#howl often

[catladychronicles]

[therabbitthatpostthings]

No cause, Howl’s greatest strength as a person and a character is the ability to trick others and the audience into thinking that he is a melodramatic idiot that lucks his way into problems that he has started. AND HE IS BUT HE’S ALSO VERY SMART I PROMISE-

This mf is so good at blending into an exaggerated version of himself that you don’t even notice just how smart he is. This fucking college dropout mastered dimensional travel and keeps said device built into his HOUSE. HE HAS A MAGIC WINDOW THAT PEERS INTO THE HUMAN WORLD SO HE CAN CHECK ON HIS FAMILY-

My god I wanna dissect this- is this why people annotate in the story???? I- I have to buy a second copy….

[forestofsprites]

it takes a lot for me to draw hands and leather in one scene, but it really was integral to the vibe here. that’s my good friend murdock, baby ! he’s all hands, all leather jacket, and all saturated hues !

[queenlua]

hey lua what decks do phoenix aceattorney and miles aceattorney play in magic

PHOENIX WRIGHT

once upon a time, a friend bullied me into going to a Pro Tour Qualifier, which was probably the largest Magic tournament i’d ever been to at that time, right?

i was happy to be bullied, to be clear, but the problem was… i hadn’t played standard-format Magic competitively in about 2-3 years.  so my knowledge of the current metagame, what deck archetypes were popular, and what the current cards even were, was staggeringly limited.

“it will be fine,” said my friend.  “here, take this spare deck i built.  it’s super-straightforward and easy,” he lied.

he said this to me approx. 8 seconds before the first round began, so uhhhhh, i sure was playing a game of magical cards without ever having even looked at the damn deck before!

so, lo, literally in the course of playing the deck, i was learning how this shit was supposed to work.  “oh!” i’d exclaim with delight, halfway through my turn.  “THAT’S how those two cards are supposed to interact.  oh that’s super clever.  what a neat combo.”  and then i’d proceed to shiftily look at my opponent over my cards, riffle those cards a lil bit, and then say “pass” with as much of an enigmatic vibe as i could muster.

meanwhile, my opponent was Actually Prepared, and they were Trying To Win, and they were pissed.  they threatened to call Slow Play on me because i was taking so fucking long reading all the cards.  as in, he literally called a judge over, who stood there watching me the whole time, in order to determine if i was being Criminally Bad At Magic versus just A Regular Amount Of Bad At Magic, and i was sweating bullets the whole time because i didn’t know this deck or their deck or any of those cards and AHHHH why is the judge staring at me!!!

….which only served to make it EXTRA-humiliating for this poor fuck when i proceeded to eviscerate them 2-0.  hahahah get dunked onnnnnnnn nerd!!!

and then i also proceeded to eviscerate my next opponent???

sheer dumb luck.  i cannot overstate how ill-prepared i was for this tournament.  i absolutely did not deserve these wins.

meanwhile the friend who gave me the deck was having a much worse time with their deck, and they were like “what the fuck. you weren’t supposed to win. how are you winning with that shit, my deck’s so much better than yours”

anyway.  i think that’s the kind of scenario Phoenix would get into if he were an MtG player.  dude Gets Himself Into Situations And Then Uses Cleverness + Bullshit + Luck To Get Out Again.

(AA4-era Phoenix seems like he’s doing the same thing… but, in reality, he’s actually been meticulously crafting his deck in secret for the past six months.  he’s not even aiming to win the tournament, he’s just exploiting a known weakness in the opponent-matching system that lets him know with certainty who he’s going to get matched up against (spoiler: first round is Kristoph), and he’s hyper-optimizing his deck to beat Literally Only Those People.  meanwhile, Apollo, who built a tryhard hyper-optimized variant of Red Deck Wins, is lowkey annoyed that Phoenix's seemingly-random pile keeps vaulting him just one table above him in the standings, because Apollo knows his deck is better. he knows it!!!! just let him go 1v1 and prove it aaaaughhhh!!!)

((also, in case you want Actual Concrete Cards And Colors And Stuff: in general i think Phoenix prefers limited play (draft, sealed, "anything where you open booster packs on the spot & throw a deck together") to constructed play, because he doesn't like being tied down to any one game plan. when he does play constructed, i think he's less attached to a specific colors and more attached to specific mechanics. in particular: he's not a combo player exactly, but he likes mechanics that feel like bullshit. dude saw Madness for the first time & his eyes lit up & he was in LOVE, "you mean i'm discarding the card but then i can cast it for free??? hell YES." he absolutely ran a poison counter deck during New Phyrexia. ah fuck i just realized he was probably a huge stan for noted awful expansion Battle for Zendikar, i think i gotta cancel him now, sorry))

((and i think Phoenix also has a touch of Timmy in him! like, i went to a huge state tournament once with a bunch of really skilled players, and there was this one dude in our car who had a really solid deck, clearly adhered to a lot of the trends in the meta at the time... but his win condition was a Shivan Dragon. which wasn't a bad card at the time, it was a reasonable win condition, but it was... slightly suboptimal? not at all the obvious pick? sort of random? and multiple people asked him "why is that your win condition" & he shrugged and said "i like dragons." so the dragon stayed & that dude ended up getting second place in the whole tournament so FUCK optimal play, bring a dragon. i think Phoenix would sneak in a dragon now and again. just 'cause))

MILES EDGEWORTH

this one is trickier!!!

young!Miles is just going to play Whatever The Meta Deems To Be The Best Deck, right. the von Karma perfection thing and all. it's all very boring & micro-optimized to be the Best Deck Of Its Kind & he pours over the results of the big name tournaments week after week & does some math or whatever to hyper-optimize his own build of the Obviously Correct Deck. there is no soul in any of this, purely Executing On A Formula.

...but then he experiences Character Growth & has his big gay crisis & now he has to pick up the game again. he opens the latest tournament results... clicks around some win % stats for various cards in a desultory kinda way, and... his heart's just not in it, right?

enter 2-4 era Miles. 2-4 era Miles is playing some utterly unhinged Five Color Good Stuff thing. there's a lot of Planar Chaos cards in there, because that whole set was about Weird Shit & cards doing Stuff You're Familiar With (But In The Utterly Wrong Color!!!) & all that is resonating with Miles more than he'd care to admit. he cannot possibly talk about his unnecessary feelings but he can make a weird noise rock album about them. and by noise rock album i mean this fucking Magic deck.

and he's playing this deck with a 100% straight face, as though this is the exact same behavior that won him the Junior Super Series five years in a row & not a desperate cry for help from a madman. everyone else is like Miles... are you playing fucking singletons... in a fucking standard deck... you know your deck will be more consistent with four-ofs right... and then he gives a cool fish-eyed stare & taps out to cast some arcane bullshit legendary creature & gives a single rap of his knuckles against the table to indicate that he's passing the turn.

and it works, is the thing! all those years of training to be the Spikiest Spike Ever have paid off; this Five Color Good Stuff thing relies on some pretty clever insights to make the mana base work, and parts of what he's doing eventually get adopted by the larger metagame to become an Actual Serious Deck. but, like. it's still a monstrosity. any skilled players watching are still definitely wondering Are You Okay, Dude.

after 2-4, i think Miles settles back into playing something more normal. he still cares about winning, but he's going to do it with a touch of class. he wants a game that involves dialogue, some actual back-and-forth, because just trying to combo off is lame coward behavior.

aw yeah baby we're talking counterspells!!!

he's a blue player at heart & he's happiest when he's updating the autopsy report shutting down whatever his opponent's plan is. he'll splash other colors as the occasion calls for it, but he'd be happy running mono-blue the rest of his life. like, i ran a pretty fun Legacy deck back in the day which consisted of:

every kind of counterspell i could get my hands on,

propaganda because FUCK creatures,

thieving magpies for the card draw,

and a few silver wyverns to, y'know, actually win the game

...and i think Miles would appreciate that deck. just play counterspells until the opponent runs out of steam & then cruise your way to victory with a couple birds. simple. elegant. classic. doesn't involve any of this modern Planeswalker bullshit (Miles regards most developments that happened to MtG post-Time Spiral block or so as affronts to game design).

(i do think Miles has a secret fondness for sagas as a card type, however. they remind him of all that Character Growth, but in an abstract/subconscious/nonthreatening way. too bad most of them are a bit of poor match for the kinds of decks he likes to play)

FINALLY: i think Miles hates playing Commander with every fiber of his being & Phoenix loves it & this is a pretty serious point of contention in their relationship. poor dudes

[somecoolpigeon]

Twst gummies but from memory: Savanaclaw edition!!

[discordiansamba]

There's a pair of werewolves in his camp.

Hakoda's spent long enough in the Earth Kingdom to hear the legends. As a father, the concept horrifies him. He has a nightmare the first time he hears of the legend- of Katara and Sokka being torn away from him, their bodies forcibly transformed. They stare at him with eyes that no longer recognize him, and retreat into the fog.

He wakes, and knows it's only a dream.

When Bato rejoins the group, he's surprised to hear that his children are traveling with the Avatar- and a werewolf. There's a frown on Bato's face as he speaks of the boy. His name is Zuko- he's a firebender with a vicious scar on his face. Hakoda is uneasy with the statement for the same reason Bato is. They've seen the wanted posters of the banished prince, who betrayed his country by abandoning his search for the Avatar and disappearing.

Good for him, Hakoda had thought the first time he'd heard of him.

Now he wonders if he had a choice in the matter.

Now the once-prince and his wolf sister are here. There's an obvious tension between them that his kids confirm isn't normal. It's been like this since they met Zuko's uncle in Ba Sing Se. Katara grimly tells them about everything that happened there- about how Azula plotted with the Dai Li and took over the city in a coup. She'd killed the Avatar, but she'd brought him back to life with water from the spirit oasis in the North Pole.

He asks quietly about Zuko.

Katara's expression is complicated. He is the once-prince of the Fire Nation- but not anymore. She stares at her feet for a long time, then quietly confesses that Zuko had asked her to look at his head, back in Ba Sing Se. She'd fixed Jet's brainwashing- but when she'd checked Zuko's head, she hadn't found anything amiss.

This was beyond her ability to fix.

The two werewolves keep to themselves. They seem to work out their problem with each other. Hakoda expects they'll continue to avoid him after they steal a Fire Nation ship as camouflage. They seem to be on friendly terms with his children and the Avatar, but he's not surprised that two wolves in human-shape would be uninterested in other humans.

At least, until Zuko startles him one evening.

He didn't mean to. They both move quietly. Zuko hesitates for a long moment, and then quietly asks him if he knows what the Fire Nation does to its traitors. At first Hakoda thinks he's asking for himself- but he quickly realizes that's not the case. He's asking about his uncle. Katara told him the man stayed behind in Ba Sing Se to cover their retreat, even if he knew it meant his capture.

Hakoda apologizes. He doesn't know, Prince Zuko.

He half expected him to growl at the title. But the once-prince just gives him a long look, then slinks off without another word. As land fades from sight, he hears a long, mournful howl pierce the night. His wolf sister joins the once-prince, the atmosphere the two create enough to frighten a lesser man.

(The long howl that responds to them from the shores of the Earth Kingdom they left behind... that does.)

[daily-hanamura]

[stagefoureddiediaz]

I can be totally normal about Eddie failing to ‘talk to god’ in confessions - thereby failing to convince god of his need to get Chris back - and so going invoking the Virgin Mary to get his prayers answered in holy mother of god!

I really can be totally normal about that pipeline!!!

[bigmoon-is-bigwife]

I think Ros's sacrificial tendencies stem for the fact that she knows she is only alive because of others. People have saved her time and time again and she nearly fully died within two days of the start of the server. People have protected her and geared her and taught her how to survive and I feel like that weighs on her. She's tried to be independent and strong but she never feels like she's enough. She still feels like her life is in the hands of others except now that is a choice she has made. She has placed her life in the hands of other people because it only feels right now. She wouldn't be alive without them so now she is indebted.

[javierduffy]

sometimes i make myself emotional by thinking about how special it must be to javier that the gang at the very least somewhat learned cielito lindo for him so that they could sing along but now im doubling it by thinking about how kieran may gingerly wander up when javier is quietly plucking at the strings of his guitar, tuning them by ear and relishing in the comfort of the body vibrating hums through the meat of his thighs. kieran will politely sit on a nearby unused bedroll, knees tucked close to his body as though taking up less space is the respectful thing to do, and he’ll point to the instrument in javier’s lap.

“where’d you learn that, mister ?”

javier finds the spindly finger in his peripheral vision, follows it up to the brunette’s nervous face. he offers green eyes an extra glance, and he can see them soften like he’d given himself away already. damn.

“i learned it at home. in mexico, music is a very special thing. we use it to tell stories, history, to communicate with one another. mexico speaks music first, and spanish second. nearly every mexican can play at least a handful of instruments- i couldn’t tell you which one i played first and who it was that taught it to me. by now, it’s like a part of my body, just like it is a part of my soul.”

kieran nods along as javier continues to mindlessly poke and prod at the strings of his guitar, and he finds himself relaxing in a way that he’d never been able to around the man. maybe because javier himself seemed to be so content with his guitar in his lap. like a chef in a kitchen or a mariner at sea, javier brought home to him when the sounds he played echoed through wood and sang loud to his typical audience of outlaws. the crease around his eyes tells kieran that he asked about the right subject- though it seems that escuella is just as good at playing heartstrings as he is guitar strings, with the way that he can feel his blood loudly thrumming in his chest.

“could you maybe… teach me sometime too ?”

the way javier rears his head at the question makes kieran jolt- prey spooked wild in the dark eyes of a predator- though the recognition of excitement (as much as javier attempts to conceal it with apprehension) smooths his bristles back down again.

javier teaches kieran every song he knows, from the ones with all the lyrics he soothes or excites the camp with, to the lulls of wordless melodies that sailed the boat north with him. kieran is good with his hands, and attentive to his every action, so he learns quick and easy, though he’ll never sing a word, even if he could memorize the spanish (and even though he already has a lot of them simply by having dutifully listened to javier sing every night that he could). considers himself a flat dud when it comes to singing. javier is curious, but he’ll never press. often he’s too busy reveling in the sound of home emanating from kieran’s fingers plucking desert lullabies, songs javier thought he’d only ever get to hear from himself.

it hits different, to simply get to listen. to put your boots up on a log and enjoy the ride. he’d been the driver for so long that javier forgot how beautiful the scenery was. he’s grateful that kieran asked him to teach him how to play guitar- he finds himself nearly indulging the idea that when kieran practices or plays, he’s playing javier’s music for javier, and not because it’s the only music he knows. he finds it all too romantic, but the warmth that the idea brings to his skin is just as familiar as the mexican sun, and it aches in his heart how comforting those moments are.

kieran, on the other hand, in his soft, sunken heart, is absolutely playing javier’s music for javier. he can see how the notes have always danced along his smile lines as he sings or hums along to the sound. he’s always seen how protective of his guitar he is. he watches closely as javier plays even when no one is listening, and kieran more than anyone understands just how special something has to be for it to never grace the stage of another’s perception. and kieran, so knee-deep in his affection, wants to give javier the gift of comfort- a form of it so free he may feel he just robbed it from a corpse.

kieran becomes quite good, and javier becomes quite comfortable. often, in the direction of a billow of campfire smoke, you will hear the wordless song of guitar strings, accompanied by the howling gritos of love and grief.

[nefja]

Playing Plants vs Zombies, watching a Nefja live feed of her lying behind me while a fireworks (with the nasty whistle ones) display plays in the background.

Occasionally throwing treats at her but ultimately giving off vibes of "not our circus, not our monkeys"

[trialnumbergamma]

some more old art I made that I never posted, they were gonna go with like an official twst oc introduction but I never pulled the trigger even though I've already posted stuff for him? I think I was embarrassed or something XD I dont care now so here's eli there's old lore about him under the cut if you're interested I use him cross fandom but his personality is pretty consistent

oh I think ace's bday is around the time i've scheduled this so happy birthday bitch 🎉

these have been in my draft for like two years

He’s mexican american so he def feels out of place in what’s basically fantasy brittan

He’s pretty excitable but he’s pretty shy so the majority of people think he’s quiet while aduce get treated to the info dumping /exited reactions

Deuces dedicated hype man

Aces magic trick Guinea pig

He’s a human garbage can so he grades pretty easy in master chef unless it’s mexican cus it’d be an insult to the ancestors

He didn’t really know how to deep clean before moving into ramshackle so that was a learning curve

He’s not super skilled at cooking but he leans fast

He treats grim like an annoying little cousin he was left in charge of but absolutely adores him

He lost it ch 6

Eli never really had close friends before so he didn’t take his friendship with aduce seriously til the end of ch 4 cus he couldn’t fathom why they’d travel all the way to the school if they didn’t care about him so ch 5 onwards hes super protective of them

It takes him a little longer to warm up to the rest of the first years but he’s really happy to be in a friend group

ram is the dedicated sleepover spot which results in 3 am shenanigans around campus

no the well has always had a broken roof idk what you're talking about

he relies heavily on other people’s reactions to know how an interaction is going so inexpressive people high key scare him

He has no idea what’s going on but he likes potions class the most

Like said before he’s really bad at taking photos

Cater tried teaching him but gave up at 3 quarters rule and basic lighting

Tried using rooks bow once but couldn’t cus rooks bow has like a 80 draw strength and elis only done like 25

really bad texter like use more then one word responses please kalim thinks you hate him

[picturebookshelf]

The Worlds of Chrestomanci: Witch Week (1982)

Story: Diana Wynne Jones -- Art: Tim Stevens

[moondwellerthatdwells]

Was digging in the notes, found original title for AU

Thanks your reminding me 2023 dweller my moon varian AU will officially be called Moonspawn AU

[episims]

Do you ever see lucid dreams?

Well... @themeasureofasim and @persimmonsimmer lured me to post something about Foxfire. Yes I'm cowardly blaming them.

I wrote this short story recently, mostly because I miss my sims, some to practice writing in English, and a bit because I just sometimes need to write.

No pictures, only prose. Warnings: poor grammar and lacking vocabulary.

Felix knew it was a dream. He had seen it many times before.

But as he stood here on the shore, the moist night breeze wiping his face as he watched the pale shine of the moon disorienting on the lake’s uneven surface, it was too easy to forget that it wasn’t real.

At another time, he had licked the salt off his lips after diving into that chill water and shrieked at how the hot, coarse sand tingled his back as he threw himself on it. He had scratched his hands trying to prove to Sara he could climb a palm tree and helped Hugo build sand fortresses with moats at the waterfront.

Felix sighed – did he sigh in his sleep? – but the dream wasn’t going to end by doing so. Surrendering to the part he was playing in it, Felix turned his back to the lake.

As he had expected, Dari stood on the shore, just out of Felix’s reach. They had played here as children and hung out by the lake as teenagers, but this version of Dari was a grown-up man, with a stronger jaw and wider shoulders than Felix remembered him to have. His posture was relaxed, with his arms resting on his sides, and the moonlight painted his figure with a silver tint, dimming the redness of his hair and the warm tone of his sepia skin.

He should be transformed at this hour, Felix reminded himself, battling the dream logic. But Dari remained in his daytime form, only his yellow eyes that glowed in the dusk hinting about the duality of his existence. 

Dari smiled at him. It was a rare expression for the grumpy werewolf and Felix would have blamed it on the dream too if he hadn’t seen that smile before. It was a soft, shy smile accompanied by unusual tenderness in Dari’s eyes; Felix was fairly sure it only occurred when Dari didn’t realize he was smiling.

It was probably only in a dream Felix could ever see that smile again.

He didn’t dare to move and neither did Dari. But what meaning did place and distance have in a dream, anyway? The sand stretched under their feet and the night air pushed them closer, gently but surely, until their noses nearly touched and the warmth radiating from Dari’s body tensed Felix’s senses.

“I missed you,” Felix mumbled, studying the details of Dari’s face. It was all too familiar, his strong eyebrows above deep-set eyes, prominent nose with a perfectly round tip, and full lower lip with a little bite mark at the other side.

“You just say.” Dari’s yellow eyes glinted as he rolled them but his tone was amicable, and he placed his hands on Felix’s shoulders as he spoke.

Felix pressed his forehead against Dari’s and felt the soft touch of Dari’s fingers on his neck. He inhaled slowly, he wasn’t sure if he really needed to breathe in a dream but he wasn’t trying to fill his lungs. The scent was just how he remembered it: a mix of antiperspirant and musk and morning dew and little nuances he didn’t have words for but all of which he had memorized.

He wished he could have frozen the dream at that moment, wished it so badly that it hurt. But, as it was doomed to go, Dari abruptly slipped away from his arms.

A twisted, hollow feeling spread within him as Felix raised his gaze. Dari was standing further away again, now fully transformed, the smooth red fur covering his arms and framing his face. It was only natural to see him appear as he should during nights, but the tenderness in Dari’s eyes was long gone.

“What are you doing?!” Dari snarled. As he spoke, his upper lip raised, revealing his canine tooth.

“You were the one who started it!” Felix insisted on the urge, even though he doubted his own words. It was all the dream’s fault, forcing them to go through this stupid misunderstanding, but somehow, Felix wasn’t able to say that. He never was.

The snarl evolved into a low growl deep down Dari’s throat. He pulled his shoulders back and lowered his stance, bending his fingers. The sharp, black nails he had in his night form gleamed in the moonlight; a perfect weapon to slash Felix’s throat open.

“You fucking imagined it.”

He’s going to attack, Felix knew intuitively and the terror of the thought covered him in a cold sweat that reeked fear. He squeezed his hands into fists, he had recently broken his pull-up record but was muscle power enough to fight a werewolf? He didn’t want to hurt Dari, either.

With his limbs feeling heavy, Felix closed his eyes, preparing for the inevitable. Was this how the dream was supposed to end? He couldn’t remember.

“Felix?”

The silky voice calling him wasn’t Dari’s. Felix opened his eyes and instead of the furious werewolf, he saw Shay standing where Dari had been just seconds ago. Felix didn’t know why but the witch had a golden aura around him, making Shay’s curly hair and dark skin race the moon like a mirage of the sun. 

“Are you alright?” Shay asked with a hint of worry, his blue eyes locked on Felix. 

“Yeah… I think so.” Irrationally, now that Dari wasn’t here, Felix wished that he was. Nevertheless, Shay’s presence was comforting. His arrival had changed how the shore smelled; it had fresh herbs and incense and something that reminded Felix of thunderstorms. 

It was a pleasant scent. Shay looked stunning too, he always did. “It’s good to see you.”

Shay must have heard him but his expression was impermeable, and he didn’t answer or move. The lack of response made Felix uneasy; he wanted to touch Shay, grab the man’s hand, or caress his cheek, whatever to make him react.

But as Felix was about to do that, he realized he couldn’t move forward. By some quirk of the dream, there was an invisible barrier between them, and the harder Felix tried to push against it, the further away Shay appeared to stand.

Shay quietly followed Felix’s vain efforts to reach him but there was sadness in his eyes. His golden aura was diminishing, and along with it, Shay seemed to be fading away too.

“Can’t you cast a spell or something?” Felix groaned to Shay out of frustration. The details of the dream were becoming harder and harder to focus on.

Seeming discouraged, Shay shrugged and averted Felix’s gaze. “You should wake up.”

---------

Felix snapped awake, gasping for air. The soft surface he was lying on was disgustingly cold and wet and smelled stingy.

Sweat.

It was almost pitch dark. Felix turned his head and squinted his eyes; unanimated figures with wide bodies and sharp corners towered around him, as they had been watching his restless dreaming. He didn’t recognize them, or the room he was in.

The cold sweat was pushing to Felix’s skin again and his heart raced inside his chest. He tried to stop the panic from taking over, counting to four as he breathed in. He had been on the shore – no, that was a dream. This is my new room. We moved in with Sara just yesterday. 

Of course. The weird figures were cardboard boxes still waiting to be unpacked.

Felix sighed and shook away the remnants of sleep. The blanket tangled with his legs was just as sweaty as the rest of the bed, so he kicked it away and pushed himself to sit. He leaned his forehead to his knees and pressed his temples with his thumbs, rubbing the damp skin.

If I don’t think about it, I’ll forget faster. 

He hoped he hadn’t made noise in his sleep; Sara’s room was right next to his, and they didn’t have experience yet on how good the sound insulation was. Hugo had never mentioned Felix talking in his sleep when they shared the room but then, Hugo wouldn’t probably wake up to a car crash under his window. 

Felix needed a shower no matter what but reached for his phone on the night table anyway. The screen illuminated with a faint light as he raised it and the text on the screen announced it was 4:17 AM. He stared at it painfully aware that the shower was only going to wake him up more. 

He wasn’t even sure if he had another set of sheets packed somewhere. The plan had been to buy new ones eventually. 

With his muscle memory working faster than his hazy brain could keep up with, Felix opened the phone’s lock screen and tapped the messaging app open. At the topmost were chats with Sara and Hugo, right after them was the team’s group chat, then the private one with the team’s manager, then Paige… he swiped up to see older chats.

The one with Dari had a blank icon. Felix knew by now it meant Dari still hadn’t unblocked him.

Felix dropped the phone back on the night table and swung himself up from bed. Since he was awake and stinking, instead of hitting the shower right away he could go on a morning run just the same.

[nadiajustbe]

Once Morgan was at Megan's house and got a chance to use one of those old telephones on which you have to turn a circle with numbers.

Ingary has never seen peace since then.

Mostly because he went to every single stranger he could meet on the street and kept asking wether he could "call them". When they tried to call him by his name or said that they didn't have a clue about what he meant, the little one got really frustrated, pretty much ready to cry.