#also i need to use thinner lines also i think i just need to shrink down the head size majorly

[triglycercule]

upset that i just now realized that the reason why my art was bothering me was because they looked so "kiddy" when literally everyone i draw is a grown ass person (the downside of having only drawn girls that correspond with my age for all my life <////333)

so now UNFORTUNATELY now that i've noticed this i now have to actively try and fix it so that the mtt look less kiddy and i wont want to immediately die from below standard depiction of my trio. shout out to my shitty arts i'd like to study folder i have with art i dont even study you actually did your job for once

i love twitter i saw this and immediately went hold on analyzed the photos closer and then was like thats horrorkiller

[lilgruntsshane]

Final Scene for Project -The Opening

This is the opening scene for the animation, in which Zach and Riley load in to the jungle in a pop-up door, shocked at their surroundings. Because of the different elements of this scene, from the loading screen, the door frame, the animated element of the door, to the characters, to the background, it is quite a busy scene, and therefore timing is key, as you don’t want to overload your audience, and you want them to have time to take in everything, so every element needs its own space. I added a a few blank frames between the loading bar disappearing and the door appearing, and I added a pause of about 3 seconds after the characters change expressions to let the audience read it, and to build anticipation of what they are looking at.  The many different elements also require a lot of planning, because it presents issues as both a background artist and animator, that people who aren’t working on backgrounds may not consider and I am going to go through them below.

For instance, I needed to have the door separate from the rest of the background, but also animated slightly to hint that Zach and Riley opened it intentionally rather than simply stepped through by accident or something. This required planning in terms of matching it up to the rest of the door, which I did by constantly importing both elements into after effects to see what they looked like composited. 

I also needed to consider what needed to be opaque for clarity, as our animation isn’t coloured, the characters and the backgrounds are mostly transparent, but occasionally for clarity, as with the bars on the birdcage when Gabe needed to insert his birds, I need a colour layer of white underneath the lines to separate the layers. I did this with both the animated door to sperate it from the door frame and the door frame to separate it from the jungle background. As the background was drawn in Photoshop, even though the rest of my animation is created in toon boom, I decided it best to animate the door in Photoshop also, with the same hard round, size 6 brush, so that it would match up with the rest of the door, and I could also easily match the same colour of white for the door as used on the door frame. 

For The door animation, I wanted it to be quick, as Zach and Riley are rushing through it after Lyra, before coming to a stop, in awe of their surroundings, but I also wanted it to feel natural, so I animated this on one’s rather than two’s as the rest of the animation is, as I felt that it was too jerky on two’s. I animated an ease at the end as you can see on the onion skin above which also gives it a more natural feel despite the quick nature of it as doors don’t move at an equal speed through opening, they loose momentum.

As shown above, I also added a touch which I feel lifts the door animation up a little more, and that is the last frame where the door moves back, giving the effect of overshoot before settling, I think this also gives a nice natural feel as the momentum usually reverses a little at the end of a door swing, with how much depending on the ferocity of the swing. 

For the loading bar, I also created this in photoshop, as it has very handy shape tools, I used my background as reference when making this to make sure it is positioned and scaled correctly, although I could also rescale and position it when in after effects.

When In after effects, I knew that I wanted the loading bar animation to be more than a simple appear and disappear, so I decided to go for an simple animation when the loading bar disappears which sort of mirrors what would happen when turning off an old TV, which fits with the tech theme .   

I changed the scale to stretch the bar, making it both longer and thinner.

And then I made it shrink altogether, until it disappeared. This stretching before the shrink gave a nice anticipation effect I think, and again, like the overshoot on the door, just lifted up the animation from what it might have been to give a bit of visual interest.

When animating the characters, I of course was referencing the model and expression sheets for Zach and Riley by matthew, and also matching it up with aodhan’s scene which follows the opening for consistency. I chose the two expressions circled for Zach and also chose two for Riley, keeping to the approved model and expressions. 

I again was animating on twos at 24fps in toon boom, I don’t think we had agreed on a brush size for animation, so I matched mine as best as possible to aodhan’s although, I could have communicated to see what brush he had used in retrospect, but I was already working on it and time was of the essence. 

Niall had given some advice earlier about expression changes and posted some examples of his own work, I took this into account in the expressions changes for Zach and Riley. I added in an overshoot to both the eyes and the mouth for both character before they settle back into place, and I think this adds some interest to what is a fairly static scene. 

10/05/23

[voredere]

ok it's been 3 seconds but im doing it. i get that you guys are just having fun aesthetic moments but i also think you're missing out because the real process could be even more interesting translated onto fiction.

so first of all: kintsugi isn't just filling holes with gold juice. the gold is actually the final step and the thinnest layer.

kintsugi is primarily made of resin from lacquer trees-- the resin is called urushi, and must be handled carefully, because it contains urushiol, the same substance that makes poison ivy give you rashes. you will need ppe and gloves and arm covers and you will want to avoid inhaling the dust when you sand it. it takes quite a while to cure, and needs to be kept in a warm humid box for about a week or more between steps.

the initial step involves grinding off the sharp edges, and mixing urushi with water and flour to make a paste (mugi urushi). you use this to glue the pieces together, secure with tape, and then is to be cured for 2 weeks-- this step takes the longest by far. the paste will shrink as it cures, and you'll scrape away any excess.

the second step, you make a clay like substance (kokuso) from mugi urushi, sawdust, and a powder typically made from ground up ceramic or stone (ishiko), and use that clay to fill in the larger gaps between the pieces and any missing chips, usually about 1-2mm at a time (curing a few days in between) so it dries correctly. when everything is filled in well, you again cut or scrape away excess, then sand it down.

the third step you make a thinner substance from ishiko, water, and urushi, and apply with a brush to fill in the smaller gaps and cracks. you will apply layers until there are no more dips and the surface is relatively smooth after being cured and sanded. this step dries quicker, so you only have to wait a couple days between layers.

then you'll be making black urushi, which is urushi that has been reduced and mixed with black pigment powder. this creates a water fast, perfectly smooth surface. once again, you will do this as many times as it takes to get a smooth finish, and sand it matte. you can also just leave it at this stage, if you prefer black.

NOW you get to apply the gold (though silver and platinum are also used-- brass can also be used for decorative pieces). you will make a red urushi-- same as black urushi, but with red pigment. again you can leave it at that if you like red, but this stage gives nice background colour for the metal powder. you will apply it as accurately as possible with a very fine brush, and as soon as it becomes tacky, you carefully go back over your lines with a silk ball (much like a cotton ball) that has been dipped in metal powder, being sure to apply the powder without the silk touching the lacquer directly. gently polish at the end with said puff. cure for a good while to be sure that it is completely cured and the metal powder will not wash away.

your result will be a piece that is food safe, and will only grow stronger over time, as the urushi continues to cure after it is finished. you shouldn't microwave it or put it in the dishwasher, but it will hold up better than the original object ever did if you did this correctly.

other notes:

-kintsugi is a japanese technique, and while it was sometimes applied to foreign pottery, it is a little weird to see almost every version of this art meme feature chinese pottery. if you're curious-- metal stapling is a more popular repair technique in china. this isn't to say kintsugi can't or shouldn't be depicted on non japanese pottery, it's just a common enough pattern that i wanted to point it out, because im not sure this is done intentionally or because western artists don't know the difference between chinese and japanese pottery.

-there are forms of epoxy resin kits that are called kintsugi, but are not actually true kintsugi, and usually are not food safe or nearly as sturdy.

-often kintsugi is performed on items that were broken intentionally, as well as items that were broken normally.

this has been a psa from your local japanese blogger who does kintsugi as a hobby.

that's actually the third post i've seen this week with a painfully inaccurate depiction of kintsugi and at this point im tempted to just make a post about how it actually works.

[armoreddragon]

Hello! I've been wanting to give dragon scalemaille a shot (mainly want to make my Dragonborn's tail) but I keep getting stumped on two things.

One: I was wondering if you may have any resources for inner tail support? The way you have yours set up is fantastic but I'm not exactly sure how you did itplus I dont want to copy you exactly ^^' I've seen the videos on how to weave them together but not any on the inside.

Two: For making it thinner near the tip of the tail, do you shrink the scale size at all or just use less scales and pull it closer together?

Thank you so much in advance!! -Kodiak

So the inner support on my tails is kind of complicated, but it grew reasonably straightforwardly from first principles and experiment. When I made my first tail, it was just a tapering hollow tube, and I realized immediately that it wanted nothing more than to fold flat. Which sucked.

The first edit of it was to just add a few straight chains bridging between opposite sides of the tube. I'd noticed that when worn, the tail flattened itself top-to-bottom, flat against the butt. I figured that having the sides of the tail held together would reduce how badly that happened. I added like 4 chains spread along the body of the tail, bridging from left side to right side, and I just adjusted their lengths to match the appropriate diameter at those points. (I think I actually did this with string first, then switched to using simple chains of rings because it would hold to consistent incremental lengths better.)

That worked OK at reducing the vertical squash factor, but it opened the door to the tail folding the other direction, flattening into a vertical eel tail shape. So I opened it up again and added in perpendicular chains, so that looking down into the tail you saw a line of + shaped braces.

Again, an improvement, but not enough to reliably keep the tail round. It still folded, but now at weird angles, and in the spaces between the cross braces. I needed (1) more directions of folding being resisted at each brace point, and (2) way more braces total.

More total braces is easy, you just got to add in more of them.

For maximizing the number of directions of radial bracing, this was approximately my thought process: Start with just joining each pair of opposite scales all along the circumference. That'll leave you with a whole lot of chains overlapping at the center point. So instead of a whole bunch of separate diameter chains, just have one center ring with a bunch of radii chains linked to it. That gives you a wheel-spoke arrangement, which is fine. But what if you joined all of those spokes to their neighbors, to make more of a disc? Then it could resist squashing forces that were not purely diametrical. OK now how do I make that disc structure more efficiently?

The particular structure I came up with is basically a Japanese weave structure constructed concentrically. I know that phrase probably conveys no meaning to anyone other than myself. The specifics of that structure are also so tedious to enumerate that I basically just decided to call them a trade secret. But I think by going through through the basic goals and thought process, anyone else with some patience and determination could figure out an equivalent workable solution.

For the thin tip, I just reduce the number of scales. The tip of my tails is a few rows with just 2 scales in them. These really want to fold flat, and adding in cross-braces to fix that in that tiny constrained space is a bitch even for me, so I'd probably recommend just starting with 3 scales in a row. It would be cool to try blending it to smaller scales at the tip, but splicing together weaves of different sizes is really hard to do gracefully.

[deadboyswalking]

How I Did Shigaraki's Makeup

This is a very half-assed tutorial because I didn't photograph each little step. I have a strong background in theatrical makeup so it didn't even occur to me that there would be many steps in the middle that need extra explanation. I will try my best to explain the process.

Notice the words I use over and over: GENTLY, LIGHTLY, and SLOWLY. Liquid latex is a delicate product and if you want the skin to wrinkle and not peel too much, you need to be gentle in every step of the process. It is also dangerous if you get it in your eyes, so if you think you can't be gentle and careful, DO NOT do this tutorial until you have practiced working around your eyes with a safer product of a similar consistency like liquid foundation. I have been doing SFX makeup on and off as a hobby for like 10 years and even I am extra careful with anything around my eyes. This makeup job is safe if you know what you're doing, but be cautious.

1. The beginning. In this photo, my face is washed and my moisturizer is settling in. Liquid latex sucks the moisture out of your skin and my face is hurting today after doing this makeup for two days, so remember to moisturize and let it sink in. My eyebrows are slicked down with an Elmer's purple glue stick. This is for smoothness but primarily, it is how you'll protect your brows from being ripped out by the latex. For your eyebrows, you can also add a thin layer of orange concealer to cancel out the dark color and set it with powder (if I had orange concealer I would have done so since I think they show even through the latex and foundation).

My red contacts are in because they're prescription and I need to see to be able to do the makeup (plus, I always do contacts first). You can put them in at the end if that's your preference.

2. Sculpting wax (Spirit Halloween) for Tomura's scars. I dabbed on Pros-Aide cream adhesive to help it stuck, then applied and smoothed it out with a metal tool. Honestly, I hate it. I don't know if I just need more practice with scar wax, if it's a bad product for my skin type, or if the product was shit, but the stuff would NOT stay in place or fully set. Next time I'll just paint the scars on and add dimension with makeup.

Before you ask, YES, everything is on the correct side (I just think my face looks better in mirrored images). If this was just a photoshoot look, I'd do it in reverse so it flips correctly. Shigaraki's eye scar and mole are on his right side and his mouth scar is on the left. Reference panel for scar placement and the cosplay's hairstyle.

3. Base layer (liquid latex). Daub it on with a makeup sponge, all over the area you want to cover. I chose to stop mine at my natural cheekbone to give my face lift, but you can go higher or lower, include the nose bridge like I did or don't. I have a prominent nose and while I'm not actually trying to flatten the bridge (because I don't believe in trying to make yourself look like a different race when you're in costume), I was concerned that it would break up the line of the wrinkles in a weird way so the top of the bridge got included in the latex too. I don't like how thick the bottom edge at my cheekbone is (Friday's was better in that aspect), so i would do a thinner edge next time to help it blend into my skin better. I also sealed the edges of the mouth scar with a thin layer of the product. Liquid latex is buildable, so slowly add thin layers until you get to your preferred consistency. Latex also shrinks by 3% as it dries, so the more layers you add, the tighter your skin will feel and the more it will hurt your face. I did many layers for 2 days in a row and need time for my skin to recover.

Be SUPER CAREFUL around your eyes and take that part slowly and gently. Notice that I left almost my entire upper eyelid and a ring around my lower uncovered as a safety precaution.

4. Dimensional liquid latex. Using the tip of your sponge, stamp thicker lines around where you want the wrinkles to be. It helps to do things like scrunch your face and raise your eyebrows so the wrinkles line up with your skin's natural creases. I laid it thick on my brows to both make my browbone a little thicker (to help with the gender illusion) and to cover the color of my brows. Let that firmly set and try to hold your face in the weird positions as it does to help with the texture.

5. Base layer and contour. I used Ben Nye Ultralite cream highlight because it was something I already owned as a highlight foundation, but you can use any foundation you want, I just wanted paler skin. You can brush it on the parts of your exposed skin, but daub it over the latex, making sure to get into all the little cracks (rubbing to blend will pull off the latex, which is why all of the coloring will be done with powders. You CAN do creams to color before setting the makeup, but use a dab blending technique with a clean sponge and don't rub. I frankly did not have the time to dab blend when I did this. If you have time, this is a great place to add cream highlights to the wrinkles.

On my real skin, I contoured my cheeks and jawline with my normal cream foundation (BN Cine Light Beige) and gently blended with a sponge. Then, I set the whole thing with setting powder and brushed off the excess. This was a new addition, I didn't do contour the first day and I looked like an actual moon-faced potato in all of the pics I took with/for people that asked me (terrible con lighting). My face is a little chubby so anything to make it look less so in pics is great.

Also, as a precaution, get anything that goes tightly over your head on or off before foundation so there are no mishaps. Even setting spray is not a miracle worker and the theatre gods will curse you and have your clothing touch the ONE PLACE that isn't set. Mine is the magical tit-disappearing device, not shifted into place just yet.

6. Coloring. This is where it gets complicated, so bear with me. Using a fluffy, big angled brush, I tapped on a reddish/bronze countour powder all over the wrinkled skin. You can use a redder shade if you want but this was what I had. Don't worry about getting it totally even but don't dab too hard in any area as you cannot blend it out if you get too much powder over the latex. Like the latex, build the color slowly.

Next, the part that really adds complexity of color and makes the skin look like his. I brushed Ben Nye Contour Brown cream in the creases of the wrinkles, then patted it in with my finger to LIGHTLY smooth the edges. Then I powdered over the whole thing again with setting powder, then went back over the new lines with a taupe shade of contour powder and lightly softened the edges with a fluffy brush. Every makeup artist will tell you that adding layers of cream and powder together like this will make you look cakey and will cause creases and flaking, but that's the effect we're going for. He has a super forgiving face that easily hides tiny errors in technique.

I used that same taupe shade for my cheek and jaw contour, then blended that out. I didn't really use highlight for this look because I didn't know what to use (my normal highlight shade was my foundation) but having experimented with white eyeshadow as highlight for a different look last night, I think that could be a winner. I'd highlight the chin, cheekbones, jawline, nose tip, and a few wrinkles around the brow.

Lips: covered in foundation. Cracks made with the BN cream contour, highlights added with a water-activated white face paint I have. Barely blended, then powdered over. It makes your real lips dry and flaky as hell, but the stuff will not budge when you eat or drink. I bought the shittiest brown liner that broke immediately or I would've used it for the lip cracks and some of the wrinkle detail. I don't love the lips and am going to experiment with a better technique.

At this stage, I also added contour and highlight to my neck, sternum, and collar bones.

7. Details! I tried to do a trace with a metal tool to create a divot in the sculpting wax, but it just rubbed off 🙄. I ended up removing the scar wax from the upper lip as it kept moving and wouldn't survive me talking. I used the water-activated white paint to do the base of the scars, then set it with a couple of shades of pink eyeshadow and a little white for some highlights. Next time I do this, if the scar wax doesn't work right, I'll also trace the outside with contour brown to add dimension.

The neck scars were a last minute addition and I wasn't that careful with their placement or the technique on them. They're okay, I guess, but I can do better. I can texturize them with a base of latex or just be more careful with the placement so it looks less random

Contour brown was traced around the eyes to make them pop and hide the edge where the latex stopped for eye safety.

The white lashes are the water-activated white paint on a spoolie. Just buy white mascara, I couldn't find it anywhere in town and I was running low on time so I couldn't order it.

Finally, a dot of black liquid eyeliner for the Shimura mole to finish the look!

Everything was set with setting spray.

8. Enjoy your makeup! Excuse the wig, I hadn't finished styling for the day when I snapped the pic.

Final look:

Bonus: Removal.

Be delicate with removal and rub the latex, don't rip (if you can lightly pull your skin taut, it hurts less). You should use a makeup remover or oil cleanser (I prefer Pond's Dry Skin Cream as I have sensitive skin and I know it works for me), emulsify and remove with warm water and a wash cloth, then use a gentle cleanser to get it all out of your pores. Finish with a thick layer of moisturizer and if you really feel like shit, you can slug over that too. My skin is still very red and sensitive today around my eyes and cheekbones (the skin is thin and delicate there), so I'm gonna moisturize again.

I hope this helps anyone who wants to go the SFX route for Shigaraki's makeup and not just cosmetics. I will continue to improve the process and may post a video tutorial a while down the road once I get the scar wax situation figured out.

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 69 - Denerim

Chapter Rating: Teen Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fereldan Culture and Customs, Fereldans, Demisexuality, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read on AO3

--

Twenty-third day of Wintermarch, 9:33 Dragon

Spring flowers bloomed along the western road to Denerim, but the column of riders and infantry that approached was no proud company in parade shine. They were bedraggled and muddy from weeks of fighting along the coast, tired from the day’s march, and while Rosslyn and Alistair straightened in their saddles as they waited at the gate to be let in, they had to roll their shoulders beneath their armour and hide yawns behind their hands. The decapitated heads of traitors watched them sightlessly from hooks set into the walls above them, many of them fresh enough to still be recognisable despite the depredations of the crows. Mother Berit wasn’t among the number, perhaps saved by her Chantry connections, but Bann Loren was, and next to him a younger man with blond hair and a crude green sunburst painted onto his forehead.

“That was Vaughan Kendells,” Rosslyn said, noticing the direction of Alistair’s gaze. “I can’t say I’m sorry.”

He glanced at her, remembering what she had told him, and the lift of Tabris’ chin as she spoke of her escape from the city. “Me neither.”

Before she could do more than smile at the reply, the gate opened and an officer waved them through. The market-day traffic was thinner than it had been the last time Alistair had visited capital, and he saw more beggars on the streets, but those who stopped to watch them pass did so with open, curious gazes instead of the harried suspicion that had met them in Amaranthine. On impulse, he nudged his horse closer to Rosslyn and held out his hand. Gaze soft, she took it and linked their fingers together as she had in Uldred’s dream, only this time they bumped knees, and there was a smudge of dirt under her eye, and all of his bones ached from days on the road to tell him it was real. People cheered, and it made her blush.

Her smile still lingered when they reached the palace gates and dismounted to hand off care of the army to the officers, and their horses to the grooms that had appeared from a side arch as if by magic. In the momentary confusion, he stepped close to her so he could distract himself from their formal welcome by brushing away the smear on her cheek.

The last time he had been brought to the palace, as part of Teagan’s entourage, he had been all but smuggled in under a helmet to hide his resemblance to the various portraits of Theirin ancestors hung in almost every room; there hadn’t been two flanking rows of guards waiting at attention as they walked up the steps, nor an announcement by a herald. Rosslyn’s titles outnumbered his, and it gave them a moment to pause before they were ushered through.

“Relax,” she told him. “You’re not heading to an execution.”

He only pouted. “This is just as bad as Summerday.”

“Is it really?” she asked, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Well. Maybe some things are better.”

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the wry look she tilted at him, but before he could say anything else, the doors to the great hall swung open to reveal not just Cailan and Anora sitting on their thrones on the dais, but also Rosslyn’s grandparents, straight-backed and magnificent in their finery.

“So here ye are,” the Storm Giant boomed. “At last! We were starting to worry ye’d upped and run off with her.”

Anora shot him a peeved glance. “Your Highness, my Lady Cousland, be welcome in our hall.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Rosslyn replied as she sank into a graceful bow.

“I trust your journey was not too eventful?”

“Given your track record, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a slew of rescued damsels left in your wake,” Cailan interrupted. He was frowning, and a bitter, sullen note coloured his voice. “Perhaps you stopped by Soldier’s Peak to rid it of all its ghosts?”

“Not quite,” Alistair supplied, with a careful glance to the woman beside him.

The king seemed to shake himself out of his bad humour. “A jest, of course. It’s good to see you both unharmed.”

Rosslyn adjusted her stance, folding her arms behind her back as if she were delivering a report from the field. “Bann Esmerelle of Amaranthine proved difficult to convince of her allegiances, Your Majesty. We are sorry for the delay.”

“We are glad of your safe arrival, of course – especially given the happy tidings you bring with you,” Anora said easily, without looking at her husband. “My congratulations to you both.”

“Indeed.” Lady Lileas, who until that point had merely watched proceedings unfold before her like an augur scrying bones, swept forward and pulled her granddaughter into a hug. “It’s good to see you, mo chridhe. And as for you,” she added, turning to Alistair with a stare that made him shrink away like a mouse, “You bested An Sgòrnan Aigeinn. I am satisfied.”

“Uh…”

“Can we be away now?” the Storm Giant interrupted with impatience. “My oald joints are starting to creak like a mizzen in a hoolie.”

“You’re not staying in the palace?” Alistair asked.

Lady Lileas smiled. “My grandson has kindly granted us use of his estate while we see to the preparations for your wedding, and we are still Rosslyn’s guardians.” Her expression darkened. “That swine left it in a terrible state. His death was well deserved. Come, granddaughter, you must wish to change out of armour, and there is much to discuss.”

A frown creased Rosslyn’s forehead. “It’s almost dark already and we’ve been travelling since dawn. I’m sure Their Majesties would not begrudge their hospitality – any discussion can wait until tomorrow.”

“You are not staying here,” her grandmother replied, as if the suggestion were absurd.

“I’m Commander-in-Chief of the army,” she pointed out. “I’m needed to plan the spring advance – the war isn’t over yet.”

“You are also not married yet.”

“This is because…?” Her eyes flew wide. “What do you think will happen? It’s not like we haven’t –” Faltering, her gaze flashed to Alistair and skittered away again as crimson bloomed across her cheeks. “We’ve been together on the road for weeks, what difference does it make now?”

“This is how things are done in the joining of two houses.” Lady Lileas drew herself up. “You know this.”

Behind his wife, the Storm Giant cleared his throat and said something in Clayne that Alistair failed to catch, but instead of lifting Rosslyn’s expression it only served to set her mouth in a line of petulant defeat. It was adorable.

“My things will need to be forwarded,” she said. “And I’ll require a schedule for meetings with the army’s officers and outfitters.”

“It will be done,” Cailan told her, having watched the whole exchange from behind steepled fingers. “And the sooner you get married, the sooner we can move your things back, eh?”

With nothing left to say, and a last helpless glance back at Alistair, Rosslyn was chivvied from the hall less like a war hero and more like a child caught shirking lessons, taking their plans for a quiet, shared evening with her and leaving him to wonder at just how quickly their fortunes had been turned around. Anora and Cailan’s gazes itched on the back of his neck, and he only barely remembered to turn to ask their leave before running after her. The clanking of his armour echoed ahead of him, and he found them already waiting just inside the entrance hall at the top of the steps. The looks being levelled at him were not favourable.

“Uh – can I have a moment to speak to my betrothed?” The word still sparked on his tongue. He doubted he would get used to it before he was calling her his wife instead, but thinking about that too closely made him dizzy. “In private?” he added, as he slipped his hand into Rosslyn’s.

The Storm Giant nudged his wife with his elbow. “Ach, go on.”

The clan leader of the Mac Eanraig pursed her lips at him, but it didn’t quite hide the twitch of her amusement. “We will wait in the carriage.”

He didn’t dare breathe until Rosslyn’s grandparents had reached the bottom of the steps, and then, spying an unobtrusive side door leading off the hall, he tugged on their joined fingers and pulled her after him with only the thinnest veneer of patience. The door swung open easily onto a small room lit by a single arrow slit, and the latch clicked back into place behind them an instant before he dropped her hand so he could take her face instead. She giggled as her forehead pressed against his.

“What is this place?”

“A storeroom – something – I don’t care,” he answered. “How long do you think it will be before they come looking for us?”

Gently, she shook her head and nudged a kiss against his lips. “Nowhere near long enough for all these layers of armour, my love.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he purred.

“I’m sure.”

One gloved finger traced the line of her jaw. “I told you we should have stayed in bed this morning.”

“Soon, we’ll be able to stay in bed every morning,” she reminded him.

“In our bed.” His breath stuttered.

“No sneaking away back to separate rooms.”

“Then…” He steadied himself and found her hand again. “This is just another reason why Guardian can’t come fast enough. How am I going to last without you for so long?”

She laughed, lightly pushing him away so she could get to the door again. “I’m not disappearing off the face of Thedas, and it’s only a few weeks. We’ll see each other every day – we’ve been through worse.”

“I’ll dream of you,” he promised.

“My grandmother would be scandalised.” She pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth as she turned to leave. “Everything will be fine.”

--

It was not fine.

Aside from the wedding plans – fabrics and food and guest invitations and the small feud that erupted between Anora and Rosslyn’s grandmother because of it – they were kept ridiculously busy organising for the march south, and assisting in the city’s rebuilding efforts. They saw each other only in snatches for daily meetings, and barely exchanged two words that were not about policy or supplies. In addition to the schedule, Rosslyn had to drag herself across the city every morning to oversee the army’s drills, which meant most moments she had to herself during the day were spent trying to catch up on sleep.

To keep himself from missing her too much, Alistair took on oversight of the alienage. Nobody else seemed to care about the damage done to the elves, and while Cailan indulged him, or perhaps lacked interest, many of the other nobles already in attendance for Wintersend muttered that he was wasting both time and money on a worthless cause. They quieted after he pointed out that having to contend with an uprising would only add to the strain being faced by all of them, but having to appeal to their self-interest left a bad taste in his mouth.

Anora, at least, offered support for his efforts. As the time went by and Cailan’s preoccupation with finding Loghain took up more and more of his thoughts, the day-to-day politics of the palace fell to her. For this reason, relations with her continued to be fraught, especially in regards to military matters. She didn’t like people stepping on her toes. She didn’t stand for breaks with decorum, either, but she was fair and even-handed in her judgements, and for the sake of peace, Alistair tried his best to follow her lead and stay out of her way.

The only bright spots in all the blandness of days passing too slowly came in the notes he and Rosslyn managed to smuggle to each other during meetings and meals, the only times they got to touch, or even stand next to each other. She had passed the first to him in a chance encounter in one of the corridors, a brief press into his hand and she left with just the flash of her smirk tossed over her shoulder, and a glance down to where a neatly folded square of paper sat in his palm. Before anyone could call him away, he had slipped into a nearby empty room and pored over the lines, just a few sentences written in her elegant hand, but more than she had been able to say to him since they had arrived in Denerim.

I’ll not trust any messengers this time save our own hands, my love, and the time cannot come soon enough when I get to hold yours. When I get to be alone with you. When I can fall asleep beside you once more and never again worry about how long it will be until we must part. I love you.

He passed her his reply with the salt cellar at dinner.

I love you too. I wake up thinking of you. I miss curling around your body and waking you with kisses, even if your hair so often gets caught in the middle. I miss the sound of your voice and the brightness of your eyes. I’d write poetry about them, but you haven’t married me yet and I don’t want to risk it.

It became a game between them, this sly exchange of notes, each one a tiny rebellion at the strictures of propriety, a private conversation when no privacy was allowed.  

My hair would not get so wild if a certain someone didn’t take such delight in tangling it the night before. In case you start to worry, that was not a complaint. I miss your voice as well, and your hands, and what both can do to me, although one benefit of distance is that I get to admire my future husband from afar without him noticing. Your footwork showed great improvement when you were sparring today, though you still drop your elbow too far when you block.

~

You enjoy making me blush, don’t you? Perhaps I can return the favour, Wife-To-Be. There was a moment in the gardens yesterday where you were wandering among the shrubbery with no idea that I was stuck only a floor above you, listening to Brantis drone on about the advantages of a trade deal Cailan has already agreed to. My attention may have wandered, and my hand was nothing but a thrall to the vision before me. I’m sure you can guess the subject.

~

I will treasure this likeness, my love, if I am allowed to keep it? I ought to admonish you for not paying more attention to Brantis, given how hard he tries, but I find I do not have the heart. The expression you captured here, is this truly how I look? Rest assured that I am blushing profusely, though I made the mistake of opening your offering for the first time while in the same room as my brother. Fergus seems to have taken it upon himself to stuff a year’s worth of insufferable brotherly affection into a few short weeks, though in hindsight I should not have told him your note included a sketch. He also says if we want to keep these messages secret, you ought to do better containing your grin in the exchanges. I told him to boil his head.

~

I am glad you like the sketch. It’s yours. I might never do you justice, but maybe in the future we’re to have together, I might practice? You looked tired when I saw you today (yesterday, by the time you read this), and you cannot tell me Wintersend isn’t preying on your mind. I know you too well. I cannot tell you how to feel, but please remember that I love you. So much.

As the holiday approached, Rosslyn’s sombre mood grew more pronounced, and she withdrew into herself. In the palace, the time was marked for celebration, and the festival spirit was upheld by an army of harried servants made busy decorating and preparing guest rooms for the visiting nobles – but it had also been a year since the sack of Highever, since Fergus and Rosslyn had marched away to war and returned to find a ruin. Alistair did what he could to bolster her spirits, but short of slipping his night guard and breaking into the Cousland estate like a common thief, there was little remedy for the nightmares she refused to admit were plaguing her again.

On the morning of the feast he spent an extra hour in the lists, trying to beat out his nerves on practice dummies. The usual meetings had been put on hold for the day, which meant he wouldn’t see her until she arrived with the rest of the guests just before sundown. It would be their first public appearance as a couple, the only one before the wedding, and that meant extra fuss in his attire lest the assembled nobility find him lacking either as a prince or as a prospective husband. Besides, he wanted his betrothed to be impressed.

While he bathed, Marten lay out the same rust-red doublet he had worn for Summerday, with the addition of the mantle made for the voyage to the Storm Islands, and the bracers Rosslyn herself had given him to meet her grandfather. He traced his fingers over the embossed leather as his valet fussed with his collar, remembering. He had almost kissed her after she helped him put them on the first time. Looking back, at what came later, he was glad he hadn’t but he wondered if she knew. Even during the darkest part of his time in Orzammar, he had worn the gift, too stubborn and too hopeful to give them up, and now he couldn’t stop smiling, and the day when he would become her husband rose barely a week away on the horizon, a lighthouse guiding all his thoughts to safe harbour.

“You’re all set, Your Highness,” Marten pronounced, bushing an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulders.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Alistair fiddled with a sleeve.

“You know her better than me, milord,” the valet pointed out. “I wouldn’t dare presume her taste in outfits.”  

“Right.”

Marten licked his lips. “No one’s in doubt that she loves you, but if you stand up here all night worrying – well, that’ll hardly do you any good, now will it? I’ve done the best I can for you.”

“And you have my eternal gratitude for it,” he replied.

With one last glance in the long mirror, and a deep breath to steady himself, Alistair nodded and left the room. When he reached the door to the king’s chambers further along the corridor, it was a maid who answered his knock, and she told him both Cailan and Anora were still indisposed. Then she shut the door again with a decisive click, before he could say anything else. He shifted on the balls of his feet. The light outside the window was fading from the brightness of late afternoon, which meant a good number of the guests should have arrived. He didn’t want to lurk in the hallway, awkward and bumbling and gossip-fodder for any servants who happened to catch a glance of him in all his worried finery, but he also didn’t want to make a nuisance of himself in the hall – Isolde had always sneered that he got under people’s feet, and however much he tried to block it out, the contemptuous echo of her in his mind remained persistent.

But Rosslyn would arrive soon, if she wasn’t already waiting for him. He could make small talk pretending to oversee the final preparations for the feast until she arrived, and then, he reasoned to himself as he walked, he could talk to her. He could spend the whole night talking to her, and nobody would be able to stop him. Maybe he could sneak her away, to some shady corner where he could hold her hand, and run his fingers through her hair, and kiss her. His thoughts wandered far enough in imagining it that his foot slipped on the first step of the landing and he only saved himself from tumbling all the way to the bottom of the stairs by snatching his hand out for the banister.

“Ow,” he grumbled, massaging his shoulder. “I really hope nobody saw that.”

Allers, the royal guard stationed in an alcove a little way away, made no response to his suspicious glare.

“Alistair?”

His face heated. It was Rosslyn. She stood at the base of the stairs with one hand on the banister and the other lifting the hem of her gown to keep it out of the way of her feet, frozen in the act of rushing up to meet him.

“Huh?”

She was in deep blue damask, the folds of the sleeves and the low, broad dip of the neckline richly embroidered, the fabric outlining the curve of her waist. Her hair fell in a thick black curtain down her back, braided and pinned with the aurum laurel wreath she had worn in the Storm Islands – and around her neck, bare on her pale skin for all to see, his amulet hanging at the end of a delicate silverite chain.

“You fell,” she said.

“I –” He swallowed. “Only for you, dear lady.”

She rolled her eyes, but waited as he skipped down the stairs to meet her, and smiled when he caught her hand to press his lips to the knuckles. Close to, the elegance of her dress didn’t quite hide the slump of her shoulders, nor the brittle fatigue that tightened the corners of her mouth.

“You’re early,” he murmured, still holding her fingers.

She shrugged. “There wasn’t much left to do at the estate, and I wanted to see you.”

“I’ve wanted to see you, too.” He leaned forward. “And I’ve wanted…”

Before he could finish the thought, she reached up and pressed a halting finger against his lips. “I had to drag Fergus with me.”

Fergus. Of course. He followed the tilt of Rosslyn’s head to where her brother stood not even that far away, with one eyebrow raised and his arms folded across his chest, the very picture of a concerned guardian who had just caught someone nefarious swooping down on his charge. Alistair, preoccupied with other things, had completely failed to notice him.

“Ah – um. Your Lordship! You’re looking well.”

“Your Highness,” Fergus answered mildly. “Please, do carry on with my sister. It’s not like our grandmother is in the next room, wondering where we’ve snuck off to.”

“You could go and stall her if you like,” Rosslyn suggested, and when her brother only returned her a flat look, she frowned. “Please, Ferg? I did it for you – for weeks.”

“Only because I bribed you,” he retorted, but his face softened. “Fine, I’m going. But don’t do anything too outrageous.”

“I think that means you’re not allowed to spirit me away to somewhere nobody can find us,” she huffed as he ducked through the door, already looping her arms around Alistair’s neck.

His hands found her waist. “Damn, that’s my plan foiled, then. Please tell me I can kiss you, at least?”

“You may,” she giggled.

“Good.”

His heart thundered more than it should for such a simple brush of lips, but before he could sink too far into the feeling, he pulled away so he could see her expression. Her eyes were still closed, her head turned into his palm like a flower angling its petals towards the sun.

“How are you?” he asked.

A sigh, and her eyes fluttered open to focus on his chin. “It… hasn’t been a good day. I’ve tried to keep myself busy, but it hasn’t really worked. It’s been a whole year, and yet all I’ve been able to think is that they should be here. That it’s –”

“Not your fault,” he interrupted firmly. “I wish I could have been with you – I mean, not that I don’t every day, but today especially, I wish I could’ve been there to make it easier.”

“I had your notes,” she reminded him with a weak smile. “That kept the worst of it at bay.”

He grinned. “Did it now? In that case, I’ll feel a little better giving you this.” With the flourish of a showman, he reached into the end of his sleeve and pulled out a folded square of paper. “For later,” he explained. “When you don’t have an audience. There’s words in it that I hope are reassuring, but also – since you liked the last sketch so much, I thought as a distraction…”

Their fingers brushed as she took the note from him. The blush rising in her cheeks chased away the wan tone of her skin, and for a moment Alistair allowed his mind to linger over all the other scandalous ways he might prompt such a reaction.

She smirked at him. “If it needs to be so private, I had best keep it safe.”

Before he could ask her what she meant, she folded it once more and with nimble fingers slipped it down the front of her dress. Alistair stared. She smoothed her hands over the silk to make sure nothing poked out where it shouldn’t, unconcerned. It was a perfunctory gesture, businesslike, and yet far too thorough to be innocent.

“Are you alright?” she asked sweetly, once she was finally satisfied that everything lay in its proper place.

He managed a strangled sort of noise. “Nothing a long soak in Lake Calenhad wouldn’t cure.” When he caught her expression, falling from a smirk into true concern, he shook his head and pulled her closer, until they were standing hip to hip. “I’ll manage. And don’t think I won’t get you back for that little performance.”

“You started it.”

“You like tormenting me.”

She laughed at that, and darted a quick kiss against his mouth that he was too slow to return. “Shouldn’t you be going to greet your guests?” she asked. “Where is the king?”

“Applying the finishing touches, I think.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on Cailan or his moods, not with Rosslyn in his arms. “We should be safe from disgrace, in any case. One is only late if one arrives after royalty, after all.”

“You are royalty, my love,” she murmured, smiling wider as he waggled his eyebrows.

“And soon you will be, too.” The reminder stole his breath. “Uh… shall we?”

The eyes of every guest turned to look at them as he appeared in the doorway with Rosslyn on his arm, but for once, he didn’t mind the attention, or the wave of movement that swept through the room as people bowed to him in greeting. Her grandparents stood in one corner with Fergus, given their own deference as foreign dignitaries, and while the back of his neck heated under their knowing gaze, there were enough distractions elsewhere to keep him from too much embarrassment.

He even managed to avoid glancing lower than Rosslyn’s collarbones. Mostly.

“Aye, and don’t they make a handsome couple?” Bann Ferrenly preened once he caught them into his orbit. “I predicted this, you know. I said to my dear Raina, ‘We can’t have these two in such close quarters without them falling for each other. Mark my words,’ I said, ‘There’s much to admire in him, and he would be a fool not to see the quality of such a lady!’”

“Of course,” Bann Aldubard agreed stiffly. “Who could have predicted otherwise?”

At the other side of their circle, Arlessa Élodie of South Reach laid a delicate hand on Rosslyn’s arm. “I, for one, am glad that this war has not been all tragedy – we must move forward, must we not?”

When Cailan and Anora eventually joined the gathering, even Bann Ferrenly was almost out of anecdotes, so it was a relief to follow the line of torches the servants had lit in the darkened gardens, to where a troupe of mummers had set up a stage in front of an open-fronted pavilion furnished with a long table that was already groaning with food. As the nobility were directed to their seats, the troupe master welcomed them and announced a performance of Dane and the Werewolves. At first, Alistair kept his eye on his brother and the carafe of wine placed by his elbow, but though Cailan looked tired, he was dressed in fresh clothes and his hair had been brushed and braided, and he was minding Anora’s voice in his ear.

Rosslyn slipped her hand into his. In the distraction offered by the players she had nudged her chair close enough to his to press against him to the knee. They could do little more under so many watchful eyes, but with every moment counting time down to the wedding, still so many days away, it was enough.

“To us?” she suggested when the servers had filled their goblets and everyone else was preoccupied with the strut of the warpainted hero onto the stage.

He touched his cup to hers and leaned across with a kiss. “To spending our lives together,” he agreed.

--

It was only the following morning that he spotted the note she must have slipped inside his tunic. He picked it off the middle of his bedroom floor with his head still ringing from his hangover, his thoughts whirling about the one he had given her, whether she had opened it yet, what she thought of it, if the ink had smudged against her breasts after spending so many hours pressed to her skin. Perhaps going beyond words into illustrations was a step too far, and even now she was marching through Denerim’s streets to out him as a lecher and declare there wouldn’t be a marriage after all. If it were so, at least he’d have one last message from her to remember her by.

Today I cannot help but think about the past, but the weight sits less heavy on my shoulders knowing my future lies with you. We have fought through so much, together and apart, and it is strange to think how I ever managed without you. What if we had never met, or if our paths had crossed in some other way? Would I still miss waking up without you? Would you miss me?

His worry vanished. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pressed the paper to his lips, wishing it could be her instead, that he could put his arms around her and drive out all her doubt.

He was at his desk and finishing his reply before he had even changed out of his smallclothes.

I would miss you. I do miss you. There is an empty space in the bed and the pillows don’t smell like you. You make me better, and make me want to be better. If someone could knock me out so I can wake up on the morning of our wedding without having to endure the torture of not being able to hold you, I would be very grateful.

~

My love, if you lie unconscious, who will distract me with such delightful correspondence? Who will smile at me as you do? And what if whoever it is hits you too hard on the head and kills you? No, it cannot be risked. You must continue to suffer, as I assure you I do as well, but only for a little while longer.

~

For you, perhaps I might make it three days, and believe me, I am counting every moment until you become my wife. I cannot wait to be your husband. I love you.

~

Two days, my love. I can barely eat for nerves.

~

I haven’t slept – can’t until I have you in my arms again. I’ll see you tomorrow.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

May I please ask for an asexual Deciet? Thank you. 🖤💜

Ah man this one was fun to write!! Thanks for the ask, even if I took a while getting through it, heh. It also got kinda angsty because I have 0 self-controlWarnings: Talk of aphobia (though not expressed by any characters), minor starvation, bad self-care skills, a swear, vague implications of sex, bread loaf abusePairing: DLAMP

    Deceit wasn’t sure he had ever sunk out as quickly as he just did before. The appearance back in his room was certainly too fast, and he rested a hand on the wall, stabilizing himself. He raised his free hand to cover his eyes, the memory of the scene he had just fled from still perfectly sharp in mind.

    “Deceit… we’re sure you’ve noticed we’re all together.”

    “I certainly haven’t.”

    “And we were wondering…”

    “Or better put, we think it would be vastly enjoyable for all parties…”

    “…if you’d like to be a part of this ‘together?’”

    “…”

    “Deceit?”

    “No thanks.”

    And then he had sunk out before any of the other sides could determine whether or not his final statement had been a lie or not. Even Deceit himself couldn’t answer that question.

    Because, in all truth, the answer to their question should have been yes. No amount of lies or emotional walls could forever hide the fact that somewhere along the line, Deceit had fallen hard for the Light sides. And ever since he had revealed himself to Thomas, the metaphorical pit he was diving into only got deeper.

    Family dinners, movie marathons, board game nights- all bonding activities he had been invited to now that Thomas accepted his existence. And as awkward as it was to be the outcast of the group (in more ways than one) every moment he had spent with them had been its own treasure.

    But there within laid the second side of the double-edged blade. While the events were “family-friendly,” per say, sometimes things got… out of hand. Lewd comments made over cards, suggestive ways of eating dinners, make out sessions during the movie marathons that ended with Deceit slipping away as shirts started to come off.

    Deceit knew their relationship was not built on the physical. Ninety-five percent of it was just romance and tender words and sweet actions. But for the five percent it wasn’t… 

    Well, it was an aspect Deceit wanted absolutely nothing to deal with, to put it simply. And, if he was being honest with himself (ha), he had no idea how the others would react to that.

    Would they be mad? Disappointed? Call him selfish? Disrespect his wishes? Break up immediately?

    He didn’t know. He didn’t want to find out.

    With a sigh, Deceit moved from the wall to flop onto his bed. He figured if he gave it a few days to let his rejection of the others’ offer fade into the background, facing them would be easy enough, and they could all just go back to how things were before they had asked.

    Easy, right?

    Deceit ignored the part of him that yelled ‘wrong.’

    ~~

    Deceit slowly creaked open his door, looking out. Finding the hallway empty, he slipped into it, making his way as stealthily as possible towards the kitchen.

    After having thought about the interaction for a long enough time, and perhaps having spent too long slowly stuffing the pain in his heart when he thought about everything he had rejected by rejecting their offer into a box that got thrown away in his mental garbage can, Deceit decided that never facing the Light sides ever again was, in fact, the best course of action.

    Can’t get attached if you never see them. Can’t get another offer if they can’t talk to you. Can’t be forced to answer questions you wanted nothing to do with if no one has any reason to question you.

    It had been a foolproof plan for about a week, the handful of leftover Halloween candy and solitary (and slightly stale) packet of crackers in his room enough to survive off of at first. Now, however, he was starving to the point that he couldn’t even bear to wait for nighttime to make his kitchen heist.

    As he tiptoed his way down the stairs, he briefly considered simply sinking in and out. The problem with that approach, however, was the general air that appearing brought with it. He had a good chance of grabbing what he needed and sinking out again before the Light sides could get to him, but he had decided he preferred his chances with the sneaking.

    Turning into the kitchen, he stole a glance at the living room. A movie was playing, something Disney he guessed, and there were three heads and a pair of feet visible over the couch. Good. Light sides accounted for.

    Glancing around the kitchen, Deceit grabbed the first possibly fulfilling thing he saw- a loaf of bread. It would get him through a couple of days, at least, and Deceit could make a more conveniently timed food run then. Resisting the urge to eat a slice right then and there- the bag would crinkle and attract attention- Deceit picked it up quietly and turned to leave.

    Only to find Roman standing in the doorway. The creative side looked both confused and concerned as he took in the scene. Deceit, too stunned at having been caught to respond, tightened his grip on the bread, as if Roman might try to steal it from him otherwise.

    By the time he came to his senses enough to realize he should probably sink out, Patton had joined Roman.

    “Deceit?” Patton asked, sounding worried. Odd. It wasn’t like Deceit hadn’t disappeared into his room before. “You’re out of your room.”

    Deceit shook his head, too distracted to tell the truth. Patton and Roman glanced at each other, and Deceit wasn’t sure what thought they were trying to share telepathically, but he doubted he liked it.

    “We need to talk.” Roman said after a moment, only confirming Deceit’s suspicions. When the liar of a side reacted with a glance around, clearly looking for an escape, Roman frowned. “It’s nothing bad. There’s just… things we need to clarify.”

    Deceit decided that sounded even worse than ‘we need to talk’ but he didn’t speak up, slowly following the two Light sides out into the living room, still clutching his bread loaf.

    Out there, he found the tv off and Virgil and Logan still on the couch, both looking as worried as their right-brain counterparts. As Roman and Patton settled down beside them, Deceit slipped into the armchair. Hunching into himself and peering at the others from the chair, he thought about how many times they had been in the same formation for move night.

    Good thing he didn’t go to those anymore, because this experience was nearly guaranteed to ruin them.

    For a moment, uncomfortable silence stretched, no one wanting to start the ball rolling. Eventually, Logan cleared his throat and said, “So. You’ve been in your room for a week.”

    Deceit shook his head silently.

    “This is your first time leaving your room since you went in.”

    Another shake

    “And you started this… self-isolation immediately after we asked you to join our romantic relationship.”

    Deceit hesitated for a moment before once more shaking his head. Patton made a distressed noise, and the other three sides seemed to have expressions mixed with anger and sadness. He couldn’t wrap his head around why, though- he had said no, and disappeared to ease the awkwardness. They still had each other. This reaction seemed extreme.

    Virgil tugged at his sleeves. “Deceit, if our proposition made you uncomfortable-”

    “Or our relationship upset you-” Roman added, sounding defensive.

    “-you could have just told us so instead of disappearing.” Patton finished, wringing his hands.

    Deceit waved the concern off. “It’s nothing. It’s fine.” He said, not sure if it was a lie or not. 

    Patton frowned. “It really isn’t. Deceit… we’re worried.”

    “Why?”

    Logan tugged at his tie, clearly troubled, as he stated, “You’re paler, thinner, have bags under your eyes, look ready to bolt at any minute, and are holding that loaf of bread like it’s a lifeline.”

    “Not to mention you clearly don’t want to talk to us.” Roman added.

    “Or even look at us.” Virgil mumbled, still loud enough to be heard.

    Deceit didn’t respond, busy mentally thinking about the week. Maybe all the hours spent Definitely Not Pining were, in fact, not a healthy way to spend the time.

    “And with this all coming right after we admitted we wanted you to be our boyfriend, it’s not hard to guess what set it all off.” Patton finished off, shrinking into himself as he said it. “We just want to know what we can do so that you… you…”

    “You don’t hate us.” Virgil offered, sounding bitter. At the words, Deceit felt his heart squeeze. The rest of the Light sides immediately turning their full, sad, awful looking attention onto him didn’t help.

    They thought he hated them. They thought he disapproved of their relationship, that he had hated the offer to be a part of it. They thought his avoidance of them wasn’t an attempt to ease the awkwardness of rejected love, but an attempt to simply just avoid them.

    The people he loved thought he hated them.

    “Deceit?” Patton prodded, breaking Deceit out of his thoughts. He looked down, realizing that while he was lost in his thoughts he had started to squeeze the loaf. Now it was a lumpy ball of dough. “Please, is there anything we ca-”

    “I don’t hate you.” Deceit cut him off, still squeezing the bread, forcing his words to ring true. “Or, uh, your relationship.”

    “Then why did you stay away?” Roman pressed, one hand straying to his sword, as if he thought the answer was slayable. Deceit managed to fight off the chuckle that came from that thought.

    By his nature, all of Deceit’s thoughts for a response were lies. Recant that he didn’t hate them, say he lost track of time, the door got jammed- anything. But, if in no other aspect of his life, Deceit was tired of lying about this one.

    “I did not avoid you all because I disliked your relationship.” He started, swallowing thickly before he continued, “The opposite, in fact, was true.”

    The Light sides shared a glance before Logan said, “So… you did want to be part of our romantic relationship?”

    Deceit nodded.

    Another shared glance. “Then…” Virgil trailed off, looking confused, “then why would you say no?”

    Steeling himself, Deceit replied, “I’m asexual.” He pulled back into himself at their puzzled expressions. “Sex-repulsed asexual, to be exact.”

    Deceit was ready for and expecting many reactions: anger, disbelief, disgust, sadness. He wasn’t expecting them to keep looking befuddled, glancing between themselves and him.

    “So…?” Patton asked.

    Deceit frowned. They were going to make him explain this to them? “So I couldn’t- wouldn’t- do any of… that.” He waved a hand as if that could explain exactly what the ‘that’ meant.

    The silence stretched after Deceit finished, the others seeming to still be processing what he thought would be a very easy concept to grasp. He was considering sinking out, using the bread ball as a distraction, when Logan spoke up.

    “Deceit, would I be right in assuming that you thought, because of your asexuality, we would not want you in our romantic relationship?”

    Deceit cocked an eyebrow, briefly letting the truth fall away as he answered, “Of course not.”

    Patton’s expression turned heartbroken as he moved to the edge of the couch, resting a hand on the deceitful side’s knee when he didn’t flinch away. “Deceit, we asked you to join our relationship before we love you, not because we want to have sex with you.”

    “But… but isn’t sex a part of that relationship?”

    “Sure, but it’s not like it’s required.” Roman replied. “It’s just another way we show our love. You’re not lesser for showing your love in different ways.”

    “And the fact that you literally don’t give a fuck doesn’t change how we feel about you.” Virgil added, earning a halfhearted glare from Patton for the swear.

    Deceit looked down, focusing on Patton’s hand on his knee, still clutching the bread ball but not as tightly. Everything they said felt too good to be true, but the thought of it being true, to be part of their together, to not worry about one day the other shoe dropping and them leaving-

    He didn’t realize he had started to tremble until Patton murmured “Oh, kiddo,” and moved forward to wrap him in a gentle hug that only got stronger when Deceit didn’t try to fight him off. The bread ball dropped from his hands as he focused on keeping enough composure to not flat out sob into Patton’s shoulder as three sets of arms joined the hug.

    They stayed in a comfortable partial silence, broken only by the others whispering sweet nothings that Deceit had wanted to hear directed at him for so long, for too long; them all holding each other, or better put, them all holding him.

    After a few minutes, Logan cleared his throat, and said, “Given these recent events, I think a reproposal is in order.”

    The other three Light sides hummed in agreement immediately.

    “Love,” Logan started, quieter so Deceit knew it was directed at him, “would you care to be part of our together?”

    “Yes.” Deceit responded without a second of hesitation, the truth for once feeling sweet on his tongue as the arms around him tightened. He knew there was a chance they were lying, that they thought he’d ‘come around’ and would leave him when he didn’t, that something would go wrong and he’d be outcasted again. But this?

    This felt like the truth.

[fanficshiddles]

Fertilisation, one shot

Thank you for the prompt! Hope you like it.

Could you write another egg-laying/rapid pregnancy inflation fic, this time about dragon!Loki who’s been given a young woman that’s been tied up and left in a field as an offering from a nearby village, and he takes her back to his cave as his “bride” and impregnates her? WARNINGS: Rape/non-con, forced breeding, dragon!Loki, egg laying, kidnapping.

Brooke struggled in her restraints in attempt to get free, but it was useless. The other villagers had tied her there, in the middle of a field as an offering to the dragon, Loki.

Her arms were tied around a post behind her, she couldn’t even stand up because it was too tight. All she could do was sit there and wait for the dragon to come and devour her.

Night fell an hour later, her legs and arms were cramping from being forced to stay in the same position for so long.

The sound of large, powerful wings could be heard. Her head snapped up, she could just make out a dragon figure in the distance, landing amongst the trees on front of her. She started shaking in fear…

He was here.

She listened closely, to try and gauge where he was. But she couldn’t hear anything since the wings. But then her eyes locked on to a figure walking out from the trees. She squinted her eyes to try and focus more, she was shocked to see it was a man.

‘HELP! PLEASE!’ She shouted at him, hope rising inside of her that maybe he would help her before the dragon got to her.

The man kept walking at a steady pace towards her, she couldn’t make out any features because of the dark. The only light she had was from the moon and stars.

He drew closer and closer, that’s when she realised he was no ordinary man. He got taller and taller, at least seven-foot-tall by the time he reached her. Her eyes were wide, in pure fear.

He was finally visible. He had bright green eyes that looked like they were glowing. His skin was pale white and had a weird scaly kind of look about it. His hair was long and black. He was wearing a long dark green cloak that trailed down behind him, his boots were black leather… Wait, his cloak. She took a double take, it looked like the same colour as…

The realisation suddenly hit her. This was Loki. The dragon. She had no idea he could take a more human form.

Her struggling started again, now knowing who it was. He wasn’t going to be saving her, he was the reason she was there in the first place.

Loki stared at her for a long minute, looking her over. Then he crouched down on front of her and reached one of his hands out towards her. He had sharp pointy nails that were a dark green, matching his cape.

Brooke tried to shrink back, turning her head away from him. Not wanting him to touch her. Part of her was hoping he would just kill her instantly, so it would be painless before she got eaten. But she was confused when he put one of his fingers under her chin and raised her head up and round to look at him.

Loki studied her eyes carefully. Pure and utter fear could be clearly seen in them. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, she was so frightened.

‘Don’t cry, little doe.’ He purred low, his voice slightly gravelly like you would expect a dragon to sound. Yet there was a weird sultriness in it too.

‘P… please. M…m… make it qui, quick.’ She begged.

Loki quirked an eyebrow up.

‘Make what quick?’ He queried, still not moving his finger from under her chin, she could feel the slight poke from his nail digging into her skin.

‘Wh… whe when yo… you… eat me.’

Loki threw his head back laughing, the sound making her jump and shake even more.

‘Oh, my dear, I am not going to be eating you.’ He looked at her intently again. ‘Not in the way you think anyway.’ He grinned wickedly, making her blood run cold even if she didn’t entirely understand what he was meaning.

He moved behind her and untied her. Expecting her next move, he caught her wrist when she attempted to run as soon as the ropes fell from her wrists.

‘Oh no. You’re coming with me.’ He smirked.

Then he turned into his dragon form. He grew to at least 11 feet tall. His wings were even bigger, looking at least 15 feet in length. Horns grew on his head and he turned into a large, dark green scaly dragon.

The hand that had been wrapped around her wrist was now a front foot, but still able to grip well. He flapped his wings and took off into the air, with Brooke in his clutches.

She was so scared that she passed out when they were high up in the night sky.

Brooke came to just as they arrived back at Loki’s lair. It was a large cave on the side of the mountain, there were flames along the walls, lighting the place up. He flew deep into the cave until they reached the middle of the mountain.

She was shocked to see there was a large mattress with a blanket and pillows at the side. In the middle of the area there was a fire going, with logs and boulders surrounding it as chairs. In the far corner there was a pile of fruit that looked freshly picked.

‘You will not want for nothing, my little doe.’ Loki said, but it was said in her mind. The dragon’s mouth didn’t even move.

He placed her down then transformed back into his more human-like form. But he made sure he was blocking the way for her to run. Then behind him, she watched in disappointment as a huge boulder moved on front of the exit, blocking her way out. She had no idea how he did it… magic?

‘Let’s get this first session started.’ A grin spread across his lips. ‘Then you can relax and eat.’

Brooke backed up as far as she could, until she hit the back wall of the cave. Loki stalked over to her, hunger in his eyes. She was starting to wonder if he had changed his mind about eating her.

Loki reached out to grab her, but even when she attempted to run to the side he was able to over power her and wrestled her with a terrifying ease to the ground. She should’ve known better, really. He was incredibly strong and large. She knew without a doubt that he could easily crush her if he so decided to.

Loki had thought about taking her on the mattress, where it would be more comfortable for her. But with the way she was struggling he was too aroused to move now, so decided right there on the ground would have to do for their first time together.

Using his sharp nails, he effortlessly sliced away her clothes. ‘You won’t be needing these again.’ He tossed her tattered clothing over his shoulder onto the fire, burning the last of the protection against him she had.

He grabbed her wrists and gathered them into one of his large hands, then pinned them down above her. He was so big and his arms so long, that even with his hand above her head he could still move down her body and nuzzle his cheek against her inner thigh.

‘Mmmm, yes. I can smell you, so delicious.’ He purred.

She looked down, crying. And she saw when he flicked his tongue out in excitement, that he had a forked tongue.

‘Please… Stop! Please!’ She begged.

Loki ignored her, but he looked up at her with his green piercing eyes, and kept looking at her as he moved in and started licking her hungrily. Not working her up slowly, oh no. He was there for a feast.

He used long, broad strokes that parted her folds with ease. His tongue was so long and thick too, he was able to cover a lot of ground.

His forked tongue slid delightfully over her clit, that was quickly flushed out from hiding. She was so ashamed at how aroused she was, but with his wet tongue doing that to her… It was impossible not to be.

Loki slurped and lapped at her, eating her out like there was no tomorrow. He was careful with his sharp teeth, making sure not to nick her. He didn’t want to hurt her… Not in that kind of way, anyway.

He brought her pleasure that started in her curled toes and worked its way up through her entire body. The dragon was delighted when she had her first orgasm and soaked his chin. He made sure to lick up as much of her as she had to offer, her poor cunt over sensitive.

Once he’d had enough he crawled up over her body, and using the magic she had seen use of earlier with the boulder, his clothing disappeared. His entire body was covered in the scaly look, but he was of human skin colour at the same time. It was… weird.

But she looked further down his body and started crying again when she saw his cock… Well, cocks. Two of them. One was slightly thicker and longer, that was on top. The other one beneath was slightly smaller.

She started squirming and crying all over again, forgetting the pleasure he had just given her.

Loki ignored her pathetic protests and lined up his top cock with her cunt and pushed in slowly… He allowed her to accustom to his length, only moving softly at first until he was buried to the hilt. Then once her squeezing around him calmed down, he started moving his hips against her.

She cried and screamed for him to stop, but her pleas for her freedom only fuelled him on even more.

‘Shh, shh. You are going to carry my children, little doe. Whether you want to or not. So I suggest you accept your gift with honour, like you should.’ He growled into her ear, placing a sharp thrust that knocked the tip of his cock against her cervix.

His free hand sneaked down between them and he started rubbing her clit, forcing her to endure pleasure once more. She thrashed her head back and fore, muttering no repeatedly. But of course, Loki kept going. He also forced his lips upon hers to stop her head from moving, his forked tongue darting into her mouth to play and tease with her own.

He forced her to orgasm around him, and he greatly enjoyed the feeling from the inside. The delightful squeeze and squirts of arousal that coated him. He took that opportunity to force harder against her, the small and thinner tip of his cock breached through her cervix. She screamed to the high heavens, it hurt so bad.

‘That would have hurt a lot more if I didn’t give you that orgasm.’ He said as if she should be grateful for it.

Loki continued manipulating her clit, even though it was throbbing in over stimulation. When she grew accustomed to the feeling of him being really deep inside of her, that’s when Loki started to lay his eggs.

At first, she had no idea what was happening. She felt the pressure against her cervix again when his cock seemed to grow larger, but then it was over after a second. But then it happened again… and again… and again.

Loki chuckled at the look of confusion on her face. He kissed her forehead softly and squeezed on her wrists.

His breath was hot against her ear as he spoke. ‘That’s my lovely eggs pushing into you… Finding their new home for a few months. Where you will keep them safe and warm, until they are ready.’ He chuckled darkly.

Brooke’s eyes widened, she started crying again and wriggling under him. But that just made it hurt more, so she stilled herself again. To the best she could.

As Loki’s eggs started to fill her up more and more, to her dismay, she saw her stomach starting to get bigger and bigger.

‘NO! Please, stop! It hurts!’ She sobbed, even though she was given more orgasms from the stimulation on her clit and the fullness... It felt like she was being burned on the inside.

‘Hush now, little doe. I know the first time will be sore, but you will get used to it. It will be over soon. And I will make you feel… so, much, better.’ He said between kisses to her lips, so soft in comparison to what felt like was going on inside her.

Her eyes widened at his words, first time. Just how many times was he going to breed her?

The thought of that ran from her mind in the meantime. As he pushed one last egg into her, making her feel so full she was sure she was going to burst. Her stomach was huge and stretched. Loki had to lean up over her more to make room for it.

‘Mmm, yes. Now for fertilisation.’ He murmured, pulling out of her. Making her whimper in the process.

She couldn’t see what was happening between her legs because of her new bump. But she could certainly feel it when Loki moved up slightly more and aimed his second, lower down cock, at her entrance.

‘Please, no. I can’t take anymore.’ She snivelled.

‘I need to fertilise the eggs, little doe. Or they won’t hatch.’ He said firmly, giving her wrists a squeeze to make sure she knew to keep still. Not that she could’ve got away even if she tried.

When Loki thrust into her, this time he wasn’t as gentle. He didn’t give her time to adjust, he was too riled up. Knowing his eggs were now inside of her, she was going to carry his babies. He thrust into her roughly, his hips slamming against her each time. He leaned down to her neck and bit hard, enjoying the taste of her skin and blood as he broke the skin.

Brooke just whimpered throughout, her body responding naturally to the pleasurable assault. Though there was still some pain deep inside her from where he’d burst through her cervix.

This time it didn’t take Loki long to reach his peak. He held himself still, as deep as he could and exploded inside of her. His sperm rushed into her with a lot of force, like a hose. She felt it shoot deep into her womb, but oddly, it was incredibly soothing.

The raw pain from the first cock she’d felt was being soothed by his sperm. Her breathing calmed down greatly and Loki noticed the difference in her demeanour. It was calming her down.

He chuckled and kept himself buried inside her, making sure as little of his seed escaped as possible.

Kissing her cheek, he released her wrists but didn’t move from on top of her.

‘What a good girl you are. I told you it would ease. You’re going to be such a wonderful breeding pet for me.’ He spoke softly, soothing her while he smoothed her hair back from her face and then he fondly trailed his fingers down her cheek, wiping the tears away in the process.

‘I will look after you now.’ He reached down and gently rubbed her stomach. ‘You and my babies.’

[madamhatter]

koagema inquired: here she is, miss gamer girl— all dolled up and practically floating in the hallway. heels clack on the floor, a sound one would rarely associate with her— then again, makeup is also rare to be appreciated upon her features, yet there it was, her cheeks tinted pink and lips redder than usual. even the fact she was wearing a dress instead of her usual cardigan-skirt combo seemed surprising, but... she felt like dressing up. and who else would she want to show off to aside from a certain hatter? UNPROMPTED ASKS | ALWAYS WELCOMED | @koagema​​ | continued from here.

Firm elbow on the edge of her shined and sanitized desk, an internal quarrel festers in Sophie’s mind. Her face doesn’t signal any form of struggle. Countless years spent in the grinds and gears of the higher class, a dirty business altogether, she was consistently exposed to the chatter and incessant noise of gossip and rumors from dirtied mouths of high society. The only few benefits of such early exposure were learning to contain and coordinate past such meddlesome and vile words.

Entangled in the back of her mind were those pestering utterances -- they knotted together and grew in size, a notable distraction and annoyance it was becoming now. With her right arm’s elbow perked on the table, she hides her disdain and tightened lips behind the palm of her right hand. Brows knitted, eyes refusing to leave the glass panes of the windows, Sophie hadn’t dared turned back to look across the classroom. She digs her molars into the rich pink gums of her cheeks. Rows of teeth repeatedly chew and grind, her brows lowering as her eyes look back on the top of the wooden desk. Any harder and she would’ve tasted iron.

While her mask was fixed to remain calm and almost empty of thought, the indignation already spilled out earlier. Timeliness for the Hatter was to be several hours ahead, she entered the classroom much in advance, even before the homeroom teacher (which led to them being scared nearly out of their wits). Whispers and chat from the birds -- also known as her classmates -- grew noisier as they gathered in their seats, all the more invested in talking about others, especially about the class representative next door. 

Surely, she should’ve ignored it. She should’ve minded and never read more into the situation. Her nails tapped against the desk, the longer she listened, expression distorting from perplexion to disbelief. Eyes squeeze shut, as does her fist, intaking her breaths slowly. 

"The class representative from 77-B is acting different..." "Eh?" "Didn’t you see Nanami-san dressed up like that? Do you think she has a boyfriend?" "Or maybe she’s trying to impress her crush..! I wonder if he’ll like it."

And there was an audible snap in the back of her mind.

At the memory, she cringes and closes her eyes. Several of her classmates had grown stiff and frail at the enunciation and power behind her voice-- not one expected out of a gray mouse. It was perhaps why they took the respectful step away and returned to their seats, having their ears talked off about ‘minding their business and not to perpetuate any ridiculous claims.’ 

What was this feeling, so sudden and new? Her brows furrow together, raising, and she opens her eyes again to make out the lines across her desk. All that jumbled mess that occupied her mind, it was a void that followed her throughout her childhood. At the one point in her life that she thought she had a confidant in her late father, his charm and wit all came to conclude with simple advice. 

‘Just like the metal tin where we keep all the needles (and lovely tomato cushion), thimbles, scissors, pins, buttons, and tools we use, we need to keep it stored if she wasn’t needing it. And just like those bad, dark things,’ he would muse with a spin of his finger, towering over his daughter as the sunrays dripped through his hair, revealing its rare red gold, ‘we keep them in there if we don’t need them.’ 

And so she tidied her thoughts, a mental sweep into the metal tin of her mind, storing it away for a rainy day. She had no purpose to feel this way -- how dug its claws inside her stomach, an uneasiness that left her foot rapidly tapping against the ground. How it, for some odd reason, tightened her chest and she felt smaller than ever...

It didn’t matter now, she concludes, it’s time to keep it all back there.

To loiter in the halls during the lunch period was an all familiar point of Sophie’s schedule. Instead of conversing and going through with the others in the main course, her mind was immediate to reroute her back to work. She dusts down the length of her uniform’s skirt, grumbling to herself at her own untidiness. First what happened this morning and now I look disgusting, she sighs to herself in disbelief. 

Prodding away at the folds of her skirt, Sophie was more than unaware of the world around her. Too many details to scrutinize under her eyes, it only fueled the distraction through her spiral into self-deprecation. The length of her scarred fingertips tug on the fabric, she mutters the type under her breath, reminding herself the appropriate detergents use to clean it -- even if there weren’t any stains 

Fumbling, tongue-tied unspeakable unnameable something was pitted in her stomach, distracting what little remains of her anchored logic. Her fingers return to the thick braid of deep copper and speckles of silver, picking now at the ends. Head bowed, eyes narrowed, she couldn’t help if the bottom of her feet and the joints in her fingers twitch. Though, it didn’t matter as she finally takes the first step.

Pacing, pacing, like a mouse trapped in a labyrinth, unable to make a choice at the fork. Nonsensical rambling underneath her breath, all only glimpses of self-deprecation and shattered confidence she held together with the tightest seams. It was only natural that with time, the strongest sutures should be removed after all the healing was done. Yet, it was a recurrence that all too much, hastier and impatient as ever, Sophie removed them too soon, prolonging the healing process.

For how long could she inspire this forged mask until it’d expire? Her body pauses, hands slowly rising to her face as she closes her eyes. Holding herself was the most typical comfort she found at home and here. It dissuaded her from being caught adrift in the vast truths and realities, all the thousands of thoughts that existed in her mind and overwhelmed her once she found calm. Never was there such a thing as rest for the eldest of three.

Her hands slowly trail behind her neck, slowly inhaling deeply, making out the pressures and tense muscles from her jaw to her shoulders. Rhythmic breathing mechanisms, slowly in and slowly out, tranquility wasn’t as easily found as she’d like it to be. 

Click, click, click -- Sharp, narrow heels meet the polished floors of the academy halls. A snap to reality, Sophie feels fear strike up her spinal cord, her hands dropping down as if she hadn’t been dancing with despair. A forced gulp, only considering as to who it could’ve been and if she knew them, she grimaced reality. It made it worse if it had been one of her peers that she starkly admonished over...

She shakes her head, refusing to remember. 

Yet, the young woman turns...Eyes widening, lips slightly parted, and the entirety of the cacophony in her mind goes silent.

The brisk rush of jubilance and childish glee, that’s all that the 77-A student feels the moment her lingering gaze returns to the silhouette of the 77-B class representative. Impulsion to pick, tear and claw at her own being numbs in a moment, just like how her lungs ease to breathe in the air as if it wasn’t hurting her chest. All the wider her eyes grow, her body relaxing, and it was almost as if she felt herself getting lighter and lighter. Almost as if her boots couldn’t keep her grounded any longer.

“Miss Nanami.” She clears her throat, straightening her posture and promptly bowing her head softly forward. “Good afternoon, it’s wonderful to see you.” Though, as much as she boasted to hold eye contact and hold herself well in conversation, her eyes dart away.

Never had Sophie encountered or needed overdramatizing and oversaturated language in compiling her internal workings.  Yet, something swelled in her throat as she felt urged to speak -- whatever that she thought of coated honey and sweets on her tongue and palate.  Figure shrinks at the trouble of speech -- words cannot contribute to the collateral of her body being stuck in place.

It isn’t as if seeing Chiaki wasn’t ever such a blossoming of euphoria, a sensation that didn’t now flee her. Settling her mind was a waning and unfamiliar feeling, almost craving for it, something that couldn’t be named --- because she was quite terrified to know what it was. 

“Miss Nanami, you look wonderful..as you usually do too. That is such a wonderful cut for you -- and, where did you get that shade? It suits you so marvelously.”

Alas, a linger gaze could only do so much for her when she groped onto reality. Struck by the unnameable, unspeakable something, her hands slowly to her front, aimlessly folding her hands, but her eyes envisioned much more. Rosied tint glossed her lips, rouge powdered her cheeks, curves of light pink curls framing her face--- But, all this did was accentuate the matter of how much Chiaki could stunt her to such tranquil silence. 

Not needing to speak, not needing to act, all she... No, shouldn’t say it... All she ...... to do was spend it in her presence. No matter what she did, Sophie ...... all the time. All the time she could have to spare, all the time she ......to give. 

The mass in her throat, she couldn’t feel it anymore.

Glancing down for a moment, her brows quirk. Tear-shaped petals dripped from her lips, thinner than the circumference of her little finger, and a familiar shade of powdered pink that overwhelmed her mind. Another blink, they were gone. Another blink, the petals were scattered on the ground by the hundreds, petals surrounding her worn boots. 

Not a second longer, the word finally came to her: peonies.

Placidity still forms her face, eyes roaming back to Chiaki. The gardener herself, a cynical half of Sophie’s mused. The one who’d gotten and now has linked me to this unpredictability I feel.  Another half, chirpier, sharper, and rougher, retorts. It isn’t her fault for the problem I created for myself. I’m are the one who allowed the seeds to be planted, I nurtured and grown whatever this is.

For all the weightlessness Chiaki inspired, an invisible deadlock wrapped around Sophie’s shoulders. An uncomfortable weight against her back, leisurely hanging on her with chest pressed to her, and its whispers flooding her mind. Disappointment extraordinaire, Sophie Hatter recognizes reality was forcing itself unto her. Say it already, say it. You know it’s true. 

Want. She forced herself to spit it out. It was a dangerous word. Want, want, want. A selfish impulse to impose herself to be worth anything and forcing herself to a position of desiring that couldn’t be. Couldn’t be, mustn’t be, shouldn’t be.

Laying by Chiaki whenever the two were meant napping, half of the time exchanging tired dialogue and giggles, eyes unable to move from the other, in spite of the messy hair and unkempt appearances. Midnight proposals conducted by the restless, if not unhealthily attuned, students who kept within close proximity, always chattering away and roaming between the library and greenhouse, or even hiding underneath piles of blankets. Seating aside another during their lunch period, cozily listening to the fountain behind them, exchanging tales from their classrooms, pointing out if any spare crumbs gotten on their mouths or clothes...

All the thoughts swirled in her mind, all leading back to a now smiling Chiaki before her. The hatter, eyes wide and blood cold, holds her head once more in Chiaki’s direction, watching her draw closer. The racket in her chest couldn’t be endured as her heart bruised her ribcage and rushed the blood flow, breaking the paralysis. 

She takes one unsteady breath, a forceful swallow, as she is finally pushed past the brink of denial. 

Oh.

Oh shit. 

“....We should get to the cafeteria,” she timidly murmurs, attempting to hold herself together by the loosening seams.

[jessicasmithcreates]

So picture the scene: I have been waiting for a year to see Avengers Endgame. In some ways I’d been waiting for this movie since I first saw Iron Man in 2008. The whole year I was trying not to speculate and guess what was going to happen. I’ve tried to not watch trailers, since I was going to see it no matter what. I caught a couple pictures, by accident, but other than the white team up suits I didn’t see much. I wait until the weekend post premiere to see it and manage to avoid spoilers on the internet.

I’m in the theater, one of my small local theaters which has thin walls, but my movie is going to be the loudest anyway. There’s a pretty good crowd, but there’s only about 4 people in my row 3/4 of the way to the back.

I am shocked by the time jump, but liked the plot device. I enjoy the Bruce Hulk combo, and Scott’s time travel banter. I like Morgan. I can see why Clint has changed. I cry over Black Widow. And then they create the gauntlet. The Iron Man/Hulk/Nano gauntlet to take the strength of the infinity stones to make another snap. It’s a great team up of all the sciencey people of Marvel!

And then the “twist.” Thanos comes back to the future from the future past, and wants the stones, so he blows up the Avenger’s HQ. And suddenly, the person who has possession of the gauntlet is the least powered person on the team. Clint Barton.

In the MCU, he’s survived on wits, on archery skills, and on hand to hand combat. But he doesn’t have a super suit that flies or shrinks. He doesn’t have sorcery or superpowers. He’s just a guy. A guy with skills, but just a guy.

That was the image that stuck with me when I left the theater. Sure, I cheered over the “We’ve got this” moment, I cried over Tony, I was heartened by the win, and was pleased by the dance. But a guy playing keep-away with a seemingly unbeatable alien. That’s what stuck.

So when I realized I could go to DragonCon in August, I decided to make a Hawkeye/Ronin costume and carry around a gauntlet to recreate that moment. It’s maybe two minutes of the story, and probably only 30 seconds of screen time total. But that’s what DragonCon is for! Recreating beloved moments, and someone will get it.

Even before making the costume, I knew I needed to make the gauntlet, and I knew that would take the longest time, mostly for drying and waiting and mistakes.

Foam was new to me. I found my local Harbor Freight and bought the two different types of floor mats they had, and used both for the costume, but only the thinner rolled one for the gauntlet.

I found this awesome 3D Pepakura model for the gauntlet from MasterMod, and printed off a cardstock copy so I could test out the size and how it fit together. Cutting those pieces nearly broke me, and I hadn’t even gotten to the foam yet.

Deciding to size up a bit, I printed out a new copy, and set to work cutting the foam. I was using a couple of fresh X-acto blade, and was still having trouble, so next time I’ll follow suggestions to use a scalpel.

I would cut out some pieces, and glue some pieces, and cut some pieces and glue some pieces. At the time I was living in a townhouse where I only had one room for both living and crafting, so I didn’t have the space to cut and arrange all the pieces at once.

Contact glue was my weapon of choice for assembly, and boy is it smelly and sticky like mis-made caramel sauce. The stick, not the smell. Something I didn’t consider until it was too late was that the edges of the foam should probably have a specific angle in order to fit together properly. Oops!

Also, don’t let the can of contact glue fall over and spill into the bottom of a bookcase. I got lucky, and the carpet underneath the case wasn’t affected, but it could’ve been disastrous. And eternally smelly.

Cut and glue and cut and glue and cut and glue.

Okay, so then it was assembled and I needed to get a move on, as DragonCon was coming up quick.

Plastidip and North Carolina humidity in August doesn’t work well together.

Average spray paint is actually worse.

Masking off tacky spray paint and mildly tacky Plastidip is less than ideal.

So I grunged it up with some black and brown acrylics.

The jewels. Those were a treat. I found them in a grab bag of rhinestone jewels at Michael’s. I spent about 20 minutes sitting on the floor of the young craft kit section one night after a work shift making sure that I had the correct colors and shapes if I was going to spend 15 dollars after a coupon on a bag of jewels I might never use afterward. Massaging a bag of craft jewels 15 minutes before closing is… not a pretty look.

I think I used contact cement to attach them, then used some kind of puffy paint (craft supply hoarding for the win!) to really cement them in.

For the inside, I decided to keep my super glue, and my wallet inside the glove, which would mean that I needed a pocket inside.

I found some scraps from the Merida skirt, made a zippered pouch, then glued in the pouch and some lining to black out the inside of the glove.

And that rounded out my Nano Gauntlet! It now graces my curio cabinet in a tribute to Ironman.

It’s time to talk about the gauntlet. So picture the scene: I have been waiting for a year to see Avengers Endgame. In some ways I'd been waiting for this movie since I first saw Iron Man in 2008.

[darkobsidianquill]

Harry Potter and the descent into Darkness.

Chapter Twelve.

The next morning after breakfast Harry headed for the kitchens with Ron and Hermione in tow. He was slightly surprised that neither of them knew where the Hogwarts kitchens were, or how to gain access to them; especially considering all the nonsense that Hermione had been going on about all year with the bloody house elves. Not that Harry had really been paying it any attention.

He actually hesitated in taking her in there since he was sure the sight of the room full of house elves, slaving over stoves and the like would result in some annoyingly long lecture about human rights and the evils of magical enslavement, but he really didn't have much choice. Sirius's letter had said to bring a lot of food, and the kitchen was obviously the best place to get it.

Harry had actually put some legitimate effort into ignoring Hermione's idiotic campaign to free the house elves all term, and as such, had also ignored the house elves themselves. This was why it was an honest surprise when he saw Winky, Mr. Crouch's house elf, in the corner in an obvious state of inebriation, holding a bottle of butter beer.

The other house elves were scampering about, quickly collecting food for the three Gryffindors, and Dobby was speaking excitedly with Hermione, but Harry's eyes were trained on the sick-looking little elf.

He had first seen her in the top box they sat at during the Quidditch World Cup. She was there to hold a seat for Mr. Crouch, but he had never showed up. And then after the mayhem with the Death Eaters and the dark mark in the sky, she had been found with Harry's wand, and accused of having cast the spell herself.

Mr. Crouch had fired her on the spot, and had seemed visibly furious with her. The whole thing had been terribly confusing at the time.

And now, she was working in the kitchens of Hogwarts? Or... well, not working so much as getting wasted, but she was still here.

Harry wondered if she knew anything about Crouch impersonating Moody...

"You ready, mate?"

Harry blinked and turned back to his two friends who were waiting for him expectantly. Ron was holding out a wrapped bundle of food from the house elves.

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, taking on an excited, carefree mask as he took the bundle and shrunk it with his wand before sticking it into his bag.

The trio left the castle and began to make their way down the path towards Hogsmeade.

They busied themselves with window shopping for the morning. Harry spent some time in the local bookstore, but was extremely unimpressed by their selection. There wasn't a single 'questionable' book in the whole store.

He spotted a shadier looking little shop that several of the Slytherin students came in and out of, but he couldn't shake Ron or Hermione long enough to go check it out.

There was a small grocer in town that Harry had never had a need to visit before, but he slipped inside now and found a selection of magically preserved food that would last a few weeks. The food from the kitchens would help feel Sirius now, but from the desperate wording of his godfather's pleas, Harry could only assume that getting regular food was a problem for the man. The food he brought from Hogwarts wouldn't last more than a day or two, but the food he bought would last him quite a bit longer.

Hermione praised him on his planning and smart thinking but Harry just shrugged it off. It seemed like common sense to him.

He shrunk his purchases and added them to his bag.

At one thirty the trio headed down past Dervish and Banges towards the meeting spot described in Sirius's letter. As they neared it, Harry spotted a very familiar looking large black dog. The smile that spread across his face was authentic for once and he hurried his pace.

"Hey Snuffles," Harry said as he came up to his 'dogfather's' side and reached down to pet his messy matted fur.

Sirius was holding a collection of newspapers in his mouth and made an amused coughing sort of noise around them before turning away and making his way past the stile.

The trio climbed over and followed him out of town and towards the mountains on the outskirts of town.

The terrain grew rockier and rockier and harder to traverse, but Sirius just kept going. It took nearly a half hour before they came to a stop, and by that time, Hermione and Ron were distinctly out of breath. Even Harry felt his endurance reaching a limit, and was relieved when he saw the opening to a cave, and Sirius disappearing inside.

The trio entered and found Buckbeak the hippogriff inside, tied to a rock. The three bowed and waited until the half-eagle, half-horse beast had bowed back, showing his acceptance of them.

Ron and Hermione rushed over to pet him, but Harry turned his attention on Sirius, who had just finished transforming back into a human.

He was wearing the same gray robes that he had been a year prior. His hair was longer than it had been when he had fire-called hair in the fall, and it was matted and dirty. Sirius looked thinner, and clearly worn and exhausted.

"Are you out of your mind?" Harry asked.

"Excuse me?" Sirius responded, with a note of surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

"Performing my duty as godfather."

"You're going to get caught!" Harry exclaimed.

"You three, and Dumbledore are the only ones aware of my animagus form. The villagers are coming to know me as a lovable stray. I can't take too much food though, or they'll start to notice."

Harry huffed and shook his head in mild exasperation. He slipped his bag off his shoulders, removed all of the food and began to unshrink it.

Sirius's eyebrows rose into his forehead, with apparent surprise at Harry's use of a fifth year charm – why, Harry couldn't imagine. He really didn't understand why shrinking things wasn't covered sooner. It's not like it was a hard spell, and it would have been damn useful to know in years prior, since he could have kept his trunk hidden away from his uncle...

The surprise at Harry's spellwork was lost as Sirius registered the mountain of food, and his stomach made a loud growling noise.

"Chicken!" the man gasped, hoarsely, with a relieved thrill in his tone.

"There's a bunch of preserved food in here too. It'll last you a couple weeks, I hope. Picked them up in the local food market," Harry said, pointing at the jars and boxes of varying nutritional options he had purchased. "Are you planning to stick around Hogsmeade?"

Sirius nodded as he began to tear into a chicken leg with much the same fury that his dog form would. "I wanted to be on the spot. What with your last letter... and other things, considered... Things are looking a bit too fishy lately. I wanted to stay close."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What other things, exactly?"

Sirius nodded his head towards a few yellowing newspapers on the cave floor a few feet away. Harry walked over and spread them out. There were two, but it was the first one that really caught his attention.

Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch

The second said, Ministry Witch Still Missing – Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved.

Harry picked up the one about Crouch and began reading.

"What's the deal with Crouch?" Ron asked as he came to stand behind Harry and look over his shoulder.

"He hasn't shown up to work since November, apparently," Sirius said before taking another bite of chicken.

"Yeah... he didn't show up to judge the last task, either," Ron said, looking thoughtful. "My brother is his personal assistant and had to fill in for him."

Harry continued to skim the paper, and a few lines jumped out at him: hasn't been seen in public since November... house appears deserted... St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment... Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness...

"My brother did say that Crouch is suffering from overwork," Ron added.

"He did look rather ill when I saw him the night my name came out of the cup," Harry added absently. He figured that Crouch must have been using his illness as an excuse to cover for his absence while he impersonated Moody. He still had no idea why he was doing that though.

"Hey, Sirius?"

"Yeah, pup?"

"Do you know much about him? Crouch, I mean? What were his loyalties in the last war?"

"Oh I know quite a bit about him. And his loyalties were definitely with the light. He headed off quite the crusade against You-Know-Who and his followers. He was the one who sent me off to Azkaban – without a trial."

"What!" Ron and Hermione gasped together.

"Without a trial!" Harry exclaimed. "You're kidding!"

"No, I'm not," said Sirius, taking another great bite of chicken. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione shook their heads.

"He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic," Sirius said. "He's a great wizard, Crouch is, powerfully magical – and power-hungry. Definitely never a Voldemort supporter, though. Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side.

"Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning – I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers – powers to kill, rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without a trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you – plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened..." Sirius smiled grimly. "Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch's son was caught?" gasped Hermione.

"Yes," Sirius said, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak before tearing into a loaf of bread. "Nasty shock to old Crouch, discovering that lil' Barty was a Death Eater."

Harry nearly choked. "What?"

Sirius blinked at Harry with confusion. "What, what?"

"What was Crouch's son's name?" Harry asked, shaking himself out of his moment of surprise.

"Bartemius Crouch Jr. But everyone called him Barty, from what I understand."

"Barty..." Harry breathed.

"Ringing some bells, pup?" Sirius asked, sitting up straighter.

"Er..." Harry faltered, "I'm not sure really. What happened with Crouch's son, anyway? Was he really a Death Eater?"

"I can't say for sure, but he was definitely seen with some people who I would guarantee were. As for what happened to him, Crouch tossed him into Azkaban."

Hermione gasped. "His own son!"

Sirius nodded, and he didn't look remotely amused now. "I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though... they all went quiet in the end... except when they shrieked in their sleep..."

For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius's eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them.

"So he's still in Azkaban?" Harry asked as his mind began working away furiously.

"No," Sirius said, dully. "No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

Harry paused. "He died? Are you sure?"

Sirius looked at Harry with a bit of confusion for a moment. "I'm sure, all right. He certainly wasn't the only one to die in Azkaban. Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, and they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw old Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up a flask of pumpkin juice and drained it.

"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic... next, his son dead, his wife dead, and the family named dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic towards the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

A silence descended upon the cave while the group processed Sirius's words, and Sirius continued to eat.

Theories and possible scenarios were flying through Harry's mind while he sat in the thick quiet. A man named 'Barty' was helping Voldemort. It was his job to try and set up Harry's capture.

Bartemius Crouch was the one who had pushed to have the tournament reinstated. He was one of the people running the darn thing, and had loads of contact with the cup. He could have easily had the opportunity to put Harry's name into the goblet of fire.

But Bartemius Crouch Sr. actively fought against the Death Eaters and Voldemort, and he most certainly wasn't the man that Harry had seen with Voldemort, in his visions. Which meant that Barty Crouch was not dead.

So Crouch Sr. and his wife had gone into Azkaban to visit their dying son. Crouch Sr. had left 'practically carrying' his wife. Barty had died, and the dementors had buried him. There had to be a body left behind, and Crouch's wife was reported dead shortly after Barty died.

Would Crouch Sr. actually have left his wife in Azkaban and snuck his son out? Crouch Sr. could have given Barty polyjuice potion to look like his wife, in order to sneak his son out of Azkaban, but polyjuice only lasts an hour, so that wouldn't have kept his wife looking like his son for very long

… Unless he killed his wife right after giving her the potion. The body doesn't revert if it's dead.

Bloody hell...

But what had he done with Barty since then? Kept him hidden somehow? Would Crouch Sr. really be helping his son, if his son was helping Voldemort? Perhaps Sr. was under the Imperius when he put Harry's name into the cup. And now he was missing because... he was dead? Or being held captive?

Harry didn't know. There were any number of different possible explanations.

But one thing was for sure. The Bartemius Crouch that Harry kept seeing on the map where Alastor Moody was supposed to be, was not the man Harry had thought he was. He wasn't Crouch Sr., he was Barty!

"You alright there, Harry?" Sirius's voice broke through the thick fog of contemplation and Harry blinked.

"Huh? Oh yea... just thinking."

"Well, pup, we probably ought to discuss what you saw going on between Snape and Karkaroff," Sirius said, taking on a rather serious look to his face.

Hermione and Ron both looked at Harry with confusion in their eyes.

"What is he talking about, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Oh! I totally forgot to tell you two," Harry exclaimed, acting as if he honestly had just forgotten, and not that he had intentionally hidden it.

"I er... saw Snape and Karkaroff having an interestingly heated conversation a number of months ago. I was under my invisibility cloak, so neither knew I was there... I saw the two of them on the Map and got suspicious, so I went down into the dungeons to spy on them."

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Harry, will you ever stop being so suspicious of Professor Snape? Do you honestly think that Dumbledore would –"

"He's a Death Eater," Harry said, cutting her off.

Ron's eyes went wide, but Hermione's face shifted instantly to disbelief. "He is not, Harry! That's ridiculous!"

"He is, Hermione! Or at least, he was. He's got the dark mark on his left forearm. So does Karkaroff. That's why they were talking. Apparently it's been getting clearer over the last few months and Karkaroff freaked out. He's scared. From the conversation I overheard, it sounds like Karkaroff is pretty convinced that Voldemort won't be particularly pleased with him. Said something about Dumbledore protecting Snape, but not having anyone to protect him."

Hermione's jaw had dropped and she was staring at Harry with stunned shock.

"You saw it?" she gasped. "Are you sure!"

"Well... I saw it on Karkaroff's arm. He was holding up his sleeve and shoving his arm in Snape's face. But from what Snape said, it was obvious that he had a mark too."

"But you didn't actually see the dark mark on Snape's arm?" Hermione said, pointedly.

"Blimey, Hermione!" Ron groaned. "Come off it already! Why do you keep defending him!"

"I just don't understand why Professor Snape would have saved Harry's life in first year, if he was really a Death Eater. If he was really loyal to You-Know-Who, he would have just let Harry die!"

"Yeah, well like Harry said, Dumbledore protects Snape, right? If Snape let Harry die, Dumbledore probably wouldn't keep protecting him, now would he?" Ron said, as he folded his arms over his chest, indignantly.

"Perhaps, but Professor Dumbledore wouldn't trust Professor Snape if he was really loyal to You-Know-Who! Now would he?"

"Dumbledore doesn't know everything. He didn't know that You-Know-Who was on the back of Quirrell's head our whole first year, did he?"

I don't know... did he? Harry grumbled sarcastically, internally as he secretly scowled. Sometimes he really wondered...

"What do you think, Sirius?" Harry said to try and put an end to Ron and Hermione's pointless bickering.

"I think they've both got a point," Sirius said, looking thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid he was," Sirius added and Ron grinned. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names. "Rosier and Wilkes – they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges – they're a married couple – they're in Azkaban. Avery – from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse – he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never properly accused of being a Death Eater – not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

Hermione was frowning. "Alright, lets say for a moment that Professor Snape was a Death Eater... he would have had to done something that earned him Professor Dumbledore's trust if he got a teaching position here. Dumbledore would never allow someone who was actually loyal to You-Know-Who teach here!"

Sirius shrugged and set down his pumpkin juice. He lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Harry.

"Well, got any other interesting news to inform me of? I hear your performance in the tournament was spectacular."

"Oh... yeah, I guess," Harry said ducking his head and shrugging.

"Oh! Oh, Harry! You have to tell him!" Hermione said suddenly and Harry looked at her with total confusion.

"Tell him what?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, tell me what?" Sirius echoed.

"About your transformation, Harry!" Hermione said with exasperation.

"Oh! That," said Harry.

"Transformation?" Sirius asked with a confused furrowed brow, looking between the two of them.

Harry ran his hand through his hair and huffed slightly before continuing. "Er, yeah... so I've been keeping a big secret from everyone."

"What sort of secret?"

"Well, for a bit under a year I've actually been secretly trying to learn to be... an animagus," Harry admitted with a sheepish smile.

"You've what!" Sirius gasped.

"Yeah, so I sort of... did it."

"Did what?" Sirius asked in confusion.

"The transformation. I did it."

"What! That's impossible! Less than a year? And you're only fourteen!"

"Yeah, well I guess when I put my mind to something I can actually be a fast learner sometimes. Plus I had some real strong incentive there in the end because I realized my form would be useful in the second task."

"You're an animagus?" Sirius asked just to make sure he was really understanding everything.

Harry grinned and shrugged. "Yeah. Guess so."

"Bloody hell! And you said your form was helpful in the task? What is it?"

"Er... yeah, well that's sort of the biggest reason why I kept it a secret. I mean... I didn't even tell Ron or Hermione I was doing it because I was afraid how they would react when they found out what my form was."

Sirius frowned and looked at Hermione and Ron. Hermione was giving Harry an encouraging smile, but Ron was little a bit ill.

"Well, let's here it pup. It won't change a thing. Just get it out."

Harry heaved a sigh and squared his shoulders. He actually was a bit nervous about telling Sirius about his snake form. It wasn't really his animagus form, but this was his story and he had to stick to it for consistency. Despite all the changes Harry had gone through, Sirius was still somewhat important to him.

"Alright... well, I'm a snake," Harry said quickly.

Sirius blinked. "A snake?"

"Yeah, a sea snake to be specific. A Sea Krait."

"You turn into a snake?" Sirius asked again.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, a snake."

"A great, ruddy, huge snake," Ron put in now, still looking a bit pale with the subject matter.

"Is that so?" Sirius asked, looking from Ron back to Harry for confirmation.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Can I see?" Sirius asked.

Harry had been afraid of this question. He still wondered if an actual animagus would be able to tell that the transformation Harry was undertaking wasn't an animagus transformation, but something else entirely.

He took in a deep breath and nodded his head. He got down onto his knees, like he had when he demonstrated for Hermione and Ron and focused his mind and his magic on performing the transformation. A moment later, he was laying flat on the cold ground, looking up at the stunned face of Sirius Black.

"I told you he was huge," Ron said.

"That he is," Sirius muttered before blinking and then looking down at Harry with a slowly spreading grin. "Merlin, Harry... this is... this is just... incredible!" Sirius threw his head back and laughed before looking back down at Harry again. Harry slithered around a bit, coiling his body into a pile and raising his head and first few feet of his body up off the ground so that his head was at eye level with Sirius who was sitting on the ground.

Harry hissed out a laugh, and Sirius's chuckled lightened as he looked at Harry with interest. Ron was looking pale again from the sound.

"Isn't it amazing?" Hermione chipped in and Sirius began to nod his head emphatically.

"Yes, Hermione. It is. Harry, this is truly a remarkable achievement. I really don't care what your form turned out to be. Being able to perform the animagus transformation after less than a year of training, and at age fourteen is just amazing."

Harry nodded his head and quickly transformed back into his human form.

He grinned and ducked his head sheepishly. "You really think so?" he said, trying to play up the modest card.

"I really do," Sirius said with a proud smile. "Well now we've got to get you a Marauder's name!"

Harry blinked at Sirius. This hadn't actually occurred to him, so he really hadn't given a nickname any sort of thought.

"That sounds like fun," Ron said. "Your form is a dog and you're Padfoot. Professor Lupin is a werewolf and he's Moony. And Harry's dad was a stag and he was Prongs, right?"

It didn't go unnoticed that Wormtail was neglected from the list.

"Right," said Sirius.

"So... something to do with a snake..." Ron said slowly as he screwed up his face in concentration. "Scales? Forked tongue..."

"They're legless lizards, so Legless?" Hermione said, shrugging. "Or Fangs? Oh – Venom?"

"Do you have venom!" Ron paled considerably.

Harry chuckled. "Actually, I do," Harry said smirking. "Hmm... Fangs and Venom both have potential, but Hagrid's dog is named Fang, so that's sort of taken. Don't know how I feel about Legless, but it's not too bad either."

"How about Stripes? You've got that white and black stripe thing going on," Ron offered.

"Hmm," Sirius hummed, "Okay, so we've got Scales, Legless, Venom, and Stripes, or Stripe? What do you think, pup? It'll be your nickname?"

Harry paused and ran the different options over in his head for a minute. "Er... I guess Stripe works for me," Harry said, shrugging. It didn't scream 'snake' to him, so if anyone outside of their group ever heard the nickname, it wouldn't be too suspicious.

"Alright, pup. Stripe it is," Sirius said with a proud grin. "The newest Marauder. Merlin, kid, I still can't believe you really did it. And on your own too. Wow..."

Harry ducked his head. He felt the tiniest bit of upset in his gut for lying to Sirius about this, but it wasn't something he could really do anything about so he violently shoved it away in his mind. "Thanks," he mumbled in forced shyness.

"Anyway," Sirius said, shifting his attention away from Harry and onto Ron. "On to other matters before we call it a day. You say your brother is Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"

"I can try," said Ron doubtfully. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy though. Percy loves Crouch."

Sirus heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes.

"What's the time?"

Harry had his wand out with quick, practiced ease in the blink of an eye and cast a tempus. "It's half past three," he said.

"You'd better get back to school," Sirius said, getting to his feet. "Now listen..." He looked particularly hard at Harry. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of the school to see me, alright? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

Harry almost snorted at this, but took on a slightly cowed look and nodded his head as he toed at the ground.

Considering that Barty Crouch was currently impersonating his defense teacher, he was probably in a lot more danger in the school, than out. But he wasn't about to go telling Sirius, or anyone about his suspicions regarding Crouch.

"Alright Sirius," he said with a weak smile.

"Good. I'll feel a lot better when this ruddy tournament is over. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"

He handed Harry the empty napkin and flask and went to pat Buckbeak good-bye. "I'll walk to the edge of the village with you," Sirius said, "see if I can scrounge another paper."

He transformed into the great black dog before they left the cave, and they walked back down the mountainside with him, across the boulder-strewn ground, and back to the stile. Here he allowed each of them to pat him on the head, before turning and setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way back into Hogsmeade and up towards Hogwarts.

– –

AN: ** several passages from previous chapter were taken from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

– –

Harry was exceedingly frustrated that he wasn't able to get down to the Chamber that night, but Ron and Hermione had pounced on him as soon as they were back at the school about not having told them about Snape and Karkaroff. It was difficult, but Harry continued to play it off as having just slipped his mind. They didn't seem entirely convinced, but he didn't honestly care. They'd get over it.

Sunday Harry managed to give them the slip and went down into the chamber, and back into Slytherin's study. His companion joined him in his mind and directed Harry to Slytherin's desk and told him to feel along the bottom of the desk and hiss out a parsel release spell. Once accomplished, a thin book fell down onto the floor from its place, stuck to the underside of the desk.

It looked incredibly delicate, and Harry feared that the ancient parchment would crumble under the pressure of his fingers. He set the book onto the desk with incredible gentleness and fingered the cover gingerly.

He opened it to the first page and instantly realized that the damn book was not in English.

"Okay... so what language is this?" Harry asked his companion with mild frustration. It didn't even look familiar.

It is... Elbirin... Old Aldric...

Harry blinked. "That, unfortunately, means absolutely nothing to me."

Old Aldric was the language... of the British Elves... prior to the Tartessian War... and the Celtic takeover in Britain.

Harry looked back down at the book with greater curiosity. Elves!

"I take it, that you aren't talking about house elves?"

House elves... are the punished... perverted descendants of those... who defied... the elven high council...

That didn't actually explain anything to Harry – if anything, it brought more curiosities, but he expected as much from his companion, and didn't bother to press the subject. He did wonder if he had stayed awake in more of his History of Magic classes, if Professor Binns ever talked about any of this in between his endless rantings on goblin rebellions. He certainly had no recollection of anything called the Tartessian War, or any discussions on an ancient elven race in Britain.

"Alright... so this is in an ancient elvish language. Is there a way I can translate it? Or would the house elves know it?"

It is... lost... to the punished ones... There is a book... on the language... go to the far corner... by the mirror...

Harry did as he was directed and was gradually led to an almost horrifyingly large book on the Old Aldric language. He thumbed through the enormous old tome with widened eyes.

'Phonology' was the first section. In it, it described the consonants, then vowels and something called 'vowel harmony'. Next the 'Phonotactics', accent, and linking?

Next section was called 'Morphology'. It covered roots, affixes, word formation on derivation and compounding, and then the book got into the nouns and adjectives, propositions, pronouns, verbs, tenses and conjugation...

Harry felt utterly overwhelmed. Was he going to have to learn an entire bloody language just to translate this book?

He sighed and let his head fall onto the desk in front of him. He was not looking forward to this.

He picked up the enormous book on Old Aldric and began reading the first chapter. After an hour, he left the chamber with a headache and the language book in his bag. He wasn't willing to take the other one out of the chamber with him, since it was far too old and fragile looking. He would have to do his translation work only in the chamber, but he could still read up on the language while in the common room.

– –

The rest of the week dragged on. Harry was anxious for Defense and the opportunity to continue his investigation into 'Moody', and if he was being honest with himself, he had a deep, powerful desire to do something utterly reckless, pertaining to the man. He was still in the process of talking himself out of it though. Despite what he wanted to do, and what he needed to do, he had to wait because he didn't actually have Defense until Thursdays, and couldn't come up with a good excuse to approach Moody out of the blue.

Monday was Herbology, which was boring, but bearable; and then Care of Magical Creatures, which was anything but boring, and only occasionally bearable. After lunch, however, was Divination, which was never bearable at all. They were working on Shell Scrying at the moment, which Harry found utterly idiotic.

The idea was that you hold a sea shell up to your ear and the 'sounds of the ocean' that you heard from it would eventually turn into little voices from sea spirits or some such nonsense, that would whisper prophetic things to you.

The whole exercise just grated on Harry's nerves, and made him wonder that much more about this mystery prophecy that had set the dark lord against him, and utterly fucked up his entire life.

Tuesday was History of Magic – boring – and then Potions after lunch. Harry's performance in Potions class had improved steadily over the term. He had a pretty firm grasp on ingredient interaction, and proper preparation now – or at least a good grasp on how to look it up and cross-reference things correctly. Something which Snape had never actually explained to them, but had somehow expected them to just magically know.

Because of his improved performance, and his tendency to actually know the answers to every question Snape threw at him – thanks mostly to his companion, who stayed in Harry's aware mind almost every potions lesson – Snape had significantly cut back on how often he actually called on Harry in class. This suited Harry just fine, and that trend continued as they brewed a Cough Away potion.

Wednesdays Harry only had a single class – Charms – and spent the rest of the day down in the chamber, slowly working on the translation of the book. He was at least relieved that the ancient, crumbling tomb was thin. It was only about fifty pages long from what he could tell, so at least he wouldn't have to spend an eternity to translate some enormous 800-page book to get to his answers. Translating fifty pages he could deal with. At least... he hoped so.

His work was slow and tedious. He had a new bound notebook of parchment specifically just for translating the book, and was slowly making his way through translating the early pages. From what he could tell so far, it seemed like a log of some historical events in the ancient elven race's history. Nothing that seemed to apply to Voldemort's so called 'task'.

Late into the evening, Harry's stomach reminded him that he had been down there for an extremely long time, and he finally climbed back out of the chamber and made a quick detour to the kitchens before heading up to the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione's curiosity was becoming more and more annoying with each passing day, and this evening, it unfortunately hit an all time peak. The second he entered the common room, she set in on him, asking him where he'd been all day and what he had been doing. She dragged him out of the common room and into a nearby empty classroom so that they could speak privately, but this only irritated Harry further since it denoted the expectation, on Hermione's part, that Harry would be telling her what he'd been up to.

Harry had been using the excuse that he had been jogging around the lake to get into better form, and then practicing various hexes by aiming at trees and into the water. Today, she had apparently gone out to the lake to look for him and seen that he was not there.

"Harry, I just want to know where you were!" she moaned in frustration after several minutes of annoying bickering. "Why won't you just tell me? What are you hiding from us Harry! We're your friends! You know you can trust us!"

"Do I? Do I really know that?" Harry shot back, finally growing too irritated to maintain a friendly mask, or make any more excuses.

"What do you mean?" Hermione said, flinching back as if she had just been slapped.

"Tell me, Hermione – what reasons have I got to trust either you or Ron?"

"Harry! You know you can trust us! We're you're friends!"

"Yeah, were you my friends last November after my name got pulled out of that blasted cup?"

"How many times do I have to apologize for that, Harry! I'm sorry! I was an idiot! I swear I won't ever abandon you again like that!"

"And I'm just supposed to trust that, am I?"

"Yes!"

"The way I look at it is I can trust that you guys will be there for me; base all my plans on having you two there, to rely on if I end up in a pinch, and then end up getting utterly screwed if either of you bail on me again, or aren't there when things go south. Or I can just plan for it all on my own and be prepared to handle whatever comes at me on my own. Personally, I prefer to be prepared to handle things without the need of any assistance, because chances are, when the shit hits the fan, I'm not going to have any assistance."

"Harry..." Hermione whimpered as her lip quivered. "But we can help you! You don't have to tackle the whole world alone!"

"You can't help me in the third task, Hermione. No one can. I'm going to be going into whatever deathly task they come up with, all alone."

"But Harry..."

"No, Hermione. I'm done with this conversation. What I do and where I go everyday is my business. Now BACK OFF!"

Harry spun away from her and stormed out of the classroom, down the corridor, and back into the common room before storming up the stairs towards the boy's dorm.

He was sick of them. All of them. Merlin he needed to get the hell away from the school for a while.

[theredpaladin101]

Voltron Editing Tutorial

Aight so someone asked, and now I’m here. I have made YouTube tutorial videos before here, but I’ll go into more depth on what to do, how to get started, and what I do personally. 

For this, I will be showing you how to make a simple color edit (A request I received of Black Paladin Lance) but I will still describe briefly how you can do Altean/Galra edits (which implies to other edits like outfit changes and more!)

So let’s get started

So lemme get this out of the way - my program is called Clip Studio Paint EX, a $100+ art program with many features, including manga, 3D models, animation, and more. Of course, you can use other programs like Clip Studio Paint Pro and SAI (I have used both before) but this tutorial will follow with EX.

First thing you need to do is figure out what to edit, then get a screenshot. Now, you can either go to Netflix and clip out a screenshot, or find an image on Tumblr/Instagram/other (Note: For the best edit, make sure the image is as clear as possible)

I use Netflix, but I also sometimes go to @voltronreference who posted quite a lot of Voltron screenshots. 

Once you find your image, something you’ll want to do is put the image on a completely new image with the size 1600x900 (or 1600x1000)

Now this part can be tricky. If you use @voltronreference ‘s screenshots, transporting it to another image is easy, as seen below. (To copy and paste, all you need to do is press Ctrl+c then Ctrl+v like usual)

However, if you get a screenshot from Netflix, the image size is probably somewhere in the two hundred. What you’ll need to do is shrink the image before you copy and paste it as seen below. 

Once you have the image how you want, you can start editing! 

Now, this next part is completely up to you! When editing, you have a choice to either only edit what you want to change or the entire thing (Not including Background). I personally edit the entire character so that everything blends together smoothly, but some editors only edit what they change, and that’s completely okay (just make sure everything blends together well).

For edits including changes like Altean/Galra ears or outfit changes, you’ll need to create a new layer above the image. 

If it’s just a color edit, you can completely skip the sketch and jump straight to outlining. 

For Voltron edits, the best tool to use is the Line Tool between 2-4 thickness (3 is the perfect thickness for me almost every time, but sometimes you need thicker/thinner lines) 

Now all you have to do is outline the character as seen below. 

Once you have completely outlined your edit, you can begin coloring. (Note: make sure your colors match your background) If you don’t change the background at all, you keep the same colors except for the ones you’re changing. For the ones you are changing, you can either find another scene with the same background and colors you need (Ex. You need black for Lance’s armor, so find Shiro wearing his armor in the training deck) 

You can either color by hand or use the Select and Fill Tool, as seen below. 

If you use this tool, you’ll need to go back and color in the little nooks the Select Tool couldn’t reach. (Note: Best way to color is by setting each group of colors in different layers (Ex. One layer for hair and eyelashes, another layer for clothes (or three to four layers for clothes, your choice), and a layer for skin) as to avoid constant coloring over and needing to recolor certain areas. My order of layers if Hair, Clothing, then Skin.)

A little fun token for you: Make a separate image for colors for individual characters - the basic colors, as seen below.

Once you got everything colored, you can move onto shading. What you do here is create a completely new layer above all except the outline, and turn it to Multiply. This setting makes the colors darker and colorful depending on the shade color you use. I always use this shade of grey below. 

All you do here is take your Line Tool and outline the shaded areas of your image (Note: You can add your own shades to make it look better, for sometimes Voltron didn’t shade at all/enough) Then use your Select Tool and Fill in your shaded areas (of course go back and fill in the nooks)

Step back and take a look at your edit so far. Does it need a color fix? Any more shading? Once you have everything you like, here comes the fun part (not really) 

Sometimes, the background will still have traces of the character you just colored over, as seen below. 

Going back to the original image layer, all you do it color over the patches with the same color behind it and blur it together to make everything blend better. Once you checked around the entire character for those patches, you’re almost done! 

Going to your Filter Tab: Blur for your shading layer, you will select one of the two options - You will select the first options, which is just Blur, to blur your shading in with the colors better. Or, you will go down to Gaussian Blur and take the strength all the way down to 2.00 - as this gives the least amount of blur, which is the best option in a lot of far away characters. 

Now, keeping the same Blur choices above in mind, you can do one of those with the outline, or not blur it at all. Just go by what you think is the best option to achieve the closest Voltron style as possible. 

And Bingo!! Your edit is complete! 

Now y’all know how to make a Voltron edit (at least how I do it), and even though it looks difficult, if you keeping working on this you’ll be dishing out edits in thirty minutes! 

I hope this helped. If you have any questions or want more details or want to know how to make other edits (Altean/Galra, outfits, character changes, etc.), send in an ask and I’ll explain further. Good luck!

[artyblogs]

Across the Frozen Sea ch1

Star Wars the Clone Wars, Ahsoka/Barriss/Riyo

Across the Frozen Sea summary: Ahsoka, Barriss, and Riyo find themselves stranded in the Pantoran Taiga. They must get back to civilization, but the wilds are more dangerous than they realize. If the cold doesn’t get them, the locals will. 

Next Chapter : Last Chapter

Chapter 1: The Taiga

Barriss comes to on the cold ground. It’s soft, thanks to a carpet of pine needles. The hood of her lined winter cloak has gone askew, covering half of her face, and tangled around her neck are the ribbons of a domino mask. All around her are tall trees, growing so high they obstruct the starry night sky. Barriss’ breath comes out in a cloud.

Someone is talking: a language with tongue clicks and rolling r’s. There are three people here with her, standing a little ways away. They’re dressed against the cold with animal masks pulled down over their heads so that she can’t see their faces: a lion, a snow leopard, and a white wolf. The Leopard talks as they hold up one of Ahsoka’s lightsabers.

The Lion answers in a deep voice that reverberates from his chest. The Leopard clips the lightsaber to their belt and picks up a shovel. They help dig.

The hole the three masked people are digging are about knee-deep and wide enough to fit three people. Barriss tries to get up only to find her wrists and ankles clasped in cuffs. Sheer terror clenches around her, not because of her predicament, but because of the failure it represents.

“Barriss,” someone whispers. Beside Barriss is Senator Riyo Chuchi, lying on the ground in just her suit, and her hands and ankles are also cuffed together. Her gold hair ornaments are missing, leaving her head bare and tousled. She too has a domino mask hanging around her neck.

“Where are we? How did we get here?” Barriss asks in a low voice. Her words are lost among the scrape of shovels and soft sounds of falling dirt.

“I don’t know, but we’re going to be put in the ground if we don’t do something soon,” Riyo whispers. “How long does it take you to unlock things with the Force?”

“Maybe five seconds? I’ve never timed myself. Why?”

“Can you unlock multiple cuffs at once?”

“That’s…complicated. I don’t think so.” It’d be like trying to shoot two different targets with one blaster bolt. But perhaps she should be able to. Jedi Knights and Masters regularly do incredible things with the Force, so why can’t she? There must be something deficient about her, half-baked even. A baby bird tumbling from its nest before its time. A half-built lightsaber clipped to a belt. Although she is here, her competence lies about in pieces back at the Jedi Temple. For only—.

Riyo sighs, shaking Barriss from her thoughts. “Okay. They have blasters and your lightsabers. The cuffs will make a noise as soon as they’re unlocked and that’ll alert our kidnappers. If we unlock them now, we’re dead.”

Barriss slowly turns her head to the side and sees Ahsoka. She’s lying about half a meter behind her, still fast asleep. Unlike her and Riyo, Ahsoka is cuffed and also tied with rope.

“Why did they tie her up? They didn’t tie us up,” Barriss whispers.

“I suspect it’s because they’re afraid of her. Afraid of Togruta in general, I mean, because of the Shili Counter,” Riyo whispers.

Barriss learned about the Shili Counter in one of her history data pads. About a hundred years ago, a vast army once tried to take the Kingdom of Shili by force, with blasters and tanks and ships. They had every conceivable advantage and yet still failed miserably, because they didn’t realize that every single Togruta, regardless of age or gender, was a death monster and nigh unstoppable even after shot several times with a blaster.

As species go, Togruta must be one of the most physically intimidating in the galaxy. Runty adults still reach almost two meters in height, not including their montrals, and manage to pack on pounds of muscle. Togruta are equipped with harder nails, denser bones, razor sharp teeth, and have the ability to see well in near darkness.

(Some historians will also point out that blaster bolts had thinner diameters back then, making them easier to survive—they started making them thicker after that failed invasion—and a bunch of other details as to why Togruta aren’t so tough after all, but that’s not the point. Blaster or not, no one in their right mind would ever want to fight a Togruta.)

At any rate, the Togruta successfully deflected the invasion to great effect, and then the King of Shili launched a counter-attack on the army’s home planet that was so terrifying and efficient that the occupants evacuated en mass.

That’s how Shili got Kiros as a colony. It’s also why Shili and Kiros have been able to keep their neutral status for so long during the Clone Wars. The masked people were probably thinking about that when they decided to tie Ahsoka up.

“I could wake her and we could work together to unlock these cuffs,” Barriss whispers.

“Good idea, but if you wake her now, she’ll raise a fuss and our abductors will kill us,” Riyo whispers.

“You don’t know that.”

“You look at Ahsoka again and tell me she won’t make a fuss.”

Ahsoka is scowling in her sleep, her body tensed like a coiled spring. The Force Bond between them is alit with a sort of turmoil in Ahsoka’s head and in her heart.

“Then…hmm.” If Barriss summons her lightsaber, they’ll die, at least one of them will anyway. Same if she tries to summon their blasters. If they unlock any of the cuffs, they’ll die. If they try to run, they’ll die. If they stay, they’ll die. Die, die, die, die, die.

But maybe not. If one of them must die, then….

“I could give you time to escape,” Barriss whispers. “I could use the Force to slam one of them into the other two and then they would focus on me. I’ll be the distraction while you and Ahsoka run.”

Riyo’s gold eyes narrow and her mouth thins. “Respectfully, Master Jedi, that’s an unacceptable plan.”

Barriss resists the urge to sigh. The unmitigated arrogance that people have when they reject something without suggesting an alternative will always test her patience. It is Barriss’ responsibility to get Riyo out of here alive. She is the expert, not Riyo. If this is the best course of action, which it is, then that’s what they’ll do. And if it means that she should fall, then perhaps that is for the best. The weight of her lightsaber is already conspicuously absent from her belt, and it could be anywhere by now. Does the Jedi make the lightsaber, or does the lightsaber make the Jedi? Who is Barriss if she isn’t armed?

Better to be useful here and now, than to drag her empty husk back to the Temple.

“What other choice do we have?” Barriss asks.

“Give me a moment and I’ll produce one for you.” A strange look flickers over Riyo’s face. Fear and resignation disappear as quickly as they appear until she clenches her jaw.

“You have a plan?” Barriss asks. “How do you have a plan that quickly?”

“It was plan Grek, which is the only scenario that gets all of us out of here alive and relatively intact.”

“How many plans did you—wait, never mind. What is this plan?”

“You have to wake up Ahsoka first, then work with her to unlock both of her cuffs. Free her first, all right? Free her and she’ll do the rest. I’ll make a distraction.”

“What? Riyo, they’ll kill you.”

“That will take six seconds. Maybe seven if I’m feisty enough.”

By the Force, she planned down to the second? “Let’s talk about this more. There’s got to be another way.”

Riyo wriggles upright. “There is no other way. And it’s got to be now before I lose my nerve.”

“Wait, stop!”

But the smaller girl is already hopping away. The Wolf looks up at her and points.

“Ay! Bambambe!”

“Nceda,” Riyo shouts. “Nced-ah!”

The Lion and the Leopard drop their shovels and run after her. They scoop her up, but she twists around and kicks until she falls out of their hands, landing onto the ground with a muffled thump. They try to stop her again, and it devolves to a fight.

“Eish! Uyandila!” The Leopard pulls away and makes a fist.

Barriss sends a frantic nudge through the Force. “Ahsoka? Ahsoka, wake up! Ah!”

She rolls away as Ahsoka roars and lashes out, her manacled fists whistling past her head.

“Stop! Stop, it’s me.”

Ahsoka’s eyes clear as she focuses on Barriss. “Uh, Barriss? Where are we? What happened to us?” Her words slur into each other.

“I don’t know, but we have to unlock your cuffs.” Barriss winces as Riyo screams.

Ahsoka’s blue eyes darken. “Is that Riyo?”

“Yes, it’s Riyo. She’s in trouble and you need to focus if you want to help her. You free your hands, and I’ll free your feet.”

The Wolf reaches into her coat and brings out a blaster. She aims it at Riyo.

Barriss closes her eyes and reaches out with the Force, inspecting the lock on Ahsoka’s cuffs. She can see the mechanism in her mind’s eye. She can see the tumblers and how they turn. Barriss takes a deep breath and turns her hand.

CLICK.

Both of Ahsoka’s cuffs fall open with a loud clatter. The masked people turn to look, leaving Riyo huddled on the ground.

Ahsoka rises like vengeance, tall and broad, her upper lip curled in a snarl. She reaches up and tears through the ropes as if they were flimsi and lets them drop to her feet, useless.

The Lion and the Leopard shrink away from her, but the Wolf aims at her and fires.

PEW PEW.

The first shot misses and whizzes past into the forest, and Ashoka simply ducks the next. She rushes forward and punches the Lion in the gut, lifting him a foot in the air.

“Kark!” The Leopard turns and runs into the trees, screaming.

“Ay! Buya!” The Wolf shouts. She fires again, but Ahsoka simply uses the Lion as a shield. She Force-banishes the Lion at the Wolf and then chases her into the forest. The sounds of blaster fire and panicked shouting fade away as they run off.

“Riyo!” Barriss shouts as she frees herself. She straightens her hood as she stands up and almost trips over her shackles, but kicks them away, then rushes to Riyo’s side and gently rolls her over onto her back. “Riyo?”

A dark purple bruise is already forming around Riyo’s eye and her clothes are covered in pine needles. She’s trembling. Barriss unlocks the cuffs and tosses them over her shoulder and as she does this, Riyo’s hand comes up and grabs onto Barriss’s cloak.

“That was so scary,” Riyo whispers. Her eyes are glassy with tears.

Barriss covers Riyo’s hand with hers. “Never do that again, alright? Ahsoka and I are supposed to protect you. Let us protect you.”

“Right. You’re right. That was stupid of me.”

Guilt wells up within Barriss. “But then, you wouldn’t have had to come up with such an absurd plan if Ahsoka and I were doing our jobs as we were supposed to.”

Riyo’s frown deepens. In the pause, the faint crackle of a lightsaber blade joins the pop of blaster bolts.

“I’m going to treat you now,” Barriss says.

“Okay.”

Barriss takes a deep breath and lets the Force well up within her. She releases it in a gentle stream as she lightly traces Riyo’s bruise with a fingertip, easing it away until no sign of it is left. She moves down to deal with another bruise on her arm, and then on to another one on her knee. Injuries are easy to sense when she’s open like this. The Force is supposed to flow through the universe like water, but doesn’t pass through injuries. The energy is stymied.

When Barriss opens her eyes again, it’s to find Riyo looking up at her in awe, her mouth slightly agape. Barriss’ stomach does a funny flip and she clears her throat.

“You’re all set.” Barriss takes Riyo’s hands and pulls her back on her feet.

“Thank you. Are you all right?” Riyo asks.

“Pardon?”

“It’s what you said earlier. You know that whatever happened to us, it isn’t your fault.”

Barriss drops her gaze and stares at their clasped hands. Riyo is warm, warm, warm, even in the Force, and her concern is palpable. Barriss lets go.

“No. Ahsoka may be able to say that; she’s a padawan. Whatever went wrong, it’s my responsibility.”

Riyo slowly drops her hands her side, frowning. “You think you failed this mission.”

Barriss can’t help but wince. “I’ve never failed anything before.”

“There’s your problem. You think this mission’s over. It’s not.”

“Please explain.”

“If I recall correctly, your job is to keep me safe.”

Barriss scoffs. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere. You almost got killed.”

“Yes, and you patched me up. I’m with you and Ahsoka. I’m safe,” Riyo says. She says this with so much conviction that Barriss finds it hard to argue further.

SNAP.

Barriss and Riyo turn at the sound of a snapping twig, but there’s only darkness. Barriss steps in front of Riyo and raises her hands. She doesn’t have a lightsaber, but that doesn’t mean she can’t fight.

“Show yourself!”

There’s a green flash of pupils before Ahsoka emerges from the trees. “It’s just me.”

Barriss releases a long breath and lowers her hands. “Are you all right? You’re bleeding.”

There’s a shallow scratch on Ahsoka’s cheek. Barriss steps closer, but Ahsoka turns away.

“I’m fine.”

“Ahsoka….”

“Barriss. Stop.” Ahsoka’s hardened voice stops her in her tracks, and the Force Bond closes off as if by a durasteel door. Barriss lowers her hands again, this time reluctantly.

“Are they still out there?” Riyo asks.

“One hopped into a speeder and drove off. But I was able to get our lightabers from him before he escaped.” Ahsoka holds out Barriss’ lightsaber.

“Thank you.” Barriss takes the lightsaber with both hands and stares numbly down at it. Of all the things that Barriss has asked of Ahsoka, the only major thing she refused to do was facilitate Barriss’s own destruction in that medical station. She didn’t even realize how aware, or conscious, she was of the Force Bond until it fell inert just now. It’s jarring and unnerving, and while Barriss wouldn’t describe herself as feeling very strongly about most things (it’s rather un-Jedi to be so opinionated) she greatly dislikes this. Fear, stronger than the fear of their predicament, eats into her.

There must be some way she can help Ahsoka, and she’ll find it eventually. Barriss clips the lightsaber onto her belt.

Ahsoka reaches into her parka and pulls out an old bowie hunting knife still in its sheath. “I couldn’t find your wallet, or your hair thingies, but I found this.”

Riyo gasps and pats herself down. “Gods, they robbed me. Thank you, Ahsoka!”

The stripes of Ahsoka’s lekku darken, and her voice softens the way it usually does when Ahsoka talks to either of them. “Sorry, I couldn’t find more.”

“Nonsense, everything else is replaceable. It’s a miracle that you found anything at all.” Riyo accepts the knife and clutches it to her chest.

“Is that knife important?” Barriss asks. According to her research, all Pantorans are armed with knives, but she’s never seen Riyo with that particular one. On Coruscant, Riyo keeps a much smaller, decorative knife tucked into the waistband of her skirt. Where was she keeping that monstrosity? It must be longer than her forearm.

“When the Gods send you a blessing, you better be prepared to receive it.” Riyo tucks the knife into the waistband of her shirt.

“That doesn’t sound ominous at all.” Ahsoka looks down at the dead lion-masked man, then takes a handful of the front of the body’s shirt and drags it over to the grave, where it drops in with a muffled thump.

“Should we, uh, bury him properly?”

“We don’t bury our dead, we drown them,” Riyo says. Ahsoka’s eyes widen.

“Cool. We’re not doing that. Different question: where are we?” Ahsoka asks.

“I don’t know,” Barriss says.

“None of us know,” Riyo says.

Ahsoka swears in Huttese.

“Judging from the flora around us, we’re still on Pantora,” Riyo says.

“Okay! That’s good. We can work with that,” Ahsoka says.

Riyo cringes. “It actually might not be okay. Winter is about to start and we can’t be out here. Pantoran blizzards are brutal.”

Barriss sighs. “And if that isn’t enough, someone wants us dead. Whoever did this hired these men and was connected enough to know where and when to ambush us.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “Whatever. Bring it. I’m not worried about the guys after us. We just beat three of them and we’ll fight whoever else wants some.”

“I agree. I’m not worried about whoever dropped us out here, I’m worried about where we are. We’re not just stranded in Pantora, we’re stranded in the Pantoran countryside,” Riyo says.

“You mean we’re in the Taiga? Is it really so bad?” Barriss asks.

“Yes! Welcome to the Pantoran Taiga, Master Jedi. There’s more danger than you realize.”

“Cool.” Ahsoka says. That’s all she says. Riyo gives her an incredulous look.

Ahsoka gives a halfhearted smile. “Listen, Riyo. We said we’d keep you safe and we will. We have our lightsabers and we have each other. Whatever this place can dish out, the three of us can totally handle it. Right, Barriss?”

“Right! I suppose….”

“Barriss, please! I’m trying to be optimistic. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can get back to the Summit.”

“The Summit! That must be why we’re out here. Someone must be trying to sabotage the Summit,” Riyo says. She begins to pace. “We need to contact Sprekker about a possible saboteur. He’ll know what to do.”

Ahsoka smiles. “All right. This is your planet, Riyo. Do you know enough about it to lead us back to civilization?”

Riyo stops pacing and turns to them, her face set with determination. “Yes, I do.”

Want to read them on Ao3 or on FF..net? Click here for the links. 

[cleansingbrushblog-blog]

Debunking 12 Myths About Cleansing Brushes

LET’S DEBUNK 12 MYTHS ABOUT FACIAL BRUSHES They’ve been on the market for quite some time now, but facial cleansing brushes are still trending in the world of skincare (and for a good reason). When it comes to exfoliating, polishing and improving your complexion, there’s just no competition. Here are just a few reasons why a facial brush is the pinnacle of skincare: 1 . Offers a deeper and more thorough cleanse than just using your fingers or a washcloth. The bristles penetrate further into the surface of your skin, getting rid of more dirt, debris, and oil.

2 . Your skin renews itself every 28 days and exfoliation from a cleansing brush speeds up this process. 3. Exfoliation tightens skin, shrinking the appearance of pores over time. Learn more info. check out here: face cleansing brush 4. Using a facial brush stimulates the surface of your skin, making it more radiant and smooth. 5. Your lymphatic system collects cellular waste and delivers it to your blood for elimination. Facial brushes stimulate this process and help your skin “detox”. 6. You’ll be prepped for the rest of your skincare routine. Your serum and moisturizer, for example , will be easily absorbed so you’ll see better results. Don’t forget to always follow up with SPF. Despite these amazing benefits, there’s a lot of misinformation and confusion about these must-have skincare tools. So , let’s start by debunking 12 of the most common misconceptions about them. 1 . “They’ll irritate my skin and make me break out. ” It’s all about knowing your skin type, prepping it for cleansing and using the brush the right way. Whether you prefer a makeup remover wipe, micellar water or an oil cleanser, remove your makeup before using a cleansing brush. It can’t completely remove makeup by itself. In fact , it can actually push makeup deeper into pores, causing breakouts. Use plenty of cleanser and water on the brush head to avoid irritation. It’s normal to experience an acne flare-up after using a cleansing brush for the first time. This is called the “adjustment period”, “transient acne” or “skin purging”. Generally, your cheeks, temples, and chin are the most prone to breakouts. The reason for this is that your skin is shedding dead skin cells at a faster rate than normal and all the underlying bacteria are coming to the surface in the form of pimples. 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Rinse it under warm water and use an unscented liquid soap to remove dirt and makeup residue. Then, massage the bristles clockwise with your clean fingers for 1 minute, switch to counterclockwise and repeat. This prevents breakout-causing bacteria from building up. Once a week, soak the brush head in a bowl of rubbing alcohol for 1 minute (and don’t rinse). This will kill any remaining bacteria. Make sure to always let your brush head air-dry on a clean towel in a well-ventilated room. To remove residue or buildup on the handle, clean it at least once a week by removing the head attachment and wiping it thoroughly with a damp, soapy towel. For the best results, replace your brush head every 3 months and never share it with other people. 4. “I’ll exfoliate too much. ” Too much exfoliation can lead to red, irritated, dry skin that feels scratchy or tight. No matter your skin type, start off slow (1-2 times a week) to see how your skin reacts. 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You just have to pick the right one and the right cleanser to go with it. Anything that’s too harsh can exacerbate acne. Try slowly working up to using the brush 2-4 times a week and pay attention to whether pimples become aggravated. If they do, scale back or take a break. Note: Use caution around cystic acne, which occurs deep below the skin and is often painful. Brushing can irritate the cysts, leading to more irritation and allow more bacteria to enter the pores. 7. “They’re all the same. ” There are plenty of brands that have their claim to fame or declare their cleansing brush the “best”. But , not all brushes are created equal. Find one that’s right for your skin’s specific needs and your lifestyle (i. e. rechargeable vs . battery powered). First, quality varies and this is reflected in the pricing. And, some--including ours--are cruelty-free. Second, different cleansing brushes serve different purposes. For example , some increase collagen production to target fine lines and wrinkles, while others aim to diminish the appearance of pores. There are even waterproof ones available. Third, brush heads are unique. Some come in kits and for some brushes, you have to buy them separately. They also can be interchangeable. Also, they can spin in different directions (i. e. clockwise/counterclockwise). For example , some rotate, some pulse and some oscillate a certain number of times per second. They usually come with multiple speeds. Brush heads are made out of different materials, like nylon, latex or silicone. They can be natural or synthetic. And, depending on their purpose, some are finer and others are more thick and coarse. 8. “It doesn’t matter what cleanser I use with the brush. ” Choosing a gentle cleanser that works well with your skin will give you the best results. A cream, foaming or gel formula will work best with the cleansing brush. Don’t use a physical or chemical exfoliant when using a cleansing brush (i. e. a scrub with little beads or nuts, or a cleanser with glycolic acid). That’ll provide too much exfoliation and can cause a range of other problems (like breaking down skin tissue). We recommend our Main Squeeze Daily Cream Cleanser. It goes on like a cream and begins to lightly foam when wet, giving you a gentle (and therapeutic) cleansing experience. 9. “They’re not worth the hype. ” There’s no arguing, cleansing brushes have become a staple in many skincare routines because they deliver noticeable, positive results. Your skin is the largest organ on your body and it needs to be cared for. And, when you consider you can get professional results without having to go to a dermatologist or esthetician, it’s hard to see a downside. They’re also portable and extremely efficient, surpassing most other cleansing methods. Even better? They come in different colors and sizes, depending on your preference. 10. “They’re hard to use. ” They may look intimidating, but they’re actually fairly easy to use. In fact , they are far less work than traditional methods like your hands or a washcloth. Before buying one, it helps to do research and read reviews online. It’s never a bad idea to ask your dermatologist or esthetician for their recommendations and advice. Just make sure you read the instructions carefully and don’t be afraid to reach out to the company if you have any questions. Some of the best advice? Make sure you’re not pushing the brush down on your skin too hard. Wet your face and brush first and apply a nickel-sized amount of cleanser to the side of the brush (not the center). Let the bristles glide across your skin and use gentle, circular motions. As a general rule of thumb, cleanse your forehead, nose, and chin for 20 seconds each and cleanse your cheeks for 10 seconds each. Don’t do more than 1 minute. You’ll get the hang of it after a few uses. The only thing you have to remember is to charge it or replace the batteries and change out the brush head. 11. “My skin type doesn’t matter. ” This is far from the truth. For example , a person with acne-prone skin has different needs than a person with dry skin. Your skin type will determine what kind of cleanser and brush head to use and how often you should use it. Normal and oily skin types can eventually work up to using the brush once a day, while dry and sensitive skin types should stick to 1-2 times a week. In the end, you know what’s best for you. 12. “I can use the same brush on my entire body. ” This is strongly not recommended. If you use the same brush head on your body as on your face, you’re transferring bacteria and dead skin cells. This increases your chances of a breakout. Not to mention, the skin on your face is thinner and more delicate than the skin on your body. So , body cleansing brushes are designed differently. The bristles are firmer and cover more area. They can also be too harsh for your skin and can cause redness and irritation. The Honest Truth Cleansing brushes are some of the best tools for anyone’s skincare routine. Don’t be intimidated by them. Just remember to do your research and ask questions. With time and effort, you’ll notice a visible change in how your skin looks and feels. If you’re looking for a cleansing brush that’s right for you, check out our best-selling facial brush and get a secret discount. To know more details visit here: facial cleansing brush

[veryangryhedgehog]

“Time to Form the Scooby Gang,” an Ede Valley story by Hedgehog.

As soon as Cindy hung up the phone, Tommy started grabbing his stuff. He knew from experience that he wasn’t going to have to seek out Cowell to get out of work, and sure enough, there he was a split second later, sitting calmly at the bar.

“Going to save your brother already?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Going to try. And not going to ask how you know that.”

“Best not,” he made a funny face, then stood. “Well, it looks like we’re closing up shop early today…”

~~ o ~~

Aurum was studying the runes on the hilt of a thousand-year-old sword when Servus scrambled in, pantomiming a telephone next to his ear.

“Lucius?” she asked after picking up the old rotary phone she kept just outside the office. “You’re calling awfully late.”

“Something big’s happening, Aurum. We’re assembling a posse. Can we meet at the East Branch?”

“Of course,” she blinked. “You’re on your way already, I take it?”

“You know me too well. Thanks, Aurum.”

She hung up the line, and put on a pot of coffee. It was going to be a long night.

~~ o ~~

The air was tense as Marcell and Cindy sped through the darkened streets in the Ford Falcon. Marcell kept stealing glances away from the road to look at Cindy. Her face was hard, nearly angry, but her hands shook.

“You’re planning on breaking him out, aren’t you?” he sighed.

“Of course,” she said simply.

He shook his head. “Well, if we’re going to do this, we’ll need all the help we can get. I don’t suppose you know anyone who’d be helpful in a rescue mission?”

Cindy only had to think for a split second. “Well,” she began. “There is someone…”

~~ o ~~

Lila was failing to fall asleep when she got the call.

The old flip phone on the ground next to her head began vibrating violently, and the small screen lit up the room with a harsh, white light. Who the hell would call her this late at night? Figuring it was some robot telemarketer, she hit the button without looking at the name and held the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” she mumbled, blinking.

“Lila?” It was Cindy. Lila couldn’t help hearing the slight hitch of panic in her voice. “You know that favor you and Niko owe me?”

“What do you need me to do?” She threw the blankets aside and stood, already fully dressed. Even after several months of hiding without incident, she still couldn’t get out of the habit.

On the other end, Cindy sighed. “My brother’s in trouble. We’re assembling a party and meeting at the East Branch of the library.”

“The library?” she asked. “Why there?”

“You’ll… see when you get there,” was the only explanation given.

“Alright,” Lila nodded, before realizing that Cindy couldn’t see her. “Count us in.”

“Thank you,” Cindy whispered, before hanging up.

The room went dark again as the screen flicked off, but Lila didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her katana which she had laid against the wall next to her and placed it carefully in its case.

She remembered seeing this sword hanging on display at the dojo back in the city. She remembered watching it all those years she had trained there, needing to get better faster, needing to be stronger, more. So she could protect Niko. So she could be worthy to do so. Amada-Sensei, the master of the dojo, had known that she was going to put the things he taught her to much more practical use than his other students, even though she had never told him so.

“Take the sword,” he commanded, as she left the dojo for the last time. “I’ve seen you watching it.”

She blinked, taken aback. “But why?” she asked. “You said that sword has been in your family for centuries. I couldn’t possibly.”

“I have a feeling you’ll get more use out of it than I am,” he smiled wryly, wrinkles deepening. “And this way, you’ll have all of my ancestors to watch over you.”

Lila crossed the quiet hallway to Niko’s room, and knocked gently. No answer. Niko was a heavy sleeper. She opened the door a crack merely by pushing on it lightly and peered inside. He was hopelessly tanged in the bedsheets on the futon.

He looked young when he was sleeping, even though he would be eighteen in a matter of days. His face was free from creases, and he lacked the hard look that often characterized his golden eyes. When she saw him like this, she couldn’t help seeing the young boy in the alleyway, betrayed and about to be offed by his bodyguard. That is, until she, a street rat with everything to prove, swooped in and pulled him out of there.

But that had been a long time ago, and so many things had changed. And she couldn’t let him sleep forever. “Niko,” she hissed. “Niko!”

He bolted upwards. “Wha…?”

“It’s Cindy,” she said. “She’s calling in her favor.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It sounded like an emergency,” she explained. “Something about her brother.”

He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Shit. Alright. Gimme a minute.”

After closing the door, Lila flicked on the bathroom light to pull up her hair. She apologized to the poor, strained hair tie that had the job of keeping the tangled mess of carrottop mane out of her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at her own face in the mirror. For some reason, she was struck at just that moment by how old she looked. Her face was thinner than she remembered, harder. It had been a long time since she’d really looked at herself.

Niko’s door opened again, and through the mirror Lila saw him slipping his guns under his jacket.

“Alright,” he said, “where are we going?”

“The East Branch of the library.”

“Uh… why?”

“That’s all she said. She was a little panicked so I didn’t press. Apparently we’re meeting a group there.”

“Okay then. Let’s ride.”

That authoritative tone was so reminiscent of Mikhail, the senior Borozov, that she nearly stopped in her tracks.

Of all the crazy, dangerous things that had occurred throughout her life, the one she was sure she would never forget was the day that she was called into the office of Mikhail Borozov, the day she became Niko’s bodyguard.

He had stared at her over the stately desk, his large office chair and the man himself dwarfing her in comparison. But she would not shrink back, regardless of how much she wanted to. To gain his respect she must meet his eye.

“So, you intend to guard the life of my son?” He had a heavy accent, yet his grammar was perfect.

She simply nodded.

“And you understand that you hold the future of the Borozov line, my legacy, in your hands?”

“With all due respect sir,” she closed her heart, made her eyes cold as ice. He could smell fear, she was sure of it. “With all due respect,” she repeated. “I don’t care about preserving your legacy. Sir.”

Mikhail froze. People didn’t talk to him like that, and if they did, they were likely to end up dead in an alleyway in a matter of hours. “What did you say?” He was giving her a chance to redeem herself, to take it back.

But he hadn’t heard everything yet. “But to protect your son, I would lay down my life in an instant.”

He paused, considering this.

“I just thought you should know where my priorities lie.”

For a moment, there was silence. Lila held her breath. And then he started laughing. “I see, little firecracker. Thank you for enlightening me. I believe Nikolai will be safe in your hands.”

She was a lot of him in Niko sometimes, every once in a while when he wasn’t consciously obscuring it behind a layer of bravado. It was this look in his eyes, that hard one that demanded respect.

Williams street was quiet at night. Too quiet. Lila didn’t like it. You couldn’t blend into an empty street. But they persevered, and a half-an-hour later they were staring up at the East Branch, the large, domed building looming over them.

It felt strange to be here, at a library of all places. Most operation meetings Lila had attended had been in smoky back offices, or in a few last minute cases, alleyways. But she knew for a fact that nothing Cindy was involved in was ever normal. So they pushed open the large doors and hurried inside.

The East Branch was more like a collection than a public library, she noticed, as she peaked through the doors. A glass case contained an old, tattered tome while a lot of other books were simply inaccessible due to the height they were placed at on the rounded shelves. It was also rather dark. She assumed that during the day the skylight above would flood the room with natural light, but now there were only a few lamps struggling to hold back the gloom of midnight.

Across the room, huddled around a cluttered desk was Cindy, and three people that Lila didn’t recognize. She hadn’t been sure what state she would find Cindy in, but apart from her wildly tangled hair she looked surprisingly composed.

Niko coughed, and the four looked up. The pale man with his arm around Cindy’s shoulder tensed, but she put her hand on his before running over to them. She wrapped her arms around Lila’s middle and squeezed. Lila looked over at Niko, who shrugged. How did one ‘hug’ again? It took her a moment to remember how to position her arms, but then she hugged back.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Cindy whispered.

Niko smirked, attempting to get a smile out of her. “Hey, I’m a man of my word,” he cut in. “I said I owe you one, so here we are, even if it is the middle of the night.”

“I’m sorry I had to disturb your beauty rest,” the corners of her mouth twitched upwards. She led them over to the rest of the group. “This is Lucius,” she gestured to the thin, pale man. Ah, so this was the Marcell Lila had heard so much about. He was good-looking, she’d give him that, in a tired sort of way, but much too tall for her taste. She nodded at him, attempting to convey that for now he had her approval, but she would not hesitate to hurt him very badly if anything happened to Cindy.

“And this is Aurum,” the middle-aged woman with shockingly sharp fingernails, “And Servus,” the kid with the eccentric fashion sense. “She’s actually a dragon who runs the library, and he’s her automaton assistant.”

“And that was a sentence I never thought I’d hear,” Niko blinked rapidly.

“That’s a sentence I never thought I’d say,” Cindy replied. “And this is Niko Borozov and Lila Finn.”

“Borozov?” Aurum’s eyes somehow managed to grow even wider. “Of the Borozovs?”

Niko sighed. “Yes. Those Borozovs.”

“More than that,” said a new voice from the door behind them. “He’s the heir of the whole operation.”

They turned, only to see Cowell slink through the door, followed sheepishly by Tommy. “What are you doing here?” Cindy asked, pointing at the grinning daemon.

“Sorry, Cindy.” Tommy ducked his head. “He insisted on coming.”

Cindy just shook her head. “Tommy, you useless bisexual.”

But before Tommy could defend himself, Cowell stepped properly into the room. “Aurum!” his grin widened until it was rather Cheshire-like. “It’s been a long time, my dear. How is that knowledge treating you?”

The librarian bristled. “Not so well, considering I can’t really use it. You don’t make fair deals.”

“My deals are perfectly reasonable,” he said. “It’s not my fault that no one asks the right questions.”

“Oh please,” Marcell took a step forward. “’Perspective’ and ‘Permanence’ are bullshit words and you know it.”

Lila knew about Cindy’s deal, of course, but the mention of ‘permanence’ was new to her. It seemed as if Cindy wasn’t the only one here who had dealt with Cowell.

“Irrelevant,” Cowell chuckled. “But I haven’t come here to fight with you all. I simply want to help/”

“How could you help?” Cindy spoke up.

He approached the desk cautiously, and the rest grudgingly let him. “Information,” he grinned. “I know that you lot are going to spend the new few hours planning for every possibility come the morning. What if young Mike comes out of that school? What if he doesn’t? What if those precocious young revolutionaries are hostile, etc, etc. Except that I know exactly what’s going to happen there in front of that school, and since it would be so dreadfully boring to listen to you all squabble back and forth for hours on end I might as well just tell you.”

There was silence for a second.

“But I’ve been rude, haven’t I? Most of you don’t even know what’s happening yet and here I am blabbing off about having all the spoilers. I leave the floor to you, miss.” He bowed to Cindy, and all eyes turned to her.

She took a deep breath, and told them about Mike, and about St. Adelaide’s.

“And you haven’t heard from him in two weeks?” Lila asked. Though she didn’t say, she looked to Niko and could tell that he was thinking the same thing: that kid might be beyond saving.

Cindy just shook her head.

“Don’t worry,” Tommy said, ruffling her hair. “We’re gonna get him back.”

“Alright, Cowell,” Cindy nearly growled at him. “What do you know?”

“And it had better be good,” Marcell added, before Cindy put a hand on his shoulder.

“Now,” Cowell clapped his hands together. “My precognizance is somewhat limited. I can’t give you a plan, nor can I tell you what will happen once you’re inside. That is all up to you, I’m afraid.”

“Whoa whoa,” Marcell interrupted him. “Who said anything about going inside?”

Cowell shook his head, clicking his tongue condescendingly. “Did you really expect any less? That would certainly make for a disappointing climax. So before I continue, does anyone else have any questions, comments? Snide remarks?” He paused, but was met with only silence. “Alright then. In the morning, all the rich parents and press will be gathered outside the gates of the school. Said gates will open, the children will come out, but young Mike, of course, will not be among them.”

‘Do you know why?” Cindy asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“Not a solitary clue.” For the life of her, Lila couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. “All I know is you’ll have to barter your way in.”

“Barter?” Tommy scoffed. “We can’t force our way in? They’re just kids, right?”

Aurum shook her head. “The most brilliant, insane bunch of children in the world.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate them if I were you,” Cowell corroborated. “Unfortunately, they won’t let any adults inside.”

Both Tommy and Marcell bristled at this. “They’re not gonna let me in to see my own brother?”

“It appears that in their eyes, adults are the ones who have caused all their problems.”

“So which of us are still underage?” Aurum glanced back and forth rapidly between them.

“Niko and Lila are both seventeen,” Cindy supplied, “and I could easily pass for that as well.”

“I’m coming too,” Tommy pointed to himself, but Cowell shook his head.

“They’ll never let you in. You look far too old.”

Marcell grimaced. “But there’s no way we can let the three of them go alone without some way of communicating with them…”

Slowly, the group’s eyes all turned to Servus the automaton, who hadn’t said a word this whole time. Lila and Niko turned to each other, confused.

“They’ll never let him take the digital camera in,” Aurum began.

“Sorry,” Niko interrupted. “But I’m sorta lost. How could a camera help? I don’t see any livestreaming equipment around here.”

“I can see through the camera!” Aurum beamed.

“What?” Lila asked, blinking.

Cindy shook her head. “Don’t ask. Even she doesn’t know.”

“Now like a said, a camera won’t work this time around, but he’s a machine as well. It’ll be taxing, but I believe that if I focus hard enough, I should be able to see through him directly.”

“Alright then, so what happens once they get inside?” Tommy leaned down over the desk.

“Well, that depends,” Aurum shrugged. “We have no idea if they’re keeping Michael against his will, or if he has chosen to stay of his own accord, or any other possible scenario.”

Even before he stepped forward, Lila knew he was going to put his hat in the ring. This was Niko’s time to shine. “You leave that to me and Lila,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of experience with uh… variable situations.”

Marcell and Aurum examined the two for a moment, sizing them up. It was Marcell who nodded first.

“Alright,” he said. “We’re putting Cindy and Mike’s lives into your hands.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” Cindy grumbled.

Marcell grabbed her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. “I know,” he muttered into her hair, “But I will always worry regardless.”

“Well,” she pulled away after a moment. “The best thing to do is prepare. There’s a couple of charms I can cast in the next few hours.”

“Use the back room,” Aurum instructed. “Servus will help you. He knows where everything is. Servus!” she said, and the automaton immediately faced her with attention. “Follow Cindy, do what she says.”

He nodded once, and the two wandered off to wherever “the back room” was.

The others broke off slowly, to prepare in their own way or sleep for a few hours. Niko and Lila slunk into a corner of the room.

“I think there’s something they’re not telling us,” Lila confessed, after glancing around to see that no one else was watching.

“You think?” Niko’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “There’s definitely something else at play here. Why would they want to keep such a close eye on us just to grab Cindy’s brother?”

Lila took a deep breath, considering. “So, what do we do?” she asked finally.

“For now, we play along. I dunno about Cindy’s boytoy or the dragon lady, but at the very least I trust Cindy. I don’t think they mean us harm.”

Deep down, Lila couldn’t help feeling a twinge of excitement. It had been dull being cooped up in the abandoned house, now maybe Lila could stretch her muscles a little. She could tell that Niko felt the same.

“Are you ready?”

He scoffed. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

[bigskydreaming]

Random bits of writing beneath the cut. Yo @russianspacegeckosexparty, these are scenes yanked from the 10 years ago manuscript I was telling you about, the magic I cannibalized to use for the magic system/worldbuilding in this series. 

Mostly just action scenes so the only thing you really need to know in order to follow is that the Cunninghams are a family of nine kids (yeah I know, look this was a very early book of mine), who each have magic that manifests via a specific medium. They can do pretty much anything they can imagine involving that medium, even if it doesn’t make any kind of physical or logical sense or just riffs off of symbolism - however it doesn’t always work the way they think it will. Its magic without instruction manual. They’re all just winging it.

Other key detail is that for most of the book they were all dealing with a curse someone’d put on their family years ago, where the sight of one another whipped them into a homicidal rage and thus they had to stay apart and take great care not to be around each other in ways that could trigger it. Eventually, they discovered that there was another magic family out there (well, several), and one in particular had put the curse on them for Reasons.

Anyway, of the Cunninghams, oldest was Serena, whose magic involved tears, Trent (shadows), Dennis (blood), Cam (art), Alice (mirrors), Rowan (coins), Katie (echoes), Megan (fingerprints) and Micah (dust). 

The other family in this had similarly distinct magic, with Paul (breath), Mina (light), David (music), Jonas (crossroads) and Teri (memories).

Oh and the last three scenes that don’t make sense chronologically are flashbacks of Micah’s (the narrator) from when he was younger, thanks to memory magic making him relive them.

***************

I spun to see the windows lining the side of the house that faced us – changing, for lack of a better way to describe them.  The glass folded out away from the walls, then grew together in a slick, sinuous movement that formed a bridge into the sky, snaking and curving back on itself.  It thickened until the bridge was a column that expanded towards the base, branching out with a thinner neck, wings, legs, arms.  The whole sight was painful to watch, trying to wrap my mind around the impossibility of it and just how many laws of physics were violated as Alice grew a glass dragon out of Mom’s prized windows.

“Oh, that’s just Alice,” I said.  “She and Cam are having a little spat.”

“I see.”  Teri sounded faint.  “Do we really want ring side seats for this?”

“Probably not.  Especially since Alice’s mirror magic can’t really do something like that on her own.  A stunt like that only works if she’s mirroring someone else’s magic, like, a kind of reflection of it.”

“Which means Cam’s probably test driving his new tattoo,” I added as a trumpeting roar shook the beach and a giant golden dragon crashed through the wall of my house.  “Also, run!”

I grabbed her by the hand and we tore down the beach, the sand catching at our heels and making us stumble.  The mirror dragon roared back, a strange tinkling sound somehow reminiscent of both wind chimes and nails on a chalkboard.  The ground darkened beneath their shadows as the two behemoths slammed together overhead, and then strange prisms of light danced across the dunes.  The sun was shining through Alice’s dragon as much as it was forced around it.  Her and her damn glass and mirrors.  She liked to mess with physics as much as possible.  You’d think she had a personal beef with Einstein or something.  

We reached the cliff and pressed ourselves up against its face.  I hoped the angle would be enough to protect us from sight.  I could never be sure how the logistics of Cam and Alice’s magic worked.  Alice could scry through mirrors, but could she see through her mirror dragon’s eyes?  And if so, would catching sight of me that way be enough to trigger the curse?  And what about Cam’s dragon?  Being a tattoo, I figured it probably had a closer link to him than Alice’s.

Ugh.  Fucking magic.  The headaches it gave were so not worth the price of admission.

“What do we do now?”  Teri panted.  I had no answer.  Instead we just stared up at the two beasts as they circled and dove through the air at each other.  The golden one caught the other by one leg with its talons, and with a crash and a ragged splitting sound glass rained from above.  The mirror dragon whipped its tail in response.  The shards at the ends of it ripped into the gold’s wing and blood fountained free.

******

“This is going to end well,” Teri muttered, but she followed me inside and up cracked hardwood steps.   We climbed three flights of stairs into the gloom of the seemingly deserted apartment building.  It wasn’t that late, but I heard no noises from the apartments we passed.  We made our way down a dingy hallway that sported dirty gray carpeting and stained green wallpaper.  The lights in the wall sconces were on their last legs.  A roach skittered out of our path.

I didn’t have to worry about ruining the locks on Megan’s door.  It was already ajar, and a Really Bad Feeling rose wailing from the pits of my stomach.  I batted it away and cautiously pushed the door all the way open.  It creaked on unoiled hinges as I stepped inside.

“Is it too late to go back to the car?”  Teri asked.  I raised a finger to my lips.  She hesitated and stepped across the threshold behind me.  The apartment inside was way better maintained than the rest of the building.  And my sister had been here recently, judging from the relative lack of dust lining the surfaces.  We ventured further inside.  I closed the door.

“Should I turn on the lights?” She wondered.  I shook my head and looked around.  It was sparsely furnished, with only the minimum of pieces.  A dining room table, a couple of wooden chairs.  A small TV stand beneath an even smaller TV.  A painfully bright orange couch probably rescued from some college dorm room, and a coffee table straight out of the Ikea catalogue.  There were two potted plants decorating a low, long set of bookshelves that stretched across one wall, beneath a window that opened out onto a fire escape.  Instead of books, the shelves were lined with dozens of glass jars.

“What are those?”  Teri wandered to the nearest jar and reached out a finger, just shy of touching it.  I pulled her back.  More jars crowded the kitchen table, the coffee table, the counters and shelves of the small corner kitchen.  They were all empty, just glass jars full of air, lids sealed tight and with tiny strips of masking tape to serve as labels.  Names and dates written across them in small letters.  Delicately printed in black Sharpie.

“Megan’s armory,” I whispered.  Couldn’t say why I felt a need to keep my voice down, but my Really Bad Feeling hadn’t fled far.  It still crouched behind my too-quickly beating heart, twined around my nerves, keeping them tight and coiled and ready to spring at the first sign of danger.  “Her magic is keyed to fingerprints.  She can find people with them, access their thoughts and histories.  Take on their shapes and skills and very identities.”

I picked one up, careful to keep my fingers around the lid, and raised it to the window.  Silver moonbeams spilled through the panes and shone through the glass of the jar.  Several fingerprints gleamed in the light.  Thumb, index, middle fingers of both hands.  “This is how she stores them.  So that even when she changes back to her real form and the person isn’t around anymore, she can still tap into them if she needs to use their shape or skills again.”

Teri drifted through the apartment, eyeing the jars with wide-eyed wonder.  “There must be hundreds of them.”

I shrugged.  “Megan’s always been more at home being other people than herself.”

It didn’t take a shrink to figure out that probably wasn’t that healthy, but we were Cunninghams.  Magic and issues came included, batteries sold separately.

“Micah, she has one of you.  And all the rest of your siblings, I think.”

I nodded and followed her into the kitchen, where nine jars sat by themselves right behind the sink.  “Yeah I know.  When she taps our fingerprints and takes our shapes, she can use our magic too.”

“Damn.  That’s pretty potent.”

“Yeah.  But it’s Megan.  She’s pretty much the only one of my siblings I’d trust with that kind of mojo.  I mean, Alice and Katie can sometimes kinda echo or mirror the stuff the rest of us can do, but they can’t tap into our power sources directly like Megan can.  Now if Rowan or Serena could do that – forget about it.  Time to run screaming.”

Teri chewed a strand of her hair, unconvinced.  “If you say so.  Why does she have one of her own fingerprints?”

“Oh.”  I frowned and looked back around the apartment.  I wasn’t even sure where to begin hunting for clues to her present whereabouts.  Maybe the dust could tell me something?  “She’s kinda paranoid about getting stuck in someone else’s shape and not being able to turn back into herself.  The magic’s – tricky like that, sometimes.”

******

“Micah, cover your eyes,” Trent yelled from somewhere nearby, and I obeyed on instinct.  It wasn’t that I suddenly trusted him again, it was just…I had no idea what the hell was going on anymore, and I was happy to listen to anyone who seemed to have some kind of grip on reality.

On the plus side, I was no longer convinced I was going crazy.  It was the universe I thought was going crazy, instead.

I felt the cold, slimy grasp of my brother’s shadows wind around me, and then there was a brief sense of disorientation, of the world falling away beneath me as he slipped me through dark nether dimensions.  I emerged into the cool humidity of the September New York night.

“Look straight ahead,” Trent directed then, coalescing from the shadows right next to me.  He reached out to grip my hand in his, and I jumped.  It took every bit of concentration I possessed, focusing intently on every nerve and muscle in my body as I fought the urge to glance over at him.  I may not have known what was really happening, but I knew triggering the curse was the last thing I could afford to do right now.

We were on the sidewalk in front of a traffic circle.  The tall bronze statue of a rearing horse and its rider loomed in front of us and its shadow stretched beneath the streetlights, landing at the shores of our feet.  Trent reached out a hand to caress the shadow of the horse’s back – I could see that much of him without anything happening – and with a restless shudder, it came to life.

“Cover your eyes,” he said, just before he grabbed the flailing hairs of the stallion’s mane and heaved himself up on its back.  “I’m going to pull you up, and then I need you to turn yourself around so you’re facing the other way from me.”

“Wait, you want me to ride your magic shadow horse backwards?”  I protested, even as I covered my eyes with one hand and let him drag me up behind him with the other.  I expected him to have to struggle a little, but he managed it with ease.  I’d forgotten how strong he was.  “Are you nuts?”

“Desperate times, desperate measures,” he said grimly, and I was reminded of a similar situation with Teri just a few hours ago.  It seemed like a lifetime already.  I settled on the horse and leaned back into my brother, wrapping one arm around his waist behind me and bracing the other against the muscled shadow flesh we sat upon.  Our steed pranced in place, aggressive and straining to be set free, but Trent held it back.  We were a block down from where Teri stood with Paul, Mina and the others, but they were racing in our direction, Paul gliding through the air while the other four sprinted down the block.  

“Trent, what the hell?”  I asked at last.  “Why is Teri with them?”

He didn’t answer at first, still consumed with the task of feeding some kind of directives to the shadow mount.  It reared up on its back legs, and I almost slid down its flanks before it landed on all four feet again.  Then we were off galloping down the street in quick, fluid motions.  The buildings whizzed by us.

“She’s their sister,” Trent said.  The winds of our passage burned my face and roared in my ears.  I had trouble breathing.

“What?”

“Paul, Mina, the other two, she’s their sister,” he said again.  “It wasn’t a coincidence that she was in the coffee shop this morning; she’s been following you for weeks.  Same with the other two guys…the one David, he’s got some kind of music magic, we think, he was tailing Cam, but could never get close.  The other one, Jonas, he was sticking by Alice.”

“How do you know this?”  It couldn’t be true, I mean, it couldn’t have all been a lie, right?  And yet, looking back behind us at Teri and her what, siblings, as they gave chase…I knew Trent wasn’t lying.  Paul rose into the air, climbing higher and higher into the sky.  He was arrowing towards the roof of a nearby apartment building.  From this distance I could just make out the outline of a woman…and then thunder crashed overhead and stormclouds gathered with supernatural speed, and I knew it was Serena.  Within seconds, rain came pouring down.  

“Let’s just say Serena and I had our own encounters with Paul and Mina,” Trent said grimly.  “Speaking of which, hang on.”

The stallion reared again and turned left onto a main street, still busy with traffic even at this late hour.  People leaned out their car windows to gawk at us, but at least the cover of night made it look like we were just randomly riding a horse through downtown Manhattan, rather than a physical manifestation of my brother’s shadow magic.  

The river of light that cascaded around the corner in pursuit of us was a little less easy to explain.  

Colors flowed down streetlamps and off flashing neon signs to join in the chase.  A serpentine length of red luminescence struck from the bulbs of a theater marquee, and we dodged just in time.  Blue and green ribbons split off from the gaudy sign of some high end night club, and the yellow beams of several cars’ headlights bent and swerved in mid-air to flank us on both sides.  

Strands of multi-colored light wove and twisted themselves around each other and across our path, looking like nothing so much as sparkling strands of DNA, complex double helixes that snapped at our heels and in front of us like tentacles or the arms of some demented, magical octopus.  Trent pulled darkness from rooftops and alleys and splashed them all around us, dousing the lights under buckets of black painted shadows.

We cut through a park and crossed a small man-made river, our horse running across the top of the water without making splash.  The other side led out into the heart of the concrete jungle, and curtains of light dropped down the lengths of skyscrapers all around us, gaining fast.

I realized we weren’t alone.  Alice was racing through the reflections alongside us, flashing briefly through one window before reappearing in the next.  She threw me a grin and then grew, until her reflection was one story high, and then two, and then three.  Giant sized Alice reached down with a hand that was six windows high and three windows wide, and grabbed a fistful of light like so many ribbons.  Despite everything, I laughed.  Silly Mina.  Don’t try and play with light when Alice and reflective surfaces are around.  My sister refracted the illumination through the windows of her body, and a thousand tiny golden threads shot back through the air at dizzying speeds, heading backwards along the trajectory that had led them here.    

Then space warped, and twisted.  My stomach tied itself in knots.  In the blink of an eye we were two blocks ahead and facing the other direction.  I’d never travelled so quickly or seamlessly with any of my siblings’ brands of magical transportation.

Space warped again, and a blink later the two guys I’d seen with Teri, Paul and Mina were standing in the intersection in front of us.

“Shit,” Trent cursed, but there wasn’t time for anything else.  One of the guys pursed his lips and whistled a sharp, vaulting melody.  David, I guessed.  His tune crescendoed up the musical scales and cracks raced up windows of the skyscrapers on both sides of the street in sympathetic harmony.  Alice opened her mouth in surprise and then the windows fell apart, raining down on us below.  The tinkling chimes of falling glass sounded almost like a scream as my sister’s reflection vanished.

“Alice!” I shouted and an answering screech echoed my cry.  Cam’s gold dragon dive bombed from above, plunging down the lengths of the buildings, jaws opened and ready to flame despite the rain coming down.  The other man grabbed handfuls of air and folded them.  Space twisted again, and a blink of an eye later and the mighty beast crashed into the street a block away.  “How is he doing that?”

“That’s Jonas,” Trent spat.  He threw a rolling wave of blackness hastily over Cam’s dragon like a blanket of shadows, and kept it advancing across the street towards the  other two men until Jonas just grabbed his brother and they blinked behind us.  “His magic’s something to do with crossroads, or intersections and doorways.  Can’t tell, it’s hard to pin down.”  

I nodded, feeling useless.  There wasn’t much I could do to help as long as Serena kept this storm up.  Any dust I could raise would just be beaten back down by the downpour.  Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough control over the waters she summoned to work around my magic.  She just turned storms on and off, she couldn’t control what they did or where they went once she’d conjured them.  Lightning flashed and Mina wrestled control of the jagged electric spears from wherever she was hiding.  A bolt crashed down into the street right next to us and the sudden burst of illumination extinguished Trent’s shadow stallion in a wash of white light.  We fell to the ground.

I think it was safe to say we were getting our asses kicked at this point.

*******

By the time it dissipated, Trent and Cam had vanished, and Serena was pulling a pouch full of small glass vials from her pocket.  Alice was several stores down from us, and every time she passed a window her reflection leapt out and joined her, until the far courtyard was filled with an abundance of Alices.

“Can Jonas come out and play?”  She called mockingly.  The target of her derision jumped to his feet and took off across the tiled floor.  But instead of sprinting towards her, he was headed in the opposite direction, running scared.  Space warped and he crossed the room in the span of a few blinks, jumping intervals of twenty feet at a time.  But then Alice stepped out of a window right in front of him, and slapped him in the face, fingernails hooked like claws.  Blood spewed from his lip and he blinked away.

Only to find another Alice waiting for him.  He blinked again, and she was there too.  Everywhere he jumped, there was a reflection of her waiting.  And for every reflection, she had a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, until he was mobbed by her in multitudes, no matter which way he turned.

A sound like nails on chalkboard scraped across the atrium and I turned to see a chalk outline sketching itself along the wall of the courtyard’s upper floor, overlooking us from above.  Stark white lines superimposed themselves across walls, windows and doors, the shape and imagery of crackling flames that sprang to life.  First they flickered two dimensionally, then they gained depth and volume, color and voice and fire ringed the floor above.  Cam appeared, leaning over the upper balcony as he scooped his hand through the flames.  Molding a perfect sphere he hurled it at David, raining down fire from above.

I’d totally forgotten how much of a pyro he was.  Freak.

Paul levitated straight up into the center of the courtyard, his winds sweeping up water from a large bubbling fountain in front of the nearest department store.  He flung a mini-typhoon at Cam’s inferno.  The flames hissed angrily when doused, but there were a lot of them and Cam didn’t need much to fuel for his fireballs.  He grinned and threw several more at David in quick succession.  The last Bradley brother sang a quick, discordant melody that slammed into the balcony beneath Cam, shaking it and tossing him from his feet.

Serena drew forth a vial of her tears and threw it to the ground in front of David.  The glass shattered and smoking acid bubbled forth, eating away at the tiled floor and spreading like a virus.  He cried out and jumped back, and Paul whipped up another wave to wash away the acid.  Then he caught Serena in a whirlwind and threw her into the fountain.

Mina crooked her fingers at me and multi-colored rays of light shot in my direction.  I dodged and a shadow hound hurtled itself from a corner behind her and knocked her to the ground.  I pointed my hand at the ceiling and rained debris down on her, burying her in a mound of rubble and then I was falling too, somehow gone from the floor to the ceiling in the blink of an eye.  Crap.  Fucking Jonas.

I hollered in a possibly slightly unmanly fashion and flailed arms and legs uselessly, but I couldn’t muster the concentration needed to turn myself to dust when falling from two stories up.  I jerked to a stop anyways, bobbing up and down in the air like I’d reached the end of a bungee cord, and I looked across the way to see giant sized Alice reflected in a window.  She held my T-shirt pinched between massive fingers.

She set me down gently, and then she was gone, racing through windows.  I caught sight of Teri behind me in a reflection, and I spun as she conjured more of her sister’s light shows in a riotous rainbow display that sparked and fizzled around me like fireworks.  I stumbled backwards, and Cam sketched himself into the scene between us, appearing first as lines drawn into the air, then fleshing out with color and dimension.  

Teri set her jaw and a wall of shadows surged forth from a shop behind her and poured into the shape of a pack of snapping wolves.  Cam swept his hand through the first shadow wolf and turned the memory into a photo, mashing it down into two dimensions bordered within a Polaroid frame, a snapshot of any of the dozens of times Trent had pulled that trick when we were kids.  

A silver and copper cloud of coins erupted from the fountains and came wailing our way with all the screeching fury of a banshee.  Cam made a picture of that memory too, and a snapshot of Rowan’s typical gaudy display of force fluttered to the floor.  Teri sketched fireballs from mid-air, cried tears of acid rain and drafted ghosts to animate the mannequins the department store windows.  They marched our way like so many toy soldiers, but Cam packed them all up in a small frame and banished the memory with just a photograph to keep in its place.

She yelled in frustration and turned and ran down a side corridor, headed for the escalators to a lower level.  I sprinted after her, Cam close behind me, but a harsh, grating melody cracked the ground in between us, forging a jagged chasm that left Cam on the other side.  He whipped off his shirt and his panther tattoo leaped free, bounding across the floor towards a wide-eyed David.  The other man ducked behind a potted plant and conjured a tune to soothe the savage beast.

*****

I rose to my knees, choking - but it wasn’t his grip on my neck that had me gasping for air. His magic was a sandstorm swirling in my lungs. Every breath I took stabbed the walls of my throat with shards of spells and broken glass. Paul grinned down at me through the white spots dotting my vision and I batted at his arm, trying desperately to break free. Dude was on steroids or I was really just that scrawny, but either way, I was still going to die here. Young. Virginal. Alone.

Epic fail, universe. Epic fail.

And then winter came early.

The sharp crackle of ice knifed through the empty food court like an overactive toddler popping bubble wrap without supervision. And if you don’t like my similes, blame my brain’s current lack of oxygen. Paul let his magic and me slip free and I slid bonelessly to the floor, wheezing and flopping around like a geriatric trout with asthma and a smoking problem. I raised my head in search of whoever had kicked the AC into overdrive and found my sister standing regally at the top of the escalator.

God. She was such a drama queen.

Serena was soaked head to toe from her impromptu swim in the fountains earlier, but if it bothered her you’d never know. A silent wind tossed her raven hair behind her, and an endless stream of water dripped from her t-shirt and jeans, pooling around her bare feet and cascading down the steps of the escalator in far more quantities than her clothes could have ever contained. Her face was pinched tight with cold fury, and a chill leaked from her bone-white skin. Frost coated the railing of the escalator beneath her hand and three frozen tears tracked slowly down her cheeks. Big Sis was pissed, and I was just glad that for once it didn’t seem to be at me.

I scooted out of the way just to be on the safe side.

“I think you‘ve been a pain in my family‘s collective asses long enough.” Serena announced into the vastness.  Only the rhythmic trickle of water rushing forth from her kept her voice from echoing like a bell.  Like a death knell.  “And no one gets to kill my baby brother except me.”

Now that was just unnecessary. I frowned. “Okay, see, stuff like this is exactly the reason Megan’s my favorite sister.”

They ignored me in favor of making angry eyes at each other. Serena started slowly down the escalator. One frozen tear dripped free of her cheek and fell into the water puddled at her feet, freezing it over in an instant. It spread forth from there in a river of blue-white light, rattling like dancing ice cubes. Unlike the glaciers they resembled, there was nothing slow moving about either her anger or her magic. The ice coated the escalator in seconds and raced towards Paul.

He swore and leapt higher into the air, twisting, shimmering until he was nothing but fog and mist. Pale smoke riding the wind. Serena smiled, showing teeth, and raising a hand to her cheek collected a second frozen tear on her fingertip. She flicked it at the rising fog and Paul crashed into a near table, all tangled limbs and solid, weighty flesh. He jumped upright but the ice reached him before he could take a step.  It locked him in place and kept climbing slowly up his legs.

“Bitch -” he snarled as Serena reached him. She silenced him, pinching his lips together between her fingers. His eyes bulged, furious, but the ice had reached his arms by then and locked them at his sides.

Paul tried to shout something between smashed together lips, but Serena just reached her finger to her cheek again and collected her last tear, placing it on the tip of his nose.

“No more talking now,” she whispered. His eyes widened but too late. The ice rushed over his face and down his chest, pale blue forks of frost burrowing deep beneath his skin and replacing his veins. In moments he was completely translucent. Not just covered in ice, but flesh become ice. Serena pushed gently and he toppled over backwards, shattering with a sharp screech like a single, stunted scream.

*******

We made it as far as the escalator before a song hit us full in the chest, knocking us both on our asses and sliding back along the floor.

“Murderer!” David shouted at Serena.  He whistled two sharp, high notes, and she raised her hands to her head, screaming in agony.  Whatever he did to her passed, and she glared at him through dripping eyes.

“Pot, meet kettle,” she coughed and brushed a finger across her face.  She flicked the moisture she found there at him and he stumbled back, hollering as her tears raised red burn marks across his skin.  They burrowed into his flesh, worming their way down to blood and bone.  David sang a song of agony and rage, and the ground erupted beneath Serena, plunging her into a hole that gaped open like a ready grave.

He turned towards me with red-rimmed and hate-filled eyes, spitting out sharp, staccato notes that hammered into the wall behind me, punching holes into the plaster.  One note caught me in the shoulder and I spun, thrown backwards by the impact.

“You people,” he rasped, standing over me and placing a hand above my chest, “have caused my family nothing but grief.”

David started humming and I gasped as I felt his magic wash over me.  His music matched the rhythm of my heartbeat, and then he twisted his song.  My heartbeat followed the lead of his music, angrily accelerating at a supernaturally rapid pace.  My heart rate tripled in seconds.  I grabbed frantically at my chest.  It felt like it was going to explode.  Was this what a heart attack felt like?  Or was this something else altogether?

******

I was eight.  Katie nine, Rowan eleven.  We were in the 7-11 nearest our house, which meant a three mile hike, basically.  Which also meant we were entirely justified in any trouble we got up to there as a result.  We’d earned it, after all.  

So Katie and I prowled the aisles of the empty convenience mart, snickering as we grabbed every bag of candy and oddly flavored soda that caught our eyes.  Rowan dutifully added them to his already overloaded hand basket, laughing himself each time a new addition made the mountain of junk food spill over the sides and onto the floor.  We scrambled to gather it all up off of the stained linoleum tiles and piled it in the basket.  And then Rowan would struggle to pick it up again, usually with a violent heave that made it all spill back to the floor.  We made a big production of it.  We had time to kill.

The lone clerk watched us with bored, jaded eyes.  He was red haired under the cheap visor they all wore here, and skinny and pale beneath even cheaper fluorescent lights that buzzed and flickered sporadically.  Freckles, acne and a sour disposition marred his face.  Peach colored fuzz that could use some grooming spotted his chin and his uniform shirt was wrinkled and dirty.  If ever there was a kid who hated his job more, I’d yet to meet them.  Judging from his frown, he definitely knew us.  But then, it was a small town in North Carolina, and our family had something of a reputation.  Everyone knew us.  

Restless fingers fidgeted with the scanner – probably itching for a cigarette, if his teeth were any indication, yuck - and every so often he would look up like he was about to say something.  Maybe yell at us to get out.  He definitely knew we were going to make his otherwise peaceful shift difficult.  He just hadn’t figured out how yet, or how to prevent it.

I almost felt bad for him.  But then, I was a total shit back then, so the feeling passed and I added some more M&M’s to the basket.

By the time we got up to the register, our basket was so full I had to help Rowan get it up on the counter.  The bell over the door tinkled as three more customers piled into the store and headed straight for the beer, talking loudly at each other and giving each other obnoxious shoves on the way.  The clerk sighed.  Rowan grinned.  Katie smothered giggles behind her hands.

It took several minutes to scan everything in our basket, and by the time the clerk gave us our total of fifty some odd dollars and change, the three men were waiting in line behind us and two more customers were wandering the aisles.  

“You sure you can pay for all of this, kid?”  The clerk asked.

Rowan made a show of digging around in his pockets, and nodded.  He looked up with an apologetic smile, his face as angelic as I’d ever seen it.  He was still capable of seeming innocent back then.  I attributed it to the baby fat still lining his cheeks.  “I only have change.  Is that okay?”

The clerk looked like he’d just swallowed a lemon.  “I’ve got other customers waiting, and I don’t have time for games, kid.”

Rowan bit his lip and seemed to give this some thought.  “Can I give you what I have and anything else you can just put back?”

He sighed.  “Hurry it up, then.”

“Cool,” Rowan said and pulled two big handfuls of change out of his pockets.  Dumping them on the counter, he started to count them out.  Slowly.  It was mostly nickels and dimes.  The customers behind us started to stir restlessly.

“Here, let me help you,” the clerk said, and tried to reach for the coins scattered all across the glass counter.

“Hey, I can do it!  I’m in fifth grade you know.”  My brother glared.

“I didn’t mean that you couldn’t.”  The kid behind the counter knew better than to lose his patience with any customer, even a little punk like my brother.  Especially with the two women who’d been browsing the store now standing in line as well and smiling indulgently at that same little punk.  Rowan knew how to run a con even before middle school.  He might be a dickhead, but he was as precocious as all of us, in his own way.

It took about five minutes to count all the change on the counter, and it came to a little over eleven dollars.  The clerk moved to take some of the candy off the total, but Rowan stopped him, digging around in his pockets again.

“Wait!  I think I have some more.”  He pulled another two handfuls from his pockets and dropped them on the counter.  This time there were almost twice as many coins.

The clerk stared, confused.  I could see him trying to figure out how my brother had all that change in his pockets.  There was no way he’d been walking around with twenty to thirty dollars in pocket change weighing him down just a few minutes ago.  Katie squeaked behind her hands and shook with silent laughter.  Rowan just beamed and resumed counting.

“Hey, aren’t you in my sister Serena’s class?”  He asked the clerk, seeming distracted by his math.

“What?”  The clerk was busy eyeing the men behind us nervously.  I took a peek behind us at them, and one of them scowled down at me beneath a thick salt and pepper mustache and squinting red eyes.  He wasn’t happy.  I smiled politely.

“My sister,” Rowan said.  “Serena Cunningham?  I think you’re in her class at school.”  He pulled another handful of change from his pocket and started counting it out.  All pennies this time.

“Yeah, I know Serena.  How much more change do you have, kid?  I really need to get to my other customers.”

“I don’t know.” Rowan gave him a withering look.  “That’s why I’m counting.  And I’m not ‘kid.’  I have a name.”

“Sorry, ki-“, the clerk started to say impatiently, before he caught himself.  He tried to smile in apology at the customers behind us, but they weren’t having it and he wasn’t as practiced at it as Rowan.

“And you shouldn’t call my sister a slut,” Rowan continued.  He was still intent on his counting, but when Katie and I looked at him, startled, we could see he wasn’t keeping his head down for any great attempt at concentration.  He was just trying to hide the smirk that played across his lips.

“What?”

“My sister, Serena?  You shouldn’t call her a slut.  It’s not a nice word,” my brother said.  He was the very picture of innocence.

The clerk swallowed, really nervous now.  His eyes darted around, but he found no support from the customers behind us.  Particularly not from the two women who were by now listening intently.

“I didn’t,” he started to protest, but Rowan cut him off.

“Oh.  That’s too bad.  Because my brothers think you did, and they’re kinda pissed.  You know my brothers right?  Trent and Dennis?  Trent’s on the football team.”

“Yeah, I know them,” the clerk said weakly.  His face was looking considerably paler now.  I wasn’t totally sure what was going on anymore, but I had picked up enough at this point to take some pleasure in that.  

“Serena doesn’t know you said that yet, though, so that’s lucky,” Rowan continued.  He pulled out some more change.  “Because she’s a lot worse to piss off than my brothers.  Trust me.  When she gets mad, oh man.  Look out, you know?”

The clerk swallowed.  His head bobbed up and down.

“Look,” he said.  “I’ve really got to get to my other customers.  How about I just take care of the rest of this stuff for you?  It’s on the house.”

“Really?  Are you sure?  I think I have enough change for the rest, still.”

“No, it’s cool, I’ve got it.”  He hurriedly piled our spoils of war into a few plastic bags and shoved them across the counter at us.  “And tell your sister that whatever she hears about Jimmy, from trig class?  Tell her he’s really sorry and he just was really drunk at that party and said some stupid shit – stuff, I mean, he just said some stupid things.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” Rowan said, sounding a little doubtful as the three of us pulled the bags off the counter.  They were so heavy they almost dropped straight to the floor, but we managed.  “I don’t know if it’ll help though.  She doesn’t always listen to me, you know.  She thinks I’m just a kid.”

Weighed down by our bags, we tottered out the door.  One of the women from line had to help us with it and she beamed down at Rowan.

“Thank you ma’am,” he said politely.  The door chimed overhead and we made our way outside into the sweltering spring humidity.  Heat danced off the pavement, twisting the air in warped, waving ribbons.  I could still smell the smoke from the clerk’s last cigarette break and I looked back into the store.  He was staring after us while ringing up the next guy.

“Rowan, what’s a slut?”  I asked.  We crossed the street to the small shaded park on the next block.

“It’s a bad word nobody’s ever allowed to say about our sisters.  Got it?”

I nodded vigorously.  Katie looked thoughtful.  Then she clapped her hands and started to skip.  The sound of her handclap echoed back to the convenience store’s parking lot and a sudden boom erupted in the middle of the three or four cars there.  Two different car alarms started blaring in opposition to each other, off tempo and allowing no reprieve from their wails.  Still weighed down by our bags, we ran off through the park, laughing as customers piled out of the store to see what had happened.

It took us three hours to eat all that candy.  We were up puking most of the night.  Totally worth it.

*******

“Micah!  Katie!  Get back here!”

We laughed and ignored Serena, continuing our wild spins across the hallway.  Our sneakers squeaked across the stained white floor, probably accounting for a good half of the short black streaks that marred its surface.  Then we lost our balance and crashed together.  We fell in a tangled heap against the water fountain, but this only made us laugh harder.  And Serena more pissed.

“Seriously you two, enough!  We’re in a hospital,” she hissed.  Uncomfortable green chairs lined the hallway, but just because she was sitting in one reading her stupid magazine didn’t mean we had to.  Reading was boring.  Spinning was fun.  It seemed self-explanatory to me, but she reached down and grabbed me by the arm anyways, pulling me to my feet and steering me into the seat next to her.

“But why?”  I said.  I moaned and kicked my feet.  “We’re not sick.”

“Yeah,” Katie chimed, dancing out of reach of Serena’s grasping talons.  Her fingernails were long and pointy and they hurt.  “We never get sick.”

“Katie, sit!”  Serena snapped her fingers and got that dangerous look in her eyes.  Katie sulked but plopped next to me.  You could only push Serena so far, after all.  “And you had your chance to go home with Trent.  You’re the ones who wanted to wait here until Mom got off work, well here we are.  Running around and acting like baboons while people are trying to get better wasn’t part of the deal.”

I rolled my eyes and slid down my seat like a snake.  Her arm lashed out like an even faster one and pinned me in place before I could squirm all the way to the floor.  “No, we wanted ice cream,” I clarified.  “Mom said we could have some when she got done working.”

Which nobody told me would take hours.  I felt lied to.

“Yeah, I changed my mind,” Katie said.  “Can we go home now?”

“No, we cannot go home now.  Trent has the car and I’m not ferrying you brats home in Mom’s just to turn around and have to come back and pick her up.  Now stay put, zip it, and stop pissing me off.”

She gave us a stern glare and whipped her magazine back up in front of her face.  Katie and I eyed each other.  Rowan would say she was being a B-I-T-C-H, and I mouthed as much to my sister.  She giggled, and Serena snapped.  “Watch it, Micah!”

I sat bolt upright and wiped the guilt off my face as best I could.  “I didn’t say anything!”

“Learn to be less predictable, baby brother.  And stop hanging around Rowan so much.  He’s a bad influence.”

She flipped a page and dismissed us.  I crossed my arms and joined Katie in sulking.  This sucked.  There was nothing to do.  Serena sucked.  She wouldn’t even let us get candy from the candy machine.

“Can I have money for the candy machine?”  I tried again anyways.

“No.”

“Then can I just use my magic – “

“No.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” started echoing up and down the length of the hallway, bouncing from wall to floor to ceiling and back again like someone was dribbling a basketball while paying no attention to gravity.

“Katie!”  Serena slapped her magazine against her leg.  

“I didn’t do it!”

Our oldest sister shook her head and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes.  “Mom really needs to start paying me for this.”

The automatic doors at the end of the hallway wheezed open..  A nurse in flower-decorated scrubs slowly wheeled an old man past us.  For several minutes, Katie and I passed a century’s worth of commiseration back and forth via athletic facial contortions.

Serena ignored us.  I nudged her leg with my knee.  “Rena.  Rena.  Rena!”

“What?!”

“Now can I have change for the candy machine?” I grinned up at her.  She groaned and threw her head back.  It banged into the picture right behind her on the wall.  Katie laughed and wiggled out of her seat onto the ground.

“Katie. Off.  The.  Floor.”

“Yeah Katie.  Somebody probably threw up on there.”

“Eww!”  She shrieked and jumped to her feet, blond hair swinging wildly as she scrubbed herself.  It hit me in the face.

“Eww, puke hair.”  I howled and shoved her away from me.

“That’s it!”  Serena stood and pointed down the hall.  “Both of you!  Go find Dennis and Alice.  You can be their problem now.”

I looked at Katie.  She looked at me.  This sounded too good to be true.  It had to be a trick.

“Where are they?” I asked cautiously.

“I don’t know.  Why don’t you go find out?”

I looked back at Katie.  She shrugged.

“Okay!”  We took off running down the hall.

“And don’t go in anyone’s room,” Serena hollered after us.  We made no promises.

Instead we slid around corners and chased each other down halls, ducking into doorways and behind water coolers and crash carts any time we crossed paths with hospital staff.  Even we knew better than to make Mom look bad at work.  Well, not intentionally anyways.

“Where are they?”  I complained at last.  Katie stopped and squinted, sparking a speculative gleam in one eye.  

She cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered.  “Oh Dennis…”

Then she cocked her head and listened as her echoes travelled through every room in the hospital.  He must have answered in some way only her magic could hear.  Either that or my sister was really good at holding one-sided conversations.

“We’re looking for you.  Where are you?”

“What’s he saying?” I hissed.  Katie waved her hand at me, concentrating.

“Come on,” she said at last, racing down the hall towards a pair of heavy double doors.  She smacked the metal plate on the wall that opened them automatically.  “Follow me!”

We sprinted down another hallway and through a side door and up a flight of stairs, taking them two at a time and shouting “echo, echo, echo” down the stairwell in our wake.  The hospital was a maze of corridors that all looked exactly alike, and there were way too many people to dodge, even at nine o’clock at night.  Wasn’t everyone supposed to be asleep by now?  The only reason we weren’t was because Mom was still working.  And we hadn’t gotten ice cream yet.

Even following the course Katie’s magic laid out, it took us a good ten minutes to find Dennis and Alice.  We plowed to a stop just outside the doorway of a room on the third floor.  The lights were off and our siblings were hovering around the bed of a sleeping man around Mom’s age.  Katie and I looked at each other, debating the wisdom of defying an Edict of Serena and venturing inside the room.  For now we settled on just peeking around the doorframe.

“What are you guys doing?” I asked.  Dennis jumped and Alice glared.

“Shh!”

Katie threw up her hands in exasperation.  “Why does everyone keep saying that?  It’s not like we’re in a library.”

“Katie, he’s sleeping.”  Alice squinched her eyes at us through her new square-rimmed glasses.  She looked like a total dork, but Mom said she couldn’t have contacts again until she learned to take care of them properly.  Dennis didn’t say anything.  Just looked nervous.

Clearly, something very interesting was afoot.  Interesting enough, I decided, to risk the Wrath of Serena.  I ventured a cautious step into the room.  No lightning rained down on me from above, and growing bold, I walked over to my brother and sister.  Katie shrugged and followed.

“Are you sure he’s sleeping?”  I asked doubtfully.  “He looks dead.”

“He’s not dead,” Alice said.  “And you two shouldn’t be up here anyways.  Go find Serena.”

“Ugh,” Katie moaned and stamped her foot.  “Serena said go find you.  You say go find Serena.  I’m tired of finding people.  I want to stay right here.”

She folded up and sat smack in the middle of the floor with crossed arms and a defiant stare.  The room was silent save for the occasional slow and steady beep of a heart monitor.

“Puke floor,” I whispered at last.

“Oh shut up, Micah!”

Alice sighed.  “Fine.  You can stay, but be quiet.  Dennis needs to concentrate.”

“Why does Dennis need to concentrate?”  Alice ignored me and turned back to one of her boring textbooks, sitting on a nightstand next to the guy’s bed.  She flipped pages with purpose.  I felt neglected, and turned to my brother.  “Why do you need to concentrate, Dennis?”

My older brother licked his lips and darted a quick glance at me.  I’d never seen him so nervous.  He opened his mouth but instead only shook his head and turned back to the sleeping man.  Who still looked dead to me.  

“He’s not dead, Micah,” Alice said when I declared as much.  She never looked up from her pages of gross looking pictures.  “He’s just in a coma.”

“Like the guy from Sleepless in Seattle?” Katie asked excitedly, perking up from her seat on the floor.  It was this old movie Serena had acted a scene from for drama class.  She’d watched it like, a thousand times to study it or whatever.  Katie was addicted to it.  

“No, not like the movies.  He has a rare blood disease.  Dennis is going to cure it.”

“Wow,” Katie breathed, eyes wide.

“Huh,” I said.  I grabbed the railing on one side of the bed and stood on my toes for a better look.  Dennis was on the other side of the bed, staring down at the man.  He looked like he was about to faint, like Rowan did that time he woke up face to face with the snake Cam put in his bed.  “You can do that, Dennis?”

“No.  No, I can’t.  This was a stupid idea,” my brother blurted suddenly.  He ran for the door.  Alice grabbed his arm as he passed.  “Get out of my way, Alice.”

“Dennis, wait,” she said.  “You can do this.  You came to me, remember?”

Dennis hesitated, shaking his head.  His messy black curls flopped over his forehead and hid his eyes.  Alice jabbed a finger into his chest.

“You said you could feel it.  You felt the badness in his blood, and you wanted to know what it was.”

“I could,” he whispered.  “I mean, I can.”

“Well then you can take it away!”  Alice gestured triumphantly.  “Look, its just like the pictures in my book.  This is what the diseased blood cells look like, and this is what they should look like.  You just have to use your magic, change the bad cells to healthy ones.”

“I can’t.  I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Well duh, that’s because you’re a wimp.”  Our brainiac sister rolled her eyes.  “You have just as much magic as the rest of us do, you just need to stop being so scared to use it.”

“That’s easy for you to say!  Your magic can’t kill people.”

Alice reared back, insulted.  “My magic could so totally kill people.”

Feeling neglected again, I piped up.  “So could mine!”

Katie bobbed on the floor, raising her hand.  “Me too!”  She frowned and wrinkled her nose.  “Wait, why are we killing people?”

“We’re not,” Alice said severely.  “Nobody’s killing anybody.  That’s the point.  Dennis, you can do this.  You could totally save this guy’s life.”

I really had no idea what was going on, but when Dennis still hesitated, rocking back and forth on his feet uncertainly, I supplied additional incentive.  “And then we can get ice cream!”

“”Micah!”  My brother snapped.  “Just, be quiet okay?”

I huffed and flopped on the floor next to Katie.  She leaned over and patted my leg sympathetically.  “You know how everyone’s always like, Micah why can’t you be more helpful?” I griped at her.  “See?  This is why!”

She nodded, sharing my pain.

Dennis took a deep breath.  His hands flexed at his sides, clenching and unclenching.  “You really think I can do it?”

“Yes!” I shouted.

“Oh my gosh, just doooooooooo it,” Katie moaned, rolling on her side on the floor.  Both our older siblings whipped out their soon-to-be-shouting faces again, and she sat back up.  “Oh.  They weren’t talking to us.”

“Well, I don’t think we should talk to them either,” I said.  “How is your day, sister Katie?”

“Very boring, brother Micah.  How is yours?”

Dennis and Alice stared at us some more, but we pointedly ignored them.  That’s when you put extra effort into ignoring someone.  I know because Serena said she was doing it to me all the time.  Alice put her hand on Dennis’ arm.  “You’ve so got this.  Just let the magic guide you.”

Despite their extreme rudeness Katie and I both watched, fascinated, as Dennis took another deep breath and with a shaky nod walked back over to the bed.  He raised his hands over the not-dead guy’s chest and looked at them, turning them this way and that as though he didn’t know what to do with them.  Alice peeked out the door into the hallway and checked both ways.

“The coast is clear,” she said.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Katie muttered.  Alice shot her a quizzical look.  “Even though noooooooobody will tell me what’s going on, I made it sound like everyone is sleeping up here.  You guys are really loud.  That’s how much I love you.”

She sniffed.  Pointedly.  “Just so you know.”

Alice closed her eyes and Dennis laughed, looking up for just a second.

“Thanks Katie.  I love you too.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Come on, Dennis,” Alice said, walking back to stand next to him.  She squeezed his arm.  “You’ve got this.”

My brother curled his fingers one more time and then spread them wide.  A warm, ruddy glow started in his fingertips and spread until a wash of red light bathed the bed beneath his hands.  I’d only seen Dennis unleash his blood magic a couple times before.  Like Alice said, it wasn’t something he liked to use a lot.  But each of those times it’d been an angry, violent color.  Hungry, almost.  But this was different.  Comforting.  A wide grin broke across Dennis’ face.  Alice made small approving sounds.

Then a small tendril of darker red wiggled up from the bed, swimming across the pool of light like a worm or small snake weaving its way across a field.  Panic chased the elation from my brother’s expression and he snatched his hands back.

“Dennis, no!  You have to let it finish,” Alice shouted, but it was too late.  The light had vanished as though someone had flicked off a switch.  We all knew our brother well enough to know he wouldn’t be touching it again anytime soon.  The steady beeps of the heart monitor changed to an angry, insistent whine and Katie shrieked and clapped her hands over her ears.  The man on the bed started jerking like a puppet dragged clumsily across the floor, yanking on the wires and tubes that connected him to machines alongside the bed.  Alice frantically tried to hold him in place.  “Dennis, help me!”

But Dennis just backed further away from the bed, looking anywhere but it as he put as much distance between himself and the man as he could.  Then he ran out of room, his back up against the window along one wall.  He clutched at the curtains, knuckles white around fistfuls of fabric.

Footsteps pounded down the hall outside, accompanied by urgent shouting, and a small mob of people in blue and green scrubs and white coats started to pour into the room.  Mom was in the front, and she pulled up in shock when she saw the four of us, questions and horror rising simultaneously in her eyes as she took in the scene and leaped to her own conclusions.

“I was trying to help,” Dennis said in a small voice.  He looked terrified.  Alice looked guilty, but couldn’t seem to figure out if she should aim it at him or our mother.  She bent and grabbed Katie and I by the arms, dragging us to our feet and propelling us across the room towards Dennis.  We piled into him and back into the window.  It opened up into new dimensions and the room fell away as Alice led us into the reflection and away from the mess we had made.          

***** 

Cam launched himself at Trent with an animal, inarticulate cry, crashing into the bigger boy and knocking them both back into the glass coffee table.  It shattered under their combined weight and glittering shards sprayed everywhere.

“Cam!”  Megan shrieked.  She and Alice jumped off the couch.

“Both of you, cut it out!”  Dennis snapped, pushing off the wall.

They ignored him as shadows massed into a line of leering wolves and poured in a wave at Cam, knocking him off of Trent and onto his ass.  They clawed and bit at him and he cried out before arching his back.  His skin bubbled, and his panther tattoo fought its way free of the two dimensional confines of his flesh.  Growling as it grew to full size, it leapt at Trent.

“Dennis, do something!”  Alice yelled.

“What do you want me to do?  I could hurt them both!”  He yelled back, panicked.  He paced at the edge of the fight, hesitant to step in the middle of the chaos.  Trent rolled across the ground, struggling with Cam’s panther.  Its jaws were inches from his face, snapping furiously as he frantically held it at bay.  Shadows flowed up the lengths of his arms, wrapping them in gauntlets ,and absorbing some form of strength from them he threw the great cat across the room.  It slammed into the wall and flipped back to its feet before leaping back into the fray, this time aiming for the dark swirling dogpile Cam was buried beneath.

“Now is not the time for performance anxiety!  Do your slow the blood trick and put them to sleep.”

“I can’t,” Dennis insisted, shaking his head.  His unkempt black hair flew wildly.  “Serena, stop them!”

Serena was standing with eyes closed and fists clenched tight.  Tears streamed down her face.  The windows slammed open, rattling in their frames and a warm breeze flowed into the room.  I inched back along the walls as the air grew thick and heavy with humidity.  We were all sweating, I noticed.

“I am,” she said, icily calm.  

“Well that doesn’t sound good,” Alice whispered.  She grabbed her book and scrambled to the door.  Rowan beat her to it.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!”  Katie screamed at our brothers, now wrestling on the floor.  Cam slammed a fist into Trent’s face, and his nose erupted in a spray of blood that spattered across the white carpet.

Katie’s magic kicked in and the echoes of her shout multiplied.  Rebounding from wall to wall, they increased in intensity each time until they were a single, continuous high pitched whine that clawed through our ears and made straight for our brains.  I fell to my knees, clutching at my temples.  Beside me, Dennis and Megan did the same.  Caught in the grip of their own magic, Cam, Trent and Serena were afforded some protection.  Then the ground started to shake.

The far side of the living room was lined with a wet bar, Dad’s pride and joy that he insisted would come in handy for all the parties he wanted to throw.  This was before he realized he’d fathered a litter of freaks, of course.  It’s hard to pretend you’ll still be inviting company over after your eldest two toddlers have spawned thunderstorms and armies of shadow goblins whenever they felt neglected by their parents.  Now the wet bar was rolling as if it were caught in the epicenter of an earthquake.  The faucets in the sink vibrated in fury.  I looked outside and saw thick fogs weaving their way through the windows.  Every glass surface in the room was streaked with condensation.

Then the fog poured in, a single, rolling wave and it wasn’t fog anymore - it was a literal wave of crashing water that slammed into our midst.  The first crush hit Cam and Trent directly, but we all got caught in the backwash.  All save Serena, who stood calm and composed and utterly unaffected as the raging waters whirled through the room, hurtling us against the walls.  

The wave subsided as swiftly as it had been summoned, escaping down the hallways and probably out the side doors.  We all coughed and sputtered, spitting out mouthfuls of water as we dragged ourselves, sopping wet, off the floor.

“Damn, Rena.”  Rowan’s voice floated from above.  He and Alice were crouched at the top of the stairs in the foyer.  They peered down the length of the hall through the doorway.  

“Seriously,” Megan said, scowling and stomping her feet through puddles.  “Overkill much?”

Serena shrugged, unfazed.  “It’s not quite what I was going for, but can’t argue with results.  I trust I made my point?”

That last was directed at Trent and Cam.  They both grimaced at her and glared at each other, but the effect was somewhat lessened by the fact that they looked like drowned rats.  

Trent opened his mouth, no doubt for some smartass rebuttal, but it never came.  Instead we all followed his gaze past Serena.

“Uh oh,” Megan muttered.  “Mom’s home.”

 She stood in the far doorway, still in her hospital scrubs.  Her hair, streaked with gray, was pulled tightly into a bun and her mouth even more tightly in a frown.  Serena started to speak, looking guilty for the first time, but Mom just raised her hand.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said.  I think we all winced at how tired she sounded.  It was always easier when she was angry.  Then we could muster righteous indignation at how parents just don’t understand us and all that.  But here, this, now….there was really no way to justify anything that had just happened.