#based some of cass' early sketches

[threestripeslider]

what in the namedrop–

May I ask? Where the heck did the nickname Peepaw come from?? Like please! I am still confused to this day where that name for future!leo came from!

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that word was first used by the author of Odd Man Out? @/threestripeslider

And then I created the comic ceossover of different F!Leonardo fanfics and called it "Peepaw multiverse" and then it somehow started spreading like wildfire haha?

[princess-ibri]

Tangled Unbraided

For ages I've wanted to find a way to use the old fractured fairytale idea of "Rapunzel Unbraided" Disney was going to do in the early 2000s, and decided to just go ahead and show what I've got. So here's some sketches of how the main characters would appear in this hypothetical Tangled spin off movie:

The original synopsis for Unbraided ran as thus:

“An evil witch named Lucretia despised fairy tale happy endings and plotted to change all that. Meanwhile in modern day San Francisco, Claire and Vince are two vastly opposite teenagers who cannot stand one another. Claire is a short haired, fashion obsessed teen who was concerned with her looks. Vince is a stocky and crude pizza delivery boy on hard times. The two of them get on each other's nerves which gets the attention of Lucretia in the fairy tale realm. Lucretia takes Rapunzel and her prince Beau and transforms them into a squirrel and dog, respectively, while Claire and Vince find themselves filling their roles. Claire and Vince eventually team up with Rapunzel and Beau to defeat Lucretia and return to their respective places in time. “

---

And I'd want to follow the basic plot of that, though with changes with what we have from the actual Tangled movie. But basically two teens from 2007 San Francisco (why not make it a 'period' piece with all this Y2K nostalgia going on that makes no sense to me, a Y2K kid x) get reverse Enchanted and find themselves in the Everrealm. Searching for a way home, mentored by a talking squirrel and dog that claim to be famous fairytale characters also trying to regain their human forms.

The reason the witch tries to recreate the Rapunzel story with two people who are unlikely to give it a happy ending is that she's trying to make a spell to warp reality and bring about another golden flower (so that we can have the one that eventually shows up in Sofia the First) and so gain immortality for herself.

My ideas for the growth journeys each character goes on in this hypothetical movie is of course that Claire and Vince both learn to be more comfortable with themselves/find their real potential, as well as learn that its ok to trust others emotionally, both in a platonic sense with Eugene and Rapunzel mentoring them, and romantically with eachother as they get closer.

Rapunzel and Eugene would have this be an opportunity for them both to work through the concerns they both have about being parents. Sure they both have better parental relationships now, but both grew up with either abusive or absent parents (and then hyper protective ones in Rapunzel's case with Frederick) and though they both want kids they're afraid they might still mess it up. So, getting to help these two teens find themselves and their way home gives them a sense of the type of parents they'll be, and that they'll be ok in the end.

(They also all eventually find out Claire is their many times descendent and thats why she looks like Rapunzel so much, and why the spell called her into Rapunzel's place)

For the Witch I decided to change her name from Lucretia as I already had a character with that name for the Bluebeard story. I still wanted her to have some actual connection to the og Rapunzel fairytale, and a way to know about the Sundrop flower, and while I know we already had Cass as Gothel's kid, per my DisneyVerse she did have more then one over those many many years 😅😬

We already had a benevolent version of another Gothel daughter with my rewrite of Ginny, so I decided this time we'd get to focus on a malevolent one, so our villain for this story is Azalea.

(I based her looks on one of the tree nymphs from Gothel's backstory in OUAT, old Gothel/witch concept art and her name was inspired by Alice from OUAT being Gothel's daughter, just with a sharper sounding plant name x)

Also here's some original concept art of the Rapunzel Unbraided story treatment!

(Some of these might technically be from the Rapunzel treatment but I feel they fit the story anyway)

Also some video! A rough animatic overview of the whole story

And a more polished small clip of Claire and Squirrel Rapunzel

But yeah that's my rough little idea of how I'd incorporate the Rapunzel Unbraided concept/characters into the Disneyverse :)

[belphieslilcow]

THE HISTORY OF CASSIAN

you may sit there and ask, "dyllan, how DID you come up with a perfect and flawless design like cassian's?"

well dear viewer... today you shall learn!!

so he actually has two kinda origins, one much more like the cass we know today, so on with it!!

we start out with the origin of cassian as a name in the beautiful land of skyrim

he was my self insert i made that i didn't end really being happy with and kinda left behind BUT i did reuse his name for our cassian of today so he's important to mention!!

fun fact!! cassian comes from the fact that it sound like the word caspian, as as my name is dyllan, meaning son of the sea, i thought it'd be fun to kinda name my s/i after a sea

fun fact 2!! i did write a couple cassian/cicero fics that are still up on my blog, if you search back enough you'll find em hehe

now we more so move on to the proto design and personality in cookie run ovenbreak!!

this was my first self insert for the game, named vanilla cream cookie, he was a patisserie, but as you can see from the pose and design on the right, his design was way to similar to herb cookie in my eyes (i did use him as a drawing ref) so i ended up changing his deisng fairly quickly, i only have 3 artworks of him in this stage

fun fact 3!! the image on the left could very well be considered like the ancient ancestor of modern cassian since that was the first image i drew of vanilla cream!!

ahh my lovely pride and joy, cream horn cookie!!

the image on the far left was the first kinda sketch i made of him, instead of basing him off just vanilla cream in general i made him after my fav dessert type pastry, cream horns!!

he had a sleepy tired and sheep motif, i'm still so proud of how i made the shape of the cream horn into like an actual horn, fitting in with his sheep look as well!!

i've drawn SO much of him, even self ship art with other cookies hehe =w=

you can really see how his hair kinda evolved into cass's emo hair!!!

ahh... here's where i got into obey me!!

this was the first design idea i had for an mc/self insert, so this was where i stole the name from myself to make a new character with!! i have a few drawing of him one with beel, but i just didn't vibe with his design all that well and his bangs and overall hairstyle gave me trouble

now here's some early cassian design!! this was when i forgo-ed the pink hair and green eyes and basically just made a human cream horn cookie since i love his design so much

actually while searching for pictures i completely forgot i had cass's ahoge as a heart shape for a while!!

the pic on the right was after the golden newt syrup incident lol

and that leads us to cassian of the modern day!! he's finally smiling which is so funny, does this represent my mental health getting better and becoming more confident?? mayhaps in some way, but i'm really happy with him as a design, character, etc

even if he is just me but cooler, i adore the lil guy <3

i love seeing how my artwork has evolved over the almost 3 years i've had him (including cookie run era cream horn)

anyways PLEASE tell me you found this interesting cause i'm obsessed with shit like this and wanted to make own kinda thing!!

[preciousthingsareprecious]

Finding Us Chapter 21

Alright! Here I am at last with another Tim chapter! I hope you guys enjoy it. 

AO3 Link

~

Tim couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling up in his chest at the idea of progress in the stalker case. It fueled his desire to keep moving in other directions, while he waited on Damian to finish his sketch he dove back into work on the Alkali case.

Currently, he was trying once again not to backseat hack as Barbara was finally digging through the Alkali’s files. After their trip to the physical location, Babs had used the access gained through Stephanie to create her own back door and they’d sat on that for a little while to make sure no one found it.

It was early the morning after Damian’s encounter with the creepy man and Tim was in the belfry standing over Barbara’s shoulder because there was nothing to currently do on the stalker case. Tim hadn’t recognized Damian’s sketch of the guy he’d seen, and so they were waiting on facial recognition to grab his identity. The kid’s sketch was definitely good enough for the system to pick something up, they just had to wait.

“Have you found anything interesting yet?” he asked, trying not to bounce on his toes.

“Lots. Nothing we’re looking for. Though, there is a guy here who’s last name is Bandersnatch, which is pretty cool.”

She was teasing, but Tim could also hear the note of warning in her voice. When she found what they were looking for she’d tell him, and he shouldn’t keep pushing. He sighed, and turned to step across the room, over to a mini fridge installed for snacks.

“Want a soda?” he called.

She shook her head, “It’s too early for that, toss me a tea.” she answered.

He grabbed a bottle of tea out for Babs and a can of orange soda for himself and moved back over to the computer.

“Thanks for helping on this.” he said, handing her the tea, then cracking open his soda.

“Of course, the sooner we get these guys the better.”

Tim agreed, and sipped at his soda while he played a matching game on his phone in an attempt to both distract and stop himself from tossing advice Barbara’s way. He got stuck on a particularly difficult level and found himself totally lost in it for a while, trying again and again to win. It made the waiting a lot easier, even if he also kind of wanted to toss his phone out the window and watch it crash at the bottom of the building.  

“Got something.” Babs said at last.

Tim looked up bleary eyed, blinking away red diamonds and orange squares. It took his brain a moment to register what she’d said before he stood up, the chair shaking.

“Great!” he hurried over to look at the screen again, “What’d you find?”

“Well, under the private files I found some that were locked with a password, after cracking that I found these.”

The file she’d opened was filled with unreadable text.

“It’s encrypted?” Tim asked.

“I think it’s some kind of cypher. See it follows a sort of pattern. Nothing too overt or easy like a caesar cipher. It’s got to have a key.”

Tim hummed, she was right, the text was filled with letters and numbers and broken up in a way that looked like lines of real text, if they’d been in any kind of legible order.

“Well then we’d better get to cracking it.”

They worked for a couple hours trying to figure out what cypher had been used, and testing various codes to no avail. Eventually they decided to give it some time to breathe, and their brains time to think of new ideas. Babs forwarded him the files so he could keep looking over them later and Tim left her to work on other projects.

As he was leaving, he found Cassandra waiting for him down at the base of the Belfry. She was eating a cinnamon roll like it was a doughnut.

“Hey.” she said, handing him a cup of coffee, and shaking her wrist and the plastic bag hanging off it.

Tim took the offered cup, then tugged the bag off her free hand checking inside. A second cinnamon roll sat tucked into a nest of napkins. He fished it out, careful not to spill his drink then copied Cass, taking a huge bite out of the side.

It was still warm, and the taste of cinnamon and sugar danced across his tongue in a way that made him think of home. Of early Saturday mornings with Alfred, stirring together a bowl of butter, sugar, and cinnamon so the man could carefully spread it across dough. Or of Bruce dropping off a few in his room, ruffling his hair, and telling him he should probably finish his homework before working on another case.

“Ready to head back?” she asked.

He washed down the bite of bread with some coffee and nodded, “Yeah, I think Babs and I have done all we can. How’re things back at the manor?”

Cass shrugged, “Everyone is still waiting on the results of the search, so they all split up to work on other things.”

They moved to the car Cass had brought to pick him up in, it was one of Bruce's many cars, black and not too fancy. Tim held a hand out for the keys and after an eye roll Cass dropped them in his palm.

“I drove here.” she argued.

“You drive too fast for me and my coffee.” he replied.

“Fair.” she shrugged.

As Tim pulled away from the clocktower, still munching on his cinnamon roll Cass pipped back up.

“Can we stop at the craft store?”

He glanced at her, “Sure, but why?”

“Damian wanted some more colored pencils. He sent a list and asked me to stop if I had time.” She tugged a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and opened it to show him.

A detailed list of colors, brands, and what not to buy’s filled the page in Damian’s neat, tight, handwriting. Tim was surprised to find a little picture of a dog at the bottom of the page, it wasn’t as detailed as Damian usually did, and smiling for some reason.

“He drew it as a thank you, and promised to make me a better one with the pencils.” Cass said, catching where Tim’s eye had fallen, then she added, “Eyes on the road.”

Tim flicked the turn signal on the car to indicate he needed to go left, towards the craft store Damian frequented, “Why didn’t he come if he wanted to restock?”

Cass shrugged again, and folded the paper instead of crumpling it back up. She set it in her lap, fingers tapping on the paper with gentle tip taps.

Damian rarely missed a chance to get his own art supplies. He was as picky about them as Tim was over film or lenses for his cameras. Sure it was just a few replacement pencils, but even those Tim knew Damian would linger over for an hour if he was left to it. He wondered briefly if his mild concussion had anything to do with staying home. Maybe Alfred had told him he couldn’t leave? But no, it had been days at this point, he was probably cleared at last for most activities.

Maybe it was because he knew Cass was headed to pick up Tim.

He tried not to think too hard on that thought. They hadn’t really talked much lately. Both had been busy with their own things, and besides that, they didn’t really talk a lot to begin with. He’d thought they were doing better, but at the same time Tim knew they weren’t.

Tim reached out to snatch his coffee and take a sip from it. Now that he thought about it, maybe they were doing better after all. Damian had called him by his first name the night before. And he’d gone looking for clues as to Tim’s stalker. A queasy feeling bubbled up in Tim’s stomach. He’d been quick to dismiss Damian’s attempted apology back when they’d been at the mall, and now he was starting to wonder if he'd been really trying to mend that bridge. T im loved the idea of having a little brother, and way back when he'd first met Damian he'd been happy to have one, for all of two seconds. Still, sometimes he thought they had found that perfect spot of being siblings, and other times it felt like there was a gaping hole between them. Especially lately.

He pulled into the store’s parking lot not even realizing they’d made it there, his body on autopilot. Cass cheered as she climbed out of the car, and Tim stayed quiet.

When he looked up at the storefront he figured it out.

He might be jealous. Of the squirt.

Maybe it wasn't their past that was bothering him so much lately, but their present. Tim thought he'd shaken off those feelings in regards to Jason and Damian, but maybe he hadn't. Even in the wake of the family’s eyes turning on him Tim still couldn’t stop thinking about how Damian seemed to draw everyone in all the time. Dick, then Jason, Bruce with his fretting after they’d gotten hurt. It was--it was like he fit in a way Tim couldn’t quite imagine himself fitting again.  Like they were both the same piece, and there was only one spot left on the puzzle, and Damian had swooped in just in time to fill it. Even now, he felt odd about the attention. Like the moment everything was done his family would stop looking at him again. Stop seeing Tim, because he’d messed up. He’d failed to be the one to fix everything and he no longer deserved to be seen.

“Tim?”

“Coming!” he said, locking the car door.

Inside he was hit with the smell of paint and paper. The whole place was a kaleidoscope of colors and supplies crammed together in a space that should have felt cluttered, but instead actually seemed homely. He followed Cass to the pencils and held each as she selected them, reading Damian’s list carefully, then making Tim double check “ just in case” .

He thought they’d be in and out, but once they’d found Damian’s stuff Cass insisted on browsing. Tim followed her, feeling a bit like Titus pattering after Damian as he instructed the dog on something very un-dog-like and soon his arms were full.

Cass had added extra packs of less high quality colored pencils, crayons, thin markers --not thick, because apparently those didn’t trace well-- and made him pick out a coloring book. She selected one full of animals, and Tim picked one that was more abstract. Like black and white stained glass. He and Cass locked eyes on an adult swear word coloring book and both grinned.

“For Jason?” Tim asked.

“And one for Dick.” Cass grinned.

Soon they’d selected adult coloring books for the whole family. Some simply because they knew they’d get a laugh out of them, and others from the knowledge of the recipient getting genuine delight from it.

By the time they left, Tim was feeling better. His day brightened even more when Cass hooked an arm through his at home, and dragged him into the living room.

“We are going to color and watch She-Ra.” she declared.

He could have argued and said he had work to do. But he knew Cass would tell him a break was good. And wasn’t that what he’d just told Babs? He could have fallen into other cases or dug out his 3Ds to play some Animal Crossing. But the best idea in the whole world right then was sitting on the floor and coloring with his sister, and he wasn’t going to pass it up.

He filled in two whole pages, first lined with marker --Cass had been right about the thin ones-- then colored in as dark as he could with his own box of colored pencils. At some point the sounds of She-Ra had been turned down as he and Cass chatted about everything.

She told stories of an adventure with Steph. He talked about Mindbender and how weird it was to have Jason in the house again. Then about how cool it was to have Jason in the house. Cass told him about a ballet she’d seen. All of it, whether it was little nothings or big changes, ebbed and flowed to the scritch scritch of pencil on paper, and legs folded up or kicked into the air.

At some point, Alfred brought in cocoa and water. Then sandwiches. Dick breezed through and gasped over his book, stopping to color in all of an F before getting bored and breezing back out. Jason cackled over his book, and then genuinely thanked them for thinking of him. Damian collected his pencils, didn’t complain about a single one, and stared at his own book of animals to color like it was made of gold before tucking it under an arm and scurrying away.

Bruce stayed the longest, lounging on a couch to add his own commentary between theirs, infrequent, but enough to say “I’m here, I’m listening, I love you.” before he too was called away. He planted a kiss on each of their heads before leaving.

It was Stephanie who broke up the peace. Showing up like a tornado, and stirring them from settled spaces into laughter. They traded pencils for controllers and fired up Smash Brothers for a wholly different, but still perfect, adventure.

There, surrounded in waves by his family Tim wondered if he’d been wrong earlier. If maybe the puzzle had room for all of them. And every time someone new came in, it just expanded and made room for them. He certainly felt like he fit in, and it was really nice.

[welcometophu]

Missed Fortunes: Crowns 5

Twinned Book 2: Missed Fortunes

Crowns 5

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Access to special collections at the library requires authorization. One perk of being an upper level Magical Studies student is being pre-authorized for texts concerning Talent as a part of the course. They’re kept in a separate room, the walls lined with glass-front bookshelves, filled with books of all shapes and sizes. Not a one of them was ever mass produced, although several dating from as early as the seventies have been printed from computer texts, and some before that were reproduced by mimeo.

In some ways, it’s a little like mixing texts hand-copied by monks with old school ‘zines.

But every single text is a first-hand account of Talent. Every single text incorporates real life experience, for any number of specialties. They have been carefully cataloged and organized, to a point, although Carolyn wishes they were cross-referenced under more in-depth topics. She knows that Pawel hopes to eventually digitize them, but for now, collecting them in one place is his primary goal, so that the students can learn from a great breadth of Talented experience.

The room is smaller than the main special collections room, but there are two large wooden tables at the center, each with a half dozen chairs. Carolyn leaves her bag on one chair, her laptop open on the table and ready for notes. She can’t take photographs of any of the texts, but she plans typing up notes on as much as she can find.

If she even finds anything.

The magical texts are organized by geographical location first, then by year. Carolyn is positive that there’s a logic behind that, given how different specialties tend to group together, but it’s not helpful right now. It takes hours of searching, starting in the northeast US and spreading from there, before she has managed to find a half dozen texts from areas east of the Mississippi. She steps away from the wall and stretches, pressing her hands at the base of her back as she arches.

There’s a knock on the door; Carolyn turns as it creaks open. She flushes, realizing that she’s been on display through the glass door and large windows. The librarian smiles slightly as she pokes her head in, and it’s almost reassuring. Carolyn wishes she could remember her name. It’d be polite.

“I’m doing just fine,” Carolyn tells her. “Although I’m probably going to be at this for hours.”

“We’re looking for a student hire to help us cross-reference the texts,” the librarian points out with a small smile. “If you happen to know anyone in the Magical Studies program looking for work.”

Carolyn suspects there are plenty, but she’ll pass that information along to her sisters first. “I’ll see if there’s anyone I know,” she tells her. “Don’t worry, I’m being careful with the texts. I’m looking for some fairly specific information.”

“Isn’t everyone who uses this room?” The librarian waves a hand, a silent signal to go on, and backs out, closing the door carefully.

Carolyn sits down at the table, picks up the top book she found, a slim volume hand-written in the late 19th century. It looks like a cross between a diary, a list of recipes, and an old-fashioned spell book. On the first page, the script begins, “This is the story of one Josephine Adams, and her sister Clara, and the things they saw in the cards.”

It sounds like it has promise, anyway.

Carolyn brings up a fresh document, and begins to type in notes. Josephine was fifteen years old when the volume began, and Carolyn flips to the end just to note that according to the date, Josephine was seventeen by that time, and her sister had just turned fifteen. Carolyn keeps track of the time, because anything can affect a reading when it comes to interpreting the cards. She has the advantage of being able to look back and see a greater picture than the girls could see as life unfolded.

She skims through the book, pausing whenever the cards are mentioned. Both Josephine and Clara were being raised in traditional ritual, although they received a hand-drawn deck from their maternal grandmother a year before the book began. While there are periodic sketches of cards from the deck, none of them are detailed enough for Carolyn to be able to see clearly. She can find hints of symbolism, a feeling for what the card was like. It’s enough to make her wonder if the deck itself has been preserved in special collections as well, or if the family still passes it on.

She pauses on a day that shows the Wheel of Fortune at the top, Strength next to it, and the Hanged Man beside that.

We met a family of wolves today. The grandfather could no longer change, his wolf aged and grey about the muzzle, his breath sour and some teeth missing. He curled by the fire, while the mother and father sat with our elders and spoke. We children were sent away.

The eldest of the Clan family—Bernard—tried to argue that he was adult enough to remain, but he was sent with us outside. Clara, of course, peppered him with questions. She has never met a Clan boy before, and made him shift to show his claws, and his teeth. He was gentle with her; for that I am thankful.

She insisted that I Read for him, of course, and he agreed. Even though he snarled and bared his teeth when I brought forth the Cards. He whined as each was laid upon the table, and refused to come to his human form.

I have never laid a Reading before that was entirely of Trump. This family looks to outside sources, both for strength, and for leadership. They have nothing within. When Death was the final card laid, I gathered them all up and told him to be ready for Great Change.

They only stayed through dinner, then left, running on four feet through the woods as if the very Shadows hunted them down. I asked Mother what brought them here, and she refused to answer.

She said that dark times are coming, and Clara and I should not Read. It is not true Talent.

Grandmother disagreed. Clara and I have hidden the deck so Mother cannot take it from us.

The cards are drawn more carefully than other illustrations, and the passage ends with an image of Death. Carolyn pulls back from it, fingers resting lightly upon the image, because this she knows.

This is a Shadowwalker. There is no cloak, no scythe, no rose—none of the traditional symbolism for the card that means change. This is a woman made of darkness, with another in the distance, almost hidden in the shadows that lie around the edge of the card. Death points toward the shadows with one hand, the other beckoning the viewer closer.

A shiver rolls down Carolyn’s back, and she pulls her fingers away.

She should see if these images have enough of whatever power her Talent seeks. Should see if she can bring an illusion from them, raise it up. But not that card. Not that shadowed Death. She knows change is coming; she doesn’t need to invoke it right here in the library.

The image of the Wheel of Fortune looks as if it is dry paint against an old wooden wall. Carolyn brushes her fingers over it—just paper, nothing more—then presses her fingertips closer. She glances at the glass windows and door, hoping no one is watching, then ducks her head again to focus on the picture.

It’s a good image, one that she instinctively feels a kinship toward, but it doesn’t come to life under her touch. The paper stays just paper, with none of the slick, cool feeling that signals the beginnings of an illusion. She slumps back and looks down at the images again.

She’s not sure she’s going to be able to shake that particular image of Death any time soon.

She already broke the rules by touching the paper so roughly when she tried to call the illusion out. As tempting as it is to snap a quick picture, she won’t let herself break the rules again. Instead she pulls out her notebook and quickly tries to copy the sketches of the cards. They don’t seem to have the same vibrancy that the original does, so Carolyn adds a note to ask Kit to take a look at the book.

It’s interesting that whoever created this deck used a Shadowwalker image. She’d love to get her hands on the deck to shuffle through and see what other legends she might find.

Another brief rap against the door, and Carolyn snaps her head up, thankful that she’s not doing anything wrong right this second. Cass wiggles her fingers, then opens the door and slips inside.

“Hey, I was walking by and saw you in here,” Cass says. “I’m probably interrupting, sorry.”

Carolyn’s only managed to make it through one book so far, and she can’t borrow the others that she’s found. At this point, having an ally might make the work go faster.

She nudges one of the remaining books toward an empty chair. “You can help, if you want. I’m looking for any Predictive Talent that references illusionary work, and traveling. I’ve pulled the few references I could find from the eastern side of the States that seem to reference Tarot cards.”

Cass drops her bag on one chair, takes another and opens the book. She wrinkles her nose and coughs delicately. “Dust,” she says.

“Yeah, things get a bit musty in here sometimes.” Carolyn carefully closes the one book and picks up her last. “I’ve spent an awful lot of time in here for someone who isn’t actually majoring in Magical Studies.”

“But Kit is, isn’t he?” Cass says easily. She opens the book in front of her, tilts her head as she runs her finger down the first page. “It’s a minor for me. I haven’t had to do a lot of independent research yet, but I expect I’ll start in the fall. I have to talk to Pawel about my options.”

“Are you Talented?” Carolyn looks away as soon as she asks. The question is rude; everyone has the right not to say whether they are or not. But it seemed like the logical question to ask at the moment. Almost everyone Carolyn knows in the program is Talented in some way.

Silence for a moment, and when Carolyn looks back over, Cass is nodding. “Yes,” Cass says. “Emergent.” She fiddles with the pages, flipping forward and backward slowly in the book. “I don’t like to talk about it much, if that’s okay.”

“It’s fine.” Carolyn lifts the book she’s holding. “So, are you up for helping me out today? Oh, and if you ever need a job on campus, they’re looking to hire a student in the program to work toward cross-referencing the resources in here.”

“That might be a fun project.” Cass stops several pages in, holds up the book so Carolyn can see the images. “This isn’t the same as your deck, right?”

The images are stiff, extremely traditional. The deck that every non-Talented person knew, long before Talent became a household word. Carolyn huffs, because more than likely, this won’t be true Predictive Talent. “No. It’s a mass produced deck, the Rider-Waite Tarot. See if there’s anything about true prediction or guidance in the book, or any unique images.”

“Mm.” Cass bends to her work, and Carolyn does the same.

The book Carolyn looks through is a history of a lineage of Healers, as told through Tarot. The book was written by three generations of women: Prudence, her daughter Patience, and her granddaughter Tempest. In each case, every Healer has two pages to themselves, on which the birth is recorded, along with a card cast on that date for the infant’s fate. Notes are made throughout the years, and cards cast every decade, until the death is noted.

There is no explanation how this line of Predictive women intertwined with the Healers, and Carolyn makes a note to look for further texts from this geographic region in hopes of explanation. It may not help for her project, but it’s interesting, and a little different.

“I thought all texts in this room were from Talented families and communities,” Cass says slowly. “This boy seems to have grown up in a completely mundane household.”

“He could be emergent,” Carolyn murmurs, then pauses as she realizes what she said. “Wait.” She carefully marks the page she was reviewing, and sets the one book aside before reaching. “Let me take a look at that.”

“Sebastian Edwards Smith,” Cass says. She slides closer to Carolyn, sharing the book between them. “There’s a photo tucked into the book here, with his name on the back. It’s interesting, actually. He found the deck in a home when his parents moved in the 1950s. Like you said, it’s just a standard deck that was available at the time. But after he worked with it, he both claimed to be able to talk to spirits, and to tell the future. He was talking shit about the ghosts—he writes about it in this book. But the cards really did guide him, and he started drawing his own and it got even better.”

Sebastian. A Predictive Talent named Sebastian, and literally the first reference to a male of Predictive Lineage who holds the Talent. Carolyn dashes off a quick text with the name of the book, the location in the room, and a note that Kit should take a look at it.

She goes to set her phone down and pauses, adding, If you get a chance, can you do me a favor? I would really really love if you could sketch the special collections room for texts concerning Talent. I want to see if I can use it to travel.

Carolyn has a theory, and if she’s right, she and Kit may need to work together.

“How is the search for illusions going?” Cass releases the book completely to Carolyn, putting a little more space between them.

“Still struggling to figure out how it really works, but I’ve got some ideas. Some things seem to work better for me than others,” Carolyn admits. “I wish it could just be any picture. It’d be nice if I could just open my phone and look at a picture of a place and go there, right?”

“It sounds both amazing and convenient,” Cass says, sighing. “Very different than what Mac does. She can just pop around line of sight.”

“As open of a secret as that is in the house these days, we probably shouldn’t talk about it,” Carolyn says. She knows Mac is still careful, and doesn’t want the world knowing that she’s Kenzie Davis, the first girl who publicly Emerged on national television. Carolyn doesn’t blame her, either. It seems awkward, and uncomfortable, to be in that public a position.

Cass nods. “You have a point.” She drums her fingers on the table, but makes no move to take the book back.

She wants something. But she’s not saying what she wants.

There isn’t much that people come to Carolyn for. Relationship advice lately, but she can’t imagine Cass wanting or needing that. She’s been with Dax for a long time, and despite occasional arguments, they seem solid. Which means Cass must want a reading.

Carolyn carefully closes her research books, ensures she knows exactly which ones she was working with, and how far she got. She wants to take another look at the one by Sebastian, probably with Kit in tow. But the other two she may be done with. The Healer one intrigues her from the sociological viewpoint, and she wants to return to it another time. She has a vague idea of looking at the psychology and sociology of the intersection between types of Lineage Talent as her final thesis project.

At the rate she’s going, she wonders if she can minor in both Sociology and Magical Studies before she graduates. She might have enough credits.

Once the books are away and her laptop closed, she reaches into her bag and draws out her Tarot notebook and deck. She spills the cards out and shuffles them a few times, then holds the deck out to Cass.

“Are you sure?” Cass asks, and Carolyn nods.

“Shuffle a few times, until you feel ready, then cut the deck. I’ll give you a full reading,” she offers, even though Cass never quite managed to ask.

Cass shuffles the cards carefully, moving slowly like she’s trying to read the cards with her fingertips. Carolyn wonders if that’s what Cass does, if she can somehow look past objects into the lives around them. She has to promptly discard that thought before she falls down a rabbit hole of somehow thinking that Cass is using her deck to spy on her. That wouldn’t make sense.

Cass finally sets the deck down without cutting it, nudges it toward Carolyn. “I was thinking about challenges I’m facing right now,” she says quietly. “Not romantic ones. Kind of familial ones, and social.”

“Okay, we’ll do a three card spread, but a little differently than the past/present/future that I usually do for quick readings.” Carolyn lays out the top three cards from the deck, from left to right. “This is your current situation, the challenges you face, and some guidance to help you get through.”

Cass tugs her braid loose, finger combs her hair as she sits back. She pulls her hair back from her face, redoing it into a high ponytail.

It’s a nervous gesture. Carolyn might not be good at people, but she’s picked up at least a few things from Heather.

“You’re balanced,” she says, touching the Four of Wands, where a girl dances between four wands and four roses, balanced and joyful. “At this exact moment, you’ve figured out how to balance everything. Your family. Your sisters. Dax. Schoolwork. It’s probably pretty delicate, but it’s a good feeling. The thing is, anything that perfectly balanced has a way of falling.”

She picks up the next card, turns it right side up so Cass can see the pentacle surrounded by ruins, but also awash in the glowing light of a new day. “An ace is a good card,” she says. “Aces are about new beginnings, but your ace is upside down, so the new beginning may not be something you want, or need right now. It has the potential to go really well, but it’s also a challenge. And challenges don’t always go as you hoped. This particular card is usually about money coming in, or something to do with creativity and talent. It’s a card of success. If you have a job, it could mean that you have the potential to start something wonderful and new with that job, but that it’s also very dependent upon your personal talent. Or even Talent.” Carolyn trusts that Cass understands that difference between those two words.

Cass leans her elbows on the table, shoulders tense. She touches the third card in the reading. “Okay. So I’m balanced, and it sounds like whatever new beginning is an option is going to toss me off balance and onto my ass. Why does it look like my guidance is going to walk off a cliff?”

“Remember that everything in the Tarot is symbolic. Just like Death means change, this cliff is symbolic, too,” Carolyn says. “The Fool is about innocence. It’s about trusting those around you, and about being spontaneous. The Fool is, in some ways, almost a direct opposite to your current situation. You are so tightly balanced that you could fall. The Fool encourages you to open up, play a little looser. See what happens when you let chance in. You may not be able to plan for everything in your life, and if you follow the Fool, it might be easier to handle the unexpected.”

Cass taps her fingernails on the table, shoulders taut, jaw set. “Okay. So. Stop being a control freak, that’s what it says, right? Because I can’t actually control what’s happening, and if it gets out of control, it’ll be okay.”

“And trust your family and friends. Don’t let anyone push you off that cliff,” Carolyn taps the dog that nips at the Fool’s heels. “But at the same time, remember that there people who would warn you away, too. Listen to them.”

She gathers the cards up, carefully puts them back in the bag. Cass remains silent while Carolyn sketches the layout, and makes notes on what interpretation she used for the positions of the cards, and their meanings. When she’s finished, Cass is still staring at the table, drawing one fingernail along the grain of the wood.

“Cass,” she says quietly, and Cass’s head snaps up. “We all know that you’re really reserved. You can be bubbly, sure, but you keep everything important all knotted up inside. Maybe you need to undo some of those knots and let people in. Not just Dax, but your sisters, too.”

Cass licks her lips, then nods. She smiles slowly, although it never reaches her eyes, and touches Carolyn’s hand. “Thanks. You’ve given me something to think about,” she says. She glances down at her phone, shows the time to Carolyn. “It’s late. We’d better get back and get ready to go over to Paint it Red.”

It’s a lot later than Carolyn thought. “Yeah. Shit.” She finishes packing her things up, putting her resources back on the shelf. “We’ll have to hurry back.”

Cass tilts her heads, holds her hand out, palm up. “You were able travel to that illusion of your room. Think you could take someone through it?”

Possibly. Probably.

Maybe.

And if she can’t, it could be an epic disaster.

“I don’t think I want to chance it, and it doesn’t exactly work on demand,” Carolyn mutters, ignoring the fact that the picture is easily accessibly if she wants to test the theory. “Let’s just walk back. We’ll make it in time.”

She’ll test it eventually. She knows she has to. She just wants to be a little more certain that it’s going to work. And she’s not sure she wants to test it with Cass.

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