat look.

“Kenma, you need to eat.”

Kenma’s eyes flicked up momentarily just to see Kuroo’s disappointed and overly concerned look.  Then he refocused on the handheld system and started a new game, hoping it would distract him from the smell of food that filled the cafeteria and the churning of his stomach.  He didn’t feel like eating.  Unfortunately, Kuroo delicately plucked the device from his hands and gave him a sour look.

“That’s what lunch time is for.  Eating.”  Kuroo tucked Kenma’s video game away, and met Kenma’s annoyed stare evenly.  Kenma was the one to break eye contact first, but it hadn’t really been a fair competition in the first place, since Kenma had something of an opposition to eye contact in the first place, not to mention that the pain in his stomach was making it hard for him to focus on anything.

Kenma put his head on the table.  He really just wanted to sleep this off.  Unfortunately, Kuroo had other ideas.

“Eat,” Kuroo said, waving a sushi roll in front of Kenma’s face.  “You’ll feel better once you do.”

Kenma blinked at the sushi.  He really didn’t feel like eating.  That in itself was not unusual.  In fact, this entire ordeal, with Kenma not wanting to eat and Kuroo making sure he did was something of a habit for the two of them.  It wasn’t that Kenma wanted to lose weight or anything like that; sometimes eating just felt like more effor than it was worth.  Today, though, with his stomach as unsteady as it was, he was very convinced that it was not only too much effort, but a bad idea altogether.  He shook his head and buried it further in his arms.

“Kenma.  Come on.  You’ll feel better once you eat something.”  Kuroo was using the tone of voice that he used whenever he was hellbent on getting his way.  Kenma moaned, but he wondered if maybe Kuroo was right.  Maybe he was mistaking hunger pangs for nausea.

“Kitten,” Kuroo whispered, and Kenma knew he was going to give in.  “Please.”

That was it.  Letting out a small huff, Kenma picked his head up off of his arms and opened his mouth to accept the sushi.  The worried crease in Kuroo’s forehead smoothed, and his typical unconcerned grin readily returned.

“There you go,” he murmured.  “That’s it.”

Kenma spent what felt like ages chewing the single piece of sushi, and still it felt far too large when it slid down his throat.  His stomach turned and reluctantly accepted it, but before Kenma could feel relieved, Kuroo was offering him more.  Kenma managed to choke down three more pieces of sushi and then about half of a small bowl of plain rice by washing nearly every bite down with a gulp of water, but by then his stomach was plenty full and even more tumultuous than it had been when he’d started eating.  Kuroo tried to offer him more rice, but Kenma turned away.

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These two wore me down, what can I say? 

Disclaimer: trigger warning for (non-graphic) mentions of/dealing with an eating disorder. More notes at the end! I hope it’s alright otherwise :)

Apologies for the length, yikes.


The edges of darkness still linger outside in the early morning, mirroring the thick, gray fog that weighs against her mind. Her limbs are bricks hanging from her body, all but anchoring her to the ground as she trudges through the back door and into the deserted gym room. She moves on autopilot, legs carrying her past the treadmill she’s designated as her own and into the dingy bathroom. Lights flare to life with the flick of a switch, and her eyes squint to adjust while still blinking away remnants of a restless sleep. 

Does two hours in and out even count as sleep, she wonders.

Her reflection stares back at her, all sunken cheekbones (easily fixed with some strategic contouring, she’s learned), straw-like red hair, and a bone-deep kind of weary that clings to her skin and makes the shadows beneath her eyes seem darker.

But it’s okay, she tells herself as she splashes water onto her face, the cold bursting on her skin. It’s okay, she tells herself as she eyes the scale nestled in the corner where the walls meet in a kiss. Her heart races, bottom lip worried between her teeth as the toes of her neon blue Nikes touch the front of the scale. Her breath catches in her throat until bright, block numbers blink up at her, and the corners of her mouth tug up into an unsatisfied but relieved smile. It’s okay, she tells herself as she vacates the bathroom and sidles up to the treadmill, because it’s working.

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Badly-written little ficlet is badly-written, but it did help a bit. (Also completely unedited, but that’s beside the point.)

Beneath the cut, is a little pre-LeRoux canon Christine-centric ficlet, because her loneliness is all I felt like writing about tonight.

Posting it here, because I meant to do one of the prompt ficlets and did this instead.

Enjoy!

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In Sickness and Hell

Synopsis: Sickness never bothered Lucifer until it got ahold of Chloe

Ao3 link 

Rating: T

Chapter Number: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Notes: OMG THIS IS SOOO LATE I’M SO SORRY. I have so much going on with school and other activities this was some of the only free time I’ve had in months. Not to mention my old friend, Writer’s Block was poking it’s ugly head back into my life. Bt now hopefully I can get back on track! Many thanks to my beta who drug me through this chapter.


Lucifer went silent after a brief explanation that Maze would be coming with Trixie as soon as her classes let out. He sat stiffly at the foot of her bed, flicking through his phone. His face darkened at whatever he was reading.

The book of poems had returned to her side via Lucifer as well. Chloe sat flipping through the worn pages while they waited.

She traced a hand over Lucifer’s neat handwriting in the margins. She had been too tired to notice it earlier. The add-ins had been done in black ink pen, all with their own page numbers following directly after. Chloe thought it could have possibly been a book from Lucifer’s college days. The quotes were uniform and properly annotated in a way that made it look like an assignment.

“What is this?” she prodded, turning the page towards him.

Lucifer stole a glance at her before returning to his phone screen. “It’s Milton.”

The name rang bells in Chloe’s head. “Like Paradise Lost Milton?”

“Yes.”

His unusual quietness was irritating. (Wow Chloe never thought she’d say that.) She was a detective, getting answers was her job.

“What is it for?”

Finally, Lucifer looked at her. He pocketed his cell and gestured for the book. Chloe gladly handed it over. Gently, he traced a thumb over the pages. She caught the way his eyes relaxed, even melted, into the words.

“Nightmares.” he finally said. He flipped through a few more before settling on a page.

Before she could respond, Trixie sprung onto the bed.

“Mommy, Maze picked me up from school today!”

And there went her chance. Sure Chloe was relieved that Trixie was safe, but she felt cheated out of learning about what sat behind Lucifer’s mask. She was so close. That book was an open invitation into Lucifer. If only she had a few more minutes, she might have been able to crack what made Lucifer Lucifer. He always seemed so lonely and the look he gave her when Dan had him pinned… Not to mention how he somehow had managed to handle her ex without throwing a single punch. Lucifer acted like nothing ever touched him, but these past two days seemed to rip all of his walls down. Chloe couldn’t get the warmth of his body and the softness of his voice when he crawled into bed with her out of her mind. There was a kindness that she’d never seen in him then. It was something in the way he read to her; he read like he played his piano: so full of passion and emotion that Chloe would have thought he was reciting a love letter.

She would never tell him, but Chloe had woken up some time during the morning. Lucifer had been fast asleep, his head resting on hers and his right arm thrown protectively over her stomach; fingers still lingering on the pages of poetry. Their legs were still tangled under the blanket from when she had stupidly arranged them. Damn her drugged out self. That was a risky move, throwing herself at him like that. But Chloe hadn’t been able to help herself and she smiled at it. Despite herself, she had been perfectly happy waking up next to Lucifer. The weight of his body had been oddly relaxing; he had basically taken half of her over at that point. Not only had his arm moved, but his entire center of gravity had seemed to shift to be closer to her.

After soaking in the moment, Chloe had fallen back asleep. Now she was faced with the empty longing for never getting that “official” wake up with Lucifer. No, now they had to go back to how things were, just like they did when she had drunkenly thrown herself at him the first time. But she supposed she would have to deal with it later. Trixie was here now.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Chloe pasted on a smile. “Did she? That was nice of her.” She met Maze’s eyes in silent thanks.

“Maze also said you got hurt! Are you okay; what happened?”

“Mommy just got a little sick is all. Just like the time you got the flu. I’m okay Trix,” Chloe reassured, pulling her into a tight hug to prove it.

“Why is Lucifer here; did he come to see you too?” she asked innocently. Chloe stuttered. Her eyes drifted over to where Lucifer still sat, now talking quietly to Maze. He glanced over at them when he heard his name, but distractedly turned back to his bartender.

Chloe watched them for a second. She watched the way Lucifer fiddled with the pages of his book: a telltale sign of his anxiety. Maze stood with her arms crossed, in what looked like annoyance or patience, Chloe couldn’t tell. But whatever it was, it had them both uneasy. She turned back to her daughter’s wide eyes.

“No, monkey. He’s the one who brought me here.”

“Really?” she gasped in disbelief.

Chloe nodded. She didn’t really understand Trixie’s fascination with Lucifer. He generally avoided her at all costs yet she still seemed to adore him. For whatever reason, Lucifer and Maze were Trixie’s idols. If she wasn’t so confused about it, she would have thought it was a little cute even, considering the worst fit people for children ended up being an eight year old’s superheros.

Before Chloe could stop her, Trixie surged towards Lucifer. She launched herself into his lap and he flinched when she moved to hug him.

“Thank you, Lucifer!” Trixie chirped, blissfully unaware of the latter’s terrified face.

“Yes…you’re welcome. The hugs really aren’t needed, spawn,” he said awkwardly.

Chloe suppressed a chuckle as he shot Maze and then her a distressed look. Maze looked at Lucifer like he had gotten the plague.

No, neither her or Lucifer were ever having children. And if they did, well…Chloe sent a silent prayer that never happened.

She let him suffer for a moment longer before ordering Trixie off.

She pouted and tightened her grip on Lucifer’s waist. Chloe was way too tired for this shit. She shot Trixie a look and finally she reluctantly let go of him. Lucifer visibly sighed in relief. He began his normal ritual of smoothing the wrinkles out of his ruined shirt. That was another thing Chloe had noticed.

The first time she had awoken, after Lucifer had left to grab his book, the nurses came to her bedside with sly smiles. She hadn’t doubted what they said about Lucifer staying, but the impact of it never hit her until now.

His usual Prada was laced with deep creases and Dan’s boot print stood out starkly against the off white fabric. A splotch of her blood on his shoulder here, messily rolled sleeves there; he was a mess. Even his hair hadn’t escaped some mussing. His usual slicked back, product ridden style had transformed into a curly black mop.

Why hadn’t Chloe seen it before? He hadn’t just stayed; he had torn himself apart for her. Lucifer Morningstar did not ask for help. He was the most stubborn man she had ever met and probably will ever meet again. The king of Mr-I-Will-Do-It-Myself. Yet here he was.

Chloe vaguely remembered the panic creeping into his voice has they ran into the ER and the way he demanded the poor secretary for help.

Lucifer sacrificed his beloved pride for her safety and that was something that she couldn’t ever pay him back for.

Chloe watched as he rose from her bed, leaving his book resting on her legs. Something caught his attention as he turned to acknowledge some unseen force behind her.

She had been so caught up in herself that she hadn’t noticed the nurse who had resurfaced from the depths of the hospital. It was the same brown-eyed one from before.

“Hello I see we’ve gained a few faces,” she smiled cheerfully, her voice much less terrified than before, “However I need to please ask you to leave for a few minutes while we run some samples and tests on Ms. Decker.”

Lucifer opened his mouth in protest but the nurse turned to Chloe and cut him off. “It’s just to make sure you’re healthy, of course.”

Her heart sagged. She hadn’t even gotten ten minutes with Trixie. Hadn’t they run enough tests already? In the past few hours, she’d be pricked, prodded, sliced open, sewn back up, and oh the list went on. All she really wanted to do was go back to sleep. No it wasn’t just that; she wanted to go to sleep in her own bed, in her own house with her daughter.

“But–” Lucifer tried to begin again.

Chloe silenced him with a reassurance. “It’s just a few minutes, I’ll be fine.”

Lucifer’s face fell as Maze began tugging him out of the room. Trixie stayed on the bed.

“I just got here,” she protested.

“Go with Maze and Lucifer, okay baby? The nurses just want to make sure I’m alright,” Chloe gave Trixie another hug before pushing her away, “Be good.”

“Come on child, there’s chocolate cake down in the cafeteria,” Lucifer called from the doorway.

Chloe was pretty sure that was a lie but it got her daughter’s attention right away. Trixie bounded off the bed and towards where Maze and Lucifer waited. She waved as they disappeared back into the fluorescent labyrinth of hospital hallways. Maybe now she could sleep.

Yes, Chloe thought, it was time for another nap.

Lucifer traced the now familiar path of halls towards the cafeteria with Beatrice flouncing happily in front of them.

“So any news on the Douche?” he asked Maze.

Maze shook her head. “Nothing really important. I see you didn’t get my text in time.” She gestured to the bruises on his jaw.

He scoffed. “It was just a light beating. I stopped him after the second punch.”

“You’re going soft.”

“I’m the Devil.” He shot her a glare to put her back in her place. Why did he create her with attitude? As if his hands weren’t full enough with the Detective, now he had to deal with a pissed off demon.

“I saw the book Lucifer, we both know what that means.” Her frown deepened.

“It means nothing Mazikeen,” he snarled fiercely. Lucifer matched her stare, smashing down the urge to flash his eyes at her.

“Whether you like it or not, Chloe is changing you. Don’t run back to me when she finally breaks you. You know I can’t fix broken things, only torture them.”

Lucifer tore his eyes away from Maze’s. She was right, they both knew that. What Maze didn’t know was that the Detective had already broken him.

He’d tried to stop whatever it was that the Detective did to him, oh Father knows he’d tried. Everything that could flush her out of his systems he’d tried; sex with blonde models, coke, nothing worked. No, the Devil was addicted to the Detective. He got one taste and suddenly it would never be enough. Just being with her wasn’t enough, no, he needed to touch her. Feel her skin against his, save that smile just for him, be his.

“That’s what I thought,” she sneered.

Lucifer sighed, suddenly feeling his age.

They reached the cafeteria in silence, save for Beatrice’s mindless chatter. Maze must have sensed his exhaustion because she began herding the child over to the pastry counter. Lucifer followed, still in his daze.

“Can I have that one?” Beatrice pleaded, pointing to a chocolate cupcake behind the glass.

“I suppose if it’s what you desire,” Lucifer replied, already thumbing through his billfold.

“Don’t you want anything?” His shuffling stopped. He glanced at Maze in silent question.

“Just add two of those cookies to the order,” she directed the cashier to the sugar cookies next to the cupcakes.

The boy–he was still a boy in Lucifer’s book–tallied up their things and handed them Beatrice. Lucifer left a ten on the counter and instructed him to keep the change.

As they walked away, Maze fished the cookies out of the paper bag and held one out for him, eyebrows raised.

“You and I both know I don’t need to eat,” he dismissed coldly.

“Yes you do, I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror lately but you’re started to look like Hell–literally.” She waved the cookie at him again.

“Mommy says you should eat even if you don’t feel good because it’s good for you,” Beatrice chimed in from below them.

Both pairs of dark eyes fell on the child. She smiled shyly around her cupcake. “You should listen to Maze, Lucifer.”

He may not like children, but Lucifer couldn’t exactly say no to the Detective’s child. He sighed again before taking the pastry in defeat. “I suppose you’re right child.”

Maze gave him a shark-toothed smile.

“Is Mommy going to be okay, Lucifer? She always says she’s okay, but sometimes I know she’s lying because her smiles are all sad. She had a sad smile this time too.” Beatrice told him quietly.

By this time, they were sitting at one the empty cafeteria tables. The child looked up at him with big pleading doe eyes. Lucifer felt Maze tense next to him.

“I’m not sure it’s too early to tell,” he answered truthfully before taking a bite of his cookie. Usually he had a sweet tooth but Beatrice’s heavy eyes made it turn to cement as he swallowed it down. He finished it under the watchful eyes of Maze and Beatrice.

“Can she come home today?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Again, too early to tell, child.”

“Why do you call me child; I have a name you know,” she giggled.

“Yes, but you are a child, are you not?”

Beatrice shrugged, “I guess.” She finished the last bite of her cupcake. “Are you gonna have kids, Lucifer?”

Lucifer choked and Maze threw in head back in laughter. Beatrice looked between them in confusion. Still sputtering, Lucifer busied himself with fixing his shirt buttons.

“I can’t have children, darling. Neither can Maze,” he explained after clearing his throat.

“Why not?”

He raised his brows in bitter amusement. “I just wasn’t made that way.”

She frowned. “Are you sad about it?”

Lucifer cocked his head to the side, studying the child across from him. No one had ever asked that. Well, it wasn’t like he’d ever told anyone that he was sterile anyhow. He supposed he never thought about it being a sad thing that he couldn’t procreate. Humans seemed to make such a big deal out of it, but to him it was just fact. His Father did not want another Nephilim incident, so the archangels were all sterile. Plus what would he do with a sticky incompetent being anyways? They were like storms in bottles; let them loose on anything and next thing he knows, his flat is trashed. No, he settled on, children were not for him.  

“No, I’m glad. You fill my dance card up plenty,” he said finally.

At that, she giggled. Then she turned to Maze and asked her the same question.

Maze snorted. “Like Lucifer said, you are enough for me too.” She leaned back in her chair. “So what? Are we hanging around in here or making our way back?” she asked, effectively dropping the topic.

“Can we go back, please? I want to see if the doctors are done,” Beatrice said, butting into their conversation once more.

Lucifer balled up the pastry bag and pushed in his chair. “Fine by me.”

Beatrice leapt from her seat. Maze pulled herself up slowly and lazily milled over to them.

The walk back seemed longer than the walk to the cafeteria had been. Lucifer mindlessly hummed along to a forgotten piece of music. The food had put him in a better mood, but he just wanted to get back to the Detective now. As they walked down the last hallway, a set of nurses hurried by them.

Lucifer payed them no mind, this was a hospital after all. Beatrice hadn’t even paused in her skipping. But when they rounded the corner, Lucifer’s stomach dropped and the cookie suddenly didn’t agree with him anymore. The nurses they had seen moments before were rushing towards a familiar room: 203. Chloe’s room.

so @garrisonbabe completely surprised me today by leaving her house at like 4:45 am and getting to my house at like 9 and because i was dead asleep i had no idea until she burst through my bedroom door and flicked on the light and walked in with coffee that she made as soon as she got in and i thought i was dreaming for like the first 10 minutes and then i cried and then she made me gluten free pancakes

and then she took me on a date to see fantastic beasts and where to find them, and it was in emagine theater and it was my first time going to one it was so fancy and then we cuddled while drinking more coffee and watching baking shows

i am so grateful. i’ve been having such a difficult time and i have the most amazing girlfriend who will surprise me by spontaneously driving 4-4.5 hours to come make me feel better T_T

a snippet for sunday six from my fic “lover and beloved”


After a long moment, Harry says, “I’m bitter.”

Eggsy sits up fully, taking the cigarette from his mouth. He looks bothered. “I think you’re lovely,” he says with such honesty, Harry flushes.

“Cynical,” Harry says.

Eggsy flicks the cigarette out the balcony across from him and good lord he doesn’t miss, of course he doesn’t. He crawls towards Harry, a playful determination etched across his features.

“Gorgeous.”

He is utterly captivating, a soft curve of muscles trembling across his skin, the deep set green of his eyes flickering to flecks of brilliant gold when the sun catches them. Harry has to watch him, could never bear to look away, every move he makes to be remembered.

“Stubborn.”

Eggsy is hovering in front of him and Harry is briefly overwhelmed with nothing but him: his constant intensity, forever pushing at the corners of his life; the smell of him, something faintly sweet and of smoke and cedarwood; the brush of his lips over Harry’s as he spoke.

Yes.”

tser  asked:

Some of my fave stims! Rocking, pacing, listening to songs on repeat, flicking my index and middle fingers together, rotating my ankle, pushing down my nose and furling my upper lip and inhaling through my nose, running fabric/strings under my fingernails, pushing down on my fingernails, rubbing my fingernails with my fingers, kneading cold fabric with my fingers, & touching soft velvety fabrics like minky! Stim toys include slime, playdough, tangles, twiddles, beads on rings, and spinner rings!

I do the first three A LOT!! Oooh cool unique stims!! Huh, never heard of minky!!

I love slime, I want tangles and I have a spinner ring!! Those all sound like really fun toys!!

{Closed RP; E}

@enterthestarlair

—-

Felix glanced around as his ears flicked back and forth. He leaned against a tree with his chest as he tried to figure out what was coming toward him. His fingers lightly tapped on the bark before he finally caught a glimpse. It was a human.

In a little surprise, his ears flattened, but the curiosity that filled him kept him from hiding.

Babysitting Misadventures #2

Child: *watching TV*

INTP: *reading*

Child: Hey, INTP?

INTP: Yes, tiny human?

Child: Is it true that you can kill a person if you throw a penny at them from a really tall building?

INTP: Actually, no, that is a scientific misconception. The coin is very light in weight, so its terminal velocity would be rather small. It also is a flat circle, which does not bode well in terms of aerodynamics; it would have a turbulent journey the entirety of its way down. Consequently, the damage that is done to the victim would be equivalent to a really irksome flick.

Child: So it doesn’t have enough strength to kill someone.

INTP: Correct.

Child: *a grin forms slowly on their face*

INTP: That does not give you permission to fling pennies at people.

Child: Aw…