#first time drawing bronwyn in a LONG while

[solardrake]

only video i got, boss

[thepeculiarbird]

I completed half of your request @dragonsdendoodles 😔🙏 I drew Horace a few weeks ago and at first I wanted to draw Enoch as well so I can post them at the same time but I take so fricking long to draw one character It's insane (I feel like I'm complaining every time)

Anyway, here's a drawing of Horace like you asked and hopefully Enoch soon !

(It's also funny how I was drawing him while watching your livestream)

I still need to draw Jacob, Bronwyn, Claire, Olive, Noor and Miss P so just ask me who I should draw first idk

[yeunno]

Review One

One of Us is Lying by Karen M McManus

as always i would like to note that this review contains spoilers for One of Us is Lying by Karen M McManus. if you do not want the book spoiled, do not read this! at all! i will begin spoiling shit immediately <3

first of all, i should begin by noting that i bought this book knowing the entire plot line from start to finish. i already knew who the alleged “killer” was, knew everyone’s secrets, and still went ahead and purchased this book. and i definitely dont regret it at all. the start of the book keeps you intrigued because they get to the point quick. simon has his accident(?), the drama starts a bit, and then you find out that he dies, and you’re left wondering why. i think the book did a great job of keeping interest high. it’s definitely hard to say if i would feel this way at all if i didn’t quite literally have the whole book explained to me, perhaps maybe i was always interested because i already knew what would happen next, but i think the slight-yet-not-too-long drawing-out of the secrets and how they all handle them differently, especially with the fact that cooper’s real secret wasn’t revealed to us for a while, and the public/his family for even longer. i think that one of my main criticisms comes into okay here, though, because between cooper denying his use of steroids and the planted phones at the beginning, it was, on occasion, hard to determine what was true and what was not. at the beginning, when bronwyn mentions that the phone in her bag wasn’t her, simon says something along the lines of “you too?” at first i took this as simon mocking bronwyn, like he thought her excuse was dumb. and with the steroids, i don’t remember cooper explicitly stating to the reader that he wasn’t taking steroids until a bit later. i’m mildly disappointed that nate and bronwyn didn’t end up together at the end until a bit farther into the epilogue, as i was honestly routing for them. i do, however, understand that it’s probably a decently realistic scenario, as they led such different lives, but i did want them to work out. bronwyn had a nice little “i can change him” mentality that i honestly really wanted to be true. then, in the epilogue, they don’t even have their shit fixed, and they’re some weird on-and-off long-distance couple. which, again, slight bonus points for realism, buttttt i did not want said realism in this situation :) plus, this is combatted by the unrealistic nature of the fact that no one looked into simon himself and how fucking ODD it was that all four students claim to have a phone planted in their bag, and they all ended up in detention with simon the day he was going to write shit about them. you’re telling me that no one IRL would look into that? eli and his big brain really came through with that one. i found it really heartwarming that kris was the one to solve the whole problem, essentially the first time that cooper is OUT out with him, in more ways than one. i liked that little touch.

i think that that’s all i’ve got for this review. i could make a whole separate post on the show, please don’t watch it, you’re going to hate addy and everything just moves too quick. granted, only watched the first episode, but i was immediately not… not at all into it.

One of Us is Lying by Karen M McManus

overall, i really enjoyed this book. was satisfied with the delivery, had minimal complaints, and was sort of dying to read the book whenever i had a free moment, and even when i didn’t. i will say, though, it was a book that i could put down, and when i did put it down it was down for a little bit before i picked it back up again. but i think that everyone’s development was done very well and the suspense factor was not drawn out too much nor was too quick. very good book, sort of looking forward to reading the next one, though probably not for the writing style, but the plot itself. very much enjoyed

final rating: 8/10

thanks for reading my shitty little book review! let me know what you thought! if you have anything you’d like me to read, please let me know!

see you on the other page!

[ambivartence]

okay this is gonna be such a LONG ASK (i hope u dont mind 🙊)!! so many things to talk about

YEAH young k is everywhere hahahaha it was so cute when he walked into bang chan's vlive (i dont follow skz but i love interaction between groups 🥺), and same day6 songs are all SO GOOD even the even of day ones, idk how they do it asahhdjf and OMG PLS DONT GET ME STARTED ON JAE'S VOICE!!!!!! (jae is my bias yes....) but HIS VOICE?? is the most BEAUTIFUL THING EVER i love his voice and when he sings.....i just die, it's like slightly raspy and emotional and sigh-y if that makes sense idk. and all 5 of them can sing too which is so incredible <3

OMG SIYUAN AHAHAHA OK SO U WANNA HEAR MORE ABOUT MARK/JAEMIN are you sure you do, are you ready??? ok i'll just gush about jaemin because he has taken over my mind anyway (sorry mark) and you brought up how if you had the imaginary chance to be with any idol it would absolutely be jaemin. WELL ME TOO. ME TOO. i lowkey squealed when you said that lmaoo omg but the way im....so excited....to talk about jaemin........okay deep breaths mel

so we're going to ignore how incredibly physically attractive jaemin is, because anyone with eyes can see that and there are many other reasons why i like him (i would insert pics here but i dont want to make this any longer than i already know it's gonna be) :D but while we're on physical elements, i love his deep voice....it's so sexy it hurts but his voice is also really soothing at the same time :( like this video my friend posted a while back ahhhhh <33333 and i love his lazy raps in his deep voice like in my youth (and also the part where he and renjun sang in octaves BLESSING OUR EARS). but other reasons: i also love how he's the "mom" friend who takes care of dreamies, but what i love most is how he doesnt complain and does what needs to be done?? like in 7llin, he cooked the meat and made sure dreamies ate first, and he also had to wash dishes and make breakfast a bunch of times bc he lost rock paper scissors lmao but he did it without complaint <3 and grocery store jaem is also just....so sexy again 😭 he inspires me to be as patient and kind as he is <3 mostly, i love how kind he is. he talks about his mom's influence a lot, and how he wants to cook her dishes for his future family (HOLD ME IM SOFT) and how he still volunteers/donates to charity bc his mom taught him that if he has things he should give to others <3 he is also so uncompetitive (if he doesnt want to win at least, bc when he does he goes hard) and he lets his members win because he knows theyre competitive af and it makes him happy just seeing them be happy 🥺 i suspect that he could win/knows answers to game questions and stuff but he doesnt say it so that his members can win instead. and i also just rly relate to introvert jaemin LOL he can be crazy with people he's close with (his unpredictableness and duality is part of his charm to me), but also he maybe doesnt rly know how to act with people hes not as close with, which i relate to as an introvert (like that xiaojun/nomin vlive HAHAHAH POOR XJ was sitting there like what do i do is this normal, while nomin were holding hands and staring into each others eyes) OK WELL clearly i am 1000% whipped for na jaemin, i shall stop now <3 thank you very very much for letting me gush <3

also your drawing journey is so interesting, i had a similar thing with music haha i did a lot of violin since i was young until college, and i did it on and off in college but now im out of college and dont rly do it anymore lol but i still love music! i drew a bit as a kid too but i stopped so im not very good but it's really therapeutic, i've been thinking of learning to draw again maybe <3 and i love your style but thats so funny that it developed bc you had no time to color your pieces LOL. glad you developed your style AND graduated at the same time though yess you go <3

same i hurtled into kpop at a million miles per hour at this time last year too 😂 i've only done gifs since then but i feel the same way, i dont rly know what the other features do tbh LMAO i kind of just go in photoshop to do what i need to do haahhahah 🤣 also awww u heard about me from bronwyns blog! i think i found you from jackie's blog?? LOL but i've seen your pieces floating around on my dash a bunch too

[also this is so so random and u dont have to answer if ur not comfortable, but are you chinese (from your name)?? because me too!!! well i speak canto though so i dont understand wayv :( except lucas, xj, henderey lmao]

yeeee i'm chinese-american :) omg i wish i spoke canto (but i speak mandarin)!!!! the wayv canto-line is always the funniest when they're speaking cantonese

also yes omg jae's voice.......bro.... his first lines in zombie eng ver. always gets to me. sorry u keep telling me not to get u started but i'm just here adding fuel to the fire 🥵

everything you've written about jaemin i totally AGREEE and have thought about too!!! i was literally watching the nct dream "future" video yesterday before i got your first ask, and that clip of jaemin talking about his future made me uwu so hard 🥺🥺🥺 i could also go on forever with you about how his "mom"ness aka him being mature and dependable and humble and generous mAKES ME SO SOFT (when he talked about his savings / financial planning on weekly idol and also when he talked about his job and how czennies keep him motivated in the ODG episode are just two more moments that pop into mind) like he's relatively young in nct overall but in the future will make a great hyung to more new members 🥺

Also !!! jaemin's voice! omg that radio clip reminds me of when he did the tingle interview with jeno and imitated jeno's deep "wae" (<3 i'm jeno biased so doubly amusing) and also when he tried hitting that really high "janeul deureo" adlib while recording work it 😭😂lives in my mind rent free

[rockislandadultreads]

Transport Yourself into Fearie Land: book recs

The Hum and the Shiver by Alex Bledsoe

No one knows where the Tufa came from, or how they ended up in the Smoky Mountains of East Tennessee, yet when the first Europeans arrived, they were already there. Dark-haired, enigmatic, and suspicious of outsiders, the Tufa live quiet lives in the hills and valleys of Cloud County. While their origins may be lost to history, there are clues in their music, hints of their true nature buried in the songs they have passed down for generations. Private Bronwyn Hyatt returns from Iraq wounded in body and in spirit, only to face the very things that drove her away in the first place: her family, her obligations to the Tufa, and her dangerous ex-boyfriend. But more trouble lurks in the mountains and hollows of her childhood home. Cryptic omens warn of impending tragedy, and a restless "haint" lurks nearby, waiting to reveal Bronwyn's darkest secrets. Worst of all, Bronwyn has lost touch with the music that was once a vital part of her identity. With death stalking her family, Bronwyn will need to summon the strength to take her place among the true Tufa and once again fly on the night winds…

The Stolen Child by Keith Donohue

Inspired by the W.B. Yeats poem that tempts a child from home to the waters and the wild, The Stolen Child is a modern fairy tale narrated by the child Henry Day and his double. On a summer night, Henry Day runs away from home and hides in a hollow tree. There he is taken by the changelings—an unaging tribe of wild children who live in darkness and in secret. They spirit him away, name him Aniday, and make him one of their own. Stuck forever as a child, Aniday grows in spirit, struggling to remember the life and family he left behind. He also seeks to understand and fit in this shadow land, as modern life encroaches upon both myth and nature. In his place, the changelings leave a double, a boy who steals Henry’s life in the world. This new Henry Day must adjust to a modern culture while hiding his true identity from the Day family. But he can’t hide his extraordinary talent for the piano (a skill the true Henry never displayed), and his dazzling performances prompt his father to suspect that the son he has raised is an imposter. As he ages the new Henry Day becomes haunted by vague but persistent memories of life in another time and place, of a German piano teacher and his prodigy. Of a time when he, too, had been a stolen child. Both Henry and Aniday obsessively search for who they once were before they changed places in the world. The Stolen Child is a classic tale of leaving childhood and the search for identity. With just the right mix of fantasy and realism, Keith Donohue has created a bedtime story for adults and a literary fable of remarkable depth and strange delights.

The Last Days of Magic by Mark Tompkins

What became of magic in the world? Who needed to do away with it, and for what reasons? Drawing on myth, legend, fairy tales, and Biblical mysteries, The Last Days of Magic brilliantly imagines answers to these questions, sweeping us back to a world where humans and magical beings co-exist as they had for centuries. Aisling, a goddess in human form, was born to rule both domains and—with her twin, Anya—unite the Celts with the powerful faeries of the Middle Kingdom. But within medieval Ireland interests are divided, and far from its shores greater forces are mustering. Both England and Rome have a stake in driving magic from the Emerald Isle. Jordan, the Vatican commander tasked with vanquishing the remnants of otherworldly creatures from a disenchanted Europe, has built a career on such plots. But increasingly he finds himself torn between duty and his desire to understand the magic that has been forbidden. As kings prepare, exorcists gather, and divisions widen between the warring clans of Ireland, Aisling and Jordan must come to terms with powers given and withheld, while a world that can still foster magic hangs in the balance. Loyalties are tested, betrayals sown, and the coming war will have repercussions that ripple centuries later, in today’s world—and in particular for a young graduate student named Sara Hill. The Last Days of Magic introduces us to unforgettable characters who grapple with quests for power, human frailty, and the longing for knowledge that has been made taboo. Mark Tompkins has crafted a remarkable tale—a feat of world-building that poses astonishing and resonant answers to epic questions.

Some Kind of Fairy Tale by Graham Joyce

It is Christmas afternoon and Peter Martin gets an unexpected phone call from his parents, asking him to come round. It pulls him away from his wife and children and into a bewildering mystery. He arrives at his parents house and discovers that they have a visitor. His sister Tara. Not so unusual you might think, this is Christmas after all, a time when families get together. But twenty years ago Tara took a walk into the woods and never came back and as the years have gone by with no word from her the family have, unspoken, assumed that she was dead. Now she's back, tired, dirty, disheveled, but happy and full of stories about twenty years spent traveling the world, an epic odyssey taken on a whim. But her stories don't quite hang together and once she has cleaned herself up and got some sleep it becomes apparent that the intervening years have been very kind to Tara. She really does look no different from the young woman who walked out the door twenty years ago. Peter's parents are just delighted to have their little girl back, but Peter and his best friend Richie, Tara's one time boyfriend, are not so sure. Tara seems happy enough but there is something about her. A haunted, otherworldly quality. Some would say it's as if she's off with the fairies. And as the months go by Peter begins to suspect that the woods around their homes are not finished with Tara and his family...

[boyneriver-fraser]

Ho! The house! 🗣

When I grow up, I want a personalized guided tour of the Big House on Fraser’s Ridge

The moment the last tenant hangs up his tool belt, I want to walk back and forth through that breezeway. Peek into every cupboard. Climb every stair. Rootle through every cubbyhole. Jump on every bed. There is so much to see, and touch, and smell… and I want to DO IT ALL!

Thoughts & Observations: S5E3 Free Will

Marsali is already proving to be the perfect apprentice. She’s motivated, inquisitive, intelligent, detail-oriented, logical, and curious about all sorts of new-fangled ideas and things there in Boston. Just wait till she tastes those cream pies.

Claire’s voiceover almost needs a Dun Dun Dun… soundtrack. Let’s hope she dares history with caution, and the copy of Dr. Rawlings’ Recommendations Fergus delivers to the printer doesn’t include scrawls and doodles of anything too new-fangled.

Really like the Jamie Payne (director) – Luke Schelhass (writer) combo! 😃

No doubt many people echoed Jamie’s Deo gratius when they realized we were being treated to a JamieClaire-centric episode. It worked well for me, but so did Between Two Fires. I find each of Jamie and Claire compelling on their own, pursing their individual interests and causes. I also like seeing their relationships with other characters. Call me kooky.

Callback #1: This one takes place in a kind of Upside Down. Remember S4E5 Savages, when Jamie returned to the Ridge from Woolam’s Creek, happy after discovering #MurtaghSaved? A shotgun-armed Claire was unable to sleep after the tragedies of Petronella’s and her baby’s measle deaths and Adawehi’s murder.

In Free Will, Jamie returns to the Ridge from Hillsborough, stunned by the Regulators’ tarring and feathering and by Lieutenant Knox’s murdering Ethan MacKinnon, and anxious about needing to form a militia. Despite missing Jamie while he’s away, Claire’s work on the Ridge and interaction with her children and grandchildren satisfies her and allows her to sleep soundly.

Fergus takes a mean shorthand! 🖌

We hear the first of many “Roger Mac(s)” to come.

“We’ll be taking yer whisky with us to share with the men. The finest I’ve tasted since leaving Scotland.” Fergus Claudel Fraser: Official Distiller of Fraser’s Ridge (I love this adaptation! I don’t think I mentioned in my The Fiery Cross episode review how much I loved Jamie’s calling Fergus to stand by his hand. Fergus, like Young Ian, is a man of worth.)

⚠️ Murtz Alert ⚠️ Oops… False alarm… 🙁 Fraser’s Ridge workforce includes a lot of silver-haired, ponytail-wearing tenants. 🤷🏻‍♀️

“Mr. Trouble” 😂 Too bad wee Robin Scott, who plays Germain, would be too young to attend most of the cast’s social outings. He would be the life of the party. 🎉

Does Marsali need Brianna’s help with reading because medical books are advanced academics and Brianna holds a degree from M.I.T, or because Laoghaire dropped the ball and didn’t educate her daughters? It’s safe to say Laoghaire didn’t encourage them to read anything that sat on a witch’s bookshelf.

Callback #2: The JamieClaire-on-horseback-led convoy’s leaving Fraser’s Ridge took me back to S2E8 The Fox’s Lair and E9 Je Suis Prest. Did you notice the pecking order? 1: Colonel & Physician. 2: Captain. 3: Official Distiller. Priorities are important, during times of peace and of war.

So… Stephen Bonnet’s free from incarceration, and recently sighted in Wilmington? How far is Wilmington from Fraser’s Ridge? Does it matter almost every fit and young man, almost every weapon, and the only doctor are on the road to Brownsville, while Bonnet’s purported child and the child’s mother are back with the not-so-fit-nor-young-nor-armed men on Fraser’s Ridge? I suppose it doesn’t, since the mother herself knows Bonnet could be consulting a map and stealing a horse as we speak. I somehow doubt her husband and named father of her child would agree… if he only knew.

Callback #3: Colonel Jamie tells Captain Roger there’s no time to train the militia, so he’ll teach them to fight like Highlanders, to gather and scatter on his command. Can you say Dougal MacKenzie in S2E9 Je Suis Prest? Sure. I knew you could.

Thank goodness for Closed Captioning. Growing up immersed in Scots (language, accents, people), I rarely “huh?” during Outlander, but I have no ear for Welsh, and John Quincy Myers keeps my clicking that CC button. And his lines are so worth understanding! 😂

Callback #4: The fireside banter and guy-talk, with Claire’s being the only participant without a Y chromosome, takes me back to S1E5 Rent. Good times.

We’re slowly adding to the books’ Fraser’s Ridge roster.  We already know Isaiah Morton and Ronnie Sinclair. Around the fire we meet brothers Evan and Kenny Lindsay, and Geordie Chisholm. Isaiah Morton on his way to Brownsville? What could go wrong?

Speaking of books, so much of Fireside Chat reminded me of The Fiery Cross, right down to Jamie’s not needing to worry whether his feet or his hair might burn in order to sleep “warm.” Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Say no more. 

I am very impressed with Paul Gorman’s playing the Beardsley twins, and duly impressed with his characters’ appearing onscreen at the same time. Well done! BUT… the BEST part of the entire Twins Story introduction was the explanation for Keziah’s missing britches. 😻

You’re lucky, Lizzie Wemyss, I’m completely committed to Murtz, because any man who would forgo his pants to keep kittens warm is my kind of man. ❤️

I wonder if Father Fogden ever missed his mirror?

I couldn’t begin to imagine those young men’s lives. Orphaned at two, with four sisters dead at sea. Sold on a 30-year term, starved, beaten, deafened… and made to sleep in a barn that is too cold for goats.

Josiah isn’t going to avoid Claire’s scary looking medical tools for long if he keeps drawing attention to his sore throat. Owie!

More book people, People: Joan, Hugh, and Iain Òg Findlay. In The Fiery Cross Roger also meets with Iain Mòr, Joan’s brother and head of the family.

Two years, three months, and five days…

It’s probably the meds, but when Fanny Beardsley slams the door in Jamie’s face, I imagined her turning to the goats and saying, “I told ‘im we got already got one.”

I’m thankful my TV’s Smell-o-Vision™ is out of order. Brianna, oh she who could not tolerate an autopsied torso, is thankful she skipped this road trip all together.

The direction, lighting, special effects, makeup, and prosthetics are excellent in this part of the episode and Mr. McCreary has outdone himself with the soundtrack. Truly a House of Horrors, Chez Beardsley.

“None of us could give him a baby.” Um, I hate to break it to you, Aaron, but I suspect it’s your problem, not any of your five wives’.

Brit Bronwyn James gives Baltimore Fanny a decent generic American accent.

Poor Jamie! He knows the pain of sending Claire back through the stones. Contemplating sending his beloved daughter and grandson, and tolerated son-in-law, is too much. 😖

Poor Fanny! To live as she has for two years, three months, and five days with that “wretch,” and awaken to see Jamie and Claire’s spooning, peacefully sleeping in her living room. I’d sneak off in the dead of night, too.

My grand-père went to Hillsborough and all I got was a wagon full of goats. 🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐

“I’ll do what must be done.” No foreshadowing, thank you very much. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser has suffered enough.

__________

March 2, 2020

Photo: Starz, Screenshots: @boyneriver-fraser​ Jon Gary Steele Twitter, W Network/Global TV app, Gifs: @abreathofsnowandwaffles​ (1 & 2), @jemscorner​ (3), @avasetocallmyown​ (4), @grantcary​ (5), @mistress-gif​ (6 & 7)

#Outlander #Personal #Review #The Fiery Cross #S5E3 Free Will #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Roger MacKenzie #Fergus Claudel Fraser #Geordie Chisholm #Adso #Mama ComfyPants & The Kittens #193 #030220

[magmahurricane]

A decade of friends - in no order, here’s to all the amazing people in my life old and new!

@shinkumancer : I remember following your work waaay back in the Archie Comic days. I had always been too shy to approach you, but I loved your work. I still remember so much of your Egg Boss art and it’s insane how far you’ve come. You’re still one of the sweetest, kindest people I know and I always enjoy the little drawpile sessions we have! 

@zlatis-art : We haven’t been friends for very long - it’s roughly been a year, now, but it feels like we’ve been friends longer. Something just... clicked when we met, and god I came on strong looking back! I don’t regret it tho - taking the plunge and letting you into my life was such a good call. You’re super patient and you strive so hard to treat everyone fairly and give people so much love. You’ve come such a long way with both your OCs and your art, and our calls are always so much fun! 

@sege-h : Would you believe I actually don’t remember exactly how we met...? I know it had something to do with the Sonic RPC iirc. But you’ve always been such a wonderful source of optimism and joy, and I love our talks! You’ve always been so supportive of me and I don’t know how to thank you for it?? I need to draw Storm and Carey doing more shenannigans when I get better!

@rainingautumn : I also don’t recall how, other than vague recollections of the Sonic RPC I think. I feel like I learned so much from you - you’ve provided me with different perspectives, which really helped me open my eyes to a lot of things. You’ve always been such a warm, positive presence while still standing firm and speaking up for yourself, which is so hard to do. I love your little messages, even if I don’t always know how to respond to them!

@boy-of-silence : You’re legit one of my oldest friends around and looking back on where we started it’s honestly kind of insane? We met on dA and we were practically babies like??? It’s insane, I remember so much and it all blurs together like mad, but we’ve always just sorta stuck by each other and I’m always so happy to see you on my dash. You got me into Homestuck, and you made me curious about Bioshock (I still need to finish Infinite), and I still remember the little art collabs we used to do...! I got nothing but good memories!

@kismeti : We don’t talk much, but I’m hoping to change that soon! I love your work, and you’ve put so much into your OCs. Seeing you tweet about petsites makes me think about Neopets and I age 500 years every time,, You honestly seem so sweet and kind and I can’t wait to see what more you’re gonna share with us in the new year!

@fini-mun : I don’t talk with you as much as I should (purely because I’m shy as all get out) but you’ve honestly been such an inspiration to me. You’re so incredibly kind and patient -- I still have that doodle you sent me while I had been down in the dumps. I remember I found you so intimidating when I first met you on dA, when I first tried to commission you -- and watching you grow as an artist and getting to know you has been so great! You don’t know how much I smiled that night when I expressed how I knew nothing about BatIM and you up and streamed the entire game live. I know we were both excited to play FO76 together and that was a let down for like, the entire fandom. But we should definately hang sometime and do stuff! Give your ratties my love!!

@oddpastrys : JAAADE,,, I vaguely remember meeting you in one of Kaden’s streams,, and then in Joan’s weird campaign. You’ve always been such a fun, energetic person and you always bring the best jokes. Deadass, watching RWBY with you both ruined it and enhanced it. You’re so much fun to be around and you always work so hard to cheer everyone up and please everyone, and we don’t say thank you often enough - I don’t thank you often enough. You’re so sweet and fun to be around and I’m 100% not sorry about all the horrible, horrible things I’ve made you see. 

@calderscauldron : Kaden!!! You’re another one of my oldest friends, and it’ll never be wild to me how insanely lucky it was that I happened to move to the same state as you. I remember when we were dumb kids on dA, and how you used to joke about kidnapping me -- and how my first thought when getting to Texas was “I should see where this guy lives and meet up!” sjkfdjkfs It’s been a helluva ride and I don’t regret it. We had our bumps and fallouts but we’ve always worked through it all -- and your art has come such a long way. You’re always so sweet and so much fun to be around.  You deserve so many nice things and I can’t thank you enough for sticking by my dumb ass for so long!

@haunted-pixel : Yet another decade-old friendship! Bronwyn it’s been such a fucking wild ride. I still remember your old OCs from back in the day; I remember our gryphon friend group, and our lizard group and screaming about digimon, I remember getting really into Kimba/Jungle Emperor Leo cos of you and your OCs, I remember all the drawings of Z and Miki. I remember Nuki and the others. It’s been such a long time and so much has changed around us both. We don’t talk as much anymore but I’m always thrilled when we do hit eachother up on twitter!! I seriously gotta draw more Carey x Zanity sometime. You’ve also just, improved so much as an artist and branched out so much?? Your plushies and your fursuits are absolutely amazing and I can’t believe how far you’ve come! I also still have the sketches you and your sister did for me when I was technically homeless and stuck in the hospital and I’ll always treasure them - and the Nack you made for me is still sitting cozy on my shelf, along with the yeen and Sonic you sent!

@nuttyrabbit : My absolute best friend!!! And probably most unexpected friend! I remember seeing your posts in the Archie Sonic tag way back when, and how my asshole ex used to rant about how she hated you for w/e reason. I used to be so intimidated by you because you told it how it is, and I respected your opinion so I was always lowkey afraid you thought I was stupid and hated my ideas/OCs. But even before we got close, you stuck your neck out for me when things got bad between my ex and me. And in 2018, we finally just started to click with our OC stuff.  Lady Luck became a huge comfort dynamic for the both of us. You always argue against it but I still say you’re one of the kindest people I know. You always try to look out for me and find ways to lend a hand when things get tough, you’re always trying to help me when I’m down and you go out of your way to cheer me up and I can’t thank you enough. Meeting you at RTX this year was incredible.  Thank you so much for being you. <3 

@finitevus : We don’t talk much but I can’t not add you!!! You’ve been so kind and supportive to me, and artistically you’ve always been such a big inspiration. I love your character designs and your writing is so so good, and you always strive to be so positive and warm to others and I promise I’m not ignoring you when you reach out; I’m just very shy and dumb ankjdjkfs I need to,,, say hello on discord sometime. And draw you many things!

@lightdax : You’re always a whole lot of fun and I refuse to apologize for your eyes with half the shit you’ve been exposed to by proxy. You’ve always been really sweet and you’ve really been pushing to improve this past year and it shows! Take time off your mayoral duties for the town of Cuckoldia and put up your OC bios tho! @nvllspace : I,, gotta tag ur RP blog cos IDK ur personal but JACKKIIEE. You’re so sweet and fun and your art is always such a treat. You came through with helping me realize just how toxic a certain person I needed to cut out of my life was, and you’ve always been so kind and supportive. You’re always a blast in our calls and I love your AUs so much! Also you need to stop having so many gorgeous characters cos holy shit,,,

@frecklefacefromouterspace : Nixe!  You’re usually busy these days but whenever we do catch you it’s always fun. If it wasn’t for your old server, the current server wouldn’t have even existed and you brought us all together! You’re always so sweet and bubbly and you have one of the cutest, most distinct styles I know.

And to all my other mutuals - thank you all so much for sticking by me!  I’m having difficulty typing now so I’m sorry I couldn’t get to everyone but sincerely: thank you, all of you, for making these past years such an amazing ride. I’ve learned so much from each of you and I can’t wait to see what’s in store for 2020!

[tedlyanderson]

Annotations for Adventure Time: Beginning of the End issue 3!

Did you enjoy my annotations for issue one and issue two of this miniseries? If so, good news! (If not, shove off!) I have annotations for the third issue, right here waiting for your lovely eyes! Obviously, as with the previous posts, this will have great big massive spoilers for the issue, so take that into consideration. Please enjoy, my pals!

Pages 2&3: Okay, there’s a lot to unpack on these pages, haha. First and foremost is a reference to something other than Adventure Time for once: Jake’s monologue on these pages is a loose reference to one of the very best issues of classic Fantastic Four, number 51, “This Man ... This Monster!” In that issue, among other events, Reed Richards travels through the Negative Zone and muses to himself about the nature of reality:

There are cameos on these pages from a bunch of the “cosmic” things of the AT universe, including the Catalyst Comet, the Lich, a copy of the Enchiridion,  Glob Grob Gob Grod, the Finn Sword, and Prismo (in a rare 3-dimensional appearance). There’s also a herd of Time Lards with clocks on their bellies.

Also in this image, note the most minor and in-jokey reference in this entire series: the satellite on the middle-left with the word “FELIS” on it. In the episode “Fionna and Cake and Fionna,” someone asks Ice King where he gets the ideas for his Fionna and Cake stories, and he replies that they’re “beamed into [his] melon every night.” Later that episode, we see him sleeping as a pink laser zaps into his head, carrying images of Fionna and Cake. I chose to interpret this as a reference to one of my favorite authors, Philip K. Dick, who believed that he was receiving knowledge in the form of an information-rich pink laser beam from a satellite called VALIS. So this satellite, FELIS (get it? like cats?), is the source of the Fionna and Cake stories—in my version of the universe, anyway.

Page 4, panel 4: Chronologius Rex declares that he is the lord of Time, not meatloaf. Meatloaf has been established multiple times as Finn’s favorite food.

Page 5: And here we come to the crux of this issue: Finn’s possible futures. Issue 1 of this series was about Finn’s past, issue 2 was about his present, so naturally issue 3 is all about his futures. Obviously none of these should be taken as “canon;” I just came up with three possible paths Finn might take based on what we’ve seen him do throughout the series. I’ll explain my thinking after the third sequence.

All three of the futures are color-coded—the Candy Knight future is pink, obviously.

Page 6: I love Mari’s designs for Queen Bubblegum—the high ‘80s shoulders are great! My suggestion for Old Peppermint Butler was that he be smoother and shinier, as if he’s a candy that’s been sucked on for too long.

In panel 2, the “Dinner Kingdom” is kind of a half-reference to the Breakfast Kingdom in present Ooo.

And in panel 5, note old Finn’s Jake medallion.

Page 7, panel 4: I am not sorry for the “bunch” of banana soldiers joke.

Page 8, panel 1: Beards are indeed a factor in many of Finn’s futures: pretty much every time we’ve seen an older or artificially-aged Finn, he’s got a beard of some sort. I continue the trend in this issue.

Page 8, panel 5: This is a futuristic version of Founders’ Island, the main human settlement outside of Ooo, fixed up and fully repaired. The implication is that Finn not only returned to the human islands, he also helped fix the place up.

The color scheme for the Teacher Finn future is blue, connecting with the water and sky surrounding them.

Page 9, panel 2: I love Teacher Finn’s design so, so much, you guys. I described him as a lovable old professor, someone with his mother’s compassion and his father’s roguish charm, and Mari knocked it out of the park. Note his Jake hat.

Page 9, panel 3: “Homies help homies: always!” is the Adventure Time philosophy in a nutshell.

Page 9, panel 5: Note that Finn is still using his old, trusty sword Scarlett in this future. She’s even more nicked and battle-scarred, but I’m sure she’s still good in a fight.

Page 10, panel 2: Dodging eggs while fighting was part of Finn’s training from Rattleballs in his eponymous episode.

Page 10, panel 2: When it came to Finn’s human wife, I told Mari to make her look a little bit like a human version of Flame Princess. I figured Finn if has a type, it’s her!

Page 11: The third and final possible future is the Space Captain Finn future, which is green-themed for no particular reason. This future is based on the idea that Finn and his Candy Kingdom pals team up with the remaining humans to build a spaceship to take them away from Earth, which is about as likely as anything else in Adventure Time, haha.

Everything in this sequence is of course heavily inspired by Star Trek: the Next Generation, a show that I love and grew up watching. The Minerva A.I. is the ship’s computer, obviously, warning of “excessive sparks detected on bridge.” Jake is Finn’s right-hand-man, just like Riker was to Picard (and Finn even calls him “numero uno,” like Picard’s “number one”). Lady Rainicorn is the equivalent of counselor Troi, Fern is a bit like Data, and Jake’s skateboarding granddaughter Bronwyn is the hotshot kid pilot, like Wesley. Princess Bubblegum is the engineering chief—she always struck me as preferring the role of scientist rather than royalty, frankly—assisted by Frieda and BMO. Flame Princess, upgraded to Plasma Princess, powers the ship as a whole. And Finn himself sports a beard similar to Commander Riker’s—which is appropriate, as a future version of Finn was voiced by Riker’s actor, Jonathan Frakes!

When coming up with these futures, I thought about what the Finn we knew might be most drawn to doing, and boiled it down to three major options: fighting and defending (the Candy Knight future), teaching and training (the Teacher Finn future), or exploring and leading (Space Captain Finn). For what it’s worth, I don’t really have a preference, or any opinions on which future is most likely—one of the strengths of Adventure Time has always been finding ways to surprise its audience with something that makes total sense in retrospect. If Finn does have a “canonical” future, it’s probably something I would never have thought of, but which makes perfect sense.

Page 11, panel 4: Princess Bubblegum yet again mentions “zanoits,” which are maybe some kind of mysterious particle? It’s a funny word and deserves to be used more often.

Page 12, panel 1: I mentioned in my annotations for the previous issue that I felt bad making Susan revert to her simpler speech patterns, since by this point in the series she’s perfectly capable of using big words. I tried to make it up to her by making her the ship’s communications officer, who would use big words all the time.

Additionally, the “Tuffbone sector” is a reference to Meredith Gran’s Adventure Time miniseries, Marceline: Gone Adrift. In that series, Marceline explores space and meets other races, including the Tuffbones, dog-like alien critters.

Page 12, panel 2: Note that Shelby (the worm who lives in Jake’s viola) is wearing a bandolier similar to Worf’s. I was particularly proud of that idea, haha.

Page 12, panel 4: Jake’s exclamation of “Outrageous!” is a reference to another role by his voice actor, John DiMaggio: it’s the catchphrase of Aquaman, from the Batman: the Brave and the Bold series.

Page 16, panel 3: A “dead world” is another bit of unexplored Adventure Time lore: they’re apparently where people go when they die, but they’re not quite the afterlife as we think of it? Or it is, but there’s a lot of them, like at least fifty? Unclear.

Page 16, panel 4: I had to work in the title of the show somehow.

Page 17, panel 3: I wanted to make sure I referenced my favorite song from the show, “Everything Stays” by Rebecca Sugar, and this seemed like the perfect time to bring it up, as Jake discusses the inevitability of change.

Page 17, panel 4: When I described this panel in the script, I specifically mentioned the series Neon Genesis Evangelion, one of the weirder depictions of the end of the world you can find. I love the image of the enormous stone blocks sinking into an endless sea.

Page 18, panel 5: Chronologius’s epithet for Jake, “starchild,” references Jake’s actual origin as a half-alien creature. I checked the dates, and apparently I finished the script for this issue just a couple weeks after the episode “Jake the Starchild” aired, in which Jake’s parentage was fully revealed.

Pages 20-21: Finn’s final “confrontation” with Chronologius might feel a bit underwhelming—essentially, all he does is convince Chronologius to give them an opportunity to escape. There’s no big battle, no war of wits; it’s already been established that Chronologius is basically invulnerable, so it’s not like Finn could beat him in a fight. It’s not terribly exciting, but that’s kind of the point: over the course of this issue, Chronologius becomes more sympathetic to Finn and his plight, particularly after seeing all the good he did (and might have done) in the world. So it’s less about beating up some big bad dude, and more about convincing someone to act like a pal. In a way, Finn beats Chronologius by making him into a friend.

Would it have been better if the ending was more exciting, action-packed, crazy-style? Maybe! Looking back on it, I feel like I could have given Mari more chances to do cool art stuff—the first half of this issue has some pretty far-out sequences and nifty new things to draw, but the second half is basically three characters talking against a mostly boring background. Thematically I feel like it’s better to have Finn succeed by befriending the villain, rather than just punching his lights out, but it definitely doesn’t have the same visual impact. Overall, I’m still proud of it, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t be improved.

That’s it for issue three! Join me next time for—issue four?!? Yes! This three-part miniseries is in fact a four-part miniseries, ending with Finn and Jake’s adventures through time! Look forward to it, my chums!

[monstersandmaw]

Female orc x female reader (nsfw) Part Two

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Part One can be found here. More of this story was requested, and I was more than happy to oblige because I’m utterly in love with Bronwyn…

The thrill that ran through you when her low voice had rasped, “I look forward to showing you what else I can do with these hands,” had nearly made you turn around right then and fling yourself at her, but instead, you forced yourself to remain at least outwardly calm as you led Bronwyn back into the inn, heading for the bar.

“Tyn,” you called, and the tiefling turned to look at you as he finished pulling a pint.

He grinned widely, sharp canines flashing.

“I’m gonna grab some hot water and get her cleaned up,” you said, blushing furiously as his golden eyes bored first into you and then briefly into the orc looming behind you. She looked a bit of a sight after the fight in the yard. Her friends were already back at their table, and they raised their tankards knowingly at you as you glanced nervously in their direction.

“Sure,” Tyn grinned, and it was a real shit-eater of a grin. “The boiler’s still running out back, so there should be plenty of hot water,” he said.

You blessed the day you’d had that wood-stoked boiler installed – just one of the many wonderful dwarven inventions that had been made available since the recent trade deals had been struck – and led Bronwyn up the stairs to a guest room at the back of the inn.

You drew up a chair for her, and she smiled patiently as you cocked an eyebrow, and she lowered herself into it. “You don’t need to baby me,” she grumbled. “It’s just a couple of scratches.”

“I’m not babying you,” you huffed as you went to the door. “I just don’t want your blood and Grom’s filth smeared all over that clean bed linen.”

She laughed, the sound rough and sweet as summer hay, and sat back in the chair.

“Sit tight, and I’ll go and start a bath running next door,” you said.

You siphoned off a bowl of hot water from the bath and brought that in to dab at her wounds. They had already stopped bleeding, but you cleaned her shoulder up a little, and then turned your attention to cleaning the small cut on her eyebrow.

Her warm, amber eyes watched you as you worked, and her hands found their way to your hips. Her palms were warm, and you smiled as you straddled her upper leg on the pretence of getting closer to her, and lowered your weight onto the hard muscle of her thigh.

She ran one of her large, strong hands up your back and knuckled the tension from your spine so that you groaned and your eyes rolled closed for a moment. Your breath stuttered. Even through the thick fabric of your dress, you could feel the way her hand played across your body, and you ached to feel her skin on yours.

“That bath is going to flood the inn if you don’t stop and let me go check the water,” you laughed after a while, trying rather awkwardly to extricate yourself from her grasp.

But the orc held you close a moment longer, and drew you down for a kiss, one hand behind your head, the other at your waist. You had to avoid the impressive pair of tusks, and the piercing in her lip was certainly a little different, but she was soft and sweet in a way you’d never imagined an orc would be. She kept her eyes open, and pulled away just to smile before resuming her kiss.

“Stop, seriously, Bronwyn,” you giggled.

She laughed too and released you. “You can call me Bron, you know,” she said as you practically fled the room, worried that the bath would be overflowing down onto the patrons of the inn below.

It wasn’t, but it was still pretty full. Dwarven plumbing was a marvel, but you’d already had one accident with the bath, and you were adamant that you wouldn’t cause a second now. Especially not now.

You drained a little of the water away, and as you fixed the plug back in, Bron’s voice sounded from the doorway behind you. “You’re gonna need to empty a bit more out than that, sweetheart, if you’re joining me.”

You jerked around, face flushed, and it wasn’t from the hot steam. “I… You… Don’t you want to… um…?”

Bronwyn was standing there, naked as the day she was born. And she was beautiful.

Her thick black hair hung down loose over one shoulder, just covering the dark nipple of her right breast, and her honey-coloured eyes glittered as she watched you reacting to the sight of her. Her muscles were hard and chiselled, her shoulders and biceps alone made you weak all over, but her stomach was hard too, those three claw mark scars slashing across the clearly visible lines of her abs, and her hipbones were sharp but wide. Her thighs looked like she could crush a man’s skull with very little effort, and the rest of her legs looked just as strong.

“That’s the look I was hoping for,” she chuckled as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

You stood, dumbstruck and more than a little slack-jawed, as she came up beside you and turned you slowly around so that she could undo the ties of your simple dress, until it fell slowly away from your shoulders. You gasped, suddenly extremely self-conscious.

“Beautiful,” she breathed and you shivered.

Bron’s lips met the curve of your neck and she kissed you, round-ended tusks sliding across your skin as she left slow kisses on the junction of shoulder and neck until she had you trembling all over.

She kissed your freckled shoulders, running her hands down to your waist and digging her fingers into the curve of your ass with a moan that you felt in your whole body. “Come on,” she said, pulling away reluctantly, and stepping into the bathwater. As she let go of you though, she couldn’t resist giving you a playful slap on the rear that made you squawk and darkened your skin.

She climbed into the bath, water sloshing, and then parted those incredible thighs, nodding down at the gap between her legs. “Come on then,” she laughed. “As much as I admire you standing there for me, I want you in here so I can hear what sounds you’re gonna make for me when you come.”

Needing no further invitation, feeling a heat throbbing inside you and knowing you were already wet, you climbed into the bath and lay with your back along her chest. She dwarfed you, and the back of your head came to rest neatly between her breasts. She reached down and around you, pressing her palms into your thighs, leaving nuzzling kisses against your neck as she leaned forwards a little. Her fingertips raked up your legs and then she brought her palms to your stomach. You tried to draw yourself up tense, self-conscious after seeing how hard and muscular she was, but she kneaded your hips and stomach tenderly, before cupping her hands around your breasts.

She moaned as she took your breasts in her hands, feeling the weight of them, the roundness of them, and then she brought fingertip and thumb together and rolled the nub of your nipples between them. A broken cry left your lips and you tilted your head back against her body. She nibbled your ear and her breath fanned across your skin.

“Please,” you gasped.

“Please what, beautiful?” she murmured, still caressing your breasts over and over.

“Make me come?” you whimpered.

She laughed again and kissed the side of your head. “When we get out of the bath,” she said, “I’m going to taste you. But for now, I want to feel you and hear you. Promise me you’ll be nice and loud?”

“Uhhh,” was all the sound you could make as she lowered two fingers to your clit and began to stroke it teasingly in little upward strokes, one finger on either side.

By the time she’d got your legs trembling, she was circling it and running her fingertips along your folds, and by the time she’d got you mewling, she had those two fingers deep inside you, curling against you while her thumb circled your swollen clit.

Everything was so much more sensitive and alive under the water, and soon you felt yourself clenching around her in spasms as the heat coiled to white hot inside you. “I’m… I’m going to… ahh… Bron!” and as she lowered her tusks to your shoulder and bit you gently with them, the pressure adding to the barrage of sensations, you came.

Your back arched, you practically screamed, your hips jerked, and she kept the pressure on with her thumb all the while you clenched around her fingers, over and over.

As quickly as the wave of pleasure had overcome you, you went limp against her, her left arm supporting you while she slowly eased her right hand from inside you. With one last playful circle of your oversensitive clit, she let you recover against her.

Strength came back to your muscles after a while and the stars cleared from your vision. You sat up and turned gingerly around to face her, careful not to slip or splash, and you saw that she had a soft, almost tender look on her face. It was still intense though.

You ran your hands up her solid thighs and she inhaled sharply as you neared the tops of her legs. A tremor ran through those muscles and she brought her hands down to rest on top of yours. “Not in here, beautiful,” she said, “Or we really might do some damage… Save it, ok?”

You pouted, and she brought her fingers to your chin, water splashing off her muscular forearm, before touching you lightly on the nose with her wet finger. You laughed at that, and climbed from the bath, still a little watery-limbed from coming so hard.

“Go back to that bedroom and wait for me,” she said. “I won’t be long in here.”

You wrapped a towel around yourself and dried the water off you, before leaving her to wash the mud and dirt off her.

She hadn’t been lying when she’d said she wouldn’t be long, because the door opened again in five minutes, and she rumbled a deep, throaty groan of pleasure when she saw you lying on top of the bed clothes, still naked.

She dropped her own towel beside yours, closed and latched the door, and pounced.

She had you with your legs apart and her lips between them in seconds, her smooth tusks raking against your skin. Her tongue, like all her muscles, was strong and apparently used to work too, since she began to circle your clit with it, tasting you, teasing you, in such a way that had you writhing in seconds. It was torturous after coming so soon before, and she knew it.

She grabbed your hips and lifted you up so that she could grab your cheeks and knead them with her strong fingers while she dipped her tongue inside you as deep it would go, fucking you with it, her nose nudging the underside of your clit. Every now and again she would pull all the way out and let the tip of her tongue lave over your swollen clit a few times before returning it to move in and out of you.

Her rhythm made you delirious, and again and again she took you right to the edge before backing off. Her hair lay glossy and smooth across your thigh, a teasing counterpoint to the nudging tusks against your skin, and her fingertips dug bruisingly into your skin. You would wear those marks with pride tomorrow, though no one else would see them but her. You would feel them though.

“Bron,” you whimpered again and again, as she took you closer and then backed away. “Please… please…”

She crawled up the bed a little way and lowered herself over you, pressing her body close to yours so that you could feel every inch of her skin against your own. She brought her lips to your collarbones and neck again, and as she kissed you there, she sank her fingers into you and curled them deliciously. They were the perfect length to reach that spot inside you that made you see white, and when she discovered this, she worked it exclusively until you were practically screaming, your back arched, tense as a drawn bow.

Sparks flew across your skin and you saw stars again as she worked you closer and closer.

“Come for me, beautiful,” she murmured, and you came with a strangled cry, bucking up against her as she held you down with her bodyweight, almost crushing you, though she took care to brace herself as you convulsed and spasmed beneath her. She let you ride it out before withdrawing her fingers and bringing them to her lips to lick them clean.

“I want… to make you… come…” you panted, vision still blurry and your thoughts vague.

“We’ve got plenty of time for that, gorgeous,” she said as she licked a long, hot stripe right across you, tasting you and cleaning you in one go. “Plenty of time.”

You fell back against the pillows and felt a warm dizziness sweeping over your whole body. This was perfect.

My masterlist can be found here. Don’t see a story you were hoping for? Why not request it? I’ve only been up and running on here since February, but the list is growing!

[divinearcana]

I recently decided that all of my apprentices exist in the same world, and thought that it was sort of an alternate-timeline for each route (y'know like Pet’s the apprentice for Nadia/etc), but I thought it through and figured out that they can all exist at the same time in the same timeline no matter what route!

Bronwyn is The Apprentice, since she was my first MC.

She met Asra through her friend, Diana, Asra’s lover. At that time she only sold trinkets/knick-knacks and some herbs & potion type shit in the shop, but after befriending Asra and Diana he taught her how to read tarot. After getting closer and swapping knowledge/experience back and forth between the three for a while (I’m thinking a year), Bronwyn asks if they’d like to room with her.

She has a spare room after all, and Asra could set the backroom up to do tarot readings in, and Diana could sell her “specialty” potions (basically just ones her mother taught her that are older & more powerful/magical than the ones Bron makes). The couple agrees and the shop thrives, her friendship with them is what leads to her really embracing her magic and learning to understand/use it, eventually leading to her doing readings (tarot and other) as well.

Fast forward to whatever causes the amnesia bullshit; Bronwyn and Diana both lose years of their life, but the bond that had been forged between the three - and unknown to any of them was also solidified by their magic, which created a sort of ethereal tie between them which draws them together like magnets and - kept them together, despite the hiccups/miscommunications that arose now and then in the beginning.

Diana only went catatonic the once because she pried to far into her blank space with magic, and it didn’t appreciate it, so Asra has been a lot more direct with her. Whereas Bronwyn’s magic has always been more on the volatile side when ignored, and with her missing memories came missing experience. She’s collapsed a fair few times I think, for one reason or the other, and it always shakes Asra and Diana up. They both alternate on who leaves on an “adventure” so that someone is with her, just incase.

Fast forward again, this time to the current time of the game. Bronwyn is at the palace helping Nadia/Julian, Diana is running the shop in her absence, and along comes Bronwyn’s cousin, Pet.

I’m still not entirely clear on why Pet comes to see her, but either way, Diana tells her that Pet is at the shop and Bronwyn lets Nadia know that she’s leaving to the shop to see what’s up/visit/etc.

Eventually -something- happens and Pet comes to the palace to see Bron and tell her about it, and while she’s looking for her with Portia they bump into Nadia, and long story short the Countess has a crush on the Apprentice’s cute farm girl cousin and invites her back to visit again.

And that’s what I’ve got so far! I’ll of course have to figure out how any future ocs fit into this, as I already have two planned for Muriel & Portia romances, and I’m really committed to this timeline I’m crafting now.

[alil2019]

"HOMEWORK TASK FOR ROWAN’S TUTORIAL"

Visiting the galleries was exciting as we saw new works and artists. We visited the Nolan Oswald Dennis 2019 exhibition titled: Option at the Goodman Gallery which discussed the idea of mapping from colonial times to the present day.  Many of his artworks are textured drawings,diagrams and mapping.These drawings have what appear to be tentacles,or worms traversing the page in all directs. Essentially these works are maps of various spaces, such as political, psychological and economic spaces.The Goodman gallery space I found welcoming light and easy, an excellent showcase for the work. However negotiating the entire building took time as it is really big,I found this spatially disorienting.

In the tutorial we discussed the the symbolism in the exhibition for example the long till slip which represents a political court case. The letters B and F which were typed repeatedly on the till slip stands for Steve Biko and Franz Fanon(Figures of Black Consciousness).

A further example is the work where synonyms of words forming a large spiral on one of the gallery walls that gives a non linear perspective of history. Another effective symbol of European colonial thinking is the blacked Globe(European view).It could represent the world colonialism. There was two exhibitions in the Goodman Gallery but I only focused on one of them.

Nolan Oswald Dennis, Prop10 [prou(k)n], 2018, Graphite,washi tape and , Goodman Gallery.

Simphiwe Ndzube’s UNCHARTED LANDS AND TRACKLESS SEAS is an exhibition which I have seen and I enjoyed it again. Simphiwe uses Magical Realism, which is a fictional reality, to create a different world full of mysticism and history. Where he criticises the artworld and the wider society and yet have the creative freedom to play. His works a mix ture of texture(fabric) and bright paint colours. In his paintings there are figures with no faces or with colourful tentacles. The mounds of soils extracted from the earth which are placed on the gallery floor are symbols of mining and grave digging.           

There are recurring motifs such as the gloves which represent labour. The umbrella could mean protection or objects  by the colonial powers. His work has a confrontational quality as some of the figures stare at the viewer. The tendrils(cattle whips) suggest cattle herding.

The pictures look out as if they are either trying to escape their frames or go inside(escapism). There are fingerprints which look like their trying to go into the narrative.

The gloves could be used for protection or for surgical reasons.The gloves  which are either painted on or stuck on are thick, mainly used to washing up gloves or for garden work. It represents the working class.

The figures are wearing work outfits or festive clothing for special occasions which very colourful and bold prints. It could also refer to the working class,

The sculptures look life like yet they are proportionally smaller and therefore disconcerting for the viewers.The faces are covered as if there identity has been removed or some have a mask like quality with no eyes or mouth.

Ndzube refers to his work as Afrofuturist as he created his own words and languages for his exhibition.

Afrofuturist:’Seekers of Light’(2018) from Simphiwe Ndube’s solo exhibition.

The first gallery that we visited was BlankProjects where we saw Bronwyn Katz’s ‘/ // ! ǂ’  audience installation which was a simple exhibition with a deep meaning. She discussed the four clicks which she interpreted in her own language and style. Using metal structures which created a metallic sound which were hard to interpret  although they were connected to the exhibition title. The themes of forced removals was also discussed because of  industrialisation. .Her exhibition talked about the four languages, Zulu, Khosa,Sutho, KhoiKhoi which has almost disappeared because of colonialism. How most of our understand of the language is first translated into English.

Although we had a short time to visit and explore the three galleries it was enough time to realise the themes that the artists were trying to convey. We discussed it in more details in Rowans Tutorial where we discussed the similarities between the exhibitions of decolonial history,sculptural elements and two dimensional elements, which was a thematic similarities in all three exhibitions. All three exhibitions consisted of both two dimensional and three dimensional works.  While also allowing the viewers to have their own interpretations of their works.

,

[thehighlandhealer]

Nothing but Dead Ends || Bronwyn, Vincent, & Charles

Charles: He paced the floor of his study, inexplicably nervous. It hadn't taken him very long to talk himself down from his panic after the encounter he privately dubbed 'The Atlas Fiasco'. Charles Xavier was a man of action; wallowing did not become him.

Still, one's boyfriend changing species and losing his memory was a bear of a problem to tackle. He'd scoured a mate's preternatural library for answers and, finding none, had immediately sought out the next course of action. Who knew real life had a phone-a-friend option?

He'd been quick to scrounge up the number Mason'd had the foresight to give him, but actually making the call was proving to be a mite more difficult. "Nothing for it but to take the plunge, old man," he muttered to himself, pressing 'call' before his fear could get the better of him. He would exhaust all resources.

Bronwyn: "Ye need to move them, the sunflowers are castin' too much shade, stealin' all the light," said Bronwyn, adjusting the hat on her head. She and Callum had spent a lovely morning playing in the dirt, and her cousin's garden was all the more beautiful for it.

Eden had nothing on a Druid's garden.

Callum contemplated his nasturtiums. "I've been meanin' to but I can't decide where to put them."

Bronwyn looked around. "How about.....there?" She pointed at a bed lined with begonias just as her phone rang. One glance at the display had lead pooling in her stomach. There was only one reason she would be receiving this call. "Mind if I take this?"

"No' at all."

Bronwyn stepped into the house before she answered. "Charles? What's wrong?"

Charles: "Hello to you as well, Bronwyn. Lovely to hear your voice," he teased, though anyone that knew him could detect the thread of anxiety weaved into his charm. It was possible that the restless clacking of pen against desk was audible as well. Charles was not in a good place, but manners make the man.

"I must confess, I did phone for something more pressing than small talk. I'm... When was the last time you heard from Mason?"

Bronwyn: Under normal circumstances she would've gone through the motions and made small talk with Charles, but under normal circumstances she also wouldn't have this bad feeling in her gut.

"When he texted me and told me he was about to do somethin' extreme and asked me to understand."

Charles: "Well." How to best to share what he knew? Charles was already taking meddling to its extreme by calling on Mason's friends for help. Did he have any right at all to share the would-be demon's secrets?

The answer may have been 'no', but the ache in his chest would not be soothed until a solution was found. Best to spill the truth quickly and efficiently. They'd officially reached Band-Aid territory.

"Extreme is putting it lightly," he began, grave despite his earlier efforts to be otherwise. "I don't know how much he told you about his plans, but the goal was to erase all memory of his so- of his past, so that he could have a slightly more bearable eternity. I told him it was a terrible idea, but those eyes. I couldn't deny him the right to pursue happiness. Needless to say, it did not go well. I hadn't heard from him in too long, so I popped by for a visit."

He needed to stop babbling and get to the point.

"Mason is human and remembers nothing of his past life."

There. Band-Aid.

"There must be something we can do. I'm... I can't lose him this way."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn's only thought when Charles finished speaking was, 'Oh, Mason.'

Mason, Mason, Mason, what on earth have you done? How could you have been so breathtakingly reckless messing with something as fragile and fickle as memory?

She sank into the nearest chair and was silent for a long time. Charles might think the call had cut off except for the sighing that could be heard clearly over the line.

Charles: Charles was ever so grateful for the limits of phone calls as his lip began to wobble, careful composure cracking for the second time since he'd met that stranger. He kept himself quiet. A calm façade that only distance allowed.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, when he was certain his voice would crack. "I'm so, so sorry."

Bronwyn: "I'm sorry, too," Bronwyn said softly. "The loss isn't only mine or only his." Or only Callum's. "It's yers as well. Ye love him."

Charles: "More than I can say," he agreed. A wave of exhaustion days in the making crashed over him and he collapsed into the chair behind his desk, rubbing at his eyes. "Is there anything to be done?"

Bronwyn: "I don't know. I'd have to do some diggin', find out exactly what he did or who he went to and dig some more. But whatever happened here, I think it's safe to say this wasn't the intended result. From what ye're tellin' me, he wanted to strike a few things from the slate, no' wipe it clean."

Charles: "That's what he told me. I trust that he wouldn't want me gone completely; it's why I felt justified in calling in reinforcements." A brief pause. "Is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all?"

If there was one thing Charles Francis Xavier hated, it was feeling useless.

Bronwyn: "If ye hadn't, I would have. When he sent me that text he told me to contact ye if somethin' went wrong. I didn't want to believe somethin' had but here we are..."

Bronwyn heaved a long sigh. "I don't know. I hate that that's the only answer I have."

Charles: "Oh." Full of surprises, that demon of his. The chunk of ice lodged where his heart should be thawed the smallest bit at the knowledge. "I don't know how he believed I might help the situation."

There was that pen again, tapping thoughtfully away at polished mahogany. "I suppose I could do more reading on my own end. I haven't found anything thus far, but I can't imagine sitting idly by while he's... Anything you think you might need, yeah? I'll be there. Nothing is too large or small."

Bronwyn: "He probably thought that between the two of us we could resolve whatever it was he was worried would go wrong." Bronwyn could only hope Mason's faith hadn't been misplaced. How ever many amazing things she was able to do, her power had limits, and those limits tended to rear their heads at the most inconvenient of times.

"Actually, I do need somethin'. I need ye to tell me ev'ry detail ye can remember about this new Mason. Ev'ry single one, even the ones that don't feel important in the grand scheme."

Charles: "Oh." A beat. "Oh, all right."

Charles had never once been more grateful for his eidetic memory. Pen still tapping out a jittery little samba, he dragged the incident to the forefront of his mind.

"From what I could tell, the house remained unchanged. I wasn't given free rein to go exploring, of course, but nothing I could see was out of the ordinary. Mason..."

He inhaled shakily. As far as memories to relive went, this one was hardly going to make the highlight reel.

"He looked enough like himself for me to believe that he was himself, but there were subtle differences. He'd shaved, for one, and he'd gotten his hair cut. That should have been a red flag, though I thought he only wanted a change of pace... He wasn't as impeccably dressed as he usually is, either. That may have had more to do with the fact that he'd obviously been sleeping, but I can't be certain of anything in this situation.

He mentioned parents. Both dead. His mother more recently. He told me that was why he was in North Carolina to begin with; he'd inherited the house. He said that he'd grown up there, but he'd been living in Louisiana, which is where most of his friends were. Are? I didn't catch any names."

He swallowed past a viscous lump of bile and plowed on. God, why couldn't he let this go.

"He'd been to see someone.... And apparently his visit and inspired a similar reaction to my own. Someone named Callum? What else? What. Else. Oh! And he was sporting a tattoo that I'd never seen before. Just below his neck. Some-- some sort of symbol. It wasn't one I recognized, but I could probably draw a rough sketch of it from memory. I was a bit too preoccupied to ask him anything about it."

That was all he had. He could only hope something would be of use. "His name was Lawrence. Lawrence Atlas."

Bronwyn: Rather than clear things up a little, Charles' tale just confused and concerned her more. It was one thing to have no memories of your life. After all, hundreds of people got amnesia every year. It wasn't an ideal condition but at least it had a name and a cause.

But having entirely different memories to replace the ones you'd lived through and suddenly changing species? Suddenly having a different first name but the same surname?

That was a horse of a different color.

Bronwyn rubbed her forehead. She could feel a perfectly vicious headache coming on.

"I haven't seen him shirtless all that often but I don't remember him havin' a tattoo. Might be somethin' there. As for the visit with Callum..." She sighed. "I heard about it. Callum's my cousin. I'm actually visitin' him at the moment."

Charles: "It's new," he assured, before he could reflect on the implication of such a hasty response. All at once, he was grateful for their distance. She couldn't see how red his face had gotten from... wherever she was.

"Oh." Cousins? Had Mason mentioned that? Not as far as Charles could recall, and he wasn't in the habit of memory suppression. He couldn't be sure just what this new scrap of information made him feel. "I see. Well, I hope he's all right. I know that seeing him was difficult for me. I can only imagine..."

Bronwyn: The implication flew right over Bronwyn's head; it was taken with more pressing matters than why Charles was able to clarify that point with such certainty.

"Maybe I'm graspin' at straws here, but I think this new Mason havin' a tattoo that our Mason doesn't means somethin'. Draw me that sketch. I'll see if I can dig anythin' up."

"He's fine now," Bronwyn said carefully. She didn't know if Charles knew about the soulmate thing, so she thought it best to proceed with caution and be as casual as possible. "It was a shock, though. It's hard to prepare for somethin' like that."

Charles: Charles knew. Of course he knew. But he wasn't about to broach the subject now. Or ever, most likely. He couldn't quite manage to be in denial about Mason's cosmic life-partner, but he'd keep it under lock and key until he was forced to face it. "Good. Good, I'm glad to hear it."

A soft rustle of paper accompanied his pleasantries, the professor digging about for a scrap of paper to begin his sketch. The sooner they sorted this mess out, the better. "Anyway, you're probably right about the tattoo bit. I'll draw up a likeness right this very moment."

Bronwyn: "I appreciate that, thank ye. It might be nothin', but we have to turn over all the rocks." After a few moments she added, very gently, "How are ye doin', Charles? Really, how are ye doin'?"

As she'd said before, it wasn't just her loss. It was his, too, and in a lot of ways it cut him more deeply. He was in love with Mason, after all.

Charles: "I've been better, Bronwyn, I must admit," he sighed, dragging his free hand through his hair and leaving it as disarranged as he felt. "I miss him. Terribly, awfully, dreadfully. I just want him back."

With gentle clearing of his throat, he collected himself and put the final touches on his sketch. "There. I think that's it, more or less. God, I hope it's of use." Now how was he going to get it to her?

"I could bring it by yours? Perhaps sending a photo would be easier? Whichever you'd prefer."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn's heart hurt for him. She knew what it was to lose someone you were deeply in love with, but her loss wasn't the same as his. Ian MacGregor was still himself even if he wasn't with her. "We'll get him back, Charles. I don't know how we're goin' to do it or how long it's goin' to take, but we'll get him back. I promise."

"It has to be. I'd like to think it wouldn't have appeared on his skin otherwise." She glanced out the window, saw Callum gently digging up plants. "I leave that entirely up to ye. Whatever would be easiest and make ye the most comfortable."

Charles: Charles allowed that gentle promise to soothe him. The man was nothing if not optimistic, and if Bronwyn was confident, he was more than happy to feed off of that.

"I'll pop over, then." His enthusiasm had little to do with necessity. He only wanted to feel useful. As if he was doing something. A concrete plan set in motion to reach a goal. Even with Bronwyn's assurances, Charles would go mad if he was forced to sit and stew in his own worries. "I've got a free moment. Where do you live?"

Distance was no object when one housed mutants that could travel hundreds of miles in an instant.

Bronwyn: Since she was going to be staying there for the next little while, Bronwyn gave Charles Callum's address. It wasn't the most ideal situation, but she could hardly ask Vincent to teleport her to New Orleans just so Mason's boyfriend wouldn't meet the reincarnation of his dead wife. It would only delay the inevitable.

"My cousin's out working in the garden at the moment. If you don't feel comfortable with him here, I know somewhere where we can go to talk this out."

Charles: "Oh, no, no, no, darling. That's perfectly all right." Of course, Charles couldn't possibly know that the cousin in question was none other than the infamous soul mate. Mason hadn't been particularly forthcoming with that scrap of information.

"I'll see you soon," he promised, bright with this newfound purpose, before clicking off.

It was the work of ten minutes to type the address into Google Maps and have Kurt examine the area. Thank heaven for satellites. In no time at all, he was waving away a cloud of sulfur, nodding to the handsome fellow in the front garden, and tidying himself as best as possible.

His rap on the door was quick and efficient.

Bronwyn: Just as oblivious as Charles was, Callum felt only mild curiosity as he watched the strange man go up to his front door, smiling and waving in greeting before continuing with his work. Guy was probably a guest of Bronwyn's. It never ceased to amaze him how many acquaintances his cousin could make.

Bronwyn, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves. She really wished she knew how much Mason had told Charles about Callum and vice versa. She could ask them herself, but she didn't want to bring them up to each other in that sense. It would only make this whole situation worse.

Better to avoid soulmate talk altogether, she thought as she went to answer the door.

"Well hello there, Charles. Come in."

Charles: Charles' greeting smile was broad and charming, masking a fair bit of worry. There was something uniquely satisfying about being active however.

He crossed the threshold, giving the space a politely curious once-over before offering Bronwyn the full force of that smile. "Bronwyn. It's so very lovely to see you again."

To his merit, this was true enough. He admittedly wished that they were meeting under better circumstances, but he'd been nothing short of charmed by their last interaction.

"Beautiful home you've got here. The garden is spectacular. Did you want my sketch straight off?"

Regardless of her answer, he was already slipping a hand into his jacket to retrieve it.

Bronwyn: "It's lovely to see ye as well," she said, offering him a smile in return. The smile hid enough that if she didn't know better, she would never have guessed something was wrong. That would probably work to their advantage what with Callum so close by.

"It's my cousin's place, but yes it is. He's put his blood, sweat, and tears into makin' this house what it is." Bronwyn nodded. "Might as well. There's no pressin' danger but I'd still feel better if we got this mess figured out as quickly as possible."

Charles: "Oh?" Charles tossed a quick glance through the doorway, but he couldn't see Handsome Waving Fellow from his vantage.

"Was that him I saw toiling away in the garden? His work's certainly paid off. It puts the Institute's to shame. I only hope he doesn't mind that I invited myself over."

The corners of his mouth tilted up in a weak little smile. Charles was in total agreement. The man that would be Mason seemed in perfectly good health, but the matter still felt pressing to the telepath. Ah, love.

"Well, here you are," he nodded, holding out a bit of school stationary folded neatly in two. "Is the symbol one you recognize? I've never seen anything like it before."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nodded. "Aye, that's him. He's doin' some maintenance and rearrangin' out there. Some of the flowers aren't as happy as they could be."

He won't mind as long as he has no idea who you are, she thought before waving the matter aside. "He won't. He'll be out there for hours putterin' away."

Bronwyn took the paper and studied the symbol Charles had drawn, brow furrowed. "I can't say that I do. And yet..." She rotated the paper left and right, studying it for a few long moments. Had she seen this before? Surely not. She'd have done research if she had. "I could swear it looks vaguely familiar but I can't for the life o' me figure out why. Ye said this was tattooed on him?"

Charles: "Admirable dedication." He caught wind of that last thought, however unintentionally, and his eyebrow quirked in curiosity. He thought it better not to ask, though. Now wasn't the time. "Good. I'm glad to hear it."  

"Mm," he agreed, studying her expression rather than the drawing itself. "Just here." His fingers brushed lightly over his own clavicle, where it was hidden beneath pressed cotton. "The human mind is a remarkable thing. It recalls more than we can consciously know. Perhaps you've seen it in passing? A book?"

Bronwyn: "Aye, perhaps. It looks similar to some ancient Irish Celtic symbols I've seen." Bronwyn studied it for a few more moments before nodding to herself. "I suppose that's as good a start as any. Come, we'll comb through my cousin's library, see what we can find." If they couldn't find anything (Callum's books dealt mostly with plants and growing), she'd ask Vincent to pop over to her library in New Orleans and maybe the one back in Montana too.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to offer ye somethin'. Would ye like somethin' to eat or drink?"

Charles: Finally. Something to do. Steps to take that would lead to a solution, or at the very least rule out certain possibilities. He grinned broadly, something grateful glinting in his eyes, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides with renewed energy. "Brilliant. Lead the way." Scouring through old texts was something he was good at.

"Oh, thank you, no." He declined the offer with a smile and a brief shake of the head. Charles doubted he could eat anything, at the moment. "I'm quite all right."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn couldn't help but smile back; he just looked so relieved. It made her wonder just how much time he'd spent trying to figure out a way to fix it and how frustrated he must have been to keep coming up with nothing. She knew the feeling well.

She nodded as she led him into the small room tucked away at the back of the house's second floor, where there were as many books on the floor and table as there were on the shelves. "Sorry about the mess. I've been workin' on somethin' of a side project and haven't had much luck yet. Now let's see..."

After careful scanning, Bronwyn selected four books as starting points, all dealing with Irish Celtic lore. She handed two to Charles. "Based on what I know, there are two reasons he'd have the mark; a spell or a creature."

Charles: "Oh, no, no. Please don't apologise. At least not until you've seen the disaster area that is my study." His gently self-deprecating chuckle was well earned. He'd really only been mildly hyperbolic. He did his best thinking when everything to consider was spread out before him.

The telepath fell to immediately, peeling open the topmost book with an almost reverent sort of care. He divided his attention neatly in two, eyes scanning the first page and ears still pricked to all Bronwyn was saying.  Spell-work he was passingly familiar with, but... "Creature? What sort of creature?"

Bronwyn: "The ancient and powerful sort," said Bronwyn, cracking open her own book. "There are some creatures whose magic is so powerful that it leaves a physical mark on whoever is affected by it. It can be a burn, a scar, or in some cases, a tattoo. Sometimes it can even be a sort o' bond."

Charles: "Ah." Charles had a muddy sort of understanding. There was so much about this world just beyond his world that was inconceivable. Now, apparently, there were ancient powerful beings that could alter the very fabric of someone's reality. Fantastic. He continued to flip through pages, hoping that the gravity of all that he didn't know or understand wasn't plain in his face.

"A bond between the creature and the person? Or the person and another person?"

Bronwyn: "Between the creature and the person. No' a romantic one mind ye--although I'm sure that happens ev'ry now and then. A bond of servitude, of debt, of any number of unpleasant things. And as long as that mark remains, so too does the bond."

Charles: At those words something ice cold and unpleasantly slick worked its way down his spine. He shuddered, swallowed hard, and turned a page with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. His voice, surprisingly enough, was steady when he spoke next. "Debt... Is there any way to remove the mark without harming the host? Aside from the general unpleasantness that would be laser-surgery, I mean."

Bronwyn: "I'm no' sure," said Bronwyn, scanning through a list of ancient symbols. "Magic can only be altered or overridden with more magic, but there are some types that are stronger than others. But even if we could remove the mark, I don't know if that would sever any potential bond. We'd have to know exactly what the mark is to know if it's just a symbol or if is the bond, if that makes sense."

Charles: "It does." Frustration tugged at the corners of his mouth. It did not dampen his determination, however, and he scanned through pages with a stiff efficiency. He'd finished off the first, the second, with nothing to show for it. He was nearly through the third before he spoke again. "Are there any more that might be useful?"

Bronwyn: Having come up just as empty-handed as Charles, Bronwyn went back to the bookshelf and got them some more material. There hadn't been anything in any of the books on Irish Celtic lore, so she branched out into other regions and religions.

"Whatever else has changed, the fact that he lived in New Orleans has stayed the same," she said as she handed Charles a small stack of books. "That makes me wonder if whatever happened to him could've happened there. Lots o' voodoo and hoodoo in those parts."

Charles: "Mm. That's certainly a possibility." It seemed to Charles that nearly anything was a possibility in this hidden world of demons and curses. With nothing off-limits, they had a hell of a lot to sift through. It was not a comforting thought.

He smiled, faint but grateful, and set the pile of books nearby to continue his scouring. "I have a necromancer friend who lives in New Orleans. She owns a bookstore. I certainly wouldn't say no to a trip. Just to see what there is to dig up." After this, of course. After he'd exhausted every page of every suitable book in the place.

Bronwyn: Times like these, Bronwyn really missed her library back in Ronan. That house and pretty much everything in it had been designed with one goal in mind: to help hunters. It hadn't started out that way, but that was the way it had ended up.

Hell, she'd even managed to find a medical supply company that would sell to her!

"Definitely an option for us to keep in mind. I actually have a friend down there who's a hoodoo priestess. She might be willin' to help us out, too."

Charles: "Perhaps we should plan a trip in the immediate future." His tone was gently amused, but Charles put a mental pin in the idea to examine later. For the time being, it was best to exhaust all possibilities here. Plan A before Plan B, and all that.

He paused in his flipping, finger poised on a swirling, black mark that resembled Lawrence's tattoo. It wasn't the same mark --Charles' memory was photo-accurate-- but it did bear a slight resemblance. It was probably nothing, but there was no harm in trying.

"Does this mean anything to you?" he asked, tapping at the illustration in question.

Bronwyn: "Ye're more than welcome to visit," said Bronwyn, smile matching Charles' tone. "I live there, remember? I already have a pretty good idea of where all the places that might help us are."

She leaned over to get a look at the page Charles was pointing at. "Huh. That looks vaguely familiar. Does it say what creature or spell it belongs to?"

Charles: "Mm. Djinn."  He chewed on the unfamiliar word, tapping out the syllables against thin paper. "Dee-jin? Die-jin? Jin? Whatever it is I've never heard of it."  With the admission, he pushed the book across for Bronwyn to get a better look. And though it wasn't his intention, his eyes were faintly pleading when he finally tore them away from the pages. "Have you?"

Bronwyn: "Jin," Bronwyn confirmed, studying the page more closely. Maybe they were finally starting to get somewhere.

"As a matter of fact, I have. My brothers ran into one a few years ago. Djinn are basically genies. They grant yer dearest wishes but never the way ye think they are. Some species of djinn send ye into a perfect dream state while they drain ye of blood. Others are more trickster-like, givin' ye what ye want but havin' it bite ye in the ass."

Charles: There was nothing to be done for it; his pulse began to hammer, like his heart was trying to slam its way out of his ribcage. Hope is a dangerous weapon. "Yeah?" he breathed, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "Do you think that warrants further exploration?"

A shudder ran through him, unbidden, as the truth of Bronwyn's explanation settled over him. "Your brothers... did they-- What was the outcome of their experience? Is there any way to stop it? If we're even dealing with a djinn, I mean."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn looked between the symbol on the page and the one Charles had drawn and considered. They were incredibly similar. "I think we would be remiss no' to."

"Things turned out verra well for them, and aye. Djinn can be killed."

Charles: Charles paled, if only slightly, casting his gaze down toward the swirling symbols. Killed. A dangerous word, to be sure. It filled him with a sense of dread that he quickly buried. Perhaps murder wasn't the only way to rescue his Mason. He'd consider his options once they'd formulated a plan. "Good. Good. That's a relief to hear. So... where do we start?"

Bronwyn: "Ideally by goin' to Mason and askin' him if he's been associatin' with any suspicious characters but in lieu of that, we need to go down to New Orleans. Even if it is a djinn and no' some sort of curse, my friend Marie's input could be verra valuable."

Charles: "Sounds reasonable." Charles nodded, trying not to seem as eager as he was. He was ready to leave right that very instant, no preparation necessary. But there was a scrap of sanity left in him yet, and he knew better than to assume a grown person could drop everything to go on a man hunt. Monster hunt? "When would you like to go?"

Bronwyn: "As soon as ye're ready," said Bronwyn. This entire situation made her uneasy; she didn't want to be without answers any longer than she had to be.

Whatever had cast that curse, Mason was soon going to be free of it. She and Charles would make sure of it.

Charles: "I'm ready, now." Perhaps he sounded a mite overeager, but Charles wanted answers just as badly and a solution most of all. He'd shoot a text message to one of the teachers before too long, but he was as ready as he'd ever be. He carried his greatest weapon with him wherever he went. "How are we traveling?"

Bronwyn: The man certainly didn't waste any time. Definitely an asset in a situation like this. "All right, then. I have tons of frequent flier miles so I can get us on the first flight out, or we could go with a more....magical, non-traditional method o' transportation."

Charles: One corner of his mouth twitched into a wry grin. Charles was good with non-traditional. After all, he'd arrived by teleporter and his best friend specialized in wormholes. "Non-traditional is all right with me. The less time we waste, the better, as far as I'm concerned."

Bronwyn: "Verra well then, give me just one moment." Rather than make a phone call or go fetch someone, Bronwyn merely closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She was concentrating on her connection with her familiar, calling him to her side with her thoughts.

Vincent: It was as instantaneous as always, appearing in a blink on his mistress' shoulder in his jackdaw form. His feathers ruffled, eyes on the man in front of his druid.

"Ma'am?"

Bronwyn: Vincent was given a nuzzle in greeting. "Hello, love." She turned to Charles. "Charles, this is Vincent. He's my familiar. Vincent, this is Charles. He's a friend. We're undertakin' a task we could use yer help with."

Vincent: "Pleasure, Sir Charles." He would have smiled if he could. His feathers began to smooth. "How can I be of service?"

Charles: For all that he considered himself well-prepared for the strange and preternatural, Charles started when the bird made its appearance, a burst of feathers from one blink of blue eyes to the next. If time with Wynter and Mason had taught him nothing else, however, it was composure. He quickly regained his and offered the creature a smile, not a hint of bemusement at its ability to speak. "I assure you, Vincent, the pleasure is all mine. I believe that Bronwyn here can explain our predicament best."

Bronwyn: "Do ye think ye could transport us both home to New Orleans? A friend of ours is in some kind o' trouble and we need to find information on how to save him."

Vincent: "Yes, ma'am, of course. One moment." The bird fluttered from his mistress' shoulder. Standing pretty to her right, the avian creature began to enlarge; what was a sharp and tiny beak elongated and curved to a prominent nose. Near five feet and six inches the feathers sank into his skin and faded altogether, replaced by clothing. It was what distinguished him from Fera, his ability to return to human form bereft of the hassle of nudity. He had been in his true form for days, which was why his transformation took seconds rather than a blink.

"Ah!" The familiar cracked his back and neck. "Hi!" he waved.

Charles: Transformations, at least, were something he was intimately familiar with, given his upbringing. Any reminder of his sister and her gift still brought a wistful smile to his face. He waved back, friendly despite his brief trip down memory lane. "Well! Hello there."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn always enjoyed seeing people's reactions to Vincent's transformation. For some it was wonder, others curiosity, and in some cases--like now--there was fondness.

"There he is," she said, smiling as she smoothed Vincent's hair. "Have ye eaten, love? Don't want ye makin' this journey with an empty stomach."

Vincent: "Just seeds and - and things." Bugs. Delicious bugs! That wasn't a proper dinner in this form. In fact, his stomach suddenly felt empty. "Do we need to go now, ma'am?"

Bronwyn: "I do believe we have enough time for ye to eat somethin'. Both o' ye," she added, looking to Charles. "We all need to be well-nourished for what lies ahead and it just so happens I made chicken earlier."

Vincent: "I'm...I'm fine. Really. I can make it for a trip." Perhaps, but his stomach did grumble in protest to this, loudly enough for the familiar to hug his torso to silence it.

Bronwyn: "Nonsense, ye're goin' to eat. If ye don't want chicken I can make somethin' else."

Charles: He hadn't so much as considered his own stomach since he'd arrived. They'd been working for quite some time, but he'd been... preoccupied. Perhaps it was better to adventure on a full stomach than an empty one. "Chicken sounds lovely," he smiled, nodding to Vincent in an effort to assure him that he did not mind the delay. "We have to keep up our strength, after all."

Vincent: "If it's alright by you, then it's alright by me," said the familiar. "I'll help in the kitchen!"

Bronwyn: "Excellent," said Bronwyn, gesturing for them to follow her to the kitchen. "I can make some lovely sandwiches or I can heat up the chicken and accompany it with some salad."

Vincent: "Sandwiches, please!" chimed her bird.

Charles: "Sandwiches are perfectly fine," Charles agreed, chuckling. "Can I help you with anything?" To say that the telepath was hopeless in the kitchen was a gross understatement, but sandwiches even he could manage.

Bronwyn: "Sandwiches it'll be then. And wouldn't ye know, I do believe I have some fries we can pop in the oven."

"Charles, I'll put ye in charge o' washin' and slicin' some tomatoes. Vincent, ye can butter and toast some bread. Sound good?"

Vincent: "Yes! This I can do - and I won't eat all of it, promise." Once in the kitchen, the familiar looked between the two. "So, what are we doing afterwards?"

Charles: The corner of his mouth tilted up in an amused little smirk. Charles had never had the self-restraint to make such a hefty promise. "I think I can manage that." He trailed behind to the kitchen and awaited further direction. "Straight to New Orleans?"

Bronwyn: "Good," Bronwyn chuckled, taking over the task of slicing the chicken. "Lightly buttered, mind ye."

She nodded. "Aye, straight to New Orleans. Once this is done I'll call Marie and tell her we're comin'. Wouldn't want to catch her completely unawares."

Vincent: "Will I need to do anything else for this person we're going to see? More spells?"

Bronwyn: "I don't think so. Although now that ye're here, I wonder if ye might recognize the symbol we're tryin' to decipher."

Charles: "Oh!" He hadn't even considered asking. Without a word, he scuttled off in search of the sketch and returned with paper outstretched. "Here it is. Bronwyn, where do you keep your knives?"

Vincent: "A symbol?" The sketch was taken from their guest and given a once-over. "It's very old, and...I feel like it's something from both worlds. My old one and this one."

Bronwyn: "They're in the drawer underneath the coffee maker. I keep tellin' Callum to get one o' those magnetic strips that mounts on the wall but he refuses to listen."

Bronwyn moved to stand beside her familiar, looking down at the symbol on the paper. "Have ye seen it’s like before? In this world or yer old one?"

Vincent: "Only near dry lands. Drawn on rocks, painted or etched on glass. Never actually seen the owner of it."

Bronwyn: "We're startin' to suspect it might belong to a djinn of some sort."

Vincent: "Well, djinn plus dry lands would fit the profile."

Charles: Charles listened intently as he rummaged through the drawer for what he hoped was a suitable knife. Dry land? Rocks? Glass? Did any of it hold any significance? The telepath couldn't begin to guess, but he trusted the experience of his new companions where his own fell short. In the meantime, he busied himself with washing and slicing the tomato. "Do djinn not like water?"

Vincent: "That's the rumor," Vincent smiled.

Charles: "Huh." He supposed it was true that you learned something new every day.

Bronwyn: "Well if that's really the case then New Orleans is an odd place for one o' them to set up shop. Then again," she sighed, going back to the chicken. "I suppose that isn't too much of a problem as long as he avoids the river."

Vincent: "And the hurricanes, and the normal rain...and the misty days."

Charles: "Not to mention the humidity. Spending a summer day in the French Quarter feels a bit like drowning."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn chuckled. "This djinn chose a verra poor place indeed to avoid water. What else do the two o' ye want on these sandwiches? Cheese, lettuce, pesto, mayo? Request to yer heart's content."

Vincent: "All of that and some tomato," said her familiar.

Charles: "That sounds brilliant," he beamed, proudly sliding a cutting board of nearly-evenly sliced tomato across the counter.

Bronwyn: "Ask and ye shall receive." Fries went in the oven and the rest of the sandwich components were taken from their respective homes.

Charles: "Is there anything else I can do?"

Bronwyn: "Keep an eye on the fries to make sure they don't burn. Callum's oven has a bit of an attitude."

Charles: "I think I can manage that." He flashed another smile and nodded before taking a seat.

Vincent: "So what are you?" Because his childlike curiosity trumped his filter.

Charles: "I--" Charles blinked. His skin was far too thick for such a question to bother him, but it had been quite some time since he'd been asked so boldly. "I'm a mutant. Telepath."

Vincent: Vincent looked to his mistress then. A mutant? What?

Bronwyn: "There's somethin' in mutant DNA that gives them abilities most don't have. Some read thoughts, some manipulate matter, some can shapeshift. Endless possibilities."

Vincent: "So humans that can do magic all the time?"

Charles: "Oh." It hadn't even occurred to him that someone might not know who they were. "Essentially, I suppose. Though perhaps we're more like magical creatures... It isn't something that we do, it's something that we are. It's in our blood."

Vincent: "Sounds like a magical creature. Sounds like me, and vampires, and - well, I guess no demons."

Charles: "Mm. Every one of us is different, has different abilities, but we're a community, more or less. I run a school, you know."

Vincent: "A community, the very thing humans don't normally like in this realm," Vincent mused.

Bronwyn: "They'd be beside themselves if they knew how many communities exist right under their noses."

Charles: "It took quite a bit of adjusting for me to come to terms with that as well," he laughed, dragging fingers through the chaos of his hair. "But I must say that I'm glad to have met all of the people that I have, yourselves included." A beat. "And Mason, of course."

Vincent: "Mason, the demon? Have I met him?"

Bronwyn: "I don't believe so, but I'm sure I've mentioned him to ye before."

Vincent: "Mhm. Some days just blend together."

Charles: "He's.... a uniquely brilliant individual. I only hope that you get a chance to meet him." He lost himself to his thoughts, for a time, fiddling with a loose thread of his jumper before the distinct smell of potato caught his attention. "I think the chips are done?"

Bronwyn: "He will," said Bronwyn, smiling reassuringly for all their benefits. "We're goin' to go to New Orleans and get some answers and restore Mason to himself. He'll be okay."

She nodded an handed him a pair of oven mits. "Aye, it smells like it. Just set the tray on the stove there."

Charles: Charles nodded, trying for a smile, and did as he was told. The chips smells delicious, but he no longer felt the least bit hungry. Still, he set the oven mitts aside and took a seat while the fries cooled. He'd eat for strength and courtesy, if nothing else.

Vincent: "So," the tension was bothering the bird, "what are we going to be doing in New Orleans to find whatever?"

Bronwyn: "We're goin' to be visitin' a friend of mine. Marie Lanoue. She's a hoodoo priestess and one o' the only people I can think of that would have detailed information about djinn. What's more, she'll know if that symbol can be found anywhere in New Orleans."

Vincent: "Good! We should be able to solve this before the weekend is out, right?"

Charles: "I certainly hope so," Charles nodded, letting Vincent's optimism fuel his own. Already, they'd gotten leagues beyond anything he could have discovered researching on his own. It paid to have friends in strange places. "What do you think, Bronwyn?"

Bronwyn: Bronwyn wished she could share their optimism. But since she couldn't, she was going to have to fake it until she did.

"I think Marie's our best shot at makin' it so. And if no' her, I know lots of other people that could give us answers. We're lousy with resources and we will figure this out and solve this."

Vincent: "It's not... life or death?"

Bronwyn: "No, nothin' like that. He's fine, he's healthy. He's just...no' himself."

Charles: "Not himself," Charles echoed, nicking a chip from the tray mostly for something to occupy his restless hands. It scalded his mouth as he popped it in, but he didn't so much as flinch. Certainly felt like life or death.

Vincent: "I've never heard of a situation like this before. How could it even happen?"

Bronwyn: "Djinn are verra powerful creatures. Some have the power to manipulate reality and I'm assumin' in Mason's case, people."

Charles: "And how does one go about defeating one of these very powerful creatures?"

Vincent: "Throw a bucket of water at them?"

Bronwyn: "I wish to god it was that simple. Maybe it will be and they'll melt like the witch in The Wizard of Oz, who knows."

Charles: "I wouldn't be surprised, honestly." He actually managed a laugh, and popped another fry into his mouth. "It seems to me that all the old fairy tales are true."

Vincent: "Did you think none of this existed before?"

Charles: "A long time ago, yes. Or what feels like a long time ago. It's all still very new to me."

Vincent: "Well, you're new to me," Vincent smiled.

Charles: "So I am," he chuckled. "I only hope I can make a good first impression. You know, for mutant-kind everywhere."

Vincent: "You're you, not the entirety," Vincent smiled.

Bronwyn: "If it makes ye feel any better, there are things that are new to us too," Bronwyn said to Charles, offering him a smile. "Human or non-human, none of us ever stop learnin'."

Charles: Charles returned the smile, eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. "How right you are."

Vincent: Vincent would have to be reminded to eat slower, wolfing down lunch in his excitement to begin their search for whatever information was going to lead them to success. Unless the conversation was food related, then he was staying out of it.

Bronwyn: "Can I get ye somethin' to drink, Charles?"

"Slowly, Vincent," said Bronwyn, turning to her familiar. "And smaller bites. I'd hate to break our streak of days gone without chokin'."

Charles: "A glass of water, please?" He smiled around a mouthful of tomato, keeping his lips closed in an attempt at being polite. His appetite was still nowhere to be found, but it was probably best not to leave on an empty stomach. "The sandwiches are delicious, Bronwyn. Thank you."

Vincent: "Sorry!" Vincent gasped. "Done." He was picking up crumbs at this point. "I'm ready when you guys are!" Excited to get this moving forward. Anytime there was a mystery to solve he was ecstatic.

Charles: Charles cocked an eyebrow at the man, lips twitching faintly with amusement. "Do you want to finish my chips?" he asked, plucking up the second half of his sandwich and sliding the mostly-full plate across the table.  "I've been ready for weeks, my friend. I only wished I'd come to you sooner, Bronwyn. We've achieved more in a few hours than I have in a month on my own."

Bronwyn: Charles' water was fetched, her own meal attended to. She wasn't all that hungry either but as she'd told Charles and Vincent, it was best to undertake things like this on a full stomach.

Bronwyn shook her head fondly at her familiar before giving Charles a smile. "What's important is that ye're here now. We'll figure this out, whatever this is." She took a deep breath. "So we better go see what New Orleans has to offer."

Vincent: The familiar perked, several of Charles' chips crammed in his mouth. "Yesh!" crumbs making a break for it.

Bronwyn: "Vincent, we've talked about this too," said Bronwyn, getting up to clear their plates. "No talkin' with yer mouth full."

Vincent: "Sorry!" Yet he was still doing it, only now covering his mouth as he wolfed it down. "Ready when you two are."

Bronwyn: "I'm ready. Charles?"

Charles: He exhaled sharply and nodded, brushing nonexistent crumbs from his sweater. It was now or never, he supposed. "Ready as I'll ever be." A wry little smile and he was pulling back from the table to stand beside his companions.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nodded. "All right. Take us away, Vincent."

Vincent: With a smile, the familiar offered his hands to his mistress and the professor. This would drain him, as always, but at least now there was fuel to burn through.

New Orleans was unexpectedly chilly on arrival; it was the kind of frigid cold that bit through skin to bone. The thunderstorm was to blame, and immediately Bronwyn's bird was whining.

"I don't like this!"

Charles: Years. Years of instantaneous travel and Charles found it no less unpleasant. Still, he was upright and mostly steady when the world swam into view again. His brow furrowed with concern when he registered Vincent's complaints. "Are you all right? Is there something I can do?"

Bronwyn: After a few days in the pleasantly chilly weather of Edenton, coming home to bitterly cold wind was like a slap in the face. "Och, Jesus bloody Christ it's freezin'."

She wrapped an arm around Vincent to give them both some warmth. "Come on ye two, let's get inside."

Vincent: Like a bird - or in this case, a dog - Vincent was shaking off the wet as soon as they were in the foyer. "Storms are only nice to watch, not be a part of!" Time to strip out of his jacket and hoodie.

Charles: "I don't know," Charles chuckled, peeling out of his sweater and resisting the urge to wring the entire mess out onto the floor. "I enjoy this weather when I dress for it. Perhaps we should have checked today's forecast before we left."

Bronwyn: "Or teleported into the house," Bronwyn mused, following suit and shrugging out of her wet jacket. "Give me all those wet things, I'll throw them into the dryer and then call Marie to let her know we're comin'."

Vincent: "Well, excuse me," Vincent grinned. "I'm not perfect!" Now, to the kitchen for milk! "Yes, ma'am!"

Charles: Charles chuckled, and gratefully handed over his sweater for drying. "Thanks."

Bronwyn: Bronwyn grinned back. "Ye're forgiven."

Clothes were put into the dryer, fresh ones distributed, towels offered. And of course, Marie was called.

A few minutes later everything was ready to go.

"All right, ye two, into my car. We're goin' on an adventure."

Vincent: "Yes ma'am," chimed the familiar again, mouth full of gingersnaps.

Charles: "Excelsior," Charles mumbled, tipping a nod in Bronwyn's direction even has he ducked into the car. He tugged nervously at his borrowed sweatshirt and braced himself for whatever was coming.

Bronwyn: The visit to Marie didn't provide any concrete answers, but it did assure them that they were headed in the right direction.

Marie explained that there were a couple of hoodoo rituals that could achieve the effects they described, but the symbol on Lawrence proved it was not hoodoo and did in fact belong to a djinn. She also told them that there were many different species of djinn, one for every culture in the world and all with varying degrees of power.

"And I guarantee," she had said, "That this is not what your Mason intended to be the result of his dealings with this creature."

Charles: Something loosened in Charles' chest. Reluctant as he was to admit it, even to himself, a part of him had wondered if all of this wasn't what Mason wanted-- a fresh start, free of all the chains of his former life... including Charles. The relief was almost painful. He dropped his head into his hands and heaved a trembling sigh, heedless of his audience. When he'd managed to collect himself, he spoke clearly, though he did not lift his head. "What are our options? How do we proceed?"

Bronwyn: "Only two options, Mr. Charles. You kill or you negotiate."

Charles: His face went ashen, and he was oh-so glad that no one could see it. Of. Fucking. Course. "Well. I'd prefer to negotiate, but I'll do what I must to save my... to save Mason. How do I find this djinn creature? And how do I kill it?"

Bronwyn: "Djinn cannot be summoned like demons. You have to go out and look. And until they in front of you, no way to tell which species it is. Once you know species, then you can find way to kill."

Charles: "Oh." It was never simple, was it?

Vincent: "So...what do we need to do now?"

Bronwyn: Marie gave Charles' hand a pat. "Go out and look, little raven. Good chance Mason knows the djinn."

Charles: Charles nodded and raised his head, managing to pull a smile out of somewhere. "That's... all right. Thank you. This has been very enlightening."

Vincent: Vincent just looked to his mistress and sighed. He felt bad for Charles, but what could he do?

Bronwyn: Bronwyn gave her familiar the same look he gave her. Short of snapping their fingers and setting the world to rights, there was no immediate fix for this.

Marie patted Charles' hand again. "You're welcome, Mr. Charles."

"Hey Marie?"

Their hostess turned to Bronwyn. "Yes?"

"Do ye know of any djinn around here?"

She nodded. "Hooker in the French quarter. Name is Lila."

"Would she know of any other djinn?"

Marie shrugged. "Couldn't hurt to ask."

Charles: Charles' smile brightened ever so slightly. At least it was something to work with. He cast an appreciative glance at Bronwyn for staying level-headed when he was so obviously distraught. "Lead the way. Thank you again, Marie. Truly."

Vincent: The word "hooker" brought a blush to the familiar's cheeks. "Well, this is about to be an experience." Vincent bowed to their hostess and fell into step beside Bronwyn.

Bronwyn: "Aye, thank ye, Marie."

"No problem, sweeties." She kissed Bronwyn's cheek. "Go see your mama, she went shopping for you." The mama Marie was referring to was Lydia, an old mutual friend that saw Bronwyn as the daughter she never had.

"I will."

Once they were out in the car, Bronwyn sighed. "How the hell are we goin' to find a hooker in the daytime in a storm?"

Charles: "A brothel would be my best guess." Charles shrugged, pulling down the hood of his borrowed jacket and watching the rapidly-flooding streets with little interest. "But I don't suppose they would openly advertise what they're selling, even in a city like this one. We could always wait until tonight. After the storm's passed?"

Vincent: "We've come to a strange pothole in this path towards victory," said the familiar.

Bronwyn: "We have," Bronwyn said with a nod. "And aye, I think we're goin' to have to wait for tonight." She peeked up at the sky. "Hopefully the storm lets up by then. I don't think hookers work in the rain."

Charles: "Tonight, then." Waiting would be torture, but at least they had a game plan.

Vincent: "That word hits the ear wrong when you say it, ma'am," the familiar laughed. He just couldn't sympathize with the druid and mutant in this situation, as he didn't know Mason Atlas intimately. This was just another adventure.

Bronwyn: Leave it to Vincent to find some levity in all this.

Bronwyn chuckled softly. "How about we call them workin' girls?" She didn't like the word whore. It was so....aggressive.

Vincent: "Working girls. I like. Sounds progressive. It's their body, their business. Literal business! Cha-ching!"

Bronwyn: She laughed again. "I'm sure Lila will appreciate the progressive attitude if we manage to find her."

Charles: Despite himself, and the entire situation, Charles snorted out a laugh, dragging a hand down his face. "Indeed. What'll we do until then?"

Vincent: "Oh! There is an ice cream parlor nearby!" chimed the black hole.

Bronwyn: "Ice cream sounds good right now." Never mind that it was freezing outside. "What do ye say I buy us some banana splits?"

Charles: Charles was always, always dfs (down for sweets). His distant expression brightened considerably despite the cold, and he tossed a smile in Bronwyn's direction. "Make mine a sundae and you've got yourself a deal."

Vincent: "Perfect." They were in such a rush to get this done, obviously. Vincent should have been more mature about this, but ice cream was important!

Bronwyn: "Sundae it is." Rush or not, the rain was halting their progress. Might as well spend the time doing--and eating--something enjoyable.

Bronwyn parked in front of the ice cream parlor.

Charles: Charles didn't hesitate to brave the torrent. There was never a bad time for ice cream, and he planned to take full advantage of the down time. If he couldn't have Mason just now, at least he could have strawberry syrup.

Vincent: As usual, Vincent was the first to finish eating and the first to get brain freeze. He would have to be scolded, as usual, and an hour into the train the familiar was growing frustrated.

Bronwyn: He had been scolded; gently, but scolded nonetheless. And he definitely wasn't the only one getting frustrated and antsy.

"Do ye think people would notice if I suddenly made the storm disappear?"

Charles: Charles was still picking over a bowl of peanuts, restless and eager to make a move. Any idea that would help that along was a good one, in his opinion. "Possibly. But I could make sure that they don't." His telepathic range was well over three hundred miles, and this was an emergency. Or at least as far as he was concerned.

Vincent: "Maybe just a - maybe we could - I mean this is an emergency to you two."

Bronwyn: "I don't think it'll come to that if I do it gradually. Like so." Bronwyn took a deep breath, making sure to keep her now-glowing eyes turned away from the rest of the people in the parlor as she slowly made the rain taper off.

Charles: Charles grinned. Positively beamed. It was probably the brightest smile he'd shown since learning of Mason's predicament. If there was one thing that never failed to capture (and keep) Charles Xavier's interest, it was a display of fantastic power. Too bad Bronwyn was a fully grown druid, and not a young mutant. He would have offered a place at his school on the spot. "That's incredible." he whispered, studiously arranging a handful of nuts into an umbrella on the tabletop to remain inconspicuous even through his excitement.

Vincent: "Best I can do is make it rain like a bucket of water over someone's head," Vincent grumbled. "Never going to be that amazing." Mist was his favorite type of rain, so at least he could smile at that.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn smiled, though her focus remained on the clouds in the sky. "I could try to teach ye if ye want," she said to Vincent. "I'm pretty sure ye have enough magic to pull it off."

Charles: Their relationship was a unique one, and Charles couldn't quite liken it to anything else. Charming as he found it, however, his mind drifted elsewhere. "How long do you suppose we should wait?"

Vincent: "How long does it take hookers to come out of hiding?" Wait... "Was that insensitive?"

Bronwyn: She chuckled. "I have no idea. We can ask Lila once we find her. And I'm guessin' we better go now. We know the rain won't come back, but the hookers don't. They'll want to get some business while they can."

And off to the seediest street in the French Quarter.

Charles: He was probably not as uncomfortable as he should have been, with the proceedings. Hands shoved deep into pockets, Charles scanned the block, even as it began to come to life. He flitted easily from mind to mind. It was like finding a needle in a bloody haystack, of course. He didn't even know what the person he was searching for looked like, let alone who her friends and confidants might be. He wasn't without hope, however. Best way to find a needle in a haystack? Bring a magnet. With a glance toward Bronwyn for unspoken support, he crossed the street to greet a woman with blonde curls piled high atop her head and a half-burned cigarette hanging from her lips.

Vincent: "What's he doing?" Vincent asked. "Just going to ask around for her? Should I?"

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nodded as she followed Charles. "Aye. That's the only way I can think to find her. And no, stay close, love." She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "I don't like the way some o' these men are lookin' at ye."

She gave the woman what she hoped was a pleasant, unthreatening smile. "Hello, miss. Could we ask ye a question?"

Charles: The blonde smiled pleasantly as the man hailed her, shoulders straightening and fingers tucking an errant curl back into her knot. He was pretty, had a kind face and, by the look of him, money to blow. Such a combination was always an indicator of a good night to come. She'd hit the jackpot. Of course, she'd never been particularly lucky. It really should have come as no surprise that the chick and her sidekick sidled up as well. Groups were always a bad idea. Her face went stony as she prepared for a firm rebuff.

 Charles reached the woman first, and, undeterred by her cold demeanor, offered her the warmest smile he could muster. "We're looking for someone," he began after Bronwyn. "A woman by the name of Lila. We were told we could find her, here." He winced inwardly as her expression shuttered further.

 "Who's askin'?"

Vincent: "The men?" Vincent looked around. Men were looking at him? It hadn't come to his attention. "I thought women were the ones to be cautious with around here," he whispered, slipping into silence as Charles began his interrogation.

Bronwyn: "Looks like ev'ryone should be cautious," she whispered back.

And sure enough, there were men looking at Vincent; some were merely curious, others were sizing him up in every sense of the phrase while they did the same to Bronwyn.

Why did the prospective djinn have to be a hooker?

Bronwyn noticed the woman withdrawing as well, which was why she reached into her purse.

"Benjamin Franklin," she said smoothly, holding up a crisp hundred-dollar bill.

Charles: Well, that was the type of motivation that she lived for. She reached to try and pluck the bill from the woman's hand before she could take it away and tuck it into her bustier. Still, all the money in the world couldn't make her rat out another girl. Strangers didn't come around looking for pros by name unless there was trouble. "Look, Lila don't work down here no more.  She cleaned herself up, got a real nice apartment with some rich fella down in Laplace. That's all I know." It was a good lie, and she'd be long gone before they figured it out.

 Charles smiled, seeming grateful for the bullshit information. He hadn't reached out to the woman with the intention of her telling them anything. He only wanted to mention Lila's name. Once he got a person thinking about another, it was child's play to pluck information out of their heads. "Thanks. Enjoy the rest of your evening, ma'am. Shall we?" He turned to his companions, wanting to get out of earshot before he told them anything.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn squinted at the woman, not entirely certain if she believed her. People usually parted with information quite easily if there was profit to be made but usually it took more than a hundred dollars. She was about to offer another bill when Charles gave the woman his thanks.

She smiled. Who needed money when there was a telepath around?

"We shall. Come on, Vincent." Bronwyn squeezed her familiar's hand and followed Charles. "So where is Lila really?" she asked when there was no one in earshot.

Charles: Charles grinned. It was refreshing to have friends (?) not put off by the casual use of his ability. He'd have to spend more time with Druids and the like. "She works out of a hotel not far from here." He hadn't caught a name, but he knew what the building looked like and its general location. "This way. How best to approach the situation, do you think?"

Vincent: "Do you have a gun? Would a gun hurt a djinn?" Vincent smiled, lacing his fingers with his mistress'. "I know. A squirt gun."

Bronwyn: "Well, I have more money and a knife. Guns are at home, but I don't know if they'd do any damage." Bronwyn chuckled. "Now one o' those might. Maybe we should just talk to her and offer to pay for her time?"

Charles: Charles winced slightly, shoved his hands into his pockets and ducked his head low as they walked. "Fresh out of weapons, I'm afraid." Well, aside from his own mind. "I think payment and a simple conversation would be best, yes. Agreed." The walk was a short one, and soon enough a grand, old building loomed into view. "Here we are."

Vincent: "Well, she has taste in hotels, that's for sure," Vincent admired. "I'll just...stay behind you two."

Bronwyn: "Ye can say that again." The blond woman might not have been telling the entire truth, but Lila had definitely moved up in life.

Well, as much as a prostitute could while still remaining a prostitute.

Bronwyn gave Vincent's hand a reassuring squeeze. "That's fine, love. I think Charles should take the lead."

Charles: "Me?" Charles paled, which was remarkable given his complexion. He was good in a pinch, but he didn't know the first thing about djinn outside of how to pronounce their name. Still, he didn't want to let anyone down, Mason least of all. "All right." He squared his shoulders and strolled through the double doors with all the grace of a born and raised blue-blood. Lila would be at the hotel bar finding clients, if his hunch was sound.

Bronwyn: Bronwyn nodded. "Aye. It's always hard to know how one supernatural creature will react to another. Most tend to be hostile. The fact that ye're human despite yer ability might work in our favor."

Once again she followed Charles, high-heeled boots echoing on the marble floor. She was trying to give off a non-threatening aura. Druids weren't exactly known to be unfriendly and threatening but it couldn't hurt to try to give some reassurance. She was a Druid on a mission, after all.

Charles: One could hope so. He found his way to the bar easily enough, most businesses such as this made their layout as uncomplicated as possible for the customer. Charles scanned the patrons as casually as he could before taking a seat next to a woman in a form-fitting cocktail dress. Her hair was long and dark, but he couldn't see any obvious signs of her being... other. Still, she matched the memories that he'd plucked from the mind of the other woman. Taking a deep breath, he ordered a strong drink, keeping maybe-Lila in his periphery. I think this may be her? Do djinn look different from humans in any way? Just to be sure... He chanced dropping the inquiry into Bronwyn's mind, hoping she was not bothered by the intrusion. They hadn't discussed boundaries in any way, but this was an urgent matter.

Vincent: Vincent wasn't usually this quiet, but without command he felt no need to say or do anything but cling to Bronwyn's side. Not quite a bodyguard, not quite a servant. Something almost child-like.

Bronwyn: Other than her own, there was only one other voice Bronwyn was accustomed to hearing in her head, and that voice was her familiar's. Hearing Charles' without any warning gave her a bit of a start that hopefully no one besides Vincent noticed.

'It is,' she thought back, rubbing the spot on her hip where her Mark lay. It was prickling something awful. 'Most djinn can pass as human, especially if they're using a glamour. That's Lila.'

"Want a drink, love?" she asked Vincent, giving him a reassuring smile.

Charles: Charles drained his drink, then another, before he gathered the courage to take action. This was it. Another path that could lead to his beloved, or another dead end. Turning to face the woman full-on, he offered her his brightest smile. Was it better to dive right in with the true motivation behind this conversation, or beat around the bush? He didn't know, but he could feel himself losing nerve. "Erm. Hello. I was wondering if I might borrow a moment of your time..."

Vincent: "No thanks," he whispered. "I'm fine." If he had one thing he'd want another, and another, and this was meant to be important, more important than his bottomless pit of greed.

Bronwyn: The woman that called herself Lila slid Charles a sidelong glance before devoting her attention on her drink again.

"Your face is earnest," she said by way of reply. Her voice was cool and crisp and ever so slightly accented. What the origins of that accent were, only she knew. "And your eyes are kind. Have they served you well?"

Charles: His charm failed him. There was something slightly disconcerting about the woman. Something otherworldly. Charles supposed he knew what, but knowing and experiencing were two different beasts. When he spoke, it was with all of his barriers down. "My... eyes?"

Bronwyn: She gave a single nod. "In your profession. Has your kindness and earnestness served you well?"

Charles: "I..." He had to give it a moment's consideration, but the answer was obvious when it came. "Yes. Yes, I believe that it has."

Bronwyn: "Do you believe it will serve you well here?"

Charles: He blinked. Well, shit. "I suppose that's up to you." Another long, pregnant pause. Charles wasn't prepared to be on this side of the interrogation. It was throwing him for a loop. "...does this mean you know why I'm here?"

Bronwyn: "Hmm." Lila looked from the man to his companions. She could only detect that vaguely Faerie-like aura from one of them, but they both smelled of the forest. Perhaps that was why they clung to each other.

She sipped her cosmopolitan. "You are here for the same reason as all the others before you. You want something."

Charles: "I do," he admitted, not bothering with coy evasion. Charles was out of his depth. "I'm... we're looking for information. I'd be willing to pay for it."

Bronwyn: She looked at his companions. The woman immediately ducked her head, which made Lila's lips curve in a barely there smile. Druids would never lose the respect their Faerie forefathers had bred into them.

"How did you come to find yourself in league with a little Faerie and her...." Lila inhaled. "...raven?"

Charles: He hesitated, briefly, unsure of how much to tell her. Or how much she already knew. "Friends of a friend," he said finally, which was true enough. "That friend is why I came to you, actually. He's in a spot of trouble." Understatement of the century.

Bronwyn: "If he were in merely a spot of trouble, your Faerie and her raven would've been all the help you needed."

Charles: "Fair enough." It was true, after all. His hands twitched slightly where they wrapped around his glass. "The friend in question got involved with a djinn. I don't know any of the details, but I know that he lives here. Do you know of him?" Charles didn't have a name. He didn't know if these creatures ran in similar circles. He was throwing his hopes blindly at the woman's feet.

Bronwyn: "We are not social beings. This is a very large city with an aura that attracts many kinds. Knowing that, perhaps your friend should have exercised caution."

Charles: Charles turned to face her full-on. "Perhaps, but the time for regret has passed. You haven't answered my question, ma'am."

Bronwyn: "Save your money. I do not know of another. They might well exist, but they are not known to me."

Charles: "Please." A hint of panic threaded his voice; he sounded desperate enough to have turned a few heads. Everything. Everything he'd been through. This couldn't be another dead end. He couldn't stomach it. "Please, Lila. You must know something! A rumour? A guess?" Anything to avoid starting from scratch.

Bronwyn: Lila's only reaction to the emotional plea was a curious tilt of her head. "You have my sympathies, professor, but I do not have the information you seek."

A tall man in a dark suit appeared at the entrance to the bar. He smiled at Lila; she gave him her almost smile in return.

She finished her cosmo and slid off her stool. Before walking over to meet her client, she trailed a single finger across Charles' cheek.

"Do not fear, Charles of the house of Xavier. You already have the information you require."

Charles: No. No, he very much did not have the information he required. Charles didn't bother to watch her leave. His head sank to the sticky bar-top as the crippling pain consumed him. For a moment, at least, Bronwyn and Vincent were forgotten. What was he going to do? So distraught was he, he did not question how the woman had known his name.

Bronwyn: A few moments passed before Charles would feel a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We'll find him," Bronwyn said softly, resting her head on his shoulder as she gave him a one-armed hug. "Come hell or high water, we'll find Mason."

Charles: His eyes were damp and red-rimmed, but he accepted the offered comfort. It was easy to forget that Bronwyn loved Mason, as well. He returned her embrace with a fleeting flicker of a smile. "Yes," he agreed. "Yes." He had to believe it was true, no matter how tired he was of disappointment. "We should go? I don't want to be here any longer."

Bronwyn: She nodded. "Aye. Let's go home."

Holding one of Charles' and Vincent's hands in each of her own, Bronwyn led them out of the hotel. They'd go home, they'd regroup, and they would bring Mason back.