#starlightthroughbrokenglass

Don't let the cuteness fool you! If you fell for the invitation for belly rubs, she would immediately sink her teeth and claws into your hand :D

And this little cutie is called Cookie. As you can see, she is hard at work. She will accept pets and treats as reward

!!!!!!

hi hello I am feeling ‘jmart become parents somewhere else’ vibes very strongly in this chili’s tonight. anyway 100% not what this prompt is probably intended to inspire but here we are!

cw for mentions of lingering Eye-related trauma and some canon-typical self-hatred

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Jon’s awoken by a soft touch to his arm, a small, trembling hand shaking him gently. He blinks a few times to relieve the dryness of his eyes—sleeping with his eyes open has very few perks, and he can’t quite shake that particular habit even after all these years spent in relative peace—and when his vision clears, he sees a round, worried face staring back at him, hazel eyes wide and unblinking.

 “Masie,” he says, voice still groggy with sleep, and he scrubs a hand across his eyes a few times before reaching out and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What- what’s wrong?”

 “I had a nightmare,” Masie says, her voice tight and scared. “The- the one with the eyes.”

 “Oh,” Jon says, a familiar thrum of anxiety bringing him fully awake. He shifts into a half-seated position and says, “It’s- it’s okay, Masie, they… they can’t hurt you. It’s just a dream.”

 It’s true. It… it’s just a dream. The first time Masie had described the nightmare, her face buried in Jon’s chest as he’d hugged her close, he’d nearly flinched at her description of thousands of eyes, always watching no matter how much she tried to hide from them. Later, he’d shaken apart in Martin’s arms, gasping into the fabric of Martin’s shirt, it’s my fault, I’ve hurt our daughter, I’m a monster.

 Martin had whispered back, it’s not your fault, they’re just dreams, you love her, you would never hurt her.

Okay, first of all, YOUR MIND.

LOLOMG are going to go into the broken gate spell. Ed is there too. They’re counting up, because Eldarion says she can only bring back nine people, including herself. It’s enough for each member and the hostages, but not enough for Einstein and Ed.

“Perhaps if this will, erm, have some… temporal effects,” Hamid says, looking nervous, “Professor, you could take Ed back with you and he could find Wilde, and let him know? You know Oscar Wilde?”

They agree it might be a good idea, and Ed has a Quest, so he’s raring to go.

Einstein teleports him back into Curie’s office, drops him in a chair, gives her a cheery salute, and pops away again. Curie rolls well on her Knowledge Nobility. Curie is suddenly babysitting an Ed With A Quest, and is having a great time.

“You mean the Meritocratic agent, Mr. Keystone? Why on earth would I know where he is? No, don’t run off, you- no- sit there, Ed, please-”

Meanwhile, Wilde has just successfully (he hopes, oh, gods, does he hope) escaped the Meritocracy. Hoping to get more information, he tracks down the Damascan Harlequin cell that arranged Grizzop’s transportation to Rome and I’m sorry, the high-level caster you got to transport him was Eldarion, that Eldarion? Yes I know who she is, every person who’s studied magic at any point within the past thirty years knows who Eldarion and Marie Curie are-

He’s going to have to go to the top if he wants to find out why his team didn’t come back.

He knows Zolf went back to Earhart’s ship after leaving the group in Prague- what kind of a spy would he be if he hadn’t done a little spying? He’s working with the Harlequins now, and if the man doesn’t drown him the moment he shows up, maybe Wilde will be able to convince him to take him to the Harlequins too.

Curie and Ed are not in Prague. Curie and Ed are in Budapest. Ed fills Curie in on where her wife has gone, what Eldarion is doing; she’d gone to Damascus first. Curie contacts the Harlequin cell there, and yes, Wilde was here, he was asking about you. He said he was trying to defect. If the man is smart then he’ll go to Prague first and track her trail from there, and he is, so Curie sends Ed to Prague to meet him.

Wilde and Zolf arrive in Prague. Wilde and Zolf meet Ed. Wilde rolls well on his Knowledge Nobility, and he’d be caught off guard that Edward Keystone is here to greet him, but honestly, much weirder stuff has been happening to him recently. It’s a drop in the bucket, by this point.

Ed takes them back to Budapest, back to Curie, where they make an exchange of information that turns the tide of a war that hasn't even begun yet. Wilde and Zolf learn about the broken gate spell, about the temporal effects, about everything that’s happened to the LOLOMG since Wilde first clipped the anti-magic shackle to his ankle.

It’s more information than either Zolf or Wilde could have hoped for. They know where the others are, they know what’s happened to them, they know what they have to do. Unfortunately, what they have to do is wait, and neither can bear to do that for long.

So they will continue to chase leads on the Simulacrum, and Zolf will continue to track the weather patterns, and Ed-

Will also come along, why not? Wilde doesn’t have his magic, and they can always use another caster. So Ed joins the team.

Zolf and he butt heads at first, due to Ed’s blind optimism and boundless, unwavering faith- but he learns to like the kid. There’s something about him that speaks to Zolf’s own Not-Too-Happy Childhood senses. He couldn’t not watch out for him if he tried.

Wilde finds Ed fascinating, as a character study. Every single pun he levies goes directly over his head. It’s not even annoying, it’s just intriguing. Zolf has to tell him to back off, stop treating the poor kid like a linguistics experiment.

Ed doesn’t deal with quarantine well. He says he can still feel Apollo with him, but it’s fainter when he can’t reach back.

It reminds him of being locked in his room at home, when he was younger, when he’d be punished and asked to shut up and be good when no one would explain to him what it was he’d done wrong.

“He reminds you of her, doesn’t he?” Wilde asks one night, when Ed isn’t in the room. Zolf glares at him and stomps out, which he knows by now means yes.

Ed calls down Smite Evil as Zolf hauls a stunned and bleeding Wilde to safety. Neither cleric nor paladin can heal him magically, not with the cuffs on. Ed is desperately upset about this, and becomes more upset as Wilde completely stonewalls him for the first time. Has he done something wrong? Why won’t anyone tell him when he’s done something wrong?

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Zolf tells him. “Just… let him deal. ‘S not worth it.”

5. Pick a character and make a prediction for their epilogue.

Azu & Kiko wedding please!! Not to be mainstream but hnnnggggg. i want them to have a happily-ever-after.

OH WAIT! What I really want for Azu also is for her to return to Sohra and the Ursuns and learn more about their resurrection rituals!!!! She was so awed by that magic and so earnest and curious and she just. really wants to learn. i love her

19. Can you try to put into words the crushing nostalgia you now feel when you think back to the prologue episodes, and how you felt listening to them for the first time vs how that would feel now?

Uhhhhhhh. not even in the slightest. I think I have listened to the whole thing start-to-finish(/present) three times now? and each time it hits differently, each time something new pricks at me. must admit the prologue is much more enjoyable once you've formed the attachment to the characters lol I really struggled getting through it the first time round

(I'm always here for good lyrics)

Greyhound by Calpurnia:

I wish I could go home, forget this ever happened I feel depressed, out of whack, and in my own world Sometimes I can't feel a thing I can barely feel a thing, ah ah

Castiel has never experienced a painting class quite like this one.

Not because of the nude model—he’s seen and painted enough nude bodies that that’s no longer anything that distracts him or makes him uncomfortable.

No, it’s different because of the model himself.

When the man had walked in, Castiel had immediately picked up on his air of uncertainty. All of the people who model for them are beautiful to Castiel, beautiful in their bodies and in their confidence. But this guy, while he’s easily one of the most stunning men Castiel has ever seen…

He doesn’t seem to know it.

He makes self-deprecating jokes, and his cheeks burn pink when he disappears to get undressed and comes back wearing a fluffy blue robe. At one point, he mentions taking this job for the money alone. He never meets anyone’s eyes for more than a few seconds, and once he’s naked and posed on the stool, he stares resolutely down at the ground.

He’s entrancing. Castiel wants to know more.

The beautiful man is so distracting that Castiel almost forgets to paint. He’s so busy just watching him; cataloguing every freckle, the way the studio lights turn his hair a blondish-brown, the tense way he holds himself. If only he would relax, Castiel is sure that he would burn so brightly that no-one in this room would be capable of capturing it.

Before he realizes, the hour is almost up, and Castiel has nothing but a handful of brushstrokes to show for it. He knows that there’s no way he could do this man justice, but he hastily adds more so that he can at least pretend that it’s finished. Dark strokes wrap around the man’s body, defined in messy lines, and his green eyes stand out against it all.

The man is quick to pull his robe back on once they’re finished. Castiel’s fellow students pack up their canvases and hand them in to their teacher, then leave in twos and threes.

Castiel stares at his painting, cataloguing every single deficiency until he can’t look at it any more. He shouldn’t torture himself over it—not even the best artists in the world could capture this man’s image.

When he looks up, the man is watching him, perched on the stool and with his robe wrapped around him.

His eyes dart away as soon as Castiel catches him, and he quickly stands. “Sorry. I. Um. You looked so entranced by your painting, is all. I’ll get out of your way.”

Castiel looks at it again, then back at the man. “I was distracted by it because there’s no way I could ever properly paint you and do you justice,” he points out. “Not just your image, but… all of you.”

Castiel’s words seem to stop the man in his tracks. He blinks, then gives a small, embarrassed chuckle. “Me?” he says, then shakes his head. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“I just wanted to let you know that I think you’re beautiful,” Castiel says with a small shrug and a reassuring smile. That’s all he can do, though—it’s not up to him as to whether this man accepts it, now or ever.

He stands and starts packing up his things, hyperaware of the fact that the man is still hovering in the centre of the space, like he’s not sure what to do.

“What’s your name?” the guy asks after a few seconds.

When Castiel looks up he finds himself trapped in so much green.

“Castiel.”

“I’m Dean.” The man smiles, and it’s the most genuine one Castiel has seen on him so far, even if his cheeks are still tinged with a blush. “I, uh… I was wondering if you maybe wanted to get coffee with me? I’m not sure about the protocol of hanging out with the same guy you just painted in the nude—or if you even wantto hang out with me, it’s fine if you don’t, but—“

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel interrupts, before Dean can talk himself out of the idea. “I would love to get coffee with you.”

At this point I just feel like my blog is this ahsjshsj