#its been a little while since i inked something traditionally

[mageiad]

he’s shy so please be nice to him

[seyaryminamoto]

Yakuza Sokkla AU headcanons?

Well, for starters I can point you to a Yakuza AU fic that already exists and features Sokkla, though it’s not the main pairing... here you go!

Now then... let’s toy around with a set of headcanons, shall we?

Azula of course belongs to the biggest baddest yakuza clan in the nation, spanning back who knows how many generations, probably since the Edo period. It’s a pretty violent clan, with complicated and gruesome rites of passage. For instance, Zuko could’ve even been burned in this setting for the sake of proving himself a worthy successor to his father :’D it may sound insane, but there’s a real-life yakuza tradition of amputating their pinky fingers to settle conflicts or as punishments... so in their case, the burning is a rite done to the clan’s heir -- if the heir survives, he’s proven himself, so, strangely, in this AU Zuko’s burn is a mark of pride rather than shame :’D (and Ozai probably has a burn of his own too). Theirs could be, perhaps, the Homura clan (as a reading of Homura 炎 would mean “flames”).

Sokka would belong to a smaller yakuza clan, but his father could be a little like Hanzo and Genji’s father from Overwatch, a wise old man who actually reels back his more criminal and wild associates, who surely want their clan to outdo the Homura at all costs, even if by breaking their more traditional and respectful (and samurai-ish (?)) approach to their work. I’d think their clan can be the Kawakami clan (written  川上, means “above the river”).

The Kawakami are renowned for having THE coolest tattoos so that’s one nice thing they have over every other Yakuza clan around, bahahaha. Sokka has been learning (amongst other things) how to make tattoos of his own too, so he gets plenty of art education here and is damn good at what he does because this boy has the soul of an artist and if it were nurtured properly he’d go the distance with his talents, MARK MY WORDS!

Eh-hem, Sokka fangirl rant over... as they’re from rival clans, Sokka and Azula have bumped into each other on occasion, whenever friction rises between their groups. They’ve known of the other’s existence (and their respective siblings) all along, and they’ve been raised to hate each other’s guts :’D as kids they probably only saw each other on a few occasions, but once they’re old enough to take up missions of their own, their paths will cross more often.

The Homura clan traditionally handles most the drug trafficking and arms trading, and of course, the Kawakami are trying to deal in those things too... which results in frequent spats over suppliers, even outright fights between group members, until Hakoda Kawakami decides he’s had enough of the nonsensical rivalry and determines their clan will benefit most from a truce and an alliance with the Homura clan. He tasks his son and heir with arranging it, since this could be their rise to yakuza glory!

Of course, Sokka Kawakami has a lot of possible ways to achieve success at his father’s request. He starts by making peace offerings to the other clan, yielding some suppliers, for instance, in a show of good faith. But Ozai Homura is not amused and not impressed because he can tell these people are up to something: as he wants his heir Zuko to stay focused on learning the elements of the business that matter, such as learning to read stock markets and such (legit, it seems the Yakuza do this to find out which companies to extort :’D), he dispatches his daughter to handle the lesser threat of the Kawakami clan.

This means a huge cat and mouse struggle begins between Azula and Sokka: she decides to turn his displays of generosity against him, by extending Homura “protection” AKA extortion to people within Kawakami territories, arguing that the Kawakami’s displays of weakness these days mean they’re no longer upholding their duties to “protect” their people as they should. Naturally, Sokka is outraged that she’s fucked up his plan but he counterattacks by reaching out to the people she’s trying to steal away to prove that he’s indeed going to protect them. From HER! :’D The people in question are just plain confused because who should they believe at this point? xD

After a few weeks of this pretty pointless tug of war, Sokka decides he needs to step up his game and take a new approach to fulfilling his father’s request: he asks Azula for a peaceful private meeting in an empty park at night (and by private I mean they’ll talk alone while about 20 members of each clan point guns at each other from the shadows of the park), and he explains what’s going on and why he’s been up to what he’s up to. Azula is uninterested in any alliances, for the Homura are perfectly strong as they are, but Sokka points out... their tattoo game ain’t as good as the Kawakami clan’s. Azula is confused but intrigued.

Next thing Ozai knows, Azula is offering to take one bullet for the clan: she will receive a tattoo from the Kawakami heir to see if they have ONE worthwhile thing to offer their clan or not. Ozai is utterly uninterested but fiiiiiiiiiine, their artists have been pretty lackluster lately and it’s known decent tattoos are needed for people to respect a yakuza clan as it should be.

As these tattoos are very difficult, painful and time-consuming, it takes more than one session. Sokka of course insists he must be alone with Azula or he won’t be able to focus -- not that he’s focusing too much while she lies down naked to the waist on his tattoo parlor and he works on inking her back as best as he can :’D the very FATE of his clan rides on whether he can do wonders on Azula’s body or not... (?)

... Obviously, this ends up taking a whole other meaning when it’s time for him to work on other, more intimate parts of her body...

Ehem. Things are no longer PG-13. Not that they ever are when it comes to the yakuza. Or to me writing these two.

Azula goes home after the final session of her hugely-detailed epic tattoo with the biggest, stupidest smile on her face because ahaha that tattoo was good “ahaha yes father he’s TALENTED I mean, very talented, the things he does with his HUGE needle...! Um, y-yeah, I’m totally talking about tattoos, not about anything else, that’s not it (?)”

A temporary alliance is crafted then, despite Ozai thinks Azula’s approval of the Kawakami clan is super weird and isn’t exactly crazy about allowing this puny clan to even breathe in his direction, but he’s always had a weakness for his daughter + has no idea she’s doing the tattoo artist so he lets everything run its course (?)

I guess one day he finds out and legit war blows up between both factions (?) buuuut that’s too much plot to plot and I have enough big stories in my head as it is x’D feel free to imagine that war and its outcome for yourself, anon (?)

(as a bonus, looking into the yakuza wikipedia article revealed that, amongst their TONS of criminal activities, the real life yakuza actually offered relief and assistance during big catastrophic events in Japan, like the Kobe and Sendai earthquakes? How epic would it be for the Kawakami clan to offer relief and earn the loyalty of a fuckton of people, turning them into a clan big enough to rival the Homura before Ozai is the wiser... :’DDDD further spice into the clan war, eh, ehhhh?)

Well, that was fun xD I hope you enjoyed it too, Anon xD

[mysticsparklewings]

Something of a Story String

romping through rose rows the rouge holds roamers ransom re-writing their wrongs out yonder, they yawn yearning for youth yanked from them you yearn for them, too grave group, so it goes much greatness gone to the grass, a goodbye garden but the "byes" come back they blow in on brisk breezes blooming in balance ____ What's this? It's not Inktober yet, what are the mini-magnets doing out and about?   Over on deviantArt, I was encouraged by AlinaLeeArts to enter the String Me a Haiku Contest! hosted by HaikuWriMo, and while I have only basic knowledge and understanding of Haikus, I've been really wanting to play with the mini-magnets lately after reorganizing them into some new tins, and it sounded like fun. (And like a good way to fill out my upload schedule since the bigger projects I'm working on still aren't quite finished yet. ) So I decided I'd take a stab at, or at least see if I could come up with a concept I was happy with and take it from there. The contest rules state that an entry has to be made up of a string of at least four haikus, a Haiku for the uninformed being, according to Google, "a Japanese poem of seventeen syllables, in three lines of five, seven, and five, traditionally evoking images of the natural world." And that the haikus should use heavy alliteration, which also for the uninformed is, "the occurrence of the same letter or sound at the beginning of adjacent or closely connected words." This would pose a unique challenge for me because, as I said, I'm not very familiar with writing Haikus. I've read plenty of them, sure, and I think I had to write one at least once or twice back in K-12 school for English class or something, but other than that, if I've ever constructed one, it's been completely by accident. That said, I used two different syllable counters to check each of these before I ever arranged the magnets, so hopefully, they do indeed follow the 5-7-5 pattern properly, if nothing else! Alliteration is also not something I intentionally use super often, and that combined with the limited syllables and structure I think makes for a unique challenge even for someone more familiar with the haiku form. Something I learned very quickly while trying to do this: Every syllable counts, you don't want to waste a single one! Before I could get to actually writing the haikus, though, me being me, I needed a concept/theme to work off of. How would I pick letters to alliterate? What would the haikus be about? Since I want to use the mini-magnets (as is more or less my standard for short-form poetry) what should the background(s) look like? Will all four tell a continuous story or four short stories that go together? I have to have at least four haikus, but am I just going to do four, or will I maybe do a few more than that? I decided the easy way to break it down would be to have each haiku dedicated to a specific letter for alliteration, then make a poem based off of whatever I could come up with within that letter alliteration, as I worked I could go back and forth between the separate haikus to develop more of a story, and then once they were done or mostly done, I could decide on what I would do for the background(s) based on the poems themselves. This process did change a little bit, as I started off using a haiku generator to help me get more in a haiku-writing mindset. I did through that pick up one line, "seeing a balance," that obviously got translated a bit differently into the final version ("blooming in balance"), but other than that I really was still largely on my own. I'd toyed with a few other concepts, but none of them felt right or were really sticking with me. Then I got the idea to pick each letter for the haikus based on an acronym; a well-known combination of letters. That would also potentially give me a theme to work off of.   Initially, I thought of ROYGBIV, the acronym for the basic seven colors of the rainbow. And I actually started working on trying to make my haikus based on that, but the letter "O" stopped me pretty short because once I had the letters, my idea was to do word-association like I normally do for the Inktober prompts; I'd list out some potential words to use that I felt somehow connected with the color and started with the same letter as the color. Frankly, there just aren't a lot of letter-O words that I could also connect back to the color, and the few I did come up with just didn't seem like they had a super compelling story hidden within them. But I did really like the idea of the colors because that gave me a good launching point for the backgrounds; I could just use the same color the haiku was based on within the background for it. It sounded like fun, even. So I didn't want to just totally ditch it. After giving it some thought, I figured the best thing to do would be to try using the four main colors everybody knows: Red, Yellow, Green, and Blue. If I still couldn't come up with my haikus based on those four letters, then it was time to pick a new acronym. Fortunately, even though I had my concerns about the Y in particular, I had a much easier time after that. (I mean, I already had most of the one for "Red," from the ROYGBIV stage, but still.) It's funny though, I thought "Blue" was going to be the easiest, based on my knowledge of "B" words, but that one was actually the one I ended up tweaking and re-writing the most. Probably because it was also the last one I did, and I had started to develop a vague story about yearning for life and visiting a grave in a cemetery, so I had to work within that theme. Though, that said, I think "Green" is actually the weakest of the four, as far as impact goes, despite it being the one that kinda hammers home the life/death theme the most. It was the most difficult one to balance my syllables appropriately because of the words I really wanted to use.   Obviously, this "story" developed as I worked, so it's a bit more on the abstract side, but this is how I see what these four haikus say together; They're talking about someone, probably a young someone (I picked a girl for the background, but the poems could go either way), walking through a field of flowers and stumbling upon a nursing home, maybe with a couple of residents on the porch, and a cemetery nearby. Maybe connected to the home, maybe not. And the young someone stops and reflects on life, and how even once someone passes away, oftentimes we can be reminded of them, or almost feel as if they're still here, in the small things and little fleeting moments here there, like the petals of a flower or the whispers of a seasonal breeze in the air. They come back in those small ways, completing the circle of life, that essential balance of the universe. Of course, that's just one way to interpret it, and even then there are still small details that could be changed while still keeping the sentiment the same. Personally, that's one of the things I enjoy the most about poetry and the mini magnets--you don't always know what you're going to end up saying until someone else reads it and tells you what it says to them. As for those backgrounds, they're all fairly simple watercolor paintings. Once I had the poems and this vague idea of a story, it was fairly easy to come up with a background concept for each one to make them a little more interesting. Normally, I'd use sponged-ink backgrounds during Inktober, but I've been toying with the watercolor idea in the back of mind and this seemed like a good time to experiment since I was already pushing the envelope in various other ways. You can see pretty much exactly what I had in mind for each one, though I will clarify the green one is supposed to be a tombstone in the grass since it's the only one that I think might not be super clear right away. It could just as easily be a rock.   For each of them, my process was very simple; I just picked 1-3 shades to make a gradient from the appropriate color, alternating each one slightly depending on what I wanted for the sky, and then I added the grass and silhouettes on top using a combination of watercolor and black pen. And then the very last one, "blue," got the added moon, stars, and some fireflies using gel pens (and a little bit of pastel for glow). It was the most complex, but "yellow," was actually the trickiest because I have not yet mastered the ability to free-hand a human silhouette. I had to sketch it out separately and then use my lightbox to transfer the outline and fill it in. And, funnily enough, the backgrounds you see here were actually meant to be smaller test-runs before making bigger ones and actually physically setting the mini-magnets on them to photograph. But I was so happy with how these small test ones turned out, I honestly didn't feel like I needed to make the bigger ones. So I pivoted a bit; I formed each mini-magnet poem on a plain blue piece of paper (a "blue screen" if you will to make it easier to separate the words) and photographed them, then used Photoshop to get each haiku onto its respective background. This ended up working to my advantage, as I could just focus on arranging the words to make the words properly and not working around the paintings underneath, and then once I had everything in photoshop I could move things around as necessary much more easily. I'm not super sure about the haiku part, but I'm really pleased with how the overall result looks, and especially happy with 3 out of the four backgrounds.  So much so, I will be posted a wordless version of just the backgrounds to go along with this one for your viewing pleasure! fav.me/ddrqj28 I don't think I'll be placing in the contest (I could be wrong, but I'm aware I'm a little out-of-my-element here ), but I enjoyed the process and the end result, so it was still worth it in my eyes. It was really nice to have the mini-magnets out and put them to use again, especially since I've been having a craving to do so lately. And having them all freshly re-organized made using them all the more enjoyable. Though I'm still not quite sure in what form it'll be, I am very much thinking of doing more non-Inktober stuff like this with the mini-magnets going forward. I have so many of them and I enjoy using them, even when it's a daily challenge and running me a bit ragged.  You might say I'm a bit of an addict. ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[sundaynightnovels]

chinese mythology AU: the moon rabbit

so @insearchof-solace​ gave me this prompt a while back and i was immediately inspired and.... wrote nothing BUT i kept wanting to write it (that’s fair enough, no????) && now that i’m finally up to writing it, my word doc is acting up on me and i was ready to throw in the towel but i was like

well. i write a whole bunch and don’t edit my work anyway, so how about i try something different and write it right now, spontaneously, on this post here? are you nervous? i’m rebellious and low on energy and don’t have enough mind to be nervous  so yea, i’m gonna give it a go. so there’s no like introductory post on how long it’s gonna be or what is it about or how vastly different it is from the actual mythology (very different, probably) like always, this is an AU of my wip like all things out of season, i.e. using its characters and whatnot. so yea. a little background: the moon rabbit is, well, a rabbit. who lives on the moon. it’s usually like seen pounding something with a mortar and pestle that the chinese (the moon rabbit exists in a lot of other asian mythology but i’m using the chinese one for this because, well. it’s a chinese au piece) assumes is the elixir of life, and is usually portrayed as being a companion of chang’e, the moon goddess. but who knows? will there be a companion here?? i don’t know.  what i do know is that i’ll be personifying the moon rabbit, so yea. i won’t be describing an actual rabbit with rabbit limbs and features per se here, but something rather human. here it goes: edit: after writing, it seems a lil philosophical and kinda gloomy. not my usual light-hearted thing, so be warned!

The moon is round tonight. Well, that’s no different from usual -- it is round every night, there’s no way it can suddenly change its shape beneath his feet, but well. He supposes, for the mortals down there, the moon is round tonight. Below him, flickering lights dance like waves cascading over one another; they sputter and glow within their paper walls, orange and red and yellow and even purple. Laughter weaves its way between hooked arms and raucous chatter, explodes as someone butchers a poetry recital and recedes when a performance begins. He sits there, on the edge. The stone is cool in his grip, familiar and worn; it sets a rhythm alongside the pounding beats and traditional tunes of the music below. Each time, a push and a twist, a push and a twist.  By the time applause breaks out, the herbs have already been ground to dust. He’s used to the smell; they prick at his nostrils and lingers in the air, but his nose always aches and the air around him is always heavy anyway. He’s used to it. Sometimes he wonders. Of course he does, he’s had more than enough time, so much that he doesn’t care to notice about the flow of the ages, passing so quickly beneath his feet that if he merely blinks, he thinks he might miss civilisation’s end.  Not that it matters to him, of course. Eras come and go, mortals live and perish. And all that eventually remains are the ghosts of memories that have come to pass.  Echoes, rather -- not ghosts. Ghosts are too corporeal, nearly substantial in their remembrance. And memories are fickle beings. They shift and change with age and perspective, warp with desires and denials; the more someone strives to recollect, the more they rebuild and break down the past, the less firm the foundation. The less solid the form. What’s left is merely an echo, a lingering afterthought. Something not as significant, yet remains hovering in the atmosphere like a miasma suspended over a grave -- doomed to haunt for all of eternity. Mortals are all chased by their echoes. And he wonders, of course, what his might be. If he were to be mortal. But of course, he isn’t. And that is a useless thought to contemplate on, for something that he cannot and will not be. He keeps pounding away. His moon is always round, after all. - The smoke is thick, almost viscous somehow. It snakes up into the air, wiggling and struggling, fighting to get out. It happens, occasionally. Though perhaps that might not be the best descriptor. Occasionally to him takes place over a rather large span of time, anyway. It doesn’t matter. The mortals move away, backs resolutely turned. Some are crying. Some press their palms tight and hold them close to their hearts, letting hushed words slip into open air. Others, younger ones, so tiny he can barely see them from where he sits, look confused.  It’s bright again, but not like before. The flames are ravenous and fierce, hungry and unrelenting; they chase after the paper offerings and tear apart the paper house, eating and swallowing till there’s nothing left. The smoke dies down; it’s a little easier to breathe. He thinks.  He doesn’t quite know. A physical release might not be quite the same as an emotional one.  What he does understand, though, is that everything comes back to dust. You bring nothing with you when you’re brought to life, and you carry nothing away in your death. It is a cycle. It will eventually happen again, he doesn’t know why they grieve. He is no expert, of course. He continues to pound away at the mixture for an immortality elixir. - She’s here today. The moon is a large place, and they don’t often cross paths. He feels like it’s been eons since he’s last spoken. It might have been. She doesn’t speak. She sits at the edge and peers down. Though there can be no sign of age on the smooth lines of her face, she somehow looks weathered. Old and beaten. Tired, from an eternity of existence.

He clears his throat; it is resounding in the silence. “Hi.” “Hi,” she replies.  She used to be mortal. She used to love and be loved. But it’s been ages.  There’s no one there for her now. He sits beside her and doesn’t speak, just pushes the bottle towards her and looks at his hands.  The skin is peeling and his palms are bruised. He is immortal, yet still they are bruised. It is an odd spectacle. He curls his fingers around them and squeezes. He stares at her and he wonders. If she’s a beautiful immortal worshiped by all and he’s her humble companion praised in textbooks.  Or maybe she’s an idol for virtue and he’s one for diligence and utility.  In reality though, he thinks it might be something else instead. That she’s a mortal stuck in a cage and that he’s her captor. Or that they are both trapped in a never-ending circle that chases after itself, sitting on the edge and trying to break the trajectory. Maybe it’s better not to think at all. After all, the moon will always be round. She will always be told in stories, celebrated in festivals. And he will always be here, pounding away for all of eternity.  Memories will live on forever, anyway -- even if they are merely echoes. Especially if they are merely echoes.  They are meant to live forever.

---------------------- okay! i don’t know why this ended up so depressing. like i said, i really didn’t plan anything. and i don’t know what this means. maybe it’s a deliberation on immortality VS mortality and how hou yi has maybe got the right idea the whole time? (okay, explanations about certain myths below.) or maybe something about myths being glorified and immortalised and wondering how that might go about in actual reality. or maybe that people should be given decisions about their own lives and not forced into a routine by fate i don’t know okay don’t question me i don’t think when i’m writing it also kinda, sort of, reflects a little about the beginning of my wip?  alright so a few things:

the moon rabbit is.... dun dun dun!! i’m sure some of y’all have guessed! it’s shou!! (that’s why it kinda reflects the beginning of my wip a little bit)

and the female is obviously... dun dun dun! chang’e!!! and she is!!!! well, this might be a little harder to guess but it also does reflect a little bit of her past / backstory in the companion novel. anyway!! it is... zhen!!

basic background on the mythology of chang’e: she is married to a man named hou yi, and back then there were like, 10 suns on earth and everyone was suffering because it was hella hot and hou yi, being a great man and a saviour of the broken (oops, mcr reference), he shot down 9 out of 10 of the suns. he was rewarded with an elixir of immortality, but he didn’t want to take it because he wanted to be with his wife. anyway something happened, bla bla bla, in order to protect the elixir from some bad guys, chang’e downed it herself and became immortal, and she decided to live in a place where she’d be closest to her husband -- which was incidentally the moon. and mid-autumn celebration is kinda celebrated for her too. okay, it also celebrates a bunch of other stuff, but for chang’e as well!

the first part he’s watching the mid-autumn festival celebrations, traditionally celebrated with people holding a bunch of lanterns on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month, which is when there is a full moon (just fyi, the 15th day of all the lunar months tend to have a full moon)

the second part he’s watching a funeral procession (kinda more like a buddhist one, where you burn joss paper and paper ingots and paper houses etc.) not really in detail but yea

the phrase that i used ‘In life you carry nothing, and in death you bring nothing’ comes from this actual chinese thing that you say ‘生不带来 死不带去’ which means the same thing

ALRIGHT. uhh. hope y’all enjoyed?? tagging my tag list @cabaretofwords​ @inked-waves​ @latechickadee​ @kidsarentallwrite​ @insearchof-solace​ @kaigods​ @inkpot-dreamer​ @pen-for-sword​ @thedreamsofthesky​ @cheap-pins​

as usual y’all are free to drop me prompts any time alright! 

[inktank-thinktank]

Splatocalypse profiles 1

Callie:

NoA translation:

Callie: Team Chaos “I might be a pop star, but even I want to pop off every now and then!” She can be a handful for Marie with her carefree and adventurous attitude, but it’s that same free spirit that qualifies her to be a resident of the world of Chaos. 

Fan translation (credit foolishignis):

—What side are you on? Callie: Chaos— “Even idols wanna let loose every now and then!” A little bit of innocence, a little bit of mischief— much to her counterpart Marie’s chagrin. With a free spirit like that, what else could you need to fit right in as an inhabitant of a world of Chaos?

Original Ink Tank prediction:

Callie is also an obvious one, being the spontaneous, excitable, freedom-and-fun-loving one out of the Squid Sisters.

Comments:

As stated, Callie is excitable and spontaneous. This is in line with our statements in the Splatocalypse post, however it seems to also underline her mischevious side.

Marie:

NoA translation:

Marie: Team Order “Someone around here has to keep it together…” Even though Callie’s free spirit has been a good influence on her, Marie still like things to be nice and neat. Even a bit of idle chit-chat needs a solid one-liner to stitch things up, which is why she’s a solid candidate for the world of Order.

Fan translation (credit foolishignis):

—What side are you on? Marie: Order— “Well someone’s gotta keep a tight hold on things around here, right?” While she may often give in to Callie’s whims, she can keep things on a tight leash when it comes down to it. In a way, striving to find the punchline for each conversation, no matter how pointless, might just be exactly what the way of Order is about.

Original Ink Tank prediction:

Marie is Team Order being the more relaxed yet traditional one of the Squid Sisters.

Comments:

This one takes a bit of a turn away from our initial thoughts. It focuses more on Marie’s strictness, whereas we initially approached it from an angle of traditionalism. It also manages to work in her sharpness and witticisms into a sort of ‘order’ as well.

Sheldon:

NoA translation:

Sheldon: Team Neutral “Go on! Give it a shot!” So long as the Turf War battles rage on, so too will Sheldon dedicate his life to crafting ink-based weaponry. This horseshoe crab cares not for the fate of Inkopolis…so long as he can continue to invent new ways to splat.

Fan translation (credit foolishignis):

—What side are you on? Sheldon: Neutral— “One last test run, for the road?” Life goes on, so long as there’re Turf Wars to be fought and weapons to build and be surrounded by. What more could one need? The world might be coming to an end, but his love for weapons is a whole different story...

Original Ink Tank prediction:

Sheldon is probably Team Neutral because, well, he sells you weapons no matter what side you’re on in Splatfest, so…

Comments:

This generally follows our expectations. Sheldon’s love is for his weapons and the craft of weaponry. He seems to care little for context as long as he gets to exercise his craft.

Spyke:

NoA translation:

Spyke: Team Chaos “Oi, mate. You really fink this festival’s gunna decide the fate of the world, then?” You’ve seen him in the café, fingers dancing across the keyboard of his laptop. Could those same fingers be pulling the strings of society? He may have found a way to exploit the peaceful order of Inkopolis, but make no mistake–at his core, Spyke is an agent of Chaos.

Fan translation (credit foolishignis):

—What side are you on? Spyke: Chaos— “Ever heard of the expression, “Take the world by storm”, love?” Could he be pulling the strings of the very fabric of the world while he sits typing away on his computer? His M. O. when taking on the world may be orderly, but the brain behind it is riddled with chaos.

Original Ink Tank prediction:

Spyke is another obvious one, being a gangster and someone who, y’know, steals stuff and runs an actual pyramid scheme.

Comments:

This one is interesting for sure... It doesn’t seem to lean as hard into Spyke’s street urchin (ha) demeanor, as we suspected, and more into something...more. We know that his activities in the first game are akin to a pyramid scheme, but this implies that he has bigger machinations in mind...

Murch:

NoA translation:

Murch: Team Order “This new gear I got’ll blow your fins off, for reals!" One quick glance into Murch’s eye will tell you where his loyalties lie. This driven street urchin has laser focus and never rests on his laurels. Though he follows in the footsteps of an agent of chaos, he is, without question, ready to take your Order.

Fan translation (credit foolishignis):

—What side are you on? Murch: Order— “Right on, chum, you can bet I’ll get you that gear right the way you wan’ it!” His eye shows the strong faith of someone who believes a path will open if one keeps pushing forward towards one’s dreams— a path to a world of Order where one may walk alongside the followers of Chaos.

Original Ink Tank prediction:

Similarly, my best guess with Murch is that, since he only engaged in the gear scrubbing and ordering scheme because he idolized Spyke, he realized at some point that Spyke was a criminal, and wanted to distance himself.

Comments:

The NoA one is...very...punderful. The bio in general is also a total subversion of our initial prediction. Murch seems to be Team Order out of a belief that the world itself is orderly. That is, if you work towards a desire, you will gain it. But he also seems to have a sense of egalitarianism of him, that even those on the side of chaos deserve a place in the world, hence him following in Spyke’s footsteps despite being... ‘orderly’?

Mr. Grizz:

NoA translation:

Mr. Grizz: Neutral “Don’t be so worried. The sea answers all questions.” As far as this mysterious being is concerned, the shallow affairs of Inkopolis are insignificant next to the vast depth of the seven seas. No matter what fate may await the world, the sea watches silently, biding its time.

Fan translation (credit foolishignis):

—What side are you on? Mr. Grizz: Neutral— “Ain’t nothing to worry about... The sea will keep watching over us.” For someone who speaks in sea analogies, the end of the world is but a trivial thing compared to the size of the ocean. Whatever happens, he will keep a silent watch over what remains, just like the sea itself.

Original Ink Tank prediction:

And Mr. Grizz is Team Neutral because he’s out for his own interests, which exist apart from all other teams (note he’s apart from the rest of Team Neutral, and upside-down).

Comments:

As predicted, Mr. Grizz is out for his own interests, and cares little for Inkopolis or its fate.

More posts, and more new fan translations to compare against the NoA translations, will be posted in the coming days! Thanks, and hang in there!

[allstarsstorymode867]

All-Stars -Story Mode- CHAPTER 15 Pt. 3

Part 2 - Part 4

It’s finally here guys, I had done Part 3 of Chapter 15! And it’s the first time introducing an new enemy into the picture, only something I had came up with and it is based off the one character from Kingdom Hearts series known as the Heartless.

Let me know what you guys think about but for now, sit back and enjoy reading it and I will talk to you all later.

[54 minutes later…]

They had been walking back to the same place where Radec had found them, they were amazed to see the water glows in the dark that provides them to see the path before them. “Like off from a frying pan and right into a microwave.” Scout said as he is walking right next to Spy who is smoking a cigarette.

“We were doing just fine with enemies who are still alive but now we are stuck in these caves.” Scout continued as he rolls his bat around before placing it onto his shoulder, Spy simply looked at him and said “Oh Scout please, aren’t you at least glad that we had gotten away from the walking dead?” as he finishes his smoke before dropping the cigarette to the stone-cold ground while he continued walking.

“I mean if this could be the end of us when we don’t find a way out of the Caves than being turned into zombies that love to drink the blood and eat the flesh of the living after being scratched or bitten.” he said as he looked around the room where the fight took place. P!Richtofen inspects the room for a moment along with P!Nikolai and pretty much it explains how the fight started.

“Is zhis?” he asked while he looked at Frisk who nodded, along with Cuphead and Mugman who are standing by. “This is where we heard that ghost lady’s voice, it is angelic if you ask me Doctor Richtofen.” Mugman said as he nodded with finger quotations.

“She was singing and we follow her here and when we came here but when she finished singing, she’s gone in a flash.” Mugman hurryingly explained, walking over to the spot where the scarf is left. “I thought she was long gone but her voice had echoed out “Behind you” And we saw-” he then points at Radec, “Him here and then the-”

“The rest happened in a flash.” U!Dempsey answered quickly as he looked over to him as Ink Bendy hoists him a bit, making Mael grunted on his shoulder, he looked over Bendy’s shoulder and at Ultimis Richtofen before asking “All of you said that aiming at the head of the enemy would help and all I could ask is why?”

The Nazi simply chuckled and answered “Of course, going for zhe head is zhe only vay for a man like ourselves to do. Zhey can’t feel pain as much as ve do, ve can gut zhem, shoot zhem, stab zhem und dissect zhem…” as he held his hands up to look at them with bloodlust, to which it does disgust Bruno and Engineer quite a bit as they looked at him.

“Still, I can not believe there were two of you gentlemen in the same timeline,” Shaw said to Primis Nikolai who is still in disbelief at this, “Could you at least explain why this is going on somehow?”

“I am….” P!Nikolai began in confusion, “I am more confused as you are, Stanton. Perhaps something here could explain this more clearly than we already know.”

Primis Richtofen is walking beside Erron Black and Miss Pauling as Mugman continued to explain that the bandolier had somewhat enhanced him with supernatural presence as the German carefully listens to the Mugman. Erron had sudden feeling of something or… someone was following them through the Caves, he turned around and only see a box, a cardboard box just a few feet away from the group and somewhat, it wasn’t there before when he and the others came in.

(Drawn traditionally by Tori who goes by TikTak on Discord but also goes by @this-person-is-slowly-dying on Tumblr)

Erron had found himself looking at the box for a moment but then P!Dempsey patted him on the back as he said “”Hey, Erron, are you alright?” making the cowboy to look at him.

“I’m fine, Tank.” he reassured looking at him, “It’s just that something is out of place.” he concluded with a sigh. P!Dempsey raised an eyebrow for a moment before saying “Alright, but we better catch up with the others. We don’t want to be left behind now, do we?”

“Gotcha.” Erron replied as he nodded before turning his attention to the box again and then walking up to catch up with the others.

Frisk is shaking their head from wearing their taunts, _ _ _ _ _’s taunts in their head as they giggled.

*Doesn’t the Caves bring back memories? *What you and I did together to feed your curiosity? *Showing them what it’s like to kill or be killed in a world where no one wants the likes of us. *Call me a murderer but this world… *Why can’t we start over again, *But this time, with fresh new kills in mind? =)

Frisk had put their hands on their head and shook it hard, Bruno had turned to look at them and is a bit concerned about their well being so he asked “Frisk?” ad that made them look at him in shock.

“Are you alright?” Bruno asked softly, Frisk could only look at him with worry if they said their name then it will be a genocide route all over again like how it did to them in the Underground.

*You told Bruno that you are fine but, *You did tell him that you are feeling under the weather.

“I see.” Bruno said, he is concerned about them since… Well, the incident that had taken a child’s life but he knew he couldn’t let it happened again as much as this time around. He owes Scarlett’s father, Alistair Rhodes, a great dept for relieving him and offered him a chance of redemption. “If you are feeling more than under weather, you let me know and as well, the doctors.”

“Well said, Bruno, well said.” Medic said as he and Shaw walked by with Gordon Freeman, a man with a few words and a scientist who had gotten fighting experience from the Black Mesa Incident and the Uprising.

Then there were footsteps from somewhere in the next tunnel not far from them, making everyone be on edge immediately and took out their weapons, aiming them at the source of the sounds that whatever it’s making it.

Then to their shock, horror and curiosity that it was a rat, a humanoid rat with a gas mask and with it- with him was

“Trace!” Mugman said as he was the first one who saw her, Trace looked at him and smiled before exclaiming “Mugs! Cups! Frisk!” and then running towards them and then hugging them. “All three of you are okay!”

“You know each other?” Miss Pauiling asked, looking at the rat wearing the gas mask and seeing that he’s armed with some type of staff to which the Primis crew looked at it closely. Then realizon had just hit them like an out of control truck.

“I-It has…”

“The staff of wind!” P!Richtofen yelled out before his Nikolai could finish it, rat seemed to notice this but was surprised to see Cuphead and Mugman are here in the Caves as well. He lowered the staff a little bit as he said “Cuphead? Mugman?”

“Werner?” Cuphead said at the familiar voice as he and Mugman looked at him with relieved looks. The rat then took off the mask and revealed to be a cartoon rat with a WWI German helmet and then putting a cigar in his mouth.

“Was machst du zwei… Ich bin froh, dass ihr beide in Ordnung seid!” the rat said in German to each three Germans are surprised to know that as he lit a match and then lighting the cigar, smoking a little. “Sie können Deutsch sprechen wie wir, Ärzte? Sind Sie-” Medic was beginning to speak in their native tongue but the rat, one that Cuphead and Mugman called Werner had suddenly spoke again but this time in English “I can also speak english like most of zhe people here, but I am glad to see zhat zhe Heroes of Inkwell Isles are in fact alright.”

“You’re welcome.” P!Dempsey said as he nodded, making Werner looked over to him as he walked over to the two brothers, kneeling down to their height. “Vhat countries are you all from besides… Vhere ve are now.” he asked as he looked at the two brothers.

“We are from different countries but we are from other worlds entirely,” P!Richtofen answered a bit softly, making Werner looked over to the Doctor with the Staff of Wind still clenched in his gloved paws.

“Different vorlds?” Werner asked to Cuphead and Mugman, hoping they would know what was going on with this situation they are now in and hoping that all of this was the Devil’s doing as well.

“We are confused as you are, Werner, we would love to explain what had been going the last three days but we need a way out of the Caves after the uh… an Outbreak had burst in the gate.” Cuphead babbled out as he looked at him before looking at the group with Radec and the surviving Helghasts.

“Vell, ozher zhing zhan rabbits that are bugged-eyed und seemingly living toys but it is better zhan thoze zombies, no?” Werner answered as he looked around the area of the Caves with the yellow light of the staff.

Feathers attached to the staff as it glowed, they seemed to have changed their colors from green, blue and red to golden shades of yellow when its crystal glows better than a lantern using oil. Werner then turned to the spot where he and Trace had came out and remembered the way out of the Caves.

“I do recounted zhe time vhen ve first came to theze Caves, a canal zhat flows like a river normally and recalling the times zhere caves and tunnels in zhe mountains, ve could use zhat to our advantage.” he recalled looking at the next tunnel ahead of them. “Do you know where they are, Werner?” Miss Pauling asked.

“Recalling vhere it is zhen ja.” Werner answered as he looked at Cuphead and Mugman again, “Zhere zomezhing else at play here, und you need to stop vhatever’s happening here. Understand?” he asked, Cuphead and Mugman looked at each other and then nodded.

“There are boats for us to use?” Scarlett asked as she and everyone else followed Werner deeper into the tunnel with the light of the Staff of Wind leading the way for them.

“Ja, most of zhem are oversized everyday items zhat ve have used in kitchens, pots und pans alike but zhey vorks vell as boats und spoons vorks as vell as paddles.” Werner answered hestitaly as he walks over into the dark with the light illuminating the way, then right there was a pot that is the size of a car, lantern with one firefly that is nearly the same size of a normal rat trapped within the jar and they are awoken when Werner goes near the pot.

He rumages through the pot now a boat but then soon had hestatitely gives it to Bendy to hold it for him, while he rummaging through the pot, he points at the other boats for everyone to choose one wisely as he said “Go und choose your own boats, I don’t care if zhey are pots und pans und ozher kitchen appliances but zhose would just have to do.”

Without a moment to think about it, they all go and picking one boat to see if it could fit at least four or five people in one sitting while Werner gets out a spoon that is the size of a hockey stick and then going over to the handle of the pot that has an iron ring hooped in it.

Werner Werman then turned over to Cuphead, Mugman, Frisk, Bendy and Radec and said “Do you vant to ride in mein boat?”

Cuphead and Mugman nodded then they looked over to their new friends and an enemy on Bendy’s shoulder, Cuphead then asked “Can they come too?” as he continued to look at them and then heard Werner answered “Ja, as long as your new friends could behave.”

Frisk nodded and then looked over to Bendy with worry, “He will in his place still, Frisk, don’t worry. My ink is nothing but iron wire lassoed around him.” Bendy answered comfortingly, “He’ll just sitting back in the boat.” he continued as he throws his captive on his shoulder again, making Radec grunt again and Bendy obvious to Helghasts reaction of their leader being in pain like that.

“Jump on in, mein friends, ve have a long journey ahead of us.” Werner declared as he helped Cuphead into the pot first before ushering Mugman to help him into the boat as well.

Frisk and Bendy walked over to Werner and the boat, “Mind if I help you onto the boat, little one?” he offered, Frisk nodded and Werner bent down and then grabbed them gently and then putting them onto the pot, Bendy then places Radec, still trapped in a blob of ink and then transformed back into his cartoon self before climbing onto boat as well.

Everyone had picked their boats and then one by one by one, they set sail on the Caves river, prompting for Werner to set sail as well by pushing the boat into the water with a spoon. They are sent afloat for a moment before Werner begins to paddle the boat, both the firefly and the Staff of Wind glowing the path before them.

Bendy then turns his head towards Radec and then said “Don’t try it, Radec.”

[Drawn traditionally by Meaghan “Icefir” Halter]

Mugman looked at Werner and noticed in the two lights of a firefly and Staff of Wind that he had a bandage on the side of his face and another wrapped around his tail. What happened to you, Werner?” Mugman asked worryingly, Werner looked confused for a moment before touching the bandage on his cheek and realizes why Mugman asked him.

“Oh, zhese?” He blurted, “it vas from zhe creatures at least two days ago. Zhese vere as I vhat first thoughts are Devilings zhat zhe Devil had sent out but zhese creatures are… Different zhan any Deviling you had encountered.”

“Different? Are you talking about those zombies but how are they here?” Cuphead questioned confusingly as he tapped the glass, making the firefly in it squirmed a little within the jar but Werner only shook his head in denial. “Nein, nein, Cuphead, zhese are not anyzhing ve had ever seen before. Unknown crea”tures zhat looked like living, broken porcelain dolls vith fur like me but empty of emotion nor remorse for zheir foes.” Werner emphasized as he lifts the spoon over Trace’s head to paddle to the different side of the pot as he had been sitting on his knees on the pot’s handle.

“Zhese creatures are… Demon-like, but different from mein und Dr. Kahl’s research on souls. Vhen ve first came here vith other residents of Inkvell Isles, und ve vere attacked by zhem.” he continued just as Primis and Chaos Crews had paddled by in their boats as they happened to overhear the conversion of Werner’s tale.

“Zhe creatures?” P!Richtofen asked as he looked at the German vermin while Nikolai paddled the boat, “Do you have zhe chance on vhat zhey looked like?” he then asked with little hesitation.

“Quite a bit of it, mein friend.” Werner simply answered as he had his eyes looked over to him, unaware that the villain is watching them from a different place of somewhat magic or power or… Maybe of them both. She is growing more and more bore to see that everyone in the world she once lived in had telling tales and stories of how they got there. What is the worse even more is that one thing that made her sick: Being and making friends with each other.

“So much for letting the zombies in after destroying the gate.” she sneered as she watched them row down the river stream, fully disappointed in this situation she had put them in. “Enough of friendship forming and talk-talk! I want more thrills and screaming!” she whined as she does a ol’ girly hand shaking.

She then looked at one memory of what she promised earlier and thought about it for a moment, “In fact… I think…” she began to say as she kept thinking for a moment longer, before looking over to one world that she had kept her eye on for quite a bit longer now.

One with a zombie virus in a form of an insect parasite; Dead Rising.

A gasp escaped from her lips before a giggle escaped from her next, clapping her white gloved hands with excitement, standing up and then turning on her heels with a stomb. “I would just bring them there for a brief separation before I drag them back here, mentally and physically broken right on their “friends” doorsteps!~” before gallowlaping over to her minions.

“And “how am I gonna do it?” you may ask?” she spat out a question as she kneeled down to her minion’s resting position while she took a piece of polygon crystal in the palm of her hand before doing an illusion that made it disappear from her hands while she coldly answered “I would do what I do best but in your ways, Hallows.” before giggling as she watched it cowered away from her.

Her eyes glowed yellow with a jack-o-lantern smile creeping on her polygon face that had cracks on it, like she had fell on it face first.

“Be a dear and get your brothers and sisters please? It’s now time for me to make my next move!~” The entity giggled as she placed her hand on her lips, the Hallow creature that Werner had mentioned earlier, it may look like a demon but different; it had yellow eyes, a jack-o-lantern mouth, thin antenties like insects had, a thin tail and its body resembles an animal but in its human stanance and had purple fur on its back and head on it’s pinkish violet skinny body.

Cracks on it that reaches to a heart-shaped hole with black nothing within, it cowered as it nodded before running off to obey it’s masteress’s orders as requested.

She then stood by the reflection pool as it ripples through the waters, bringing back the situation where our heroes and villains (mostly or what’s left of the Helghasts now I think) are on the Caves’ river flowing through by boats.

“And they had just attacked, my friend?” Shaw questioned after Werner had explained further while Burno had paddled slowly, making sure the others can hear him closely while he nodded.

“Ja, seemed like zhey vere ordered to do so vithout thinking.” Werner concluded, while he is looking ahead of the river, “Few of us vere Devil’s former debtors vhile zhe most of us are residents of Inkvell Isles. Zhey vere like drones of some type, empty of all emotions we known in history.”

“Strange…” Scarlett mumbled quietly, she looked around the area they are in and had a bad feeling that someone had wanted them there… For what?

“What is it, Scarlett?” Diego said as he looked at her with an eyebrow, Scarlett then turned over to him and saying “If he said that they had attacked them in this cave when they first arrived then…”

Dempsey then suddenly perked up when he heard this “Then they might be-” before Werner stated “Und now I fear zhat zhey might still be here as ve speak.” as he looked at them worryingly.

“Well, we now know what they looked like so, with all of us armed and ready, we could be able-”

“Capable” P!Richtofen interrupted Diego as he looked at him, “-Capable enough to take the diablos down, Mr. Werman.”

“Zhen let us hope zhat it’s true, I razher not be dead by zheir hands.” Werner said as he paddled further into the river, not too long after, the Caves was then brought to life with sounds of creatures crawling and flickering.

“Wait…” Spy said as he halt the other boats into a stop to listen, “What is that?” he later questioned as he looked at the walls of the tunnel while he continues to listen to them. Everyone then listens in on the sounds, they don’t sound human obviously but a strange type of animal is making them.

There’s one creature but soon comes two then four then soon there were at least forty or fifty of them everywhere, making everyone on high alert as they clearly heard those noises pure as snow.

They are ready for what is going to be thrown right at them, zombies or not, they are ready and armed to take them but they were caught off guard when Mugman yelled “Over there!” and pointed at the direction of the creatures.

Hallows are crawling on the walls, the ceiling and even going out of the water to join their brethin on the tunnel walls of the Caves, all of them clinkering and snarling like a pack of canine-like creatures.

“Holy….” Both Soldier and Demoman muttered loud enough for everyone near them to be heard as they looked around them. The Hallows’ eyes are glowing yellow in the dark, “Do you think we can take them?” U!Dempsey said as he looked at his team and his Richtofen was in shock yet interested on how they are on the walls and had mouths grinning like a jack-o-lanterns.

“Friends of yours?” Bendy asked the bewildered Radec, who turned to look at Bendy with a glare before rebuking “No, they are not.” as two Hallows are crawling above the boat the Primis Crew is on, they blissfully dangle with their feet still attached to the ceiling but unnoticed to them, the pebbles from the ceiling had fallen out of the cracks and onto the water below.

That made them looked up too late as both Hallows let out a battle cry “For the Broken!” in english as they fell from the ceiling, “Watch out!” P!Nikolai cried as he pushes his Dempsey out of the way while Richtofen hurryingly gets out the Ray Gun but just as he did so; both he and Nikolai were grabbed by Hallows and then, in a brief flash of light: they disappeared along with Primis Nikolai and Richtofen as Dempsey and Takeo looked on in horror and shock.

“Richtofen!” “Nikorai!” both Dempsey and Takeo called out, everyone else was in disbelief on what just happened, one minute both Nikolai and RIchtofen are there then suddenly they are gone within seconds after the Hallows grabbed them.

But Nikolai and Richtofen aren’t going to be the only people that they will be taking, Engineer and Pyro were grabbed suddenly by the creatures after they had came up behind them and as they struggled to get free, they both disappear in a flash of light.

Ultimis Takeo took out his sword, ready to take them on but then soon he and Ultimis Dempsey were grabbed from above by Hallows and then soon been taken in the flash as well. Scarlett didn’t have time to say when she was suddenly muffled by the Hallow from the above as the rest of her crew turned around in horror.

“Scarlett-!!” Diego was beginning to say but was interrupted when one of the Hallows suddenly attacked him and forced him into the water with a force of the bull and then soon light appeared from both sides, meaning he and Scarlett were taken as well.

Bruno was ready but then soon been tackled by one of the creatures but he was surprised when he wasn’t taken right away, so he was forced to watch helplessly as Shaw was grabbed from behind right when he was preparing one of the acid bombs and dropped it when Hallow took him too.

A scream was heard and everyone turned to see Miss Pauling, Medic, Engineer, Pyro and Spy trying to get the Hallows off of them, she quickly yelled out “Guys! What’s happening-?!” but was quickly silenced when a flash of light and them being stolen away by the Hallows as Heavy cried out “Medic! Engineer! Oh nooo!!” in anger and agony.

Bruno finally had enough, he grabs the Hallow that was holding him down by the throat before throwing it at the other Hallows, knocking them all over and into the water, getting out the hammer once again as everyone began to finally attack the Hallows just as they began to attack as well.

They are going at each other, shooting, stabbing and fighting each other literally to get them off of them andover this, they heard Bruno yelling at one of them “WHO SENT YOU?! WAS IT THE ORDER?! WHO SENT YOU?!” with the same question with each hit he throws at them.

He was at the furge to kill them right then there but an unfamiliar female voice had softly called out

“Enough.”

And that’s what it took, suddenly as the Hallows attacked, they all began to screeched in pain, holding their invisible ears like they were hearing something they should not have been hearing for years, an unwanted high-pitched noise.

They were all confused and surprised to see them suddenly changed within seconds and they are on the ground, on their boats and fallen into the water, still holding their ears in pain as they are screeching the whole time as more cracks began to form all over their bodies.

Violet colored lights began to show through the cracked bodies as they let out one final screech before exploding into dust with the whole group of survivors and mercenaries watching.

“What the fu…?” P!Dempsey finally managed to say through his shock and confusion as he looked at the dust gently falling from where the other Hallow had died, Ultimis Richtofen on the other hand, he has taken the dust by his gloved fingers and then sniffing it to determine what it was and then saying “Fasatating…! Zhey vere made by some type of crystals und polygon faber. Und yet, does not explain on how zhey vere granted life however.”

“But what about the people they had taken?” Trooper asked as he looked over from the boat they were on, Ultimis Richtofen looked at him and was going to say something when that voice came back, saying “They were taken to a different universe.”

“Wha-??” Scout stuttered as he looked around with others as they are trying to see who had said that, “Who’s there? Who said that? You uh…” he continued nervously, “You uh… Lost all of your… dogs.”

“They’re not mine.” she said. Bendy remain silent as he looked around for her voice, Knight’s voice to see her finally after what he had been through to save his friends and didn’t find where they are keeping Boris.

They then see a woman walking on…. Water, she is walking on water like it was a wet sidewalk, dressed in a cloak and a pair of what appeared to be boots and they are wrapped in bandages as she calmly walked towards the boats.

“What the sh!ting hell?” Dempsey said as he aimed his pistol at her, along with Takeo and the remaining Ultimis crew. Frisk walked over to Cuphead’s side to get a better look at her, they saw that she has a blindfold that is covering her eyes.

“Who are you?”Sniper finally asked as he is still aiming his SMG at her, along with Scout and Heavy who had done the same as him. The woman seemed to be looked down for a moment before saying “A friend or a foe.” taking out a staff as everyone watched her and then she just tapped the water below her, showing a reflection below them and making them to look at the glowing cyan water from their boats.

They saw a park and it was nearing nighttime as the sun is setting when portal opens up, coming from it were Hallows with….

U!Dempsey, U!Takeo, P!Nikolai, P!Richtofen, Scarlett, Diego, Shaw, Miss Pauling, Spy, Medic, Engineer and Pyro being dragged by their collars, knocked out as they were dragged across the ground and then been thrown onto anything nearby.

Diego landed onto Scarlett, his face buried into her neck, U!Dempsey lands a tree nearby against his back, P!Nikolai flies onto a park bench, Shaw fell onto a patch of grass, Medic and Engineer fell onto each other as they flew into a bush, Pyro and Miss Pauling are flown under the trees standing by and P!Richtofen had landed nearby towards a thorn bush which cuts his left arm and hand when they fell and landed in it.

They then see one of the Hallows crawling over to the Doctor before placing a claw onto his chest with a growl and a purr, licking its upper lip with his tongue as it looked at him but then heard someone coming and it’s pack seem to notice it as well, they all ran back to the portal and entered it just as the last minute before it closes.

They then noticed a shadow of a person wearing a hood and a jacket fast-walked over to Richtofen before reflection in the river slowly faded away and returned to just normal water with boats in it.

“Mein gott…” U!Richtofen began to say as he looked at the water with wonder, “Are you saying zhat zhey vere taken to a different plane of existence?” he asked as he looked at the woman with twisted curiosity and wonder in his eyes.

“Yes, they are.” she answered, putting her staff away as she looked at everyone as she walked around a bit. “She had planned this to have twelve people taken to the other world to hurt them as well with their mental health. Leaving the rest of us here and if you’re asking if I had caused this then no, I have nothing to do with this but I do know that she, the Broken, is behind this.”

“The Broken?” Scout chuckled as he looked at others behind him, “And what makes you, a blind president of her fan club?” he joked, earning a few giggles from several members and making the woman turned to look at him along with Primis Takeo glaring at Scout for disrespecting the woman who showed them where their teammates are.

“No, far from it, Scout” She said to winch that surprises everyone, how does she know his name but then she continued “And that’s not the only thing I came here to tell you all about. There’s someone following you all throughout the caves.”

“Who?” P!Dempsey asked as he lowered the pistol a little with an eyebrow raised, the woman looked over to him and said “Someone had entered the Caves through an exit that you are heading and even though it is stupid as it seems; he had hid himself in a box.”

Erron looked at her with confusion until eventually he put two and two together when he remembered that he had seen that box earlier. He snapped his fingers, catching Knight’s attention and said “I had seen a box earlier, I had recalled that cardboard box not being there before we got there to save the kids.”

Others looked at Erron, Dempsey said “It was there?”

“And now he’s following all of you back out of the Caves,” She answered, “If you caught him in the act, do not provoke him, he is a samurai but far more advanced than normal.”

“Advanced than normal?” P!Takeo questioned with an eyebrow raised, Erron rolled his eyes as he said “She means that this one’s a cyborg, more advanced than many normal humans on the planet.”

“Correct.” she said, “I am only here to warn you all about Broken, she has lots of tricks up her sleeve and she must be stopped before things get worse.”

“And you…?” Mugman asked as he looked at her, Knight looked at him back and said “I only am an ally you all must rely on. I will be with your friends now, I’ll be back.” and without a minute to lose, she does a flip and then drives into the water below her like an Olympian champion while everyone watched on.

“Cyborg samurai…” Erron said as he looked at the water where Knight had dived in, catching Bruno’s and Primis Dempsey’s attention as they looked at him. “If what she said is right then… We should be a lot of careful than ever.”

“As much I do not know of this “cyborg” that you called it,” Bruno began, “I am sure that he would be breakible as others and the walking dead.” as he paddles the boat once again and then concluded with “But… I do hope they will come back to us safe.”

“I hope so too.” P!Takeo said before he heard his comrade behind him, “Ain’t that swell?” P!Dempsey said as he grabbed the paddle along with Takeo.

“I would side with Erron’s terms.” Radec chirped up, making Cuphead, Mugman, Frisk, Bendy, Trace and Werner to look at him. “I would advise take caution, very much caution.” he concluded as Trace sticks her tongue at him as Werner continues to paddle along with others.

“Well, we’ve beaten you so, we could beat him a second time.” Cuphead said as he looked at him before looking at his brother, “Right?” he asked.

“Right.”

“Right.”

“Good.” Cuphead concluded, as he and Mugman looked at each other, “As long we stay together this time, find a way to get their friends back and when we find Boris, we get to find safety far away from this mental asylum.” he insisted as he looked at his friends then to Werner and then said “We will try to stop this “Broken” guy whoever you’d call it and we’ll find a way to get back home, Werner, I promise.”

Werner looked at them and then after a thought about for a moment, he smiled as he sighed “I hope you can get us all home.”

Just as they all continued on flowing through the river, someone in a cyberonic armor with a bandage over his right eye and white hair is paddling his boat from afar, he was secretly following them when he first saw them.

He had been trying to get ahold of HQ since he had unknowingly been brought by and unknown force, if they had something to do with this then he is going to get some answers as his eye glowed red a little.

[ajuimaginary]

Soulmate Mingyu

Part of the Seventeen Soulmate Series

Your pen tapped out an absent minded pattern on the paper in front of you, note-taking long forgotten. You were sitting in the middle of your classroom in high school, ignoring your teacher in favour of your own drifting imaginings. 

It wasn’t your fault you were distracted, At least not this time. You were watching artwork sketch itself across your arms.

Your soulmate connection was causing the marks, of course: that familiar link every person shared with a destined future true love. Your skins became canvases tied together by fate, and when one was marked in any way, the other would share an identical imprint. 

Right now, your soulmate was drawing neat patterns of flowers, a basic blue ballpoint pen sketching them line by line so they pooled over his bare skin, and in turn, appeared on your own hands, coming from no where.

You wanted to express for affection for the artwork, so you followed a pattern that had become familiar to the two of you, and you drew the outline of a little heart just under his drawings.

You waited, and like always, you had a quick response. A second, slightly larger heart was etched alongside it from your soulmate’s end. Perfectly, artistically, formed. It was his reply. An assurance that he felt the same way.

You felt a flutter in your real heart. You hoped you would never stop being this moved by even the smallest of moment between you. When the bell rang to end the lesson, you barely noticed. 

No one would blame you though. There was nothing quite so exciting as signs of a link with a soulmate. Especially when you hadn’t met one another yet, and your joined skins were your only communication. 

Although, you and your soulmate knew a few things about each other already.

In most nations, when babies were born, it was common for parents to seek the basic soulmate info their child might want when they were older. A pen with ink safe for newborn skin was owned by most hospitals. It was used to write  soulmate? across the baby’s forehead. If the soulmate was already born, their parents would see the mark appear, and they would send a reply saying yes, then possibly exchange more info. If the soulmate was not born yet, it was a matter of waiting until the word soulmate? appeared, sent from the other end. 

Because of this tradition, in your early years, your parents and your soulmates’ parents had already been in contact. You knew he was Korean. You knew his name was Kim Mingyu. You knew he was a boy. You knew his birthday. 

Those were the only details that hospitals and parents traditionally bothered to exchange. They left the rest to the kids. You knew in some cultures the parents would be taking the info they got to consult astrologists or religious leaders for more insight. But that was the extent of it. 

In the largely globalized world of the modern age, it was taboo in most countries for parents to interfere by continuing communications across their infants’ skin. It was considered more organic to let the children establish ties as they grew up. They could decide for themselves if they wanted to know more before meeting one another. You and your soulmate had long ago come to an agreement that you wanted to do most of your discovering in person, whenever the universe turned its destined pages and bound your paths together. 

You were happy knowing one another’s names, and had spent all your lives working to know each other’s languages too. You could tell he’d become quite good with yours because of the ease he wrote down the occasional thing he wanted to remember- like a song title or a movie. And you knew he’d seen your abilities with Korean as well. 

The other things you’d discovered about him intrigued you beyond belief. He seemed crazily talented. Almost unfairly talented.  

His talents came through in bits and pieces throughout your childhood, when he was bored during what must have been the Korean school day. It was pretty common in your world for people to draw on their own skin. Who didn’t like the idea of a little extra communication with their soulmate? So you would watch doodles paint patterns on your arms, and see how good Mingyu was at art - from little geometric designs to quirky cartoon figures, some of which you recognised, and some which (after a little Googling) introduced you to comic books he must have enjoyed. 

There were also the recipes. They were less common, and he only seemed to make those notes if he had no other means to record his food ideas. They made your heart flutter more than anything else, because your soulmate could apparently cook, and cook well at that. 

He would scrawl notes to himself on the bare skin of his forearm: ideas about ingredients, or spice combos. One time, when you were only about twelve years old, he wrote out a whole recipe in a quick scrawl, like he was trying to get it noted down quickly to try at home later. Interest raised, you also decided to try it as well. Only problem was, his handwriting was hard to read from his rush to get it all written. After squinting at it for a while, you circled a couple of things on your own arm, and wrote little question marks beside it, hoping he would see, and clarify for you. 

Sure enough, the recipe began to rewrite itself out on your other arm. It was in someone elses hand-writing this time, because using his non-dominant right hand would have been even messier. You wondered who was writing it, thinking fondly of your soulmate asking for their help.

Thanks, you wrote under it, adding a little heart.

He drew a returning heart, and, most likely, returned to cooking.

Ever since then, that had been your routine. A small heart when you wanted to express affection, and an answering heart from the other person.

You started to thank each other when you accidentally provided a good recommendation for a song, or a movie, and as time passed, you started to deliberately write things you wanted to share. 

When you stumbled across a cartoon with a character you’d seen him doodle before, you always let him know what you thought. When his friends all watched a movie he knew you’d seen before, he would tell you if he’d enjoyed it. 

It was such a simple way to be connected, but it warmed your heart each time.

-

When your soulmate reached his late teenage years, he must have started getting into performing, because occasionally some truly dramatic stage make up looks would appear on your face that you were pretty sure he couldn’t be for day to day events. Sometimes, they were embarrassing - appearing at times you did not want to have that intense of a smoky eye. Sometimes, they were really perfectly timed - you were delighted at the seemingly professional level of quality you were given for free through your soulmate. 

As well as the make up, the occasional scrawls your soulmate added to the back of his hand sometimes looked like song lyrics. Usually just a few short bars, in messier than normal handwriting that indicated to you he must have had to jot them down quickly. It added to your theory that he was interested in performing. 

You wondered if he was passionate enough about performing to put song covers online or something. Perhaps you might have even glimpsed his face before around Youtube. The thought made you grin, but you would have no way of knowing for sure until you met him.

One of the nicest surprises came to you one day when you were listening to music on Spotify- a decent mix of English songs and K-pop (which you’d been listening to for a long time since you knew the language anyway.) You were playing random playlists you found, seeking new music, and then suddenly one of the songs played some rap bars you definitely recognized. You checked the song title - 기대 - and the group name - Seventeen. And you added it instantly to your library. 

You were sure your soulmate must have sung the song before, and as always when you discovered a little connection like that, the moment of recognition was thrilling.

You picked up a pen, and then wrote along your arm.

Hi Mingyu, I just listened to 기대  by Seventeen!

There was a pause much longer than usual before you got any response. You went about your day with the letters on your arm, wondering when he would write something back. Usually his replies were quick. But it was when you were getting ready for bed that he finally wrote back.

Sorry it took me so long to reply. 

You frowned in confusion, but more letters began to appear.

Did you like the song? Did you watch a performance? Do you know anything about Seventeen? Did you look them up?

It was an odd series of questions. 

I didn’t watch anything, you responded, and I haven’t looked them up. Should I have?

You waited, feeling very anxious suddenly, like you had done something wrong. Mingyu seemed sharper and more upset than usual. You watched his questions wash off your arm as he removed them to make room to write more, and you quickly went to your bathroom sink to wash your side of the conversation away as well.

On the blank slate, Mingyu wrote:

No! Don’t look them up! Promise me you won’t. 

How strange... 

You stared at the request for a long time.

Okay. You wrote. I promise. 

You waited for more explanation, but he wrote nothing else for a long time. You picked up your pen again, hesitated, and added:

I liked the song though. Can I still listen to it?

Mingyu drew two adorable hearts first, and wrote: Of course you can. I don’t want to order you around, I’m sorry, it’s just important to me that you don’t look up that group. Feel free to listen to the song though.

Another pause.

What did you like about it?

You laughed a little.

It’s really nice! There’s kind of a soothing but cool style to it. Even the way it starts off it amazing. I think the voices have a kind of story telling vibe to them. 

You waited for his response.

I like that too. He wrote. And then he put a few more hearts, and said goodnight. You both washed off your arms and you went to bed.

You had no idea what was going on, but you wanted to respect his wishes and his boundaries, so you didn’t press the issue. You simply let it go. But you listened to 기대 almost every day for a while after, and you especially loved the lines that you remembered Mingyu had written on his arm.

- 

One year after the 기대 incident, your world changes for ever.

You knock on your best friend’s front door, smiling at the pink balloons tied on the letter box and around the doorway. Her little sister yanks the door open, a huge grin on her face.

“Welcome, Y/N!” she yells happily. “It’s my birthday!”

“I know, sweetie,” you smile back at her, handing her the gift in your hands, and watching her squeal with excitement, shaking it violently in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re six years old already! I’m here to help set up the party.”

She guides you through to the back garden, chattering happily about how all her class is coming to join the fun. You respond with the expected enthusiasm, and gasp in amazement when you walk out onto the decorated back lawn. Your best friend waves you over as soon as she sees you.

“Thanks again for offering to help with the party!” she says. “Can you run the face painting? You only need to do really basic looks. We even have some examples the kids can pick from, so you won’t have to think of any complicated designs yourself.”

You look at the sheet of card she’s holding, with a tiger, butterfly wings, a pirate, and other classic kids’ designs she must have printed off from the internet, and you agree you can do the job.

There’s a bit of time to kill before the actual event begins, so you decide to practice some face painting on yourself. It will get you used to this set of paints and it will probably get the kids more excited when they arrive to see an example of the work on the person painting them.

You pick the tiger, and start by covering your face with orange, then adding stripes where you can see them on the guide, a pink nose, and long black whiskers, turning your face from side to side in the tiny mirror so you can see what you’re doing. When the look is complete, you’re actually pretty pleased with yourself. 

“Looking good, Y/N!” your friend yells out from across the lawn.

“I’ll paint you next?” you offer.

She comes over, pulls out the second chair at the face painting station, and sits down in front of you.

“Can you give me the butterfly?” she requests. 

But as you lift your hand to begin painting her face, you let out a gasp, and freeze, staring at the frantic letters forming across your skin.

Y/N please don’t keep that on! please wash your face now! 

It’s about a hundred times messier than Mingyu’s usual handwriting. He must be freaking out.

“What’s going on?” your friend asks.

In answer, you flip your hand over. Her eyes scan the letters, and her brows raise. 

“Well, go on then! He’s still writing more ‘please’s! Go wash your face!” she says, all but pushing you out of your seat.

Still confused by Mingyu’s urgency, you turn and race toward the house, stopping at the first sink you see, in the kitchen, and slamming on the tap so fast you spray water down your front. 

You dab haphazardly at your face, the water running orange and black and swirling away down the sink. 

Your skin feels pink from scrubbing when you stop. You stare at the back of your hand again. It’s blank now. He must have washed off his pleading. A single phrase forms, still a little rushed, but you can almost feels his thankfulness in each letter.

Thank you so much. I’ll explain later.

And that’s all. 

Mingyu doesn’t try to communicate again until the party ends. You’re helping to clean up, chucking paper cups empty of coca cola into a rubbish bag. Your best friend’s little sister, the birthday girl, is napping on a couch inside, totally tired after the day’s events.

As you reach down to pick up the next cup, you see new writing appear on your arm. You sit down right there on the grass, watching it appear. 

So I know you listen to KPop, which means you’ll probably hear about this soon enough. So I’ll tell you first... something happened today. And it made me decide I want to meet you. Is that okay?

You stare at the words in confusion. But all the times you’ve talked, Mingyu has been a little long winded when explaining things, so you’re sure you’ll understand eventually. 

You find a pen, and write back... That’s okay. 

Good. Says Mingyu. Did you know KCon LA was this week?

Yeah

Well I’m at KCon LA right now. And this thing happened. And I know I need to see you now. Send me your address, please. I have enough to pay for all my transport, no matter how far away you are. I’m taking a break from work anyway. I have to find you. Please?

You’re shaking by the time you finish reading his excited words. Something really dramatic must have happened for him to change his mind like this... to want to meet you right away no matter what. 

You could never refuse him. You write out your home address in careful letters on your arm. 

Thank you. Mingyu writes. And while I’m on my way... you can look my name up online. And then

He pauses for a minute or so. 

watch the video from this link www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PrXNl05CWM. He takes his time getting every number of the link right, and then continues. It’s embarrassing, but when you watch it, you’ll understand. I’ll see you as soon as possible. 

Okay, Mingyu. I’ll see you soon. You write back.

You’re almost afraid to do everything he’s asked. It seems so dramatic. But before panic can take over, you see one more tiny shape form. A single inky heart. 

And you smile. 

You explain to your friend, head home, open your laptop, and type Kim Mingyu into Google. The first result is a KPop profile; facts and Profile for MinGyu, member of thirteen member Korean boygroup Seventeen. 

One hand over your mouth in shock, you click through and quickly skip past the picture (you’re not ready for that) to read what the profile says, trying to make the information sink in. You read facts you already knew about your soulmate - name: Kim Mingyu, born: 06 April 1997, hometown: Anyang, South Korea - along with brand new information - position: lead rapper, height: 187cm - and you try to piece it all together with your reality. 

Your mind flashes back to that day when you listened to your first Seventeen song and he asked you not to look up anything more about that group. When you were so charmed by the rapping. The smooth storytelling style to the flow of those lyrics...

And you scroll back up to the photo. You let out a little gasp. He’s beautiful. 

It takes a moment for that to feel real as well. But something about the photo they’ve chosen for the profile helps you. He’s impossibly handsome, of course, but he somehow manages to fit in with the picture of Mingyu you had in your mind, because he has a dorky pose, pointing a finger at the screen. It makes him feel more real. More human. More yours...

And then that comforting feeling fades in and out rapidly when you switch straight to Google images and spend about an hour scrolling through photos of your stunning, gorgeous, sexy soulmate. Your head is spinning by the end of it. In some photos, you can see that personality you’ve been getting to know. The sweetness, the slight foolish charm of him, the talents in art that seems to translate to his fashion sense as well, the shots of him cooking... but at the same time, he looks more beautiful than you dared let yourself imagine. 

Your favourite thing is spotting bits of writing on his arms. Your writing. And a whole ton of little hearts.

Then you type out his Youtube link, that he spent so long writing out properly to make sure you would watch the right video. It’s only hours old. A performance  MNet uploaded of Seventeen at KCon earlier that same day. 

You watch as the boys, all thirteen of them, come out on stage and begin their song. But about halfway through, their expressions start to change when they glance at Mingyu, and when the camera comes in closer, you see your soulmate’s face has turned orange. Then the black stripes begin to form. The boys are faltering in their dance steps now, not sure if they should continue. 

Mingyu looks annoyed, like he can’t understand why their performance is falling apart.

Then he catches sight of himself on the monitors. And his jaw drops. And he freezes.

You must have been just finishing off your face paint at that time, because the tiger is nearly completely there. The pink nose adds a hilarious softness to Mingyu’s horrified expression. The crowd is laughing, obviously quite charmed by the display, and amused by its poor timing so much that they don’t mind it messing up the planned show. But Mingyu seems upset by it... as do some of his friends, who must have worked so hard getting ready for this day.

On go the tiger whiskers, long and slightly curved, forming one by one around that lovely nose. None of the boys are moving now. The close up camera is fixed on Mingyu. 

The member with the round cheeks steps forward suddenly, saying something funny about Soulmates into the microphone. It makes the rest of the members swirl into action. Some of them crowd around Mingyu, and two with concerned expressions usher him from the stage. The round cheeked one keeps speaking, clearly taking charge of the damage control. 

“Thank you, Jeonghan and The8, please take care of Mingyu and return quickly!” 

Two more of the boys seem to shake themselves from their surprise as the round-cheeked one beckons them forward, and they start speaking in fluent English to the crowd. They say they’ll move on to their unit performances now, and leave Hip Hop team for last so Mingyu can come back with his face paint gone... and that’s it.

That’s the end of the video. 

You can see the recommended next clip is for Seventeen’s other performances, so you know they must have finished as they planned. And since you washed off the face paint fast, you know Mingyu must have returned in time for his performance. But you feel bad for him anyway. He must have been upset to have that happened in front of a whole audience...

You scroll the Youtube comments for a bit. People are amused, or feeling sorry for him, or intrigued by any sign of a soulmate, or surprised that MNet even uploaded the interrupted performance (though you’re sure they’re delighted by its entertainment factor... the clip already has a ridiculously high number of views.)

And after that, it all feels too much for you. The truth is too intense. You close your laptop and go to find your family, so you can tell them what’s happened and get ready for your visitor. 

The thought makes you smile again. A little happy tremble goes through you. You get to meet your soulmate soon... You get to meet Mingyu.

- 

He knocks timidly on the door when he arrives, and you fly to answer it, barely noticing each step as your feet swallow up all the space between you until all that remains is your front door.

You take a deep breath, hand on the handle, and fling it open.

“Mingyu,” you gasp.

There he stands, looking shy and awkward, face graced by a slightly giddy smile he can’t seem to keep down. You find that despite running to meet him, you’re now frozen where you stand. His warm honey eyes scan over you though, skating across the features on your face, shifting down your body, and he looks so happy you might just melt where you stand.

“Hi, Y/N,” he whispers. “Did you look it up?”

You nod. And then words begin to pour out of him, in the same rushed way he writes, a long-winded explanation that makes your heart squeeze with pure affection. 

“I realised after that performance that we were being stupid to wait to meet each other- to hope that the world would throw us together some, even though we were bound to be desperately thinking about one another every second until it happened. Or at least, I thought about you...”

He steps forward, lifts his hands and cradles your face.

“I was always worried about making you a part of my life too soon. I though I had all the time in the world to meet you, and what if I did meet you too soon, and I just messed it all up right away? As if it were possible to ever spend too much time together...”

He laughs, and when you join in, his smile becomes blinding.

“After today I know this is what I want. I want to be with you. I want us to know every detail of each others lives. I want a public, open, happy relationship with you before the eyes of the entire world. I don’t want anyone to see that video and think it was embarrassing. I want it to be the story of how we came together. I want it to be the beginning. Is that what you want?”

He’s so gorgeous, and the two of you are destined, so it’s a surprise to see how nervous he looks. As if you would ever turn him down.

“This is want I want,” you assure him.

And, hands still warm on your face, he kisses you for the first time. 

[undergoingrenovations]

The Awakening: Part 1

Narrated by: Ankha 

From my cold slumber I awaken, stretching my cold and stiff joints. Out of habit, I take a large breath, and sigh as I realize I haven’t died. Then I remember: I’m immortal.

Slowly, I push open the lid of my coffin, straightening the wrinkles in my gauze that’s tightly wrapped around my body. Seeing as it’s a saturday, I won’t change my gauze until monday, or Sunday night after a bath. 

The cavernous echo of my feet padding against the floor is replaced by a familiar song that Keaton introduced to me. I’ve grown to love it, and today I shall play it endlessly. I linger for a moment, closing my eyes to savor the thought of K.K. Sonata. The crisp and softness of the piano pleasantly bounces around the high walls of my home, only to be entangled with the intruding vines on the ceiling.

Not needing to eat, I spend my morning outside my imprisoning pyramid, tending to my slumbering neighbors rose gardens. Traditionally, a garden of golden roses is planted around the graves of egyptian royalty, but since me and two others were forgotten inside manmade mountains, the gardens had evolved into lakes. I quickly became lost in the task of dusting off sand from the leaves, and ignoring strange looks from people passing by. After the roses were taken care of, I began to tidy up the insides of the neighboring pyramids, making sure everything were to be in order should one of them wake up. 

Having completed my morning chore, I was left to do as I wished throughout the day. Mostly, I would try to catch up on the news, since I’d only awoken from my slumber in the last decade, but Keaton usually liked to do that with me, so I’d save that for later. Instead, I sat down and began to read a book.

The book went on strange twists and turns, and was also in English, which I was still perfecting. As usual, I ended up losing my place while daydreaming of when I was alive. Shortly I returned to the place I’d left off, and resumed my adventures around the world. But the only thing that book had done for me, was made me jealous. 

For centuries, I’ve endured a seemingly never-ending coma where I’d relive my previous life thousands of times. For so long I’d been stuck in the same loop, and once I’d woken, I wanted nothing more than to leave. Nobody that I’d once loved or cared for had survived for as long as I, and it was terribly depressing at first to stay in the place where you’d been abandoned. And that was only because any time that you looked at your once most treasured possessions, or the lyrics to your once favorite songs, or glanced in a mirror, it only would remind you of the life that you’d once lived. They were only reminders, painful at that, and they would have nowhere to go that wouldn’t cause trouble. So I put them all in one place, and redecorated my cage. 

A bright fire burned in its brick home, surrounded by two towering bookshelves, off to the right of my door. On top of the fireplace, a stack of my favorites were lopsidedly stacked, bookmarks protruding from the pages. Next to these, was a portrait of Keaton, my best friend. In front of the fireplace, there was a plush rug and a comfy chair filled with pillows. On the far wall, a brick countertop held an old phonograph, and next to that there was a box of records. To the left of those, in the north western corner of my cage, my polished tomb was balanced against the wall, resting on another plush rug. Hanging around my tomb were various different stitchings of gauze and wrappings that I wore, and next to my tomb was a small table littered with letters and a writing quill and ink. On the western wall, another brick countertop, but this one contained a globe. To the right of the globe, a map of the world was pinned to the wall, and to the left of the globe, an old painting hung encased by gold. In the south western part of my cage, all of my old favorite things were crammed. My old golden chair, old favorite dress, old crown, and old painting. And on either side of the entrance/doorway, torches were hooked into place. It was much more homey than my old surroundings, which were nonexistent.

Bored once again, I decided to set out for Keaton’s house, and seek out his company. I donned a more casual set of clothes, a white tank top and cargo shorts, and began to peddle down the sandy road on my bike. Since I was living out in the desert and Keaton lived all the way over at the beach, I had quite a ways to go. The hours it took to reach his home were passed by switching bus stops and lugging my bike around, but at long last I reached his driveway. 

The board planks that lead up to his front door were sandy from the beach he lived on, and a few feral birds were playing in his fountain. I parked my bike inside of his fence, and hesitated a moment before knocking. Inside I could hear the dimming of music, something cheerful as always, and the clicking of his talons on the floor. I resisted a smile when he opened the door and the scent of breakfast foods washed over my nose. Keaton grinned at me and gestured inside, waiting for me to sit before starting a conversation.

“Ankha, what’s up? Always great when you stop in,” he greeted, his casualty not quite throwing me off guard anymore. I glanced around his quaint little home, jealous of his freedom to choose his own house placement, but then again, an agent probably gave him tips. 

“Bored, again.” My gaze came to my own framed portrait on Keaton’s dresser, and I fought the urge to laugh. We were quite the unlikeliest of friends, but yet, we were one of the best pairs out there. 

“Wow, that’s got to be a record, man. Usually you’ll last until afternoon,” Keaton teased. I rolled my eyes and smiled as he handed a cup of iced tea to me, keeping one for himself, and ushered me outside. We sat on the shore, my paws bumping against his toes whenever the waves crashed up against our feet. Had anyone seen such a sight, they would’ve thought us to be two romantics, but we were only half of that. 

“So, did anyone ever find out what was under those waves?” I wondered, tossing the question up for conversation. I could ask it now without the blank response of silence, to a real person instead of to myself. Keaton took a long sip of his tea before reclining on his elbows.

“Well, not all the way. I guess the scientists kind of ‘scraped the tip of the iceberg,’ or whatever they call it,” he offered, never lifting his gaze from me.

“That’s a horrible explanation. Tell me about them. Do they talk like we do? Civilizations? Technology? Or are they all feral? Left to the mercy of the tide?” The questions had slipped my mind sooner than I could control them, and Keaton laughed. 

“Who knows? Although, I’m pretty sure they’re feral. If they weren’t, then I guess we wouldn’t have sushi, huh? As for what they look like, some are giants, as large as half of cruisers, and some are so small you can hardly see them. It’s a whole other world down there, and we land dwellers haven’t even explored it all.” Keaton was gazing out at the waves now, lost in his own words. I joined him and watched contently as the waves swelled, and as the occasional fish leapt out of the water. The horizon was specked with vapor clouds, quickly disappearing in the sun, from water mammals. My trance was broken from Keaton’s voice. “Hey, uh, do you ever think about moving? I mean, it takes so long to get between houses, dude. Don’t you ever feel isolated?” he asked, trying not to seem rude. His voice was soft and I began to think about what he’d said. 

“I have, yes. I think about it every day. But, I was meant to be isolated, or I wouldn’t have been sealed away in a cage to be forgotten. If I left, then who would take care of the others? I’ve accepted my role as caretaker, and until they awaken, I must stay. I do wish that I could escape, to move to the forest, the town... Maybe even here, if you’d have me. We might’ve been neighbors...” The bittersweet words fell from my tongue slowly and dreamily, and I could feel Keaton’s gaze on my eyes. I turned to look at him, and he smiled a sad smile. 

“We still could be, man. What if you lived here, and there?” His voice was hopeful, and I hated myself for shaking my head.

“I’d have to go there everyday to check, though. To see if they’d woken, to care for the roses. You know how much I hate it, but who else would? What if they did wake up and I wasn’t there? If they were discovered... It would be a disaster,” I rambled, giving him a bittersweet smile. I knew that it was possible to leave the last of my old life behind, but I also still had a heart for those that didn’t have to yet. I would wait for them, and care for them while I did. It was too much to risk them waking up on their own. They could be careless, and I had to know who they were. They could be family, or friends. Although, whoever was friends with the old Ankha was most likely dead...

“We could be neighbors, Ankha. And, if you wanted it too, roommates,” Keaton pleaded, gently edging toward me. I blushed slightly at the last suggestion, then laughed at the thought of us living together. Him, a mortal bird, and me, an immortal cat. What a thought. 

“No, Keaton. I have to find out who they are first. Maybe someday, if you’re still alive,” I said softly, patting his wing that had taken my paw. He looked out to the waves again, disappointed. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” he mumbled understandingly. I turned my head to the waves, listening to the crashing and distant roaring. “It’s ok.” 

[finsterhund]

Finsterhund’s 2017 Summary of Art (and by extension, the rest of my life)

I’d be lying if I said that 2017 wasn’t an incredibly difficult year for the easily excitable finsterhund but it was also a very productive year for my art. I’m not going to deny that. A lot of issues came about that pushed me really hard, and I did break, but I mended too. I grew stronger in some ways. My writing took a nosedive and I’m not sure how to repair that, but my art, well... this is the first time I’ve ever done one of these. That should speak for itself.

In some months it was difficult to pick which one. I decided against choosing ones that may have been partially rotoscoped (such as my reaction images and most memes) and also because I tend to draw too similar to reference images I use. So no redraws of blurry HoD concept art or stuff.

January: [x]

This was supposed to be the picture for holidays 2016 but I’m a lazy earth boy who must’ve been slacking off because I finished and posted it right on January first! I remember at the time I was really proud of this one, and spent a lot of time on it. It was drawn traditionally and then scanned and digitized in GIMP... yes gimp. Fishy loved it and that made me happy. Nowadays I can pick apart so many flaws, especially in Andy. The lines look so shaky! Maybe I’ll redraw it for January 1st 2018! Assuming I don’t slack off again.

February: [x]

It was hard picking one from this month because I didn’t really like my drawings from then. Here’s art in paint of Red Spot eating a burger. I used to draw him with food when I was hungry for a while. Mmmmmm borger.

March: [x]

This is the month things started to take a nosedive. There was lots of good things happening, but some bad stuff too. A few new problems arose, but at the time the biggest was I found out my birth mom was being evicted and I would have to help her clear the old house. THAT old house. I retreated heavily into my artistic comforts and drew a lot of pictures of Red Spot being comforting and supportive to Andy. Red was created for that purpose after all, and Andy being a character I so closely identify with ended up being the comfort I needed especially then. Despite its crudeness in ms paint I do love this picture and should redraw it in Sai at some point.

April: [x]

The trials I had to face were unreal this month. The Wannabe War(tm) is well underway, and the time to return to the old house rapidly approached. I drew like there was no tomorrow, and these paint pictures were the best. Smoother lines, and more detail. When the time came to face that house things got ugly. Mom hid that my dog Jack had been dead for over half a year and broke the news only when I became distraught when I arrived and he didn’t come when I called him. My fixation on the “monkey’s paw” that was ruining everything I ever wished for started around here, and I kept breaking down. Bad regressing back to before I left that place happened. But something else did too. I DIDN’T. STOP. DRAWING. I drew more and more. Choosing to bring my laptop allowed me to make more pictures. A lot of Red Spot and Andy comfort ones, some mean little immature vent comics, and memes. Lots of memes. I was able to do the job I went there to do and returned home exhausted but VICTORIOUS. My art? Well I think I actually improved a lot then. It was predominantly due to surviving in spite of everything and the sheer volume of cruddy little paint drawings. I didn’t want to pick a mean comic and already had one ms paint Andy and Red picture in this line up so here’s a surprisingly detailed xenomorph queen being licked by a prequel era character who is a massive spoiler. Not only were both characters very complicated to draw, but I’m genuinely shocked I was able to draw an xenomorph at all.

May: [x]

After the painful embarrassment of April I tried really hard to relax. I was still really scared and anxious about the Wannabe incident, but it had more or less turned into a post-arms race stalemate where he wasn’t really doing anything and I just had my weapons of mass destruction pointed at him with my grubby little orange paw over the launch button which is where things have been ever since. My art took a relaxation break, but it was still steadily getting better. Late May I wanted to come up with a reason to actually celebrate my birthday (June 3rd) so I did a silly little “June is International Heart of Darkness month” post featuring Red and Andy sharing a slice of chocolate cake. I went on to say that June 3rd was “International draw heart of darkness fan art” day (real smooth you egocentric mutt) but I thought it’d be a good way to actually celebrate the day but make it about the video game that gave me a reason to live another year instead of about me aging, as I openly hate that I grow older.

June: [x]

A few of my friends drew HoD stuff this month, but a lot of my friends were busy due to jobs, school, life, etc. We used to be a lot more active in 2015 and even in 2016 so this did hit me pretty hard. As a result, I become very frustrated and out of spite decide it’s finally time to test my “new toy.” I don’t remember when Kale actually gave me his old tablet, but in June I finally install its drivers, get a copy of paint tool sai, and draw a lot with it. At first I hate these pictures and go back to paint whenever possible. There’s something wrong with my copy of sai and windows 10 doesn’t like the drivers. But I push myself, and I start to make more pictures of Andy, Whisky, Red Spot, etc. Not a lot of my early Sai pictures ever got posted or even made it past the inking stage, but one night I just couldn’t sleep so I drew Andy cradled in the crook of Red’s wing and got it to the flat colors stage.

July: [x]

I try to calm down. it’s a good month I think. Not much happens. It’s the month I finally give myself a new fursona. I decided that Red Spot isn’t “me” and I can’t use Andy in furry communities so I come up with a solution. It... it’s just Andy as a doberman. It’s a little orange doberman that wears a red bandanna and Andy’s hat... Doberman Andy. But he’s cute, and I can draw him, and so I do draw him. And he helps me get better at drawing in Sai.

August: [x]

The month of the solar eclipse! Me and my friend were going to go down to the US to see it together and... nope... that plan fell through. It makes me a brat, but that’s okay because I can just draw six hundred thousand drawings of Andy. That’ll help me feel better. I ended up having a sabbatical from my blog after some people on tumblr began to bother me and I put up a drawing of Andy’s shoe so nobody could go in. This is an MS Paint picture! Sadly, I’ve stopped really drawing in the program. I like how I did Andy’s face even if his hat and hair weren’t the best.

September: [x]

I return from my sabbatical and begin to spam my tumblr with Andy drawings I’m making in paint tool sai. The quality and style of Andy in these pictures varies drastically as I try a whole manner of new things. At one point I make a post that has five color pictures of Andy in it. It’s slowly becoming difficult to pick which picture I wanted to put here. Not because I didn’t like any, but because I liked too many. SMOL Andy was probably my favourite of the bunch. I made him more chibi and cute than I normally do. It was on accident but I thought he was too cute to go back and make him more on-model.

October: [x]

I was supposed to do an Andy version of Inktober but I guess the extreme amount of Andy pictures was a September thing because I burned out relatively quickly. I had some drama involving a prototype disc and also ended up having to pay way too much extra money every month until further notice but it’s a relatively calm month all things considering. The way I drew Andy in this art isn’t particularly stellar, but I love what I did with Red’s mouth and nose. I wanted to show that the way I draw Red improved too.

November: [x]

My chronic pain gets worse for no good reason, I get a very disturbing creeper threatening me online, and I’m generally depressed, but I’m drawing. That’s good. I start a new revolutionary technique when I rely almost entirely on the cinematics as reference and don’t reference other cartoon styles whenever I can when it comes to drawing Andy. I enjoy the result. Drawing him in a cute penguin-themed suit made my day. It was so hard to decide which one to pick this month. I loved so many of them.

December: [x]

Like November, but somewhat better I think. I’m still drawing Andy a lot, with Red coming along for the ride too. This one I tried to draw Andy in a more Disney-like style. I love how I did his face and freckles. The drawing of Whisky from the same post is great too. I look at a lot of my newer drawings and feel genuinely pleased with the result. I think I actually am improving, and whilst I think it is due a lot to getting sai and a tablet, it can also be because I’m becoming more skilled and getting more practice as well. Lets hope the new year brings us smooth sailing, lots of fun, and happy times our way. HoD will be 20 in 2018 and I’m ready to bring the subject of my love and joy a great two decade celebration.

[scientificdeliriummadness]

My partners and I are doing our own DnD campaign. Two of us will be playing two characters each while the other DMs. We’ve already played one session and got to know our characters a little better. Meet Snaggletooth, the Half-orc barbarian pirate who takes things way too literally, Pleiades the sarcastic brooding high elf, Saxon the human soldier WHO CAN SMELL WITCHES, and Legretta, the sexy gnome cleric who loves a good innuendo. Here are the backstories. (Long)

(by Belinda, DM) Welcome to Evermore. Our adventure begins in the country of Opas, possibly one of the largest landmasses on Evermore as well as the most diverse.  It is ruled by a King and Queen who make their home in the capital, Everrock, in the northeastern corner of the continent.  It is a bustling metropolis, well established as the trading capital of the world as ships come and go regularly from the city ports.  The kingdom has known peace for many decades following the Great Revolt where the underground-dwelling grey dwarves and dark elves both fought for the domination of the surface world and its many races.  After a sound defeat, both races fled into seclusion as their numbers were greatly reduced, and the surface was once again at peace.  Evermore breathed a collective sigh of relief after so many years of turmoil.  Militaries relaxed, dropping their numbers in favor of expanding trade and commerce. It is from this city that a great call to arms has been issued.  The monarchy seeks only the bravest fighters and adventurers to step within their castle walls and answer the call they have set forth.  Strange happenings have been reported from within the kingdom, and a great reward is offered to those who would join beneath the banner of Opas and fight to vanquish any darkness which threatens their peaceful existence. by Connie (Pleiades and Legretta)(I’M NOT A WRITER PLEASE DON’T JUDGE ME) The elf's copper blood filled her cheeks as she watched the gnome modeling her crummy, handmade accessory in the reflection of the water. Luckily, as often and easily as it happens, her embarrassment is masked beneath the faint burn permanently imprinted over her otherwise saturated azure skin. Despite spending so much time as a child outdoors in a typically bright, yet cool climate, her skin suffered no other naturally occurring blemishes other than the soft gradient of light to dark along the regularly exposed portions of her body. It still maintained the same pristine quality you would find from the icy terrain of her hometown, Geminight. Until relatively recently, she tended to dabble in a variety of activities her society had to offer. This was in a futile attempt to live up to all the possibile legacies of her seven preceeding sisters could have achieved had they survived a full gestation period in their mother's womb. No one but herself had expected this of her, but encouraged her to partake in something nonetheless. It seemed to give her some pupose and fulfillment. Although she was not particularly good at anything she picked up, she gained a fondness for it all and it helped her feel a closeness to the sisters she had never met. At the very least, she embodied the spirit of their assemblage and when she came of age, chose to engrain this into her identity with her choice in name: Pleiades. Traditionally, her society embraces the permanence of self-idenity with something a little more literal: a self-inked tattoo. Unfortunately, like with many of her interests, Pleiades lacked the finesse to create something other than a few dots around her left eye that had semblace of what was now her most symbolic constellation.Pleiades watched the gnome put the necklace she had given her around over her little head."There's a little bit of craftsman in everyone....manI love homemade things! They have so much character and love and there's always, like, some kind of special meaning behind it. Even if it's subconscious! I feel so special you let me have it even though you've only known me for literally, like two seconds!" The gnome gleefully giggled while stroking the pieces of the pendant now hanging from her neck.Pleiades appreciated the compliment, but uncharacterstically, she hadn't put too much thought into this particular task. Boredom had overtaken her and she swiped a long spiral shell off the beach and in its opening, stuck a thick rounded piece of weathered glass she found lying near the tavern that opened, in her opinion, way too early in the morning. The gnome had curiously approached her just as she was finishing wrapping the pieces together with some abandoned strip of twine. She was so enthralled by the little trinket that Peiades told her that it was hers if she liked it. Perhaps the gnome wasn't too far off; the blue tint of the glass did remind her of home..A pang of sadness stung her heart as it passed with the fleeting thought. She missed home, or what was left of it. Geminight had experienced a major ecological shift. It was no longer an icy haven, glistening in the sun that hung in theclear blue sky. The temperatures began creeping upward, weather fronts came more frequently and more varied. Vines, weeds, and other foliage broke free from the snow, the gems, and the ice; slowly domineering the region. While the changes weren't detrimental to the survival of the city or its people, the new environment felt entirely unsettling. On top of being unexpected and undesired, it felt dark and sentient. Pleiades did not want to stand by and watch her chilhood be tainted with this feeling. She decided to hold on to the nostalgia and venture out to new things. She had exhausted the petty hobbies her society had offered her and wanted toexperience something grander; a single legacy worthy of her and her sisters. When some vague propaganda from the Everrock government started to appear on bulletins near her, she decided it was time to leave. Her parents willingly stayed behind.The gnome watched Pleiades' expressions as they passed over her face one by one. She noticed a lot negativity and she supposes that's what attracted her to Pleiades in the first place. Gnomes were known tricksters, but she herself liked to focus on the lighthearted nature of her heritage and tends to get tunnel vision when she sees someone in distress. When she noticed the elf sitting alone listlessly on a crate of bait, she recited her motto of "When things look grim, find your grin!" and pranced up to her with a mission for fishin! For compliments. To give the elf." Y'know, I'm glad I saw you making this. It's so unique and I really appreciate that about things. I originally come over to you thinking of a mililon compliments to give you based on just your looks but I had no idea what to say since I'm sure you get complimented all the time...Just look at you! but yeah, you're pretty unique looking too now that I've had a good look..But I dunno, I just appreciate me a good trinket, y'know how us gnomes are."Pleides would probably not be considered epitome of the elvish ethereality that made them so intimidating. In fact, for an elf, she appeared quite neutral and approachable. Double takes were not uncommon when passersby took note her androgynous physique. The sun bleached blonde streaks in her dark blue hair gave it a green appearance if looked at in the right light and angle. And men and women alike also thought that her soft almond eyes suggested more than just the politeness of eye contact. And although her hands struggled with its intricacies, her hair always fell into place perfectly after she finished braiding it."I just appreciate you taking the time to go out of your way to say something nice to me. What's your name?The gnome grinned somewhat amused. She extended her furry hand and said proudly proclaimed "Ranandal Legretta Aaa Thawa Teffata Wata Gah! "There was a pause. "But you can call me Leggy! That's what the humans do anyway, but I grudgingly embrace it. The name “Leggy” works when I..." Legretta stopped for a moment and looked over Pleiades shoulder distractedly. Without a beat, she purposefully walked toward a tall, well built half-orc that just exited the tavern across the sidewalk. "EEeeeeeeyyyy! DAMN boooooooi. You're lookin FOOOOINE. I bet that grog gotchu all loosened up. You know what Leggy could do with a body that limber?" She asked as she flung one of her furry copper legs from her patchwork cloak and around his shin."Auuuughgh" The half-orc responded burping through his words, " nah, goway lil one, Yer so lil y'can't even reach. nainterested" He stumbled away until he reached the corner of the alleyway."Well, fine. I’m having more fun over here anyway" she scoffed over the muffled sounds of distant vomiting. Pleiades didn't even acknowledge the bizarre exchange she just witnessed and carried on "Well, I think the name Leggy might be reserved for someone a little more, um, promiscuous than I. So I'll just practice your nicknames and in the meantime, just stick with Legretta. My name is Pleiades Luaer. I couldn't help but notice, Legretta. You have a unique trait as well..." She said as she eyed Legretta's limbs. "They're really well....tamed" She struggled with the compliment. Legretta's eyes lit up as she stuck out a limb at a time, admiring her own handiwork. "Yeah! Y'know! boy gnomes have big thick beards that they can do whatever with! I even saw an old-ass gnome with a beard so long, he was able to shape it into a flying snake dragon! It's not fair! It' was so cool and I can't! Gnomes don't tend to keep their hair well kept and I wanna stick to the traditions of my heritage! I can't grow a beard..only some wispy tendrils... So I found a loophole.."Legretta had bright platinum blonde body hair contrasting her warm copper skin. It was quite thick and she had trimmed hairs on the legs into little hearts and the hairs on the arms into little diamond shapes. Pleiades grinned bittersweetly, "You remind me of my father. Elves can't grow beards either and he's always resented that fact. So he spent much of his life growing out his hair so long that he could be able to tie it under his chin into a ponytail. He was also quite a open about his sexuality with my mom and they’re always going out of their way to put me in the spotlight, so you also remind me of that. They really were quite embarrassing at times, but I suppose it's different coming from you." She lightly blushed and glanced at the poster that had beckoned her here. Legretta cocked her head to view the poster a bit more easily. "Ahh! Yeah! There's been some spooooky things have been happening here lately." she said as she tucked her face behind her wiggling fingers. "I've been kinda grumpy about the call to arms 'cause I think the strangities have kept this places more fun an interesting, but if you're going, I wanna go! I think it'd be fun. Maybe if we find out what it is, we can be part of it...It'll be fun to prank the traveling merchants, right?...I mean, I guess we can stop it, too. But now that I'm really thinking about it, the mystery is killing me. Can I come?!" Pleiades nodded. "YASSS. Be right back. I live under those sand dunes over there. Lemme go tell my mom." Legretta ran off for only a few minutes and returned with a small basket of sandwiches and her cloak's pockets overflowing with trinkets. She offered Pleiades some food, which she promptly accepted. The gnome walked a couple of feet ahead, looked back and up at Pleiades and said. "Castle's that way. Let's party." by Marty (Saxon and Snaggletooth) Saxon Bloodwulf- Human Fighter From the city of Nightmoor, in the kingdom of Ravenholde comes Saxon Bloodwulf. Once a member of the 13th Legion -the battalion that served as the King of Ravenholde's personal guard, this Captain had it all in his life, until the 13th Legion once arrested a witch who plotted to kill the King. The witch was sentenced to life imprisonment in the dungeons of Nightmoor, where she cried to the city that she swore revenge on Captain Bloodwulf as she was locked away. A fortnight later, Saxon Bloodwulf was seen creeping into the King's castle, and attempted to take the King's life. The King managed to avoid the attempted deathblow that came in the form of a knife and raised the alarm. Saxon was seen by the King's guard on duty that night fleeing the castle and retreating into Nightmoor forest.

The following week, Saxon was found in a village some 50 miles away and was arrested by the very 13th Legion that he was in command of. He claimed his innocence, swearing he had simply taken a holiday the day before he was seen attempting to murder the king, but mysteriously, no record was kept of his absence. Saxon was brought back to Nightmoor, where he was sentenced to death. He spent a single night in the dungeons, the night before his execution, where the witch hinted that she had something to do with Saxon's situation. Shacked and imprisoned in another cell, Saxon was unable to do anything other than vow revenge on the witch and others like her.

The following day, Saxon was to be hung in the city square. By chance, a few moments before he was to be hung, a gang of bandits stormed the city square. In the confusion, Saxon managed to free himself from his rope bonds and he fled Nightmoor, making all speed for the coast. It was at a harbour town that he met a group of pirates who were spending the night in the town, and agreed to take Saxon aboard their ship for a fee of 50 gold coins that Saxon had managed to retrieve from his old house before fleeing Nightmoor. This is how he met...

Snaggletooth- Half Orc Barbarian. Snaggletooth, a 32 year old Half Orc had been part of a crew of pirates known as the Jolly Robbers. This gang of pirates made the ship known as the Fearsome Scabbard their home. They sailed from port to port, taking what they could and giving nothing in return. The Jolly Robbers were actually number one on the navy's most wanted list, but the Jolly Robbers were able to escape the navy's clutches each time it seemed that they were able to be arrested for their crimes. One night, they met a member of the royal army, Saxon Bloodwulf. While suspicious of Saxon, they agreed to take him to the neighbouring continent in return for 50 gold pieces.

They set sail the next day, with Saxon aboard. It was during their voyage on this day that they encountered a freak storm. The storm, which hadn't been foreseen, due to the clear skies that day, tore the Fearsome Scabbard to pieces. Most of the crew died during the storm, but only Saxon Bloodwulf and Snaggletooth survived, thanks in no small part to Saxon's actions. The pair survived on a piece of the Fearsome Scabbard, and they drifted for days, until finding themselves washing up on the shore of the land they find themselves on now.

Snaggletooth, while a pirate, is grateful to Saxon for saving his life during that terrible day of the storm, and for now has decided to accompany Saxon, who has tasked himself with the burden of somehow clearing his name and has become a self appointed Witchfinder General as he is determined to ensure no person be victim to a witch or witchcraft ever again.

[mysticsparklewings]

Daises on Strawberry Hill‪

Well, this looks a bit different from my usual content, doesn't it? Full disclosure that this art was made primarily as art inspired by one of my favorite books of all time (seriously, I have three different editions of this thing)--Looking for Alaska by John Green--as an excuse to talk about the new Hulu series of the same name that's based on the book. Because if you know me at all, you know I am notoriously hard on book-to-screen adaptions, particularly those based on books I love as if they were family members. And originally, this description was going to include a pretty blow-by-blow, lengthy review of my thoughts on the series. However, it's been quite a while since I first started trying to type out said review, and frankly, I've decided instead to, after I talk about the art, to just give some general, spoiler-free thoughts; the most important opinions I have on the series and leave it at that. I am still planning on completing and putting my full-length, in-depth thoughts out, but that'll be at some other time. Perhaps I'll put them in a journal/blog post instead of adding to the description here. Whatever happens, I'll update this description so that those who are interested in my deep-dive can find it when the time comes. That said, let's talk about the artwork now :) LfA isn't a fantasy or sci-fi book, so it doesn't have any cool dramatic scenes or neato devices/objects that have a lot of significance to the plot that would be fun to draw, which is why I never made any fan art or inspired-by-art for it before. But I really wanted an excuse to talk about the series, and so I pondered what symbols or imagery the series might have that I could make into art, even if none of it was terribly relevant to the plot or exciting on its own. This led me to the cheap wine that's mentioned a few times throughout the book: Strawberry Hill. Drawing just a bottle of wine seemed kind of boring and not very specific to the book/series, so I ended up adding in some white daisies since white flowers and daises specifically do have some significance to the plot. (In a way, they're a bit of a crux to it, at least for a key epiphany moment.) Originally, I was going to make this piece traditionally, and I did start with a traditional sketch of the wine bottle and one daisy to use as a template for more to follow. However, I pretty quickly got the idea for doing something more line-art heavy on a black background, as the cover for the book is black and the sort of chalkboard/blacklight look I was picturing in my head seemed fitting for the tone of the story, and despite my best efforts I couldn't think of a way/combination of media to accomplish what I wanted traditionally without also giving myself a major headache and making the project take infinitely longer than I wanted it to. So while I stalled in production, I ended up on my tablet for something else and figure I'd scan in my sketches and maybe make a line art to print off and manipulate into what I wanted traditionally later. But then, just as I started working on that, I figured, "You know what, if I'm going to go through all of the trouble to ink/line this digitally and I wanted it to be more line-focused anyway, I might as well take a crack at just doing the full artwork digitally. I'll get the lines done either way, and if it doesn't work out then at least I can say I tried, I know some of what not to do, and I end up with a digital mock-up for the final version." Fortunately, things ended up working out much better than I expected. I purposefully wasn't too fussy about the lines, partly because I just didn't have the patience at the time to be super precise about it, and also because for this specific project I kind of liked the idea of a more doodle-ish look (even though it's not super doodle-y in the final product). This also made things move a lot faster, which was nice and pretty satisfying. I started with the wine bottle from my sketch, including trying a new liquid drawing technique I half picked up from an art Youtuber I just recently started following that makes drawing liquid in a style similar to this look like a lot of fun. I knew I wanted the bottle to be mostly transparent/just lines, so the goal here was more about getting the wine bottle shape/structure familiar enough than it was about anything else. The label took a bit more though since in my mind, ever since I read the book, I had a pretty specific image of a pinkish bottle with a yellowish liquid and this cream-colored label with dark brown/sepia text, and I had not previously considered the label into that whole primarily line-focused image in my mind.  So in the end, I decided the label would be solid so I could get the proper imagery across and the text and stuff could still be seen properly. Additionally, you'll notice I couldn't help myself being a little on-the-nose and sticking a tiny strawberry and mountain/hill on the label for good measure and to fill some space without having to look up wine bottle references just to stare at the labels for a ridiculous amount of time.   The daises were also infinitely easier to do digitally since I could just copy, paste, and rotate first the petals to make one flower, and then copy, paste, rotate that one flower a few more times, instead of having to draw individual petals and flowers every time. This also gave me a little more freedom in that I could re-size the flowers pretty easily to make it more visually interesting than just a bunch of flowers that were all the same size. All that ended up being less line-focused than I originally intended, but I acknowledged that happening as I worked, and I'm not upset about the shift in focus. I think what I ended up with still has about the same visual impact I was hoping for, and that's all I really wanted anyway. And as sort of the icing on the cake, I ended up adding in that wisp/smoke trail in the background because of 1. It seemed kind of empty and unfinished with just the flowers and wine bottle and 2. When I tried adding a green vine to fix that issue, it just wasn't working for me. That's when I realized I could have a stronger reference to the book by putting something similar to smoke in the background since the original cover of the book has a smoke plume front-and-center. It took a few tries and some tweaking to get something I was happy with on that front, but I am so glad I stuck with the idea. It just adds something I can't quite place that the piece really needed before. The content is pretty different for me--I don't drink and I don't really endorse the idea--and the style is a little beyond my usual realms, but I do really like how it turned out. I feel like it's done well enough that you can appreciate the symbols and references if you know the book, but it also works as just a kitsch art piece if you're completely unfamiliar with the source material too. I don't think it's super accurate to when a bottle of the stuff shows up in the Hulu series, but it was on screen so briefly and my mind was focusing on other aspects while I was watching, so I didn't get a super good look at it.  But I still think it'll suffice well enough despite that. I'm happy with how it turned out, and that's all that really matters, right? Now, then, as for the thoughts I have on the Hulu series that I think need to be shared sooner rather than later. I'll start by going on record to say, as someone that is notoriously hard on book-to-screen adaptions, that I did actually like the LfA series pretty good. I'd say it's about a 7 out of 10, which an exceptionally good score coming from me. It's not my most favorite show of all time, but it's notably better than "just okay," which is historically the highest praise I've ever been able to give a book-to-screen adaption. It had its faults and things I would've done differently if it were up to me, but fortunately, it did an infinitely better job than I was expecting. My main issues, as with all book-to-screen adaptions, come in the form of some of the changes that were made between the book and the screen. Fortunately, this time around the problems I do have are not egregious offenders. Most changes that were made still make sense within the story and while the overall message isn't quite the same as the book, it didn't totally squander what the book was trying to say. All of which are problems that most book-to-screen adaptions suffer from horribly. And while I won't talk too much at length about this (that's for the long-form review later ) I think this has a lot to do with the series being roughly 7-8 hours of content, as opposed to the either extremely rushed 2-hours-or-less a movie would've been, or the more-time-than-we-know-what-to-do-with 13+ hours of...certain book-to-screen adaptions that failed miserably at their job. (*cough* 13 Reasons Why *cough*) As I said, it's not perfect, but I do think as far as allotted time and time-management that they hit something of a sweet spot so that they'd have enough time to give the plot the room it needs to breathe without having so much time that they have to start making stuff up to fill it all. The other thing I'd like to point out is that, honestly, they did what 13 Reasons Why wanted to do way better than that series could ever hope to. They told the story of teenagers experiencing darker themes and elements of life so much more tactfully, and, in my opinion, more realistically. And they didn't wait for a controversy to spike and then do something about it--they didn't bank on the publicity of a controversy. Right from episode one, every episode starts with a warning that this series is meant for an adult audience (because of its themes) and viewer discretion is advised. And at the end of every episode, as the series does featuring smoking and drinking on more than one occasion, they provide resources to visit if you or someone you know has a problem with either of those things. I don't know if the people at Hulu saw what happened to Netflix with 13 RW and learned from their mistakes or if they just knew better, but either way, I'm so glad it was handled so much better, regardless of why or how it happened. As far as recommendations, if you're a John Green and/or Looking for Alaska book fan, I'd say it's definitely worth the watch. For outside viewers...I think you have to really be into the YA drama scene to appreciate it. Just be prepared for some more adult content than you might typically find in a YA movie. It's all done pretty tastefully and the majority isn't there senselessly; most of it serves some kind of purpose to the story, which is why it doesn't bother me (a very prude-ish person) all that much. I think that's everything I feel like needs to be said right now about the series until I can get the long-form review finished. (It's maybe 1/3 of the way done currently...and already getting on the long side )   I have to admit, this does make me more hopeful for the future of book-to-screen adaptions, at least those that end up being handled the way this one was. In fact, I'm actually really hoping that if Turtles All the Way Down, John Green's newest book, ever sees a screen adaption that it's handled in a series form and is done at least as well as LfA was. Time will tell, I suppose. In fact, I believe any day now, Let it Snow, a book that John Green wrote 1/3 of is supposed to have its movie adaption dropped on Netflix. I'm not super confident in Netflix's handling of adaptions for reasons mentioned earlier, but maybe just maybe it'll be okay? ____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings I do not own Looking for Alaska and/or associated content ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[artistic-writer]

If you're still taking prompts from that last prompt reblog - 74 with Michael/Sara (:

Notes: requested prompt #74 - “Of course I remembered” - Michael/Sara - Thanks anon!  I also made the fanart for this fic ;)

Overall Summary: Post series - Cute and fluffy one shot

Chapter Summary: Michael & Sara having a little chat in bed.

Rating: T-M (depending on your definitions i suppose)

Word Count:  1781

AO3 - PBF.net

—————————————————————————————————

Sara was smiling. She hadn’t stopped smiling since Michael had returned. It wasn’t easy though. Sometimes, even when the wounds healed, the scars still sat just under the surface and itched every single day. Michael was different, tainted by his experiences, and his scars were very real. The medical professional inside Sara knew that he would need help, especially as living apart from your wife and child for seven years was as mentally as damaging as it could have got for him.

The woman inside Sara - the wife, lover and soul mate - knew without a shadow of a doubt, that Michael was still underneath the scars. Every once in a while, when she least expected it, Michael would do something and it would leave her with a smug grin for days. Now was one of those times.

Michael didn’t just have mental scars, he had physical ones too. Even in the darkness of their bedroom, Sara could feel them under her fingertips as she traced the previously inked skin on his chest. He didn’t flinch, but Michael lifted his hand to hers and halting her touch, lacing his fingers with hers. He offered her a small twitch of a small as she lay beside him, their room hot and sticky with the smell of sex.

“I have something for you,” he breathed into the dimness. Sara returned his smile, her face eagerly lighting up beside him. She rearranged herself and the bed creaked under her shuffle, pillows plumped behind her and her naked body pressing into them with excitement. Sara’s own scars were still there, a little less thick and raw, but no less visible on her back. She clutched the thin, white sheet to her bosom, the high thread count material sliding over her skin like silk.

“Oh?” She almost squeaked, her voice rising with the single syllable. Her enquiry was met with silence, only a simple eyebrow wiggle as Michael rolled away from her and leaned over the edge of the bed. Again it groaned, now under Michael’s weight, and the sheet threatened to expose their nakedness as it was pulled with him.

Sara took the opportunity to reach beside her and pull the tiny, toggled cord of her lamp. The room glowed amber under its light, instantly revealing Michael to her. His legs were tensed at an awkward angle, his muscular back rippling under exertion as he tried to stay on the top of the bed. Sara stifled a giggle at his display and finally settled herself back into the pillows just as he rolled back onto the bed with a grunt.

“You keep everything under the bed?” Sara laughed, rolling slightly to meet Michael’s body as he got comfortable beside her once more. One of her legs tangled with his, her toes smoothing over the slightly wiry hair against his shin before it came to rest between his thighs.

“Only the important things,” Michael quipped with a small smile.

Sara’s brow knitted together with confusion and she wrapped her arm around his bicep, pulling her face flush with his skin. She was eager to learn what he had retrieved from under the bed, and how she had missed it all this time. She couldn’t see anything and figured it was small enough to hide because Michael’s hand was draped over the edge of their king size bed out of her view. “Patience, Dr. Scofield,” Michael teased, his voice a seductive drone and a sweet as honey.

Sara pouted a little and pressed a tender kiss to his arm, smiling when he didn’t squirm away because it was on top of a scar. Sara gave his arm a squeeze to let him know she was proud of him for holding fast, for letting her show him her affections. She knew Michael was conscious of the scars, especially in the light, constantly wearing long sleeves and insisting on having the lights off when they made love.

That in itself had taken a while; whilst the flame between them had never extinguished, it had been threatening to go out for so long that Michael wasn’t sure Sara would still want him this way. He was physically changed; Gnarled and bruised from years of escaping prisons and battling some of the lowest scum the world had to offer. Every single fight he had encountered left him with more and more marks, each blemish against his skin a constant reminder of the fight to get back to his family. It had taken him a while to assure himself that they had been worth it. And the first night he had made love to Sara, after so long feeling empty, he had known it.

“Come on, Michael,” Sara almost bounced beside him. “I’m excited!”

Michael grinned and lifted his arm. Twirled between the cracked skin of his fingertips was a long, twine brown stem. About half way up were two leaves, folded flat and slightly curved over the edge of his fingers. More stem above those revealed the flower sitting on top, the most beautiful and intricate ivory coloured rose Sara had ever seen. The paper rose was so lifelike that Sara had no idea it wasn’t real until she reached for it with a smile.

“You seem to have got better at this,” She commented idly as she lifted the rose from his fingertips and moved it back towards her face. There was no scent, but as she lifted it to her closed mouth smile, Sara imagined the faint waft of sweet sunshine as she inhaled.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Michael smirked. He lifted one arm and wrapped it around her bare shoulders, holding to him as he watched her reaction.

“It’s beautiful,” Sara breathed, finally looking back to him and arching her neck to plant a kiss to his lips. “Thank you, Michael.”

Michael smiled against her kiss, licking his lips a little when they parted. “Traditionally, Ivory roses are used to express a long lasting promise of commitment and the sincerity of love.” Michael paused, letting his words sink in as Sara’s inspected the fine, swirled paper edges of the rose.

Sara wiggled against him, moving even closer and resting her head down on Michael’s chest. She laid the rose on his torso so it was in front of her face and she traced the stem with her fingertips. “I love it,” she smiled again, her heart swelling with love for the man who had given so much to keep her safe.

“I’ve actually made you an entire bouquet,” Michael snorted a laugh and his chest rumbled under her ear. “Two dozen,” he admitted with a tiny air of shyness to his voice. “Two dozen, ivory paper roses with a single red one.”

Sara frowned a little and lifted her head from the slow beating rhythm in his chest. “One red one?” Michael nodded.

“It means ‘I Love You’.”

Sara reached up a hand and cupped his cheek. Michael’s head nudged into her touch and his hand flattened over her back and held her to him like he would never let her go. “I Love you too,” Sara whispered, never breaking eye contact with his gorgeous blue eyes. Michael’s eyes had also changed with the years of torment, but the cyan hue had never dulled and they were as vibrant as Sara remembered.

Michael dipped his head, eyes flickering between Sara’s lips and her warming hazel orbs, and he captured her lips with his. He kept the kiss slow, teasing Sara’s mouth open with a damp trace of his tongue and sucking on her bottom lip gently. Sara’s hand slid from his cheek to the back of his head, clutching at the prickly shaven scalp and holding his face to hers. Michael trailed his long digits down her forearm, smirking against Sara’s parted lips when she gasped at his touch.

“Why paper?” She asked breathlessly, the sudden realisation hitting her. Michael had bought her flowers, but it had been rarely and she always wondered why.

Michael smiled and rested his forehead against hers. “Paper last forever,” He said simply, letting his eyes fall closed. “Real flowers just end up dead and in the trash a week later,” he chuckled.

Sara laughed with him as her own words fell from his lips. Her words from so long ago she had almost forgotten saying them. Michael had, and always would be, the most beautiful enigma to Sara. She was never ceased by his determination for everything, the least of all his willingness to do whatever it took to simply make her smile.

“You remembered,” Sara patted his cheek softly, willing his eyes to open and meet hers once more. She pulled her forehead from his and their eyes met once more, her fingertips lingering against the lightly grown scruff on his cheek.

“Of course I remembered,” Michael smiled sweetly. He pulled the sheet, white cotton bunched in his fists and pressed his other hand against the side of Sara’s hip. She had no choice but to follow his lead and moved to straddle his waist, his silent invitation to do so being read loud and clear. Michael smoothed his huge hands over the almost transparent sheet and it fell from Sara’s body effortlessly in a smoke like swirl. It pooled her her hips, exposing her to him and Michael’s fingers danced along the side of her thighs.

“And you know, I’m a pack rat,” Sara wiggled her brow at him and ran her tongue over her bottom lip. Michael felt himself harden beneath her and his lips twitched into a nervous smile. Their words seemed so familiar and yet had been spoken so long ago that neither of them knew how they had remembered them for so long.

“You never throw anything out,” Michael watched Sara writhe on his lap, her heavy lidded stare genuine and the best part of their game. Michael loved the way Sara’s reacted to him, had always reacted to him. Her back arched a little, jutting out her pebble like nipples that were already eager for his skilled hands and Michael sucked in a breath as he felt the silken warmth of the dampness between her thighs against his member.

Sara ground her hips down onto his arousal, a soft groan escaping her lips. Her fingernails clawed at his chest, scraping the lightest lines through his already raised scars. This time, Michael did not flinch.

“You should see my apartment,” Sara’s winked and dove at his mouth in a feverish kiss.

[krsextonart]

Hey all! I wanted to make a quick blog post about a question I receive A LOT.

Do you need a following before opening an Etsy shop?

The answer: Technically, no. I didn’t really start with one.

Keep in mind I cannot speak for other shops, everyone’s journey is different but I can tell you a little about how I’ve gained my “following”, honestly I don’t even consider myself having much of a following…but yenno, whatever.

I started posting my art on Facebook and Instagram in 2012 (or maybe sooner) when I started studying Art at Cal State Fullerton. I was an Animation major taking beginning drawing courses and beginning animation courses. As a complete beginner, my art wasn’t good, but I still posted anyway and received minimal response (lol). I switched over to illustration in 2013 and continued posting artwork I made for my classes. The only people seeing this artwork were my family, friends, and classmates. I didn’t have a large following, maybe 500 followers or less on Instagram and I’d say 90% of the people following me were friends or acquaintances who didn’t really care about my art, they just wanted to see what I was up to.

During my time at CSUF, I was heavily involved in the Animation/Illustration club called the Pencil Mileage Club (PMC). I started out as a member one year, then became the photographer for the club, the event coordinator specialist for the club, then vice president, then president. I met a ton of people through this club and the PMC became my family. A lot of people go back and forth with whether art school is worth it, for me, it was. I built friendships with some of the most talented, hardworking, passionate people I’ve ever known. Getting a little sidetracked here, but these are the kinds of people you want beside you. They will support you, be your shoulder to cry on when things get tough, you’ll be their shoulder, they’ll help you with Photoshop problems, they’re your rocks. These are the people you want following your work. These are the people who will lend you a hand when you need it and you’ll return the favor because there’s a mutual respect. These are the “fans” you want. I definitely, no questions asked, did not see them as numbers on Instagram if they followed me.

Me with reddish/brown hair at a PMC art show.

Leading a meeting with Kevin Lam, the President of the PMC at the time.

Cafe Sketching event at Downtown Disney.

Myself, making a stop motion animation for the first time.

Helping lead another PMC meeting.

So in college, I made the best of my time. I spent countless hours sketching, exploring what I wanted to do after college with art, I had an internship with Billabong one semester, I helped lead events with PMC, and I did my best with my classes all while posting on Instagram and Facebook. Those were really the only 2 social media platforms that I posted art on. A month before I graduated college in May 2015, I had my own solo exhibition show on campus which displayed 26 original pieces, my CSUF friends were there on opening night to cheer me on. I love them for that. I gained a few more followers from having that art show for a week, not a ton, but a bit. When graduating college, I had maybe 600 followers on Instagram and like I said, they were mostly non-art friends or acquaintances who didn’t care for my art.

* You didn’t go to college for your artwork? That’s okay too! There are loads of online art communities that will connect you with other artists with interests like yours! Figure out what you like to do, then do some google searching to try and find the right online communities for you. Having a great support system will help you with the tough times (we’ll all have them).

When graduating college, I needed time off from school and work. I overworked myself in college trying to absorb everything I could while throwing myself at every opportunity I could with the PMC and other art events. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, all I knew was that I needed a break. So my boyfriend, cat, and I packed up our 1 bedroom apartment and moved back to my hometown in the San Francisco bay area to live with my Mom, the plan was to stay for the summer.

Over the summer, we attended some art fairs and I fantasized about selling my artwork at them (I always have). Then I decided it was time to open my own shop, something I’d been dreaming about since I started drawing in 2012. I did a ton of research, blah blah blah then opened my shop in September 2015. I announced it via Instagram and Facebook. My first sale was from my Mom and I panicked. Had NO idea what I was doing. Experimented with packaging. I had a few sales follow, mostly from friends I think. In October I discovered Twitch Creative, a live streaming service for artists. I had streamed video games a bit in college through Twitch but didn’t know they had a section for art. I immediately started streaming. I did some figure drawing on stream, pen and ink illustrations, traditionally sculpting, stamp carving and more while also watching other streamers. I slowly, sloooooowly gained a “following” on there. Some of them followed me to Twitter and Instagram, and some made purchases. I streamed 3 days a week for 2 months then started streaming less and less when my anxiety disorder took hold. Chris and I moved back down to So Cal in Feb. 2016 and I continued selling my work on Etsy while advertising on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, and having occasional streams on Twitch. I decided shortly after to make a new Instagram dedicated to only artwork. So I went from 600 followers on Instagram to 0, and from there slowly climbed. Not too many people followed this new account from my old account so I really started from the bottom.

I gained more followers using hashtags on Instagram. They look sooooo dumb, but guys, that’s how people will find you. Having followers on Instagram really doesn’t do TOO much for your shop, yes it’ll help advertise new listings and whatnot but some people can have thousands of followers but barely any sales in their shop. Some people want to buy an item from you, but they don’t really care to see your art Instagram everyday, and that’s totally fine. So your numbers on Instagram/Twitter/Facebook/Whatever kindaaaaa don’t matter? Ever hear that saying that goes something like “Its better to have a few real friends than a thousand fake ones.” I think that’s kinda true when it comes to having a “following”. The people who follow when you don’t look that cool and you don’t have many followers, those are the sort of people who will support you because they love your work. Those are some badass fans. Those are the fans that will tell other people about your work. Those are the good ones. I love those ones.

Summer of 2016 I was inspired by Frannerd to start making YouTube videos again (I had made them in the past) and that connected me with a whole new audience. I’m slowly gaining a following there as well, but honestly has it brought in a ton of new sales? Not really. Doesn’t seem that way. But I’m meeting more people and spreading the word about my artwork.

So what has worked for me? – Facebook (friends, family, people who know you) – Instagram (visual based platform, good for artwork to be seen quickly) – Twitch (very supportive community, lots of amazing people) – Twitter (I think it goes hand in hand with my Twitch community) – YouTube (getting my name out there) – Etsy SEO (Etsy keywords help get my listings found, trial and error)

ALSO! SUPPORT OTHER ARTISTS. Artists help other artists. Don’t be a greedy butthole. If you can’t support financially, support them in other ways. If you like an artist, let them know, connect with them. Help them if they need help. Be a good friend. This road isn’t an easy one, you’re going to need help at some point or another. Don’t just pop in when you need something. Devote time into giving back to the art community. Don’t force it, just be interested in other things besides yourself and your art business. Stay inspired.

I have a ton of room to grow, guys. Just doing my best. I’m not an expert. Take everything I say with a grain of salt. I just like to be open with you all and tell you what has and hasn’t worked for me. I hope this clears up some of your questions.

If you’d like to share, what has worked for you with advertising your shop? Thanks for reading!

K.R.

Shop Instagram YouTube Twitter Twitch Channel

How I gained my “following” Hey all! I wanted to make a quick blog post about a question I receive A LOT.

[megashadowdragon]

gin will be a member of blackbeard pirates and he will kill mihawk

. 

it  proves how strong Gin is, since Sanji and Luffy couldn’t do anything to get through his armor and Gin shatters it with one attack.  I’ve seen people saying that he’s ‘too weak’ to make it in the Grand Line, but considering this, and the fact that he’s had as much time as Sanji and Luffy to get stronger, I think he’d do okay.

people suggest that shilew will kill mihawk while having the diamond fruit(which mihawk  seemingly cant cut for his slash didnt cut jozu though its possible that it was because the slash was meant for whitebeard though I doubt it)  and this will mean zoro will be forced to learn how to cut diamond in the middle of the fight just like he did against mr.1 which is due to mr.1s comment asking what will you cut next diamond which is foreshadowing to zoro cutting diamond) because he's a swordsman like zoro but Shiliews admiration for Shiki's Fuwa Fuwa no Mi, expressed at Shiki's escape, so I think shilew will gain that DF. I think gin will gain the diamond fruit and kill mihawk since when mihaw first came into the story he had been stated to have destroyed plenty of don kriegs battleships killing alot of gins subordinates/friends who gin cares about. mihawk is themed after the vampire dracula I mean his surname is dracule a obvious reference and His overall appearance has a vampire type of theme. For example, the coffin-type of boat he rides on, the cross references, and the pale skin. Mihawks full name is Dracule mihawk and dracule is a variation of dracula and mihawk has various similarities to dracula in that dracula was stated to have hawk like facial features like mihawk, have dark gothic castles, and a cross theme in which crosses are around their appearances. Dracula is known to live off in distant castles, and as you have seen, Mihawk lives in a creepy distant castle himself. Dracula and Mihawk both drink red wine and red wine his mihawks favorite Read this next passage: Count Dracula (a first name is never given) is a centuries-old vampire, sorcerer, and Transylvanian nobleman, who claims to be a Székely descended from Attila the Hun. He inhabits a decaying castle in the Carpathian Mountains near the Borgo Pass. Unlike the vampires of Eastern European folklore, which are portrayed as repulsive, corpse-like creatures, Dracula exudes a veneer of aristocratic charm. In his conversations with Jonathan Harker, he reveals himself as deeply proud of his boyar heritage and nostalgic for the past times, which he admits have become only a memory of heroism, honor and valor in modern times. From this, I perceive Mihawk's boredom. He is nostalgia for the past times also, when he was still aiming to be the top swordsman. Mihawk is also shown to be aristocratic also, he's not outspoken or rude. He is very well mannered. so basically mihawk references or allusion to dracula ( I am not saying that mihawk is an actual vampire I am saying that mihawk is based off of him gin is japanese for silver and silver is one of the few things that can kill a vampire in their mythos ( supernatural monsters/demons are weak against silver. particularly werewolves and vampires which mihawk references )

www.gods-and-monsters . com/how-to-kill-a-vampire . html 

Again, the curse of silver begins before the first vampire became a vampire, when the goddess Artemis (Greek mythology) cursed the first vampire so that his skin burned when it touched silver.   Using silver is a bit like a blend between sunlight and a wooden stake.  It doesn't work as well as either of those two options, but it has advantages of its own.  First of all, unlike sunlight, silver is highly portable.  You can carry an item of solid silver (make sure it's real, solid silver please) with you easily.  Secondly, it won't kill a vampire to stab it in the heart with silver (as it would using a wooden stake), but it will slow down the healing process, which can be very helpful.

, www . quora . com/Why-in-vampire-lore-are-vampires-burned-by-silver

In many (ie not all) cases of vampire lore, vampires are harmed/hindered by silver.

The reasons vary - in ancient Greek mythology the reason is because their first vampire was cursed by Artemis to be burnt by the touch of silver since he was stealing her silver bow at the time (he was already cursed by Apollo to be burnt by sunlight and had other inconveniences.

(further reading - Greek version:  The Vampire Origin - The Vampire Love Story That Started It All continued with Vampires and Silver )

Note that silver bullets are typically associated with werewolves and not vampires, however ... www. joshsanctum . com/stori...

Myth: Vampires aren't hurt by silver, only werewolves are.Reality: Pure, undiluted silver (or nearly so) WILL hurt vampires,  in much the same way as garlic. Both used together (as in bullets)  can even paralyze the vampire injured by them, and will (at the  very least) cause crippling pain.

Silver Has Mystic Powers - TV Tropes

Christian and several pre-Christian mythologies also have a connection between the sun, the divine (particularly those associated with the sun, light, purity), and silver objects. The problem with mirrors is partially silver related (mirrors were frequently made of/with silver)

- the Judas Iscariot betrayal incident with the silver coins is a factor - basically associative symbolism.

a summary of types of vampires and their reaction to silver

List of vampire traits in folklore and fiction  under the heading Weaknesses List of vampire traits in folklore and fiction

additional further reading Vampire folklore by region

 , 

Silver was considered a mystical element in folklore, and thus its properties become reality in fiction. The metal can do many things, from channel magic, to stopping evil (including warding off or harming vampires and werewolves),

Unlike in post-Medieval works, many pre-Christian pagan mythologies also associated it with the Sun, and many solar deities are described with silver objects (like Saule's silver thread, Apollo's silver bow and arrows or Amaterasu's silver mirror). 

This trope is the reason vampires traditionally have no reflections and don't show up on film. Old-timey mirrors used silver backing to achieve reflection, and black and white film used silver nitrates to capture the image (plus some old camera models included mirrors in the light capture mechanism); since vampires are unholy, their light is not picked up by divine silver.

 and its quite possible that when he returns he is using a spear  instead of his tonfa  so I think gin will gain the diamond fruit and kill mihawk(for mihawk is based off of a vampire and silver is one of the few things that can kill a vampire so it would be symbolic for a person named something that means silver to kill a person named after a vampire )

by stabbing him in the heart with a spear vampires are traditionally killed by a stake through the heart

and count dracula was based off vlad the impaler who liked killing people through impalement so it would be fitting for  mihawk to die impaled

 and gin will be avenging his dead subordinates/friends.

in eastern there is a myth about how dragons first start of as snake like creature but then they will grow and shed the skin of a snake and become a dragon   

In the sixteenth century of our era a Japanese author1 spoke of an old (certainly Chinese) tradition, according to which a dragon’s fetus lives during a thousand years in the sea, for a thousand years in the mountains and, after having been among men (“in a village”, says the text) for the same long period, it finally is born, becomes a dragon and ascends to the sky2. During these three thousand years the fetus lives as a very small snake within astone, the dragon’s egg, which is first lying at the bottom of the sea, then comes to the mountains (how it got there is not explained), where after a thousand years it is picked up by somebody who carries it home and preserves it on account of its beautiful colours, or uses it as an ink-stone (suzuri, 硯 ). As it invariably has the remarkable peculiarity of constantly producing water (the dragon’s element), it is a very convenient ink-stone indeed3. But woe him who possess such a stone at the end of the millennial period which the fetus must pass among mankind, for then the stone splits, and a small snake creeps out of it, which in a few moments becomes larger and larger, and with a terrible noise forces its way to the sky, smashing the roof amid thunder and lightning, and ascending in a dark cloud. The little reptile has become an enormous four-legged dragon, which leaves the narrow abodes of men and frees himself in this terrific way.”

japanesemythology . wordpress . com/stories-of-dragon-eggs-a-ka-dragon-inkstones-in-japan/

and this fits gin who will end up shedding the skin of a snake and get a dragon symbol becoming the dragon  tvtropes . org/pmwiki/pmwiki . php/Main/TheDragon) (as in right hand man) to blackbeard ( heck its possible  that if there is some secret to gaining a second devil fruit and that there is a way to alter the rest of the captains of BB pirates bodys so they can have a second devil fruit though  (as some people suggested ) they wont be able to have 3 DFs like  blackbeard ( and thats implied by his 3 motif and the fact that he has a 3 heads on his flag) and there being 3 types of DFs) that gin will have a dragon DF

and blackbeard could be described as the evil counterpart/reflecting the nagative aspects to roger  with his ruthlessness

given that blackbeard is the evil counterpart/foil to luffy 

 the best fit for the trope http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/EvilCounterpart. In addition, the rest of his crew also shadow other members of Straw Hats. Just take a look at Teach's Black Hole stance—it's almost picture-perfect for Gear Second's stance, save for the open palm as opposed to closed fist. Now, contrast the black "smoke" of the Yami Yami no Mi to the white steam that comes off of Luffy. If this doesn't set off some parallel alarms, nothing's gonna. This becomes even more clear with the addition of Shiliew who, being a master swordsman, is a pretty obvious shadow of Zoro. Another similar trait is his own talent to get powerful pirates to join him. And at least in his original crew (if not necessarily his expanded one) Evil Is One Big, Happy Family. Also both Blackbeard and Luffy were recognized by Shanks as having great potential; he saves Luffy's life at the cost of his own arm, and he warns Whitebeard to not let the powerful Ace tangle with Blackbeard.

“It’s interesting that, even though it’s not obvious right away that Blackbeard will be kind of the ultimate Big Bad, Oda immediately highlights the fact he and Luffy are exact opposites by making them have differing opinions on things as unassuming as food and drinks.”

it goes to show while they have similarities in their reactions to the other they simply have different tastes

and blackbeard pirates are the evil counterpart to the straw hats and how luffy has shown to be compared to roger it fits that he reflects gold roger in some way

Roger was someone who enjoyed doing things in the flashiest way possible. BB is the same.

and blackbear wears  hat, coat and waistband similar to roger 

plus 

t I do have to respect that he values his crew and their safety and seems to care about them, because that’s not something that can be said for a lot of the antagonists in this series.

aoireadsop . tumblr . com/post/134931407354/i-have-immense-dislike-for-blackbeard-but-i-do

Teach takes comradeship with the crew he formed to a high level, made evident when he was willing to make a trade with the Marines for a battleship big enough to hold all of them comfortably for the sake of one crew member, Sanjuan Wolf.  he is also genuinely compassionate, caring, sympathetic and empathetic towards his crew's well-being and is willing to take assaults intended for his crew

and gin is the japanese word for silver 

 and gins birthday was revealed in an sbs in one piece volume 81  to be  April 7th 04/07 (Atomic number of Silver "47"

 and gins birthday was revealed in an sbs in one piece volume 81  to be  April 7th 04/07 (Atomic number of Silver "47")

and rogers vice commander was SILVERS rayleigh so it would fit for his right hand to reflect rogers right hand man and zoro . zoros goal is to become worlds best swordsman which means he will be mihawk gins goal will be to specifically kill mihawk in revenge while zoro said that he doesnt like to fight for revenge. gins name is the japanese word for silver so it similar to the name of silvers rayleigh  so his name would parallel rayleighs name like how  blackbeards name and appearance also parallel his former captain Whitebeard. and his personality traits above  are like an evil twist to rogers . like how he is luffys evil counterpart with gin being the vice admiral of the group 

 (maybe a confrontation between rayleigh and gin since I think rayleigh is mihawks father )

   and gin will fight zoro due to gin killing mihawk and it was his goal to beat mihawk but if zoro defeats gin who killed mihawk he will achieve his goal anyway  by defeating the man mihawk lost to ( heck since we dont know gins last name maybe his last name is hellsing a reference to the dracula books and hellsing defeated dracule)  and sanji will fight shilew  for shilew was warden of impel down which is based on hell and sanji is based on satan .  

@luminous777

@monkeydluffy19920 

@dixxymouri @ecassandrae

@pernanegra

@neomarines

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Nintendo Switch Preview: The Console, Spec, Accessories & Tech

If you somehow haven’t heard already, Nintendo are moving froward with the impending release of their new console dubbed the “Nintendo Switch”. 

Due to be released on March 3rd, Nintendo held previewing events across the globe between 13/01/17 - 15/01/17. With events within multiple cities across multiple continents, it just so happened that yours truly got to attend the London event on the Sunday. Having spent around 5 hours previewing the console and its small library of games, it’s time to sit down and discuss what exactly is going on with the Nintendo Switch having tried it first-hand.

The Switch Gamepad:

The big selling point for the Switch is its ability to adapt to how you want to play. With such variety comes a number of ways to play and, in turn, a number of ways to consider the potential of the device. The most basic is the Switch out of the dock and while I could bog you down with all the details, you probably either know them already or can find them in no time at all. Instead, let’s focus on what it feels like. How the Switch plays is what really matters after all.

The pad, just like most things Nintendo is responsible for, oozes a sense of familiarity. With the Joy-Con controllers on either side, It’s akin to your average tablet and while roughly the same size as the WiiU gamepad, it’s thinner but heavier. While that might sound strange, it’s actually a nice balance, giving the gamepad a decent size and comfortability while having enough of a weight to it that it feels sturdy and anchored in your hands.

The screens display is concise and powerful enough, running at 720p and given its size makes everything on-screen look gorgeous. While not the most powerful display in the world, the idea of taking the Switch with you on the go is likely enough for most to overlook the lack of 1080, though keep in mind that when the Switch is sat comfortably in its accompanying dock, the display will jump up to the latter.

Equally important is the fact that the buttons and thumbsticks of the Joy-Con(s) feel equally robust, similar to those found on the increasingly scarce pro-controllers of Nintendo generations past. It should be noted however that the placement of the + and - buttons felt off. They're placed along the top of each Joy-Con and act as traditional start and select buttons would. Given their prominence and position above the main buttons, I’d hazard they’d be far better suited switching (heh, get it?) places with the home and share buttons towards the bottom. During the demo of The Legend of Zelda: Breathe of the Wild, using the aforementioned buttons to access the menu seemed completely unnatural given their positioning; moving my furiously gaming digits past two sets of buttons to reach them makes less sense than a slight adjustment down? But hey, that could just be me!

The Nintendo Switch Pro Controller:

Another way to play is to grab yourself a pro controller, something Nintendo has offered up in the past. The Switch is no different and their latest iteration of the pro controller is one that’s clearly been influenced by the likes of Microsoft and Sony. The design is slightly bulkier than the ones for Wii or WiiU and was available to use during the Splatoon 2 demo. Unsurprisingly, it feels and plays exactly as you'd hope and was my preferred method of play.

The pro controller was also a reference point for my gripes with the button layout between the Joy-Con(s), as you’ll see that the buttons are positioned, in my opinion, a more concise and practical way in the centre of the pro controller. Thankfully, one thing I’m sure everyone will agree on upon launch is that the trigger/shoulder buttons for the controller are robust and have a nice level of spring in them without feeling flimsy. The fact this controller has such sturdy trigger buttons is something not all recent controllers within the market have been graced with.

The controller, just like the Joy-Con(s), also comes with gyroscopic control built in too and this could lead to some engaging gameplay experiences. During the Splatoon 2 demo, for example, you use the movement of the controller to target your enemies and this feature allows for incredibly precise movement. While my attempts of covering the map with ink were somewhat pitiful during my time with Splatoon, the nature of pinpoint accurate aim cannot be overlooked, even if it made Splatoon a tad more difficult to pick up and play then most of Nintendo’s other offerings. 

It’s important to keep in mind though that this gryoscope inclusion is likely what has caused the controller to cost around £65 in the UK. While the controller is a nice piece of kit, it’s difficult to warrant spending so much on a controller, especially when other consoles offerings are £15 less...

The Joy-Cons:

Of course, there’s no sense in discussing the Switch without discussing the Joy-Cons in-depth. The little devils can be detached from the Switch to allow for a stationary screen, to be used independently or to even milk a cow (though that’s a story for another day). With such variety in ways to play, it’s important to review these devices both as a part of the Switch and as an entity on their own.

If you’ve used the Wii Nunchuck before, you’ll instantly have an idea of how these devices feel to hold. Though slightly thinner than the Nunchuck, the JoyCon(s) offer numerous buttons available whether they're together or apart. The option to use just a single remote by itself for games, allowing instant multiplayer, is an incredibly appealing feature given Nintendo have always strongly supported the joys (heh, i did it again) of couch co-op.

With the Joy-Con(s) featuring such varied control options, the event used 1,2,Switch to showcase all the different ways you can play. At this point, the fascination with motion has long since passed, but a few bite sized minigames available were they to reassure us that this tech still worked and was still around. More notably though is that the new title, Arms, was not only a contender more most imaginative game title but also a brilliant showcase for the more precise movements Switch could allow. Holding the controllers upright as opposed to traditionally, tilts in the wrist and certain poses would result in trickshot punches and blocking techniques respectively. While I’ll go into details on the game in a later post, suffice it to say that Arms was way more fun than you’d ever expect.

Now one of the best features of the Joy-Con(s) is one that not many quite understood following the Switch reveal presentation. Among talk of ice cubes and glasses of water, Nintendo announced their new HD Rumble, a feature that is hard to grasp until you've tried it and it is truly a feature I hope other consoles adopt too. One of the 1,2,Switch games, lovingly entitled “ball roll” (which won silver in the imaginative game title competition) had you hold the Joy-Con flat on the palm of your hand. You’d manipulate the controller to figure out how many balls were inside a wooden box on screen. Tilting the controller around would activate the HD rumble, comprised of multiple rumble sensors with vastly widened levels of vibration, allowing for truly remarkable levels of depth and immersion. With just the slightest of movements, you can deduce and feel how many balls were hidden within that virtual box, where they were, how heavy they were and to where and how fast they were moving. Was it simple? Yes. But it was an experience in gaming I've never quite had before and the potential applications for that technology are exciting

So, what do I make of the Switch so far? It’s hard to say. While the technology being used is impressive and the console runs and looks great, it’s hard to say that I’d rush out to buy one. With the prices being as high as they are compared to competitors and with the lineup being a little barebones right now, I’m of the mind that I will wait until the end of this year if I’m to get one. But as always that’s just me and I’d love to hear your thoughts on the Switch. Will you be buying one at launch? Will you hold off for a while? Will you tell yourself you'll wait but give in the moment you see Breathe of the Wild on shelves? Will you spend the next decade trying to figure out if the plural is Joy-Con or Joy-Cons? Let me know!

Keep your eyes peeled here for further Switch coverage, including spotlight discussion on Zelda, reviews of the experiences offered by the other games and a future analysis piece on what the future of the Switch may hold.

Thanks for reading ← → B 

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Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero @ccboomer and @magic713m

Chapter Five An Excess of Ink

Harry pushed open the door to the kitchen and found everyone exactly where he had left them; James, Lily, Sirius, and Neville all greeted Harry and Dumbledore with relieved smiles. Harry checked his wristwatch. It was nearly three in the morning.

“You’re still awake?”

“Of course,” Lily said.

James stood and poured a glass of water. “We got the alert that you’d crossed back onto the property line. Figured we’d make sure you made it safely to the door.”

“Thanks.” Harry took the glass of water his father handed him and drank gratefully. The walk across Styncon Garden, while not strenuous, was lengthy.

“Dumbledore?” James poured another glass of water.

“No, thank you. I mean to return to Hogwarts quickly.” Dumbledore tipped his hat. “But perhaps I could use your fireplace to make the journey.”

“Of course.” Lily stood and pulled a jar of Floo Powder from the mantle. She held the open jar out to Dumbledore. “Was your errand successful?”

“Quite,” Dumbledore said. “Horace Slughorn will be returning to Hogwarts, and I am grateful to have a full staff once more.”

“Slughorn?” Sirius sputtered out. “You’re hiring him again?”

“Yes, Sirius.” Dumbledore took a pinch of powder from the jar. “I daresay he is a fine teacher.”

Lily snorted, but Harry couldn’t tell if it was at Sirius’s comment or Dumbledore’s. “Sirius, did you even like any of your teachers?”

“I liked McGonagall.”

“Sure, about once in a blue moon,” James laughed. “Though I do recall you being rather fond of our vampiric Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“I wouldn’t say fond,” Lily said. “I think Sirius was rather infatuated.”

Harry and Neville shared a laugh as Sirius turned red.

“By the way,” James said, as Dumbledore took a pinch of Floo Powder from Lily, “have you had a report from Remus?”

Dumbledore’s smile was polite, but impassive. “I’ve heard from him, yes. He’s managed to make contact with a fairly tight-knit community of werewolves. It is a good start.”

“Last time,” James tried to keep an even tone it was edged with anger regardless, “Remus always came home for the full moon. He would still spend it with us, even when you had him working up north.”

“I have not given Remus any direction about how to spend the full moon. It’s entirely his decision.”

James remained unconvinced, but Dumbledore did not give him a chance to press for more.

“Thank you, again, for your gracious hospitality,” Dumbledore said, “and for letting me borrow Harry. Do be careful, all of you.” He gave them a slight bow before disappearing into the roaring fireplace.

As the bright green flames returned to glowing orange embers, Lily stifled a yawn. “Well, Harry, what did you think of Professor Slughorn?”

Harry shrugged. “He said he remembered you all. He said you were one of his favorite students, Mum.”

She blushed and James stifled a laugh. Sirius snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

“He looks a bit like a walrus,” Harry added.

James did not hide his laugh this time, and even Lily covered a smile with her hand.

“It sounds like he hasn’t changed much,” James said.

“Was he a very strict teacher?” Neville asked.

Sirius’s laugh was so loud and abrupt that Neville jumped in surprise. Sirius tried to apologize, but he seemed to be unable to take a breath deep enough to speak in the middle of his laughing fit.

James laughed, too, though not so dramatically. “I wouldn’t call him strict, no.”

“Oh,” Lily said, “certainly not. It’s a good thing Fred and George won’t be at Hogwarts. They’d have a riot with him.”

“James and I certainly did,” Sirius said, and wiped away tears from laughing so hard. “We nicked all kinds of things from his classroom. I mean, everyone did, really.”

“I didn’t,” said Lily.

James raised his eyebrows. “No? I seem to recall going into the prefect’s bath one evening and finding —”

“No, no, no,” Harry interrupted. “I don’t want to know. I’m just going to go to bed and pretend I never heard any of this.”

Neville, red-faced, nodded and stood. “It’s really late.”

“Are you tired?” Lily asked, a bit of anxiety on her face as she looked at Neville. “I was afraid after that Hartshorn Aroma we used to revive you, you’d be up for hours.”

“Er — I’m a bit tired. I think.”

Sirius yawned and stretched. “I’ll do a walk around the house, reinforce some of the charms. Having Dumbledore here might have drawn some attention.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lily said. “Sleep well Neville, Harry.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Harry’s forehead before following Sirius out the kitchen door.

As the boys headed to bed, Harry reminded Neville to skip the fourth step, since Neville had accidentally set off the house’s faulty alarm system three times this week.

Traditionally, Harry had the upstairs floor to himself, and occasionally Remus or Sirius might use one of the spare bedrooms. This summer, however, Sirius was here more often than not, and another room temporarily belonged to Neville. Harry was not used to having to share the upstairs bathroom so frequently with so many. It reminded him a little of staying at Ron’s — though not nearly as crowded, of course.

Once upstairs, Harry turned to say goodnight to Neville, but stopped before the words had quite reached his tongue. He didn’t often get a moment alone with Neville, and he wondered if this would be his best chance to share the prophecy with trusted friends, as Dumbledore had encouraged Harry to do. Harry certainly valued Neville’s friendship, and he knew Neville would readily join the fight against Voldemort as soon as they were allowed into the Order, but as he searched for the right words to begin, it proved to be more challenging than he’d expected.

Neville was, without a doubt, one of the bravest people Harry knew. Neville attended Potions class far more consistently than Harry did, even though Snape was Neville’s greatest fear. He’d faced Barty Crouch, Jr., even though Barty was one of the Death Eaters responsible for torturing his parents. And Neville had even joined Harry on the journey to the Department of Mysteries to save Snape without a second thought.

But the prophecy, as his mother had given to him, said the person to defeat Voldemort would be someone “born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.” Surely Neville would see the connection Lily had seen all those years ago — that Frank and Alice Longbottom had defied Voldemort on three occasions and their son had been born, as had Harry, in the end of July.

Harry did not know if he could tell Neville that “The Chosen One” had very nearly been someone else. He also did not know how he would tell any of his friends that he, and he alone, was destined to kill Voldemort.

He had a new understanding of why his parents had failed to tell him the prophecy for so long.

“Everything alright, Harry?” Neville asked, and Harry realized he had been staring.

“Oh — yeah, just thinking about something Dumbledore said.” Dumbledore had suggested Harry ask for help being brave, but asking for this sort of help seemed more difficult. It meant Harry would put other people at risk, and he wasn’t sure he could do that. If the prophecy said Harry was the only one who could fight, was it alright to put others in danger?

“It’s nothing, really,” Harry finally said. “‘Night, Neville.”

“Good night, Harry.”

Harry turned the prophecy and his conversation with Dumbledore over as he got ready for bed. Dumbledore had asked him to find someone to lean on, the way his parents leaned on each other, or leaned on Sirius and Remus.

He thought about tonight, when James had asked after Remus. The anger James had so poorly masked when talking to Dumbledore about Remus had reminded Harry of the anger James had displayed at the Quidditch World Cup. He realized it wasn’t just that Remus and Sirius supported his parents; his parents were just as much of a support for them.

Harry wondered if he was as good a friend to Neville, Ron, and Hermione as they would need to be to him, if he told them this prophecy. He honestly wasn’t sure.

When Harry crawled into bed, he felt properly exhausted, which was an achievement on its own. This summer, his brain felt too full to sleep properly, like a Muggle automobile engine that ran too long and stayed hot even when it was shut off. But tonight, between emotionally taxing conversations and a lengthy walk across the property, he was truly tired. Maybe tonight he’d even be too tired for nightmares of duels against Death Eaters, of his friends being tortured, or of facing Voldemort alone.

——————————✶✶✶——————————

Mellie had been the Potter family’s house-elf for generations. She’d raised four Potter boys, and kept a strict sleeping and eating schedule, not just for herself, but for the household. She insisted on rising with the sun and serving a three-course breakfast, then a late morning tea at ten, a lunch at noon, afternoon tea at three, a light dinner at six, and supper at eight. While the amount of food she served could be overwhelming, Harry had found that having so much time with his family — and Neville — to just talk was surprisingly pleasant. And if Alice, Frank, or Augusta Longbottom or anyone else in the Order came around to visit, Mellie had one meal or another ready to serve.

But since the family had been up so late last night, even Mellie didn’t complain when everyone filtered into the kitchen around noon.

Harry was the last one downstairs, woken by Neville — or possibly Sirius, though it was less likely — stepping on the fourth stair and setting off a loud alarm throughout the house. Harry supposed he shouldn’t be surprised; there was a staircase at school that you could sink into if you weren’t careful, and Neville fell into that one often enough.

“Morning,” Harry said, and took his usual seat at the kitchen table next to Neville.

“Bit later than morning,” James said with a small smile.

“Sleep alright?” Lily asked. Her smile was unusually strained, and she fidgeted with the napkin on her empty plate.

Harry thanked Mellie as she handed him breakfast. “Fine,” he said. His nightmares hadn’t been any more awful than usual. He wondered why his mother looked so anxious. Had something happened to someone in the Order?

Harry searched for a clue on Sirius’s face, but Sirius’s eyes were trained steadily on the door to the garden. He turned to his father, and James, too, looked a bit anxious. He stared at Harry, as if expecting something.

“Is everything alright?” Harry asked. He looked around the table once more. “You all look — I don’t know — worried.”

James slid a thin parchment envelope across the table. “You’ve had a letter.”

Harry picked it up and turned it over, surprised to see the Ministry of Magic seal on the envelope. He wondered if Scrimgeour had grown tired of James and Lily turning down his request that Harry work with the Ministry, so he had written to Harry instead. He looked up and realized James had also handed a similar looking envelope to Neville. Why would the Minister be writing to Neville?

“What is it?”

“I think it must be our O.W.L. results,” Neville said. His voice trembled and the envelope shook in his hands.

Harry felt like all his blood suddenly decided it was better suited elsewhere and dropped from his head to his toes. His mouth went dry.

“Well, go on,” Lily said, her voice almost as nervous as Neville’s.

Carefully, Harry and Neville each broke the seal on the parchment and slid out the single sheet of paper detailing their O.W.L. results. Harry stared at the slip of parchment for a moment, eyes seeing letters but not interpreting them. He considered briefly how absurd it was that five years of intense study could be boiled down to one leaf of parchment, and it took Harry a moment to turn the writing into any real meaning.

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results Pass Grades Outstanding (O) Exceeds Expectations (E) Acceptable (A) Fail Grades Poor (P) Dreadful (D) Troll (T)

Harry James Potter has achieved:

Astronomy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .A Care of Magical Creatures . . . . . . .E Charms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .E Defense Against the Dark Arts. . . .O Divination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .P Herbology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .E History of Magic . . . . . . . . . . . . . .D Potions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .E Transfiguration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .E

“Well?” James asked.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but couldn’t find the words. They were not disappointing results, really. He’d always expected to fail Divination, and as he’d had a fit in the middle of his History of Magic lesson, he’d never thought he would pass that exam either. Even his Astronomy score was impressive, considering he’d only filled in a third of his star chart, since Umbridge had attacked Hagrid in the middle of their exam. Seven O.W.L.s all together was truly an accomplishment.

But he’d only gotten an “E” in Potions, and if he wanted to pursue a career as an Auror, he needed an “O.”

Harry passed the paper to his dad.

James grinned. “This is great! Seven O.W.L.s! And look at that Outstanding! Nice work. I know Remus’ll be proud of you, too.” He showed Lily the test results.

“Excellent work, Harry.” Lily smiled. “You really should be proud of this.” She handed the paper to Harry, who passed it to Sirius.

Sirius looked over the results with a satisfied nod. “With scores like this, you could be a Healer if you wanted.”

Harry wasn’t sure that was what he wanted. He’d have to discuss with McGonagall what his options were. He wondered if professional Quidditch player was still on the table, or if the Ministry was going to enforce the lifelong ban Umbridge had sentenced him to.

“How’d you do, Neville?” asked James.

Neville looked a little squeamish. “Gran won’t be happy about Transfiguration. But I got ‘E’ in Charms and Defense.”

“That’s brilliant!” Sirius said.

“Yeah — Harry was a good teacher.”

Harry shoveled a large bite of eggs into his face to hide his embarrassment.

Lily glanced at the test results Neville set down on the table. “Neville! You’re being too modest. That’s an ‘Outstanding’ right there, isn’t it?”

“Oh — yeah, but it’s just Herbology.”

“That’s my favorite subject,” James said. “Right next to Transfiguration and Defense. It’s not nothing — that’s a very difficult subject to get an ‘O’ in. Further proof how much help you’ve been in the garden this summer.”

Now it was Neville’s turn to blush from embarrassment.

“Speaking of,” James said, “I was thinking about walking down to the pond this afternoon. Lily, you said you wanted some Maculate Moss?”

“I do. I want to stock up on common antidotes, just to be safe.”

“Harry, Neville,” James said, “how would you feel about an afternoon picnic by the lake? I bet we could find some Gillyweed, have some fun with it. I’ve been meaning to try it ever since the Triwizard Tournament.”

The grin on James’s face was tempting, but Harry wasn’t sure he should.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” Neville said, “but I think I’m really tired from yesterday.”

“And I thought I’d do more with the frog and practice Healing,” Harry said. “Or maybe review defensive spells.”

Lily and James exchanged a look that Harry could tell was worried, but as it often was, he didn’t know what they were saying. He did think he could see a bit of an, “I told you so,” in James’s eyes, so maybe he was finally learning how to read his parents.

“Harry,” Lily said, in a soft tone she usually reserved for discussing nightmares, “Why don’t you take a break today?”

“But I have to learn this stuff!”

Lily’s gentleness seemed to burn away like an Incendiary Jinx had gone off on her face and was replaced with anger. “You don’t have to do anything, Harry. I know you want to learn these things — and we want you to be prepared — but there’s a lot more than — than just fighting.”

“Harry,” James’s voice was softer than Lily’s, “what your mother means is that we can practice dueling tomorrow. Frogs aren’t going anywhere either. You’ve been working so hard all week, and we all had a long day yesterday; it’s alright to take a break today.”

Harry didn’t feel like it was alright to take a break. He felt like he had so much to learn and no time to learn it — and wasn’t that partly their fault, for keeping all of this from him for so long?

But Harry had a hard time saying no to his father, especially since the Battle in the Department of Mysteries. All he had to do was look at the eye-patch, remember that his father had nearly died trying to save him, and that part — that was all Harry’s fault.

His shoulders slumped at he pushed the eggs around his plate. “Sure. Fine.”

Neville yawned. “I can get you my book on mosses if you want. I’m not very good at identifying them yet.”

“Thanks, that would help. Though if I remember, Maculate Moss is pretty easy to spot,” James said, and grinned at everyone, like he was waiting for laughter. Harry wasn’t sure what the joke was, but Lily rolled her eyes.

James elbowed Sirius. “Maculate Moss? Easy to spot?”

Sirius blinked, as if he’d just Apparated into the kitchen from miles away. “Oh — yeah, I get it.” He picked a piece of parchment up from the table, folded it, and tucked it into his pocket. Harry caught a glimpse of the handwriting, but it wasn’t familiar to him.

“Are you coming with us, Sirius?” Harry asked.

“No, I’d better stay here. Lily and I can watch the house.” He stood and stretched. “How about we try again tomorrow with the frog?” Sirius asked.

“Sure,” Harry said, and swallowed down the bit of his breakfast that tried to crawl its way up his throat.

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. “Get used to it. You’re no good to your friends if you pass out because one of ‘em has a cut, like your dad did.”

“Hey,” James said, “that was not a cut — you could see the bone in my leg, and I passed out from pain! Not because I’m squeamish.”

“But you are squeamish,” Lily said with a smile.

“I’ve bandaged up enough of Harry’s scrapes, thankyouverymuch.” James stood abruptly and took his dishes to the kitchen sink. “Though yes, fine, before we had Harry, I did not care much for the sight of blood. Nothing stiffens your resolve like being the only adult home when your son flies his broom right into the kitchen table and cracks his head open.”

Harry didn’t think seeing blood was his problem. There was a difference between slicing open your finger and watching a frog’s still-beating heart inside its body. But he had decided to learn Healing Charms for a reason, and he didn’t have time to wait until he had a son with Quidditch injuries to get over squeamishness.

“I’ll be alright,” Harry said, as confidently as he could, and finished his orange juice. “Should I help Mellie get a picnic basket together?”

The afternoon was warm, but the pond provided a pleasant way to cool off after their short hike. James showed Harry the Maculate Moss growing along the tree roots, easy to identify by the unique spotted coloring that gave it its name. They gathered it into small glass bottles for Lily and tucked them into the picnic basket. Harry, after a bit of convincing, agreed to cool off in the pond with James. They didn’t find Gillyweed — Harry had only used it once, and the sample Dobby had gotten for him had probably come from Snape’s potion stores. What the plant looked like in the wild, Harry had no idea.

Still, they enjoyed a rather lazy afternoon in the water and on the shore. It was exactly the sort of day Harry would have been thrilled about when he was younger. Picnics by the pond, especially in summer, had been common ways to pass the time before Harry went to Hogwarts. He would spend hours chasing tadpoles or catching frogs while his parents waded with him or sat on the shore and watched. But as much fun as Harry had spending this afternoon with his father, he couldn’t ignore a nagging feeling in his stomach that he could be doing more, should be doing more, to fight against Voldemort.

As the afternoon began to cool, Harry sat in the sun to dry off, and James took out the food Harry and Mellie had packed for them. Harry realized just how hungry swimming had made him and ate eagerly.

“It is really nice to have Mellie back,” James said as he chewed on one of the sandwiches. “Her and Picksie have been so helpful.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Mellie cooks better than you and Mum do.”

“To be fair, she’s had a hundred years more practice.”

Harry laughed and watched as James used his wand to pull two glass bottles of lemonade from the picnic basket. As Harry caught the drink, he thought about how odd it was to see his father casually using magic. James often left his wand in strange places — forgot it on the table or in his coat pocket. It was usually up to Harry or Lily to remind him to carry it with him. This last year, however, James hadn’t needed the reminders. Harry supposed the reason James was more conscious of his wand didn’t need to be explained.

Harry laid down in the grass and closed his eyes, letting the summer sun warm him. It couldn’t chase out the ever-present fear that seemed to have lodged itself in the pit of Harry’s stomach, but it did enough.

“Sleep alright last night?” James asked.

“More or less,” Harry said, without opening his eyes.

“Your scar isn’t hurting, is it?”

“No. I promise.”

“Last night, did Dumbledore talk to you about… you know, the prophecy?”

“A bit.” Harry wondered if he should mention he’d be taking private lessons with Dumbledore in the fall. Dumbledore hadn’t said the lessons needed to be secret, but he had advised discretion. Harry looked up at his father. “He just asked how I felt about it, mostly. He didn’t know you and mum had told Remus the prophecy.”

“Oh. I suppose it never came up.” James pulled off his glasses and rubbed his good eye. “You know you can talk to your mum and I, right? This prophecy business is… well, your mother and I have been dealing with it for almost seventeen years now, and we haven’t always handled it well. I can’t imagine what you’re going through —”

“Dad, I’m alright.”

“If you need a Quidditch game to take your mind off things, or if —”

“I mean it, really. I’m fine.”

James didn’t look too sure. Harry was struck, for the very first time, how old his father looked. Maybe it was the eye-patch, or the strangeness of glasses over an eyepatch, but James suddenly looked... old. Harry had spent his entire life being told how much he looked like James, and he’d always imagined as he grew up, he would look more and more like his father, until they were almost impossible to tell apart. But he hadn’t fully considered that the gap in their ages would never truly close. James’s hair was beginning to turn white over his ears, and his laugh lines had set more deeply — or were they worry lines? Worries that Harry had never noticed, because James had worked so hard to hide them.

James laid down in the grass and Harry could no longer see his face. “I am sorry you have to go through this. Seems like something we should’ve taken care of years ago.”

Harry finished his sandwich and folded up the paper wrapping with a bit more care than necessary. His stomach was suddenly uneasy.

“I still remember,” James said, “being away at school and worrying I’d get bad news about my parents, because my dad was so outspoken for Muggles. I knew it was only a matter of time before he said the wrong thing to the wrong person or — or the Death Eaters came after them. I’m sure you’re worried, and it won’t be long before you’re back at school….” James sighed. “I’m sorry. This should’ve been over and done with by now.”

Harry sat up and frowned. “Dad — you can’t apologize because Voldemort came back.”

James’s grin was lazy. “Can’t I?” He pushed himself back up into a sitting position and stretched his arms over his head. “There’s a dozen and one things to be worried about, and I feel I ought to apologize for half of them. Maybe Dumbledore can apologize for the other half.”

“Voldemort was always going to come back,” Harry said. “No matter what you or Dumbledore did.” He didn’t say, “because I’m the only one who can face him,” because he didn’t think James would find those words any more comforting. Harry certainly didn’t take comfort in them.

“Doesn’t make me worry less.” James squinted at the setting sun. “Suppose we should get back before your mother and Sirius have to start worrying about us.”

They packed up their picnic and headed back to the house. While they walked, Harry turned his father’s words over. Growing up, Harry had always thought of his mother as the one who worried and his father as the one who didn’t. If this war had shown Harry anything about his parents, it was that his father worried just as much as his mother; James was just better at hiding it.

Harry had known for a long time that his mother and Sirius were a lot alike. They were both prone to violent outbursts if pressed, they liked to maintain control of a situation, and they did not tolerate insults. Both gave variations of terrible advice — Lily gave terrible advice because she sympathized with Harry too little; Sirius gave terrible advice because he sympathized too much — and both Lily and Sirius loved more openly and fiercely than anyone Harry had met.

He’d never quite thought that James and Remus were a lot alike, but he supposed there were similarities there. Remus had always been the calm who navigated the storm that could be Sirius, and James, similarly, had mediated between Lily and Sirius for years. As Harry wondered why he had never noticed how much his father could be like Remus, he realized the striking difference between them: Remus was willing to sit through Sirius and Lily’s rage or temper, wait until they burned out, but it was James who cut off their outbursts before they could happen.

Remus was the one who had talked with Harry about the prophecy. He’d let Harry be angry, let Harry throw blame on his parents, on Sirius, even on Remus. Remus was the one who offered a cleaning salve after a wound had been opened. James, though, offered midnight Quidditch games, encouraged Harry to use the Invisibility Cloak, and took Harry out to the pond for an afternoon swim. James offered things that never meant to hurt, things that were maybe not entirely safe, but were certainly fun. They became, in their own way, a sort of protection or haven, a place Harry could take his mind off of things. Maybe, if Harry had so much trouble putting his mind at ease before bed, Quidditch really was exactly what he needed, and James knew that. Harry resolved to be more attentive to his father’s offers of afternoon picnics or midnight Quidditch scrimmages.

When they arrived back at the house, Lily’s welcome wasn’t especially exuberant, but Harry could see the relief in her eyes.

“You’ve had a couple letters,” she said to Harry, and took the flasks of Maculate Moss from James.

Harry picked up the two parchment rolls from the kitchen table and easily recognized Ron and Hermione’s handwriting on the outside. He supposed they were sharing their O.W.L. results with him. A bit of guilt wormed its way into his stomach. Writing them about his O.W.L.s certainly hadn’t been his first thought.

James took the cauldron out from underneath the counter and Lily began to gather various potions supplies from the cabinets. Harry thought he would do better out of the way, so he headed upstairs. First, though, he cleaned up from his dip in the pond and ran into Neville in the hallway.

“Oh, Harry,” Neville said, “did you see the letters from Ron and Hermione?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“They wrote me, too,” Neville said with a smile. “Nice of them.”

“Oh. Yeah, that was.”

Neville asked Harry how the pond was, and Harry politely told him it was fine. He didn’t mention the conversation he and James had had about the war. His mind was on the letters Ron and Hermione had sent Neville. Harry supposed that, this last year, between the D.A, the Order, and Umbridge, Neville really had become part of Harry’s close circle of friends.

He supposed if he did decide to share the prophecy with his friends, that included Neville, regardless of Neville nearly being The Chosen One. But maybe he’d wait to tell Neville… it’d be easier if he could tell Neville, Ron, and Hermione at the same time, right?

Harry left Neville to the bathroom and sat down at his desk to read Ron and Hermione’s letters. He started with Ron’s.

Harry —

It’s already been a week of summer and so much has happened! Hermione and I got our O.W.L. results today. Guess who definitely won’t be taking Divination or History of Magic next year? Thank Merlin. I somehow managed an Exceeds Expectations in Potions? Good thing we need an Outstanding or Mum would probably make me take it and I’m not interested in another year with Snape.

Hermione, of course, is distraught because she got an “E” in Defense. And I guess she wants to take Potions. Merlin knows why. You’d think with nine Outstandings she could take any other class she wants.

Hope you did alright in everything! It’d be weird to be in a class without you, so we should compare grades and make sure we take the same classes next year.

I wish you were here this summer. It’s been busy. Dad’s got a promotion, for one. He’s got people reporting to him and his new job is about confiscating fake protection devices. People popping up now selling Disguise Necklaces or Vanishing Rings — Dad says it’s all rubbish and the stuff hurts people more than it’ll help. It sounded interesting at first, rounding up conmen, but I guess there’s a lot of paperwork, too, making sure people are properly certified to sell stuff. That part’s way less interesting.

Also, Bill’s engaged. Remember Fleur Delacour? Well, how could you forget her! Anyway, she’s staying here, getting to know Mum and the family and planning the wedding. Mum says they’re rushing into it, and she and Ginny are right fed up with her. Hermione, too, though I don’t know why. I think Mum wants to set Tonks up with Bill instead. She keeps inviting her over. But I think we’re related, distantly, so that might be weird.

Oh, yeah, Hermione’s staying with us this summer. She went home to her parents for a bit, but I think she wanted to stay involved with the Order and everything that’s going on. It’s nice having her around, but it’s weird that you aren’t here. Mum says you’re always welcome, but there’s a lot going on here, and I imagine after our field trip your parents want to keep you pretty close to home? Would they let you do something for your birthday? If you can get away for a bit, you should. I don’t know if Neville would want to, but I guess he could come too. Or we should all just make sure we go to Diagon Alley together to get school supplies and we can see Fred and George’s new shop.

Hope your summer’s going good so far. We’ll see you soon.

— Ron

Harry remembered the year he’d turned thirteen. While Ron’s family had been proud of Ron’s award for special services to the school, Harry’s had been far more furious that he’d sneaked away and nearly been eaten by Acromantula, only to do it again and nearly get eaten by a basilisk. Harry’d been grounded for most of the summer, and he supposed it was reasonable for Ron to suspect Harry was in trouble again for running off to London and nearly getting killed by Voldemort.

It was a bit of a surprise to know Hermione was staying with Ron, and Harry read her letter before replying to Ron’s. It was, unsurprisingly, far wordier than Ron’s. Hermione did like to talk.

Dear Harry,

Our O.W.L. results arrived today, so I expect yours did too. I got an “E” in Defense Against the Dark Arts, which I suppose should be expected, since we had such a horrid teacher last year, but I was really hoping to do your training proud. I’m sure you did at least as well.

I’m shocked I got an Outstanding in Ancient Runes, after my silly translation mistake with ‘ehwaz’ and ‘eihwaz.’ I did well in Potions, too. I hope you did alright, Harry. I know you want to be an Auror, and you’ll need an Outstanding to continue on. Perhaps Professor Snape would make an exception for you? Goodness, that sounds almost funny as I write it out. But maybe Professor McGonagall could make him make an exception for you. I’m sure Professor McGonagall will help you figure it out — not that you couldn’t have gotten an Outstanding. You certainly could have, I just thought, in case you didn’t, you shouldn’t worry too much.

I should tell you that I’ve decided to stay with Ron this summer. I visited my parents for a few days, but with everything that’s happened at the Ministry of Magic and You-Know-Who returning, I wanted to stay closer to the magical world. It’s so hard to be separated from all of it, wondering if everyone is alright and not knowing what’s going on. Mrs. Weasley has been kind enough to let me stay here at the Burrow, even though Fleur Delacour is already staying here, too. She and Bill Weasley got engaged, you see, so Fleur has been staying with the Weasleys. Even though she’s here, it’s certainly quieter with Fred and George moved out. No loud bangs in the middle of the night, though they stop by for meals fairly often. It’s nice to have a bit of laughter at dinner, which can get so somber now. Mrs. Weasley says they have a flat above their shop in Diagon Alley now. It sounds like their business is doing really well. I was really surprised to hear it, but I suppose everyone needs a bit of a laugh these days.

I imagine your parents don’t read The Daily Prophet anymore, after everything they said about you all these last two years, but it seems like every day there’s a new horrible event in the paper. The Dark Mark over someone’s house, or people dragged out of their shops on Diagon Alley. It’s terrifying. They reported just a few days ago that Ollivander’s shop was destroyed and Ollivander was missing. I hope he’s alright, but it’s a shame to think of all the new wizards who won’t be able to get wands from Ollivander’s. And I don’t know how we’ll get our school supplies safely! I’m sure we’ll manage, but it is hard not to worry about it. I do hope if we go to Diagon Alley that we’ll see you there. Or you’ll be able to stop by some time this summer. I’m sure Mrs. Weasley would be happy to have you visit, though I’m not sure you would want to, with Fleur Delacour popping in and out of rooms stunning Ron into a stupor every time. Ginny’s taken to calling her Phlegm, which I suppose isn’t very nice but it is a bit funny.

I hope your summer’s going well and your family is alright. It’ll be nice to go back to school, I think, to do something normal in the midst of everything. And of course it’ll be good to see you again. Mr. Weasley mentioned that the Aurors are keeping such odd hours these days that Neville is staying with you. I hope he did just as well on his Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. You really were an excellent teacher, Harry. I expect we’ll have a better teacher this year, and we’ll be terribly busy with N.E.W.T. classes, but otherwise, it really would have been nice to keep the D.A. going. Of course, I’m thrilled Umbridge won’t be returning, but I will miss our meetings.

Hopefully Ron and I can see you in Diagon Alley, or perhaps for your birthday? Do write soon.

Love, Hermione

Harry, like Hermione, would not miss Umbridge. He might miss D.A. meetings, but he wasn’t sure he would have the time with N.E.W.T. classes. Besides, maybe Professor Slughorn wouldn’t turn out to be such a bad Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Harry and his peers could actually learn something. His parents certainly hadn’t seemed too bothered about Slughorn, not the way they had been upset with Dumbledore’s choice of Lockhart or Umbridge.

He did appreciate Hermione’s compliment to his own teaching. It was kind of her to think of him, but he was sure a lot of his friends’ success in the subject had just as much to do with Lily, Remus, and Moody teaching Defense as it did Harry.

Harry rummaged through his trunk for his quill and parchment to write a reply. He appreciated Ron’s offer of a visit, but Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to leave his parents for any great length of time, and he didn’t want to impose on Mrs. Weasley if she was already overwhelmed with Fleur visiting them. Harry wouldn’t mind seeing Fleur, though. He hadn’t seen her since the Triwizard Tournament. She may have Veela ancestry that could leave those who talked to her in a daze, but Harry knew her as an excellent competitor in the Triwizard Tournament. She’d held her own against the dragon, probably better than any of them had. She was also fond of Harry for completing the Second Task and saving her little sister when she could not.

Perhaps he’d see Fleur in Diagon Alley when their book lists came, or she’d visit for his birthday. Surely his parents would have people over for his birthday, and the Weasley’s would come. Maybe even others from the Order, like the Diggorys or Tonks or Moody — or Remus. As absent as Remus had been this summer, surely Remus would come home for Harry’s birthday.

Harry found his ink bottle at the bottom of his trunk, dried up and empty. He set the empty bottle down on his desk and headed downstairs to find ink. He supposed while he was downstairs he could ask his parents about visiting Ron, or the possibility of Ron and Hermione visiting them.

Harry searched for ink in the dining room first. He remembered his mother had been writing a letter there last night, and it wasn’t unusual for parchment, quills, and ink to get hastily put away in the drawers of the china cabinet.

Of course, that was before Picksie and Mellie had returned to the house. Instead of the disorganized drawer Harry expected, he found stacks of letters neatly pressed, organized by date. The top layer was a series of letters from Scrimgeour, all of which Harry had read. He saw a few letters from his Aunt Petunia, and some over the years from Dumbledore and other friends in the Order, but found no blank parchment nor quills nor ink. Either Picksie or Mellie had reorganized things. If there was a proper place quills and ink were kept, Harry didn’t know about it.

He closed the drawer and headed into the kitchen. “Mum — Dad —” He stopped when James held up a finger.

Lily was counting her stirs in the cauldron, face deep in concentration. It was the sort of concentration Harry had never really been able to muster in a Potions class. When she was done, she tapped the brim of the cauldron and the potion changed from turquoise to perfectly clear. James pulled an empty jar from the cabinet and held it steady while Lily poured the potion into the jar. It wasn’t until the jar was full and sealed that Lily’s shoulders relaxed and she turned to Harry.

“Sorry, Harry. What did you need?”

James tore a small sheet of parchment and used his wand to stick the scrap onto the jar.

“Ink,” Harry said. “To write Ron and Hermione back.”

James, jar in hand, looked around the kitchen. “We need ink to label these antidotes. Lils, what did you do with it last night?”

Lily frowned. “I don’t think I did anything with it, between Dumbledore arriving and the toadstools — I left it on the dining room table.”

“So where would Picksie and Mellie put it?” Harry asked.

James shrugged and waved his wand. “Accio Ink.”

As if it were the result of the Summoning Charm, the fireplace burned with green flames and someone stepped into the kitchen. Lily whipped her wand at the fireplace as the ink bottle flew into the kitchen and struck James in the chest, dumping ink all over his clothes. Harry fumbled in his pockets for his wand as a second person stepped out of the fireplace.

Before Harry could manage a proper dueling stance, he realized the people walking into their kitchen were not strangers at all.

“Tonks — Cedric — what are you —”

But James stepped in front of Harry, wand leveled at the two newcomers. “Just a moment. We need to be sure they are who they appear to be.”

Tonks rolled her eyes and put her hands up in a show of innocence. “You don’t think two Death Eaters would come waltzing into your house without our wands already drawn?”

James did not look amused. “Tonks, all you have to do is change your hair color and we’ll know it’s you. As for Cedric — what color was the wrapping on your birthday gift last year, from your parents?”

Cedric blinked. “The one Mrs. Potter gave to me? Gold, I think?”

Lily nodded. “Good. And Tonks?”

Harry waited for her brown hair to turn pink or purple, or perhaps she could shift her nose into a more beak-like appearance, but she did not. Today she looked, Harry realized, unusually like Sirius. Her eyes were grey instead of their warm brown, and her face was made of harsher angles, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw, rather than the soft, round face, he had come to know her with. She was still definitely Tonks, but today she looked more like a Black.

Tonks mumbled something under her breath. Her cheeks flushed, and Harry didn’t think that was from her Metamorphmagus abilities.

“What was that?” Lily asked.

“I said I can’t.” Tonks bit down on the inside of her cheek. “Sirius told you I was coming, didn’t he?”

“He did.” Lily glanced at James. Both seemed unsure if they should believe this really was Tonks.

“We came from Headquarters,” Cedric said, “if that helps. She couldn’t be in on the secret unless Dumbledore told her.”

“The Fidelius Charm isn’t impervious to traitors,” James said. “What —”

“Oh — there you all are.”

Harry turned and saw Sirius standing in the kitchen doorway. He noticed his parents didn’t take their eyes off of Cedric and Tonks.

“Tonks, you didn’t mention you were bringing Cedric,” Sirius said.

“Better to travel in pairs,” Tonks said. “Tell James and Lily it’s me, would you? What do you call my mum?”

Sirius grinned. “Drommie. What do you call my mum?”

“Bitch.”

As Tonks and Sirius laughed, James frowned. “Hey — those are our predetermined questions. Sirius, you can’t make the same joke with everyone.”

“Sure I can. Punchline makes me laugh every time. Come off it, I’m sure this is really Tonks. Do you think Death Eaters would waltz in here without their wands drawn?”

“Thank you,” Tonks said.

James lowered his wand but Lily wasn’t convinced.

“What did you come here to discuss with Sirius?” Lily asked.

“Nothing,” Tonks said in a way that sounded like it meant everything. It was the same way Sirius had said “Nothing,” when Harry had asked what he and Remus were arguing about.

“This is Tonks alright,” Sirius said, his smile gone. “Mind if we use the parlor?”

Lily still seemed unsure, but she lowered her wand.

“After we clean this up,” James gestured to the cauldron and potions ingredients scattered on the counter, “I’m going to help Picksie and Mellie with supper. Will you two be joining us?”

Cedric looked to Tonks and Tonks looked to him. “Sure,” Cedric said, as Tonks said, “Our parents’ll probably worry —”

“Stay,” James said. “Whatever you and Sirius have to talk about would be best followed by a good meal, I imagine.”

When Tonks didn’t argue, Sirius motioned for her to follow him into the parlor.

“What was that about?” Harry asked, as Lily started putting away potion supplies.

“Which part?” James asked. “Sirius’s joke about his mum, that Tonks can’t use her abilities, or the secret conversation she and Sirius are probably having about Remus?”

Harry hadn’t imagined this had anything to do with Remus, of all things, and the way James said it so matter-of-factly caught Harry off guard. “I meant why you didn’t believe her — you didn’t do any of that with Dumbledore last night. And how do you know they’re talking about Remus? Is it about why Remus didn’t come home last weekend?”

“Dumbledore was here?” asked Cedric.

Lily stacked jars into their potions cabinet. “We didn’t do any of that with Dumbledore last night because we had our hands full of Leaping Toadstools and we were caught a bit off guard.”

“If he’d been there to kill us he’d have done it much quicker.” James pointed his wand at his chest and Vanished the ink stain off of his robes. “Besides, if Death Eaters were impersonating Dumbledore, there’d be bigger problems to worry about. Impersonating a couple Aurors, though? That’s not too hard. No offense, Cedric.”

Cedric shook his head. “None taken. I can see how Tonks not using her abilities would be suspicious.”

“Is she alright?” Lily asked. “I’ve never seen her looking so… well, quiet.”

“Remus is being his usual self, from what I gather,” James said. “I only know what Sirius’s told me. Remus won’t talk to me about it.” He sounded only a little bitter. James knelt down and picked the empty ink bottle up from the kitchen floor. “Sorry, Harry, guess we’ll have to pick up more ink when we go to Diagon Alley. Might be able to pick some berries for ink. Not the best, but it works in a pinch.”

“Why don’t you and Cedric go pick some?” Lily suggested. “James and I will help the elves with supper. I’m sure Neville will want to write home about his O.W.L.s, so we’ll need a bit on hand.”

Harry wasn’t sure if a walk to the mulberry tree was how Cedric wanted to spend his evening, but Cedric was already shrugging off his cloak and rolling up his sleeves.

“I could use a walk in the garden, after all day in London,” he said.

Harry grabbed a pair of pails they used for harvesting and took them to the pump on the side of the house. Rinsing before gathering was an important habit his parents had instilled him with, especially since once a month they harvested wolfsbane, and it could easily contaminate. Cedric followed suit, and used Aguamenti to clean two more pails.

“How is being an Auror?” Harry asked.

Cedric shrugged. “Busy. I’m not technically an Auror yet, you know.”

“Yeah, you said Kingsley’s training you?”

“They reassigned me to Williamson. He’s alright. Knows his stuff. Hard that he’s not in the Order, but I am learning a lot. And working with Tonks and the Longbottoms is good. Nice to know there’s people who have your back.”

Harry led Cedric down a path around the south side of the house and towards a grove of trees. “Do you know what’s going on with Tonks? Is she really alright?”

Cedric shrugged. “Can’t say. She’s definitely been down this summer, but most of us at the office just assume it’s because of the war and the stress of Bellatrix Lestrange getting away. I didn’t even consider it might have anything to do with Lupin until your dad said so.”

Adding Tonks into the fight between Sirius and Remus only made things more complicated to Harry. He had so many questions, but he didn’t think Cedric would have the answers.

“Did you say Dumbledore stopped by last night?” Cedric asked.

“Oh — yeah. It was just an errand for Hogwarts.”

Cedric frowned. “I thought… well, I thought if anyone knew what that prophecy said, it would be Dumbledore. I guess it really is gone forever.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say, but he was spared by a strong breeze, filled with the scent of the grove, fruits and blossoms mixed together in the warm July air.

“Is that… oranges?” Cedric asked. “You can grow oranges in this climate?”

Harry shrugged. “We grow a lot of stuff. I don’t know all the charms for them yet, but Dad said it’s kind of like a magical greenhouse without being a real greenhouse.” He wrinkled his nose and sniffed the air again. “Smells like the coffee and jasmine are flowering, too.”

Cedric shook his head. “What don’t you grow here?”

Harry led Cedric into the small grove of trees and the temperature, instead of cooling in the shade, seemed to grow warmer and stickier, like a greenhouse would, but there were no glass paneled walls enclosing them. They passed orange trees with a bit of fruit still on the branches; most of it had been harvested already. The lemon were similarly picked over, but the limes were blossoming. On the other side of the grove, coffee, jasmine, and elder grew. As they walked, the air grew cooler, more like what they would expect of a shady grove, and the air less humid. At the end of the grove, they reached the mulberry tree.

Harry pulled one of the branches down to chest-level, to make it easier to pick the berries off of it. Mulberries were fairly easy to pick, but they made his hands purple with their juice.

“Scrimgeour asked me to talk to you,” Cedric said suddenly.

“What?” Harry let go of his branch in surprise. It whipped up into the tree and rustled against the other branches.

“Tonks asked for leave tonight, said she was going to talk to Sirius about some tips she’d gotten on Regulus Black — those of us in the Order kind of use him as an excuse when we need to get out of Ministry work, but anyway — Scrimgeour told me to go with her, figured you might be nearby, wanted me to convince you to help out the Ministry.”

“So you think I should?”

Cedric laughed and shook his head. He reached up for a branch and started dropping berries into one of his buckets. “I think Scrimgeour is an excellent Auror and an excellent politician. He knows he has a tough job and he knows that people will like him more if he looks like he’s doing everything he can. He also knows people would like to see your face in the Ministry of Magic, more than they like seeing mine. And I think I only have the job I have because I’m friends with you.”

Harry frowned at the mulberry branch like it was the one who had offended him rather than Scrimgeour. “So Scrimgeour doesn’t want you or me to fight, really?”

“I doubt he would want to put someone who had barely finished their O.W.L.s on the front lines. Even I don’t see a lot of action, unless it’s public.”

The scars on the back of Harry’s hand burned. He knew Cedric had the same scars on the back of his hand, and it only made his anger stronger. “How can you be okay with that? The Ministry is using you like a — I don’t know, like a prop. If I just walked in and said hello once a week that would be a lie. And we both know how the Ministry feels about those who tell lies.”

Cedric smiled, and Harry felt his cheeks flush more.

“I don’t think it’s funny —”

“No, it’s not funny,” but Cedric laughed. “It’s only — well, this is about what I expected you to say. You didn’t like playing nice with Umbridge, and I didn’t think you’d play nice with Scrimgeour. I wasn’t even going to bring any of this up, because I didn’t think your answer would change just because I asked.”

That didn’t make Harry feel better.

“What about you? You’re still playing nice? After everything Umbridge and Fudge did?”

“I became an Auror so I could fight, so I could learn more and be of better use to the Order. Because if I’m going to face Voldemort again, I’m going to be more prepared. For now, the Ministry is the best place to do that.”

Harry’s anger was swallowed by the half-dissected frog that suddenly crawled its way up his throat. The thought of Cedric facing Voldemort, of dying at Voldemort’s hands, was too easily conjured. Cedric shouldn’t face Voldemort again — no one could, except Harry.

After everything Cedric had already faced — nearly dying in the graveyard, being tortured by Voldemort and the Death Eaters, standing up to Umbridge for Harry — he deserved to know what Harry was up against. If there was anyone Harry could tell the prophecy to, perhaps even more than Neville, Ron, and Hermione, it should be Cedric.

But as he had so many times today, Harry hesitated, the prophecy on the tip of his tongue. Cedric had said he’d stopped by because Scrimgeour had asked. It was possible he would take the prophecy straight back to Ministry, that Cedric would confirm for the Wizarding World what they already suspected: that Harry was indeed The Chosen One.

No, Cedric was in the Order, Harry reminded himself. Cedric was trustworthy. Remus and Sirius had been driven apart during the first war by suspicion, and was Harry really going to let himself lose his friendship with Cedric in that same way?

Dumbledore had asked Harry to lean on others for bravery. Cedric had encouraged Harry over the last year, even when they’d fought, and if anyone could help Harry face this prophecy, it would be Cedric.

“Dumbledore didn’t tell me the prophecy that got destroyed,” Harry said. “My mum did.”

Cedric paused, stunned by this change in topic, then resumed filling his bucket of mulberries without a word, waiting for Harry to say what Harry wanted to say. With a deep breath, Harry kept his eyes on the berries and shared the prophecy with Cedric. He was able to get out the beginning, about a boy born at the end of July to those who had thrice defied the Dark Lord, fairly easily. He told Cedric that it was the prophecy that had driven his parents into hiding, that his scar was part of the mark, and that the final lines — “Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives” — had a fairly clear meaning.

Throughout it all, Cedric was silent. Even when Harry had finished, Cedric said nothing. Harry didn’t know what he expected Cedric to say, but he’d thought Cedric might have some sort of comment. He counted thirteen mulberries before Cedric sat down in the dirt and buried his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Cedric said. He looked up, grey eyes as weary as they had been last summer, when Cedric had stumbled into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, eyes rimmed with dark circles and a face worn with the fear of someone who had faced death and barely survived. Harry felt guilt tighten in his gut, like this exhaustion was somehow his fault.

“What are you sorry for?” Harry asked, and crouched next to Cedric. “I’m the one who —”

“But that’s it, isn’t it? You’re the one. You’re actually The Chosen One. I thought….” Cedric shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just — you saved me in the graveyard. You saved me again in the Department of Mysteries, and I guess I’d sort of hoped I could be the one to save you from Voldemort next time. Return the favor for once.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to laugh. “You saved me in the graveyard, remember? Voldemort would have killed me before I had a chance to run if you hadn’t been there. And even in the Department of Mysteries — the Order saved us. I’m the reason we were there in the first place. You even took the fall for our interview with Rita Skeeter and got detention with Umbridge — you’ve done plenty.”

Cedric ran a hand over his face as if he might wipe away his worry. It didn’t seem to work. “Can you promise me one thing?”

Harry thought of the promises he’d made and broken over the years. Promises to stay out of danger, promises not to keep secrets, not to lie.

“Sure,” he said.

“Promise you won’t do it alone. If I can be there, I want to fight.”

“No,” Harry said, before Cedric had even finished talking. “No — if it’s down to me or Voldemort I can’t let anyone else —”

“I’m not asking, Harry. The prophecy only says you have to face Voldemort. It doesn’t say you can’t have help.”

“Prophecy or not, enough people have risked their lives for me —”

“It’s not about you, Harry. Do you think I joined the Ministry for you? I gave up a career in Magical Beasts for you? I joined the Order because of you? This is so much bigger than you, Harry. It’s about everything.” Cedric gestured vaguely at the orchard around them. “Our entire world depends on defeating Voldemort. Maybe it’ll come down to you and him, but you’d be stupid to think that means you should go alone and face him.”

Harry wanted to argue with Cedric. He was so used to arguing with his parents, who focused so much of their effort on protecting him. The way James and Lily talked about the war, it really felt like it did center on Harry, and he supposed, for his parents, maybe it all did. But for someone like Cedric, for people like Neville, Ron, and Hermione, the war meant a lot more.

“Okay,” Harry said. “I’ll — I don’t know — I’ll write you if I feel like I’m about to duel Voldemort and you can join me as soon as you get the owl.”

Cedric laughed. It was a real, genuine laugh, one that seemed to force its way out from his gut. “Just don’t be reckless about it. Like trying to go to the Ministry by yourself.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Harry stood and held a hand out to help Cedric stand. Cedric took it.

They walked back to the house with their mostly full buckets of mulberries. Harry figured it would be enough, at least until they went to Diagon Alley for school supplies. If Scrimgeour was going to keep sending letters asking for Harry’s help, he was going to have to accept the replies in berry ink.

When they got back to the house, they were told to put the buckets aside and set the dining room table. It was almost like being back in Grimmauld Place, helping prepare dinner for the Order. Mellie was as grumpy as Kreacher, though less rude, and James was as quick to delegate tasks as Molly Weasley. Picksie squeaked as Cedric got the china out of the cabinet and used her own wandless magic to carefully place the dishes at each setting. Neville came downstairs to help, and between the seven of them, supper was ready fairly quickly. As James helped Picksie and Mellie put the food out, Harry was given the task of alerting Sirius and Tonks.

Harry approached the parlor door and told himself not to eavesdrop. He shouldn’t be rude; just because he very much wanted to understand what was wrong between Remus and Sirius did not mean he should listen in on what Sirius and Tonks were privately discussing.

“No, it doesn’t,” Tonks said in a raised voice, just as Harry lifted his hand to knock. “It doesn’t make it better knowing I didn’t do anything wrong — it would make it better if I could do something to fix it!”

Harry hesitated. Was it alright to interrupt now? It sounded important.

“You can’t fix him.” Sirius sounded exhausted, the way James sounded each time Lily brought up adding electricity to the house. It was the exhaustion of a fight had time and time again. “Believe me, I’ve tried to get him to see it right — I’ve known him twenty-five years, and the only way he’ll see sense is if he gets there himself.”

Tonks’ mumbled response was lost to Harry, but Sirius said, “Sure, he has every right to say no, for whatever reason he likes, but he’s also being a git. Won’t come home, won’t talk to me — if he doesn’t show for Harry’s birthday, James and I will both chase him down and talk sense into him.”

Harry’s stomach did a somersault. It was obvious they were talking about Remus, but it didn’t give Harry any insight into why Remus was being so distant and stubborn. Sirius and Tonks’s conversation turned quieter, and stayed muffled behind the door. Harry took a deep breath, hoped that meant things had calmed down, and knocked.

“Supper’s about ready,” he said, and waited just long enough to hear Sirius say, “Thanks, we’ll be right there,” before heading back to the dining room, ears still burning and stomach still uneasy.

Whatever Remus was going through, Harry wanted to be supportive. But the idea of Remus being so upset with Sirius that he wouldn’t stop by for Harry’s birthday made Harry sick to his stomach. Remus had always lamented when the full moon forced him to miss Harry’s birthday and to miss Harry’s birthday this year simply because of a fight with Sirius sounded so horribly unlike Remus. Something had to be seriously wrong.

“Alright, Snitch?” James asked as he sat a large tray of baked squash down on the table.

“Yeah, fine.” Harry grabbed a pitcher of water off of the table and started filling water glasses. He wasn’t sure how to explain his worry about Remus, and besides, his father was already worried about Remus. They all were. He did wonder, briefly, if he could ask James or Sirius to explain to him, plainly, what the fight between Remus and Sirius was all about. James had promised no more secrets, but maybe right before dinner with Cedric and Tonks and Neville still here was not the right time to ask.

The meal itself was not especially somber, but it was quieter than most meals with so many people. Part of it was because of the war: so much of the conversation was dominated by work the Aurors were doing or missions the Order was on. Part of it was because Neville asked Tonks if she could do a silly face like she used to at Order dinners and she had to awkwardly tell him she couldn’t. The third part, at least the third part that Harry noticed, was because of Remus’s absence. It was so strange to Harry to have all of his family there and not Remus. It had been small at first, but now, two weeks into the summer and one full moon passed, the gap Remus left had expanded with each meal, like ivy left untended.

Unfortunately, as summer went on, meals did not get better. Though the occasional Order member would drop by, and the Longbottoms came by once or twice a week, everyone seemed to bring bad news. Emmeline Vance, who had been missing for weeks, finally turned up half-out of her mind, and there were new attacks on Muggles, hastily covered up by the Ministry — it seemed to Harry that things were getting worse, not better, and he wondered how much longer the Ministry and the Order could keep fighting Voldemort. And through it all, the Potters received no word from Remus.

Late into the summer, Frank and Alice stopped over for dinner, bearing news that Florean Fortescue, who had run a small ice cream shop in Diagon Alley, had been dragged out of his shop by Death Eaters. It had put a damper on the evening, certainly, and when they mentioned that Remus had just stopped by their home for dinner, Sirius lost his temper.

He threw down his fork. It clattered against the china so loudly that both Neville and James jumped. As Sirius stood he said, “That’s it. The full moon’s tomorrow, and Harry’s birthday right after, and I’m dragging him back here for all of it. He doesn’t have to talk to me, but I’m not letting him worry us like this.”

James set his fork down much more gently. “Maybe he needs to spend the full moon with his new friends. We can go get him the day after.”

Frank Longbottom cleared his throat. “Actually — we know for certain that Lupin plans to be alone tomorrow.”

“It’s part of why we made sure to see you tonight,” Alice added. “Neville wrote us and said you were all worried about Remus, so when he was visiting us we pressed him a bit. Maybe we lied a little and said Dumbledore asked us to get a few details out of him —” She turned red and took a sip of her wine. “— but he told us the werewolves he’s met don’t trust him just yet. He isn’t able to spend the full moon with them. He’d said he was considering the Shrieking Shack for tomorrow night —”

Sirius left, slamming the kitchen door behind him.

Alice flinched, but continued talking. “— and he asked us if we’d take word to Dumbledore about it. We figured we’d better come to you. You know him best, afterall, and it seemed like — well, it seems like you were right to be worried about him, though I don’t know what’s wrong, exactly.”

James stood with a swear. “We’ll find him. Lily, could you make sure everything’s ready?”

Lily seemed to pale, but she nodded, and James ran after Sirius.

“Do you know what’s got into him?” Alice asked. “Why he won’t come back, or ask anyone else in the Order for help?”

Lily downed her wine glass. “I know he and Sirius fought. I know Remus must realize he’s the one in the wrong, or he wouldn’t be avoiding James and I as well.”

Frank hummed thoughtfully as he reached for a second helping of potatoes. “Just because he knows you and James will take Sirius’s side in whatever their fight was doesn’t mean he’s in the wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only that I have mediated many fights between my wife and my mother to know the behavior of someone feels unsupported, regardless of who is right or wrong.”

Alice stuck her tongue out at Frank. “One time! One time I threatened to pack up and leave. I didn’t even mean it.”

“I know,” said Frank, “but I also know that Lupin and Sirius are far more dramatic than you and my mother. And that says quite a lot.”

Harry and Neville laughed, but Lily and Alice didn’t. Lily was distracted, eyes on her empty wine glass.

“Could I ask you a favor?” Her voice was distant, like it was coming from whatever other world she was staring into.

“Whatever you need, love,” said Alice.

“I know you’re both busy but could I ask you to take Harry back to your house? Just for the next two or three nights?”

“No,” Harry said quickly. “I’m not going anywhere, not if Remus is coming here.”

Lily’s temper flashed in her green eyes. “Remus will be distraught — He’ll be angry at Sirius, at your father, probably at me, too, and all of that is going to carry over into the full moon. I won’t have you in this house for that.”

“I was here after the Quidditch World Cup,” Harry shot back. “I was helpful after the Cup. And I know way more about potions and healing magic now than I did then. I’m not going anywhere.”

Before Lily could continue the argument, Neville said, “I want to be helpful, too.”

“Neville,” Alice said in a soft voice, “That’s very admirable of you, but we were planning to take you home tonight anyway.”

“What? Why?”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “It’s your birthday tomorrow. Your gran’s quite insistent you come home. The whole family’s expecting you.”

“Even Uncle Algie?”

“Arrived this morning. Aunt Nellie’ll be there tonight, and there’s about four more aunts and uncles arriving first thing tomorrow. You know how important your birthday is to the family.”

“But after my birthday, I can come back?” Neville asked.

Alice and Frank looked Lily.

“Of course,” Lily said, “just give Remus a few days to recover, and you and Harry can come back and —”

“I’m not leaving,” Harry interrupted. He folded his arms over his chest and sank into his seat, as if he could plant himself in the house. “You always do this — something bad happens, so you send me off to Sirius’s, or make me stay with Ron, or leave me here with Picksie and Mellie while you and dad are actually out there fighting — I’m not leaving just because it’s going to be a hard full moon for Uncle Remus. Not when I can help.”

Harry felt a little glad that James had gone with Sirius. If his father had been the one to ask Harry to stay with the Longbottoms, Harry might have done it. Even though Harry had no interest in going to Neville’s and meeting all of Neville’s strange, extended family, Harry would have taken one look at James’s eyepatch and glumly agreed to anything James asked. But Harry was far too familiar with Lily’s temper to back down. Their anger was too well-matched these days. Lily had always said she wanted Harry to be the best of her and James, so of course this was how it had happened. Harry had inherited her fury, just as much as he’d inherited her courage and kindness.

Lily’s nails clicked against the table as she searched for an argument that would send Harry off with the Longbottoms. Finally, she admitted defeat. “I guess with James gone, I’ll need help preparing potions.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “And I’ll have a lot to do on the house.”

As soon as dinner was finished, they set to work. A morose Neville packed up his trunk and went home with his parents, and Harry picked a dozen magical herbs with Picksie while Lily went from room to room, casting Strengthening Spells on the windows and doors. It felt a little like she was preparing the house for an assault, which Harry supposed was not entirely inaccurate. He’d read enough about werewolves to know they were drawn to the scent of humans. If Remus was going to spend the full moon out on their property, the wolf might try to get into the house.

When Harry and Picksie had picked all the herbs Lily requested, Harry went to help Mellie. Bedding was stripped from every room and thoroughly washed. The mattresses were dragged outside and washed as well, which Harry thought odd until the breeze blew all the floral smells of the garden through the yard and Harry understood — they were removing as much human scent from the home as they could.

He glanced up at the moon overhead. It looked full already, but Harry knew the day before and after the true full moon looked similar. The moon was also especially large, and Harry wondered if it was closer to the earth for this cycle. Remus’s aches were probably pretty bad tonight, and if Remus was already upset because of his fight with Sirius, it would be a terrible full moon indeed.

Harry finished hanging the linens with Mellie and got sent inside to see what he could help Lily with. She had just finished putting the last of the herbs into jars and labeling them. She looked at Harry with a tired smile. “Well, we should get some sleep. We can take care of the potions in the morning, and tomorrow night will be quite long.”

Harry thought he might be too worried to sleep, but he knew Lily was right. “Where will we be tomorrow?”

“I haven’t decided.” Lily gnawed on her lip as she started stacking jars into their cabinet of potions ingredients. “It feels a bit short notice to ask Molly to put us up, and I don’t want to make a fuss at Headquarters. I thought about the cottage in Hogsmeade, but it’s not nearly so well protected as our home. I thought about the Leaky Cauldron, but that seems unsafe, especially after what Frank told us about Florean Fortescue —”

“But wouldn’t the Burrow or Headquarters be safest? I’m sure Mrs. Weasley would understand. Regulus Black would understand, too. Actually, anyone at Headquarters would understand. They all care about Remus and want him to be safe tomorrow. That’s why Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom took all the trouble they did. It’s alright to ask other people for help, even if it’s for Remus. Everyone in the Order understands.”

Lily laughed softly, but when she turned, her smile was strangely sad. “When did you turn into your father?”

Harry’s ears grew warm. “I dunno — Dumbledore’s the one who told it to me, not Dad.”

“James was the one who told me, on the last day of our fifth year, that I didn’t have to struggle alone, just because I thought no one would understand what I was going through as a Muggle-born.” She laughed. “Actually, him encouraging me to reach out to others for help is what sent me on a date with Benjy Fenwick. I don’t think he was too happy about it….” Lily’s green eyes glistened like she was on the edge of tears. But as soon as Harry noticed them, she’d wiped them away.

“Bed, really. We should try and rest.”

As Harry had imagined, it wasn’t easy. He kept his bedroom window open for Hedwig to use to hunt, but now Harry was using it, listening for any sound of James and Sirius returning with Remus. It was possible they would Floo back, but as they’d Apparated away, he assumed they’d Apparate back.

Harry knew he had to have fallen asleep, because sunrise came way too soon, but Harry also did not feel rested. Still, he thought lying in his bed a useless way to continue the morning, so he trooped downstairs for breakfast and found Lily already sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. Mellie was putting the finishing touches on her usual large breakfast.

Apart from the cup of coffee, Harry could see in her eyes that Lily had hardly slept. They’d both passed the night awake, worried.

“Harry,” Lily said as he sat down, “if you ever become a werewolf or a vampire or a hag, promise me you won’t worry your father and I like this.”

“Sure, Mum.” Harry thanked Picksie for the breakfast as she set the plates in front of them.

Mellie set two glasses of fresh-squeezed orange juice on the table and said, “And what is we house-elves to do while there’s a werewolf running up and down the garden, tearing up the ivy and vegetables?”

Lily looked down at Mellie. “Didn’t James used to do this with Remus long before we were married? Before Harry and I came along?”

“They is only using the house once or twice, when Mister and Mistress Potter is out. Picksie and Mellie is with Mister and Mistress Potter and is only cleaning up the boys’ mess when the Potters is coming home.”

“Then I suppose you can stay with Harry and I at Headquarters. Maybe you’ll be a good influence on Kreacher.”

“Hmph. Mellie knows Kreacher and Kreacher’s lying, filthy masters. Yes, Mellie will be an excellent influence on Kreacher.”

Harry and Lily exchanged a worried glance, but short of asking James or Sirius for help, there was little they could do about Mellie.

Lily finished her breakfast and reluctantly took the Floo Network to Grimmauld Place to talk to Regulus. She worried about leaving Harry alone at the house, but Harry promised her he would be alright and besides, she wouldn’t be gone long. While she was gone, Harry started brewing some of the Potions they would need, in case the night didn’t go as well as they all hoped.

He got out his mother’s recipe book — Picksie had to help him by Levitating it down from the top of the cupboard — and flipped through it until he found “The Essence of Dittany.” It wasn’t an especially complex potion, as there were few ingredients, but it required careful preparation, and adding silver changed the recipe slightly. He found his mother’s notes in the margins of the book. Sometimes she disagreed with the instructions. In particular, the author of the book insisted Dittany be whole when added to the cauldron, since it was meant to close wounds it should not be cut itself. Lily had crossed it out, added some colorful language about what she thought of the author’s intelligence, and wrote, “chopped.” At the end of the recipe were the instructions for adding silver. Harry followed them with incredible care.

It wasn’t nearly as stressful as he was used to Potions being. His mother’s notes helped, certainly, and brewing in the warmth of his own kitchen without Snape’s glare or the stress of an examination looming over him helped. The stress of knowing that if he got it wrong someone could get hurt and die was a very different sort of stress, and actually helped Harry to focus.

Lily came back through the fireplace as Harry was getting out a funnel so he could pour the few ounces of liquid left in cauldron into a tiny vial.

“Oh, good,” Harry said. “I was hoping you’d be able to help me pour steady. The cauldron is kind of heavy, and I’m worried I’ll tip over the vial.”

Lily frowned. “Harry, at least pretend to be suspicious — I could be anyone.”

Harry, who was halfway into a cupboard beneath the sink, searching for an appropriately sized funnel, thought he would probably not have been able to get to his wand if Voldemort himself had strolled into the house.

“Sure, Mum — er, when’s my birthday?”

“Anyone could know that.”

Harry pulled out the right funnel and pulled himself out of the cupboard. “Alright, then, the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, right? If you weren’t in the Order, I couldn’t say that. I’m not a Secret Keeper.”

“I could be a traitor in the Order, pretending to be your mum!”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “How long are you going to make me interrogate you? Or can we finish this dittany?”

“You’re worse than your father,” she grumbled, but set about helping Harry finish the potion.

She questioned him about the recipe and its instructions, and praised him for doing so well and being so careful. It made Harry wish Lily would be his Potions teacher. She’d do so much better than Snape. But he also knew that she had tried teaching once, and it had been hard for her and his father to be apart for so long. He couldn’t imagine them having to be apart in the middle of the war. Maybe Lily should teach Potions and James could teach Defense, and everyone would be happy.

Harry had just put the stopper on the essence of dittany when a gentle chime flitted through the house, moving from room to room as if it were carried by an invisible spectre. Lily and Harry each felt the tension leave their shoulders. Their relief, however, was short-lived.

A silver Irish Wolfhound whipped across the yard and through the kitchen window. “James’s splinched,” Sirius’s voice said. “We’re in the rose garden.”

“Picksie —” Lily said, but the petite house-elf had already vanished with a crack.

Harry yanked the cork stopper out just as Picksie reappeared with James, Sirius, and Remus. The first thing Harry saw was red as blood spilled out of James’s leg. His stomach turned, but he was able to ignore his uneasiness. He knelt by his father and steadily dripped the dittany over the open wound, just as he had for Sirius two years ago, after Sirius had spent the full moon locked in the attic with Remus.

As the wound steamed and closed, Lily helped James into a chair. James grunted his gratitude, and Lily looked up at Sirius and Remus for answers.

Sirius was disheveled, certainly, with a fresh red and purple bruise spread across his cheek, but otherwise he appeared fine. It was Remus who looked far worse than Harry had ever seen him.

His clothes were worn, seams beginning to tear. He looked thin, unusually gaunt in the face, even with the full moon less than a day away. Harry wondered if Remus was eating well, or if his occasional meals with other members of the Order were all he was getting. His hair seemed paler somehow, like it hadn’t decided if it was graying or not. All of him, really, seemed washed out. Harry had seen Remus looking sickly before a full-moon before, but this was different. He looked more like when he had spent a week in Azkaban. Harry couldn’t imagine anything worse than dementors, but something must have happened to Remus. This wasn’t just because of the full moon.

“Sorry.” James’s weak voice cut through the stunned silence. “That was my fault. I shouldn’t have Apparated without warning.”

Lily’s green eyes went wide. “You just Apparated back without telling Remus what you were doing?”

“He wasn’t going to come anyway,” Sirius snapped. “If we hadn’t Apparated here and dragged him into the property line, he’d be halfway to the Alps by now.”

“I wasn’t going to the Alps,” Remus grumbled and leaned against the wall. He offered no more excuses, though, only stared out the kitchen window.

Lily and Harry waited for more explanation from James or Sirius, but no one was forthcoming.

“Well,” Lily finally said, “We’ve cleaned the house to get rid of as much smell as possible, and I’ve already spoken to Regulus; Harry, the elves, and I will stay at Headquarters. I’ve put Strengthening Charms on the windows, and Harry just brewed up this dittany. I’m about to set to work on Blood-Replenishing Potions and —”

“I’m not staying,” Remus grunted. He had enough sense to look embarrassed, and added, “Thank you, Lily, but I’d rather be alone tonight.”

“Why?” asked Sirius. “Do you want to run into a stray hiker or campsite if you disappear into the woods? Or were you really going to lock yourself in the Shrieking Shack? And who was going to help you if you hurt yourself? And then what were we going to do when you didn’t turn up for Harry’s birthday because you’re bleeding out on the floor of some dirty old —”

“Sirius, stop, please,” James said. He rubbed his good eye. The exhaustion of the previous evening was as obvious on him as it had been on Lily. “Look — Remus, you’re already here. You know this property — and so does the wolf. We also know for certain that there won’t be any humans nearby. You’re being stubborn about this for no reason, other than you’re upset with Sirius.”

“I’m not upset with Sirius —”

“You punched me in the face!”

Remus did not look ashamed at this. Harry thought he looked rather smug.

“Just stay, please,” James said.

Remus didn’t answer.

Harry was well-acquainted with how stubborn Remus could be. There were not many things Remus was stubborn about, but finding those things was like running head-first into a thirty-foot marble wall. Harry didn’t know what this stubbornness was, but he knew that Sirius’s direct approach wasn’t going to fix anything.

Before James could press Remus further, there was a loud crack and Mellie appeared, a tray in her hands. “Morning tea,” she said simply, and marched into the dining room.

Her command was hard to ignore. Everyone moved to sit down at the dining table, including Remus, though Remus did not reach for any of the tea sandwiches Mellie set out for them. Harry thought Remus looked like he could do with a good meal, and wondered why Remus was resisting. Even the cuts of fish Mellie put down should have been appetizing to a werewolf, but Remus abstained.

The meal passed in an uncomfortable silence. Remus did not take even a sip of the tea Mellie poured for him, not until Mellie came back and scolded him for being rude, and was this how a guest treated their host, and wasn’t her tea and cold meats good enough for him, as she piled his plate with fish. Reluctantly, Remus ate, but continued to stare sullenly at his tea.

Surprisingly, it was James who lost his temper first. “Really, Remus — you’re not going to say anything?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know — you could ask Harry how his O.W.L.s went. You could ask Lily if she’s feeling better since you haven’t seen her since Bellatrix Lestrange cursed her. You could make fun of me for wearing glasses and an eyepatch. We’re not upset with you for what you said to Tonks —”

“I am,” Sirius said.

James ignored him. “— We’re upset because of how you’re behaving. This isn’t like you.”

Remus wiped his face with his napkin. “My mission’s been going fine, too, thank you so much for asking.”

Sirius snorted. “Like you’d tell us if we asked.”

“I’m asking,” Lily said, and glared at Sirius. “I want to know how you’ve been doing. I want to know if you’ve been getting enough to eat, where you’ve been sleeping, and who you’ve met.”

If Lily thought she might dodge some of Remus’s stubborn anger because she wasn’t part of the group who dragged him home, his bitter tone proved her very wrong. “I’ve been eating fairly regularly — at least, I steal what I can with the pack — and if it sounds like their thieving might get someone hurt, I take dinner with someone in the Order. We usually sleep outside, especially close to the full moon when the hunting instinct arises. They’re a lovely pack of friends, really, or they would be if they weren’t so suspicious of me. They’re not especially fond of people who associate with wizards, you see.”

The cold silence that followed was infectious. Even Harry, who didn’t have any real reason to be upset with anyone at this table, felt like he could snap at Remus. He didn’t know why Remus was being so rude. It was as if he wanted Lily to get upset with him.

If that really was Remus’s plan, it worked. Without another word, Lily gathered her dishes and took them into the kitchen. James looked torn between scolding Remus or going after Lily. He settled on the latter and closed the door to the kitchen behind him.

Harry knew that Sirius could sulk in silence for days if need be, so if anyone was going to talk Remus out of his temper, it was up to him. The trouble was, he didn’t know what Remus was upset about.

“I got seven O.W.L.s,” Harry said, deciding it was the safest topic of conversation.

Remus took a moment to rein in his anger. When he said, “Congratulations,” it certainly sounded earnest. At least Harry wasn’t going to be a target of Remus’s temper.

“I got an ‘Outstanding’ in Defense, actually. Professor Tofty asked me if I could produce a Patronus for a bonus point, so I think that’s what really pushed me over the edge. It was the easiest I’ve ever done — all I had to do was look at Umbridge and imagine her getting sacked.”

Remus and Sirius both laughed. It was, Harry thought, a good start.

“So which courses will you continue next year?” Remus asked.

“Defense, definitely. I guess Transfiguration and Herbology. Charms, which just about everyone does, right?”

Remus nodded. “No Potions? I thought you wanted to pursue an Aurorship?”

Harry swallowed down a lump in his throat. “Well — yeah, but I had to get an ‘O’ to take the N.E.W.T. class, and I only got an ‘E.’”

“Oh, Harry, I’m sorry —”

“S’alright,” Harry said quickly, “McGonagall said I only need five N.E.W.T.s, so maybe I can substitute it with Care of Magical Creatures. I don’t really fancy another year nearly burning my face off raising Blast-Ended Skrewts, or getting scratched up by Bowtruckles but it’d be better than another year of Potions with Snape.”

Sirius frowned. “Snape? I assumed he wasn’t teaching next year.”

“Why wouldn’t Snape teach?”

“I don’t know. I imagined he had some business for the Order, or Voldemort wanted to keep him closer after the Ministry business. Why else would Dumbledore hire —”

The kitchen door flew open and Lily stood in its frame, her face as angry as it had been on Christmas evening when she’d seen the scars on the back of Harry’s hand.

“You said what to Nymphadora?”

Remus was too startled to be angry. “I — I don’t know what you mean.”

“Lily —” James reached for her arm, but she shook him off and stalked over to Remus.

“Is James telling the truth? That a young woman poured her feelings out to you and told her that her feelings were nothing?”

It didn’t take long for Remus to find his anger again. “I didn’t say that, I just told her I didn’t have feelings for her. I didn’t realize that was a crime. I think you’d understand, the number of times you turned James down.”

“I turned James down because he was arrogant and full of himself. Because he was rude, and hexed other students, and thought himself better than everyone else. I never turned him down because I thought being Muggleborn made me somehow less worthy.”

Remus flinched. “That’s different.”

“I don’t think it is. I think I had to sit through a very uncomfortable conversation with my new mother-in-law, warning me that my children might be Squibs because of my blood. I think I had to listen to quite a few comments from other people who thought I didn’t deserve to marry into this family, that I was ruining a bloodline. But I had enough sense to know they were wrong. I had friends who told me they were wrong, and I trusted them. You have every right to turn Nymphadora down, but you don’t get to sit there and feel sorry for yourself about it. You don’t get to hit Sirius because he’s worried about you. You don’t get to push us out of your life like you’re some martyr for Dumbledore. James and Sirius can coddle your feelings all they like, but I’m done. You can either keep listening to what people like the Death Eaters say about you, or you can start listening to your friends, who actually know you, who care about you and want to see you happy.”

Remus dropped his eyes to the plate of half-eaten fish. He didn’t look scolded. His hand tightened around the napkin on the table and his lips pressed together so tightly they went white. But Lily didn’t wait for Remus to argue with her. She turned and walked back into the kitchen, reminding Harry vividly of the girl who had told a much younger James Potter that she was impressed his broom could get off the ground with such a fat head attached to it, then stormed off.

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You know she’s right, Moony. You’re not —”

“She’s not right,” Remus snapped. He struggled to find words for a moment. “I didn’t turn down Dora because I’m a werewolf — at least not entirely.” His brown eyes flicked to Sirius, but returned to his fish so quickly, Harry thought he might have imagined it. “I’ll stay tonight,” he finally conceded, “and I’ll stay for Harry’s birthday, but I’m leaving first thing the next day. I’ll need to get back to the pack.”

Harry helped Mellie clean up the tea. She didn’t seem bothered by the conflict at all. Harry supposed that after a hundred years of Potter family arguments, one more didn’t upset her. It was Picksie who wrung her hands in the floral apron she wore over her teacloth and scurried back and forth throughout the house, asking if she could get anyone anything and trying to ease the tension.

Though the argument had been insightful for Harry — he’d had no idea that Tonks and Remus were romantically interested in each other — it hadn’t improved anyone’s mood. Sirius and Remus were still not speaking to each other, and Lily had said her final word on the matter so she wasn’t interested in further discussion. James spoke to everyone like he was already apologizing for something, and between him and Harry, at least they managed to get Remus to eat a proper meal before moonrise.

When the sky turned a deep shade of orange, James, Sirius, and Remus went outside to find a nice spot in the garden to start their evening. Picksie and Mellie Apparated Lily and Harry to Grimmauld Place, startling Regulus and Kreacher, who were finishing their own supper in the kitchen. Thankfully, Mellie did not attack Kreacher on sight. She did, however, comment that it was so good to see Kreacher, and how was his mad Mistress Walburga? Kreacher did not take the greeting kindly and wailed a comment about filthy blood-traitors. For a moment, Harry thought Kreacher was going to jump on Mellie and attack her, but Regulus hastily ordered Kreacher to go clean two of the spare bedrooms. The elderly house-elf disappeared with a pop.

“Sorry,” Lily said with a smile that held absolutely no apology, “I can’t order Mellie to be polite; she’s not bound to the family anymore.”

“If Mellie wishes,” Mellie said, “Mellie could be finding Kreacher now and telling Kreacher all the secrets Mellie knows about the Black family. Kreacher must be wanting to hear everything Sirius is telling Mellie since he left Grimmauld Place.”

Regulus’s face paled, but his voice was steady. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d really rather you didn’t.”

Instead of heading upstairs to the bedrooms, Harry and Lily stayed in the kitchen, near the fireplace. Regulus sat with them, though there wasn’t much to talk about. Harry didn’t remember falling asleep, and he didn’t remember putting his head down on the table, but when he heard new voices in the kitchen, he sat up suddenly, and found the back of his hand slick with drool. Harry wiped it on his trousers and greeted Fabian and Gideon Prewett.

They’d stopped by to make a report for the Order, but sat down to chat. Fabian teased Lily, asking what she’d done to get kicked out of the house. She ribbed him back for never marrying at all.

Gideon congratulated Harry on his O.W.L.s; he’d visited the Burrow and heard about Ron and Hermione’s exams as well. Over tea set by Picksie — Harry wondered where Mellie had got to, and hoped she wasn’t antagonizing Kreacher — Harry chatted with the Prewetts about Bill and Fleur’s upcoming wedding, news from the Ministry, and progress the Order had made. The wedding aside, it wasn’t an especially cheerful conversation.

When they left, Harry checked the time on his wristwatch. It wasn’t quite four in the morning.

“Hour and a half to go,” Lily said with a sad smile. “Won’t be too long. But happy sixteenth birthday.”

Harry didn’t feel like it was a very happy sixteenth birthday.

“Happy birthday,” Regulus said. “One more year until adulthood, then.”

The way he said it unnerved Harry, because it didn’t sound like an especially cheerful congratulations. But of course, nothing Regulus ever said sounded particularly cheerful.

“You should sleep,” Lily said. “Both of you.”

“Are you going to sleep?” Harry shot back.

“I don’t feel tired at all.”

“Right.” Harry snorted. “You shouted at Remus this morning because you’re not tired at all.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “You’re all always so careful around Lupin. It’s hard to imagine you shouting at him.”

Lily’s face turned red. Harry wondered if it was anger or embarrassment. “I shouted at him enough when we were prefects. It wasn’t terribly hard.”

“Why don’t you both sleep,” Regulus suggested. “I don’t do much around here but read, answer the door, and keep the portraits calm, so I think I can keep watch by the fireplace for another couple of hours easily.”

Harry yawned and stretched, but didn’t move to go upstairs. Neither did Lily.

“It’s weird that the house is so empty this summer,” Harry said. “There were so many people here last year.”

“Last year the Order was set on protecting that prophecy.” Lily stared into the embers of the fire as she spoke. “We aren’t so concentrated in London anymore.”

“It’s a shame the prophecy was lost.” Regulus’s eyes were trained on Lily, like he was gauging her reaction.

Lily didn’t even move. “A shame,” she echoed, gaze still steadily trained on the fireplace. “Our real intent was to catch Voldemort, though, or at least prove to the Ministry he was back. At least we did that.”

Regulus waited for Lily to say more, and Harry waited for Regulus to press her more. Neither happened.

Instead, Regulus said, “Well, I certainly don’t mind the quiet. Besides, plenty of the Aurors still come through,” said Regulus. “They’re rather overworked, I think. The parlor hasn’t seen so many naps since my grandfather was still alive and falling asleep into his tea twice a day. So if you don’t want to move all the way to bed, you can at least use the parlor.”

Harry and Lily did not take Regulus up on his offer. The parlor was so far from the fire-place. Even though they knew they wouldn’t hear anything until sunrise, it seemed important to wait, to be ready.

At 5:20, Picksie popped into the kitchen to let Harry and Lily know she’d seen the sun crest the horizon. Lily cautioned them to wait another fifteen minutes — home was west of London; the sun would take some time to get there. Harry paced the kitchen while they waited, reciting every spell he could recall from his lessons with Sirius. He was no Healer, but he felt confident he could fix up cuts and set broken bones.

At 5:35 exactly, Lily decided it was safe to return home. She called for Mellie, who appeared without any scratches or sign she and Kreacher had been fighting. Harry was only mildly disappointed. Picksie and Mellie Apparated Harry and Lily back to Styncon Garden. Fortunately, it did not take them long to find James, Sirius, and Remus, but unfortunately, they were more hurt than Harry had expected.

Harry knew that after the Quidditch World Cup, when Remus had spent the full moon in the attic, there would be injuries, because the wolf did not like enclosed spaces. He’d expected things to be much better if Remus had the freedom to run around the property. He hadn’t quite realized what Lily had meant when she’d said Remus’s anger would carry over into the full moon.

It was clear, on sight, that Remus and Sirius had fought. Both were covered in bites, scratches, and bruises. All the stories Harry had heard from his father about being an Animagus had suggested that they had fun running around with a werewolf. It had sounded more like play. These injuries were not from playing.

Lily took charge of Sirius’s wounds and the few James had, using the dittany mixed with silver to close the worst of the wolf bites. Harry’s heart pounded, knowing she was trusting him with Remus’s wounds. Bites from a dog that weren’t magical in nature should close easily with the simple Healing spells Sirius had taught him.

He traced his wand over the broken skin, reciting the incantation as clearly as he could. He watched the wounds close, the skin knit back together, as neatly as if he’d poured a bottle of dittany over it. Once he’d stopped all the bleeding, he noticed Remus’s knee had been tweaked out of place. He didn’t know how to fix it, but he did at least know how to set it. Even half-conscious, Remus yelped as the joint popped back into place.

Picksie and Mellie turned the rarely used drawing room into a small care unit. It was closer to the kitchen than the bedrooms, and it had a couch. They left Sirius and Remus there to rest. Harry hoped if they woke up at the same time, they wouldn’t start fighting again.

James, whose only truly serious injury had been the leg-splinch that reopened, was fine once Lily cleaned him up and got a Blood-Replenishing Potion into him. None of them were as skilled as Sirius at finding and repairing internal wounds, but between James, Lily, and Harry, they were fairly certain Sirius and Remus were not going to die from their injuries.

“I’ve never spent the whole night trying to keep them from tearing each other apart.” James slumped into a chair at the kitchen table and gratefully drank the tea Mellie put into his hands.

Harry dated the last of the fresh Blood-Replenishing Potions Lily had brewed that morning, just in case. It seemed like in the last two days they’d gone through enough salamander blood to fill the pond.

“They’ll be alright,” Lily said, as she cleaned the cauldron.

“I don’t know that they will.” James took off his glasses and buried his face in his hands. “They’ve never fought like this — never, not even….”

“Not even when Sirius told Snape about the Whomping Willow?” asked Harry.

James visibly shuddered, but nodded. “They didn’t speak for a month. Not one word to each other. Personally, I blame it all on Snape, following us around all the time, so determined to prove Remus was a werewolf — he might have deserved it, but Remus certainly didn’t.”

“How’d they make up?”

James looked at Lily. “That was your doing, wasn’t it?”

Lily put away the last of the potions supplies and joined James at the table. “Mostly. Remus wasn’t talking to Sirius which honestly made him a much better prefect. But he was lonely. I encouraged him to forgive Sirius. No one’s perfect. I’d honestly been thinking of my friendship with Severus, how we’d stayed close even though we’d gone different ways at school. Of course, it wasn’t long after that I stopped talking to Severus.”

“If they can stay friends after something like that, surely they can figure this out too,” Harry said.

James didn’t look optimistic. “I think this fight was fifteen years coming. I’m worried it might take them fifteen years to talk it out. That’s a lot of full moon scuffles, and I’m getting too old to break them up.”

Fifteen years ago, when Voldemort had come to kill Harry, Remus believed Sirius had been the one to betray them, not Peter Pettigrew. If it had been as simple as Sirius forgiving Remus for doubting him, maybe they’d have moved on. But Sirius had trusted Peter because he thought Remus was the traitor, since Remus was a werewolf.

Harry was fairly certain Remus and Sirius had forgiven each other. That part was easy for them. They were both kind people who wanted the best for their friends. But Harry knew them well enough that he did not think they’d forgiven themselves, not when the cost was that James, Lily, and Harry had all nearly died.

“But what does all that have to do with Tonks?” Harry asked.

James laughed. “Nothing, really. She was just the catalyst. Remus and Sirius were fine as they were, or at least as fine as they could be. Her confessing her feelings forced Remus to make a real decision about not just his feelings for Tonks, but also his feelings for Sirius. I think Remus wants to keep not making a decision, which is why he’s running. Sirius wants Remus to make a decision, one way or another.”

“An immovable object meets an unstoppable force,” Lily murmured.

“What?”

“Muggle saying.”

James yawned and put his glasses back on. “Well, some birthday, huh, Snitch?”

Harry shrugged. “Better than listening to Uncle Vernon’s jokes about Japanese gophers.”

James laughed and Lily tried very hard to frown.

“Your uncle isn’t that bad.”

“No, not at all,” James agreed. “Drills is a truly fascinating industry. Lots of bits to talk about.”

“Oh! So you did learn something!”

“Enough to make a cheap —”

The fireplace came to life with green flames, and Cedric and Tonks stepped through once more. This time, they had their hands up, prepared for the interrogation.

“I know we weren’t expected,” Cedric said, “but we had a minute away from the office. Thought we’d wish Harry a happy birthday.”

James raised an eyebrow. “And did you also know last night was the full moon?”

Cedric looked surprised. Tonks looked guilty.

“Maybe,” she mumbled. “I did bring Harry a gift.”

Once James and Lily were satisfied that Tonks and Cedric were truly who they said they were, they enjoyed a relatively pleasant morning tea. Tonks gave Harry a large box stamped with “WWW” and beneath that, “George’s Compendium Box of Pyrotechtrix.” Inside was a collection of fireworks with various labels, such as the “Whammy Rocket” or “Crystal Incantation.”

Lily raised her eyebrows. “Did you discuss this with Sirius in advance?”

Tonks grinned. “Sure did.”

“Why?” Harry asked. “Wha’d Sirius get me?”

“You can open your gift from Sirius when he wakes up,” James said.

“You know you are setting all of these off before you go back to school,” Lily said.

Harry had every intention to share these fireworks with Ron, but he knew better than to argue with Lily over it. Instead, he considered how he might arrange his school trunk to smuggle them in.

Cedric’s gift was significantly smaller, but the wrapping was a similar color and pattern. “We actually went to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes together. I pulled some strings as a Triwizard Champion to get a custom order.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “They give Triwizard Champions special treatment?”

“Our money did start their shop,” said Harry, “so yeah, I guess they do.”

“Since when?” asked James. “We could have backed them. I’d have given them a loan easily — We could even give them Marauders merchandising rights. A whole line of products, attached to the Weasley name, two Hogwarts legends under one store!”

“Hey,” Sirius said. “That’s my brand, too.” He limped into the kitchen and reached for one of the scones Picksie had made. His bruises had a yellow and green tint to them, but otherwise he looked alright.

“How do you feel?” Lily asked.

“Like I got smashed by a troll,” Sirius said around the scone. “Why are you doing presents without me? Tonks, we coordinated our gifts specifically for this.”

“I didn’t know how long you’d be asleep,” she said. “Some of us have jobs we have to go to. We can’t all be disinherited layabouts.”

Sirius threw what was left of his scone at her, then winced when his shoulder protested the motion. “Sorry. I didn’t plan on going claw-to-claw with a werewolf last night.”

Lily used her wand to Summon a jar of Burning Bitterroot Balm from the cupboard. “This’ll help with your joint pain. Though maybe don’t apply it at the breakfast table.”

“Sure — but presents first, since Harry’s already opened Tonks’s gift.”

James flicked his wand and Summoned three presents to the kitchen table. “I suppose we could do ours now, too.”

The box from Sirius was similarly sized to the gift from Tonks. When Harry peeled back to label, he found a second box of fireworks, labeled “Fred Weasley’s Basic Blaze Box.”

“Now you’ve got a set,” said Sirius.

“And none of this,” Lily repeated, “is going back to school with you.”

Again, Harry didn’t argue. But he also didn’t agree. He only reached for the gifts from his parents. They were a bit smaller than the boxes of fireworks, but certainly heavier. When he peeled back the wrappings he found two very thick books, not unlike the tomes Hermione might carry around during the school year to read for fun. It was an unusual sort of present; usually his gifts had something to do with Quidditch, but these did not seem to be about Quidditch at all.

The first was titled, Advanced Defensive Theory: A Critical Analysis of the Merrythought Method. Even just a passing glance at the table of contents revealed this book to be more complex than any book Harry had been assigned on defensive spells in school.

“Since you got an ‘O’ on your Defense O.W.L., we thought you might like something like this,” Lily said.

“It’s not as flashy as dueling,” James added, “but you know almost as much as your mum and I do, really, at least about spells. The thing you’re lacking is experience and we can’t really give you that, but we thought we could give you this.”

“We also sort of… disagreed about this gift.” Lily pressed her lips together and tightened her hands around her mug of coffee. “I want to be very clear that this isn’t because of Voldemort, and has nothing to do with the war. Simply… you’re good at this subject, and we know you want to learn more and be an Auror and we thought this would help.”

“Thank you.” Harry didn’t know what else to say. The pages in the book were smooth; it was clearly a newer publication, which was already uncommon among wizards. He didn’t recognize the author — Adrina Duester — but if it was a book his parents approved of, it was probably good.

The second book did not seem to have a title, and when Harry opened it, James leaned forward eagerly.

“Your mum and I put this one together ourselves. Transfigured just about all the ink from those berries you and Cedric picked to make it, too. It’s got your family trees on both sides, here —” He pointed to a divet carved into the edge of the pages, and Harry realized that there were tabs of sorts down the sides of the books, marking each section. The family tree was denoted with a tree, unsurprisingly, and several pages beyond that was a section with a leaf, then one with a cauldron, one with what looked like a star, and one with a Snitch.

“My family tree doesn’t go back very far,” Lily said, “but we had a good bit of fun going around to all the portraits and figuring out who was who, and of course getting stories from Mellie.”

“That section,” James pointed to the leaf, “is all the instructions for the garden — instructions for spells, growing seasons, a list of good almanacs, all sorts of things. The next one is your mum’s potions recipes. She copied them all out for you, with her notes.”

“Even the Wolfsbane,” Lily added. “You’ve been begging to learn that one for years.”

“Then there’s some of my own Defense spells and jinxes — your mum even added a few of her own that have been helpful in a pinch. I picked Sirius’s brain for some, too, and he added a few.”

“The last one is, well, mostly your Quidditch record and some baby pictures. It’s not anything especially exciting,” Lily said, “but we wanted you to have it, in case you ever have a Quidditch player of your own you want to share stories with.”

Now Harry really didn’t know what to say. He wanted to say thank you, but he didn’t have a voice. He was grateful, completely and truly, but he also knew why his parents were giving him this gift now. He knew there was every chance this could be the last summer he had with both his parents. This book was, possibly, their way of making sure he’d still have them with them while he was at school, or if anything happened to them in the war. It was hard not to cry, just looking at his father’s handwriting next to a sketch of a Wiggentree, but Harry didn’t have any interest in crying in front of Tonks and Cedric.

“Thanks,” he managed, and hoped he didn’t sound ungrateful.

Lily, at least, seemed to understand. She stacked the boxes of fireworks on top of each other — carefully — and then made a stack of the books. “Why don’t you take everything upstairs? Get it put away. I’ll go check on Remus and James can help Sirius with the balm. Cedric, Tonks, you’re welcome to stay as late as you wish, but I don’t want to keep you from work.”

Tonks looked up at Lily, her grey eyes so much softer than Harry had ever seen in Sirius or Regulus. “Can I help?”

Lily looked to James and Sirius for an answer. She’d been the one to check on him physically after the full moon, but they were the ones who knew where he was emotionally.

Sirius shrugged, even though the motion was clearly painful. “He hasn’t punched her yet, or tried to tear her neck open, so she’s probably safer in there than me.”

“A boggart would be safer in there than you,” James said.

“Here,” Cedric said, “I’ll carry up these.” He grabbed the boxes of fireworks. “You get the books,” he nodded at Harry. “Tonks, we can leave for the Ministry in a few minutes.”

Though Harry knew taking Cedric upstairs meant he wouldn’t have the moment alone Lily had been offering, he was grateful he didn’t have to carry such precious, flammable books on top of such volatile boxes.

He warned Cedric to skip the fourth stair and, once in his room asked Cedric to set the fireworks on his desk. Harry put the books on his nightstand, on the other side of the room. He put the Defensive Theory book on top so that, at least for the moment, he wouldn’t have to look at the hand-crafted gift from his parents.

“You never gave me your gift,” Harry said, as Cedric greeted Hedwig, who was still settling in from her night’s hunt.

Cedric turned with a smile. “I didn’t — it’s probably better this way. I have a feeling Sirius might ask you to abuse it.”

Harry didn’t know what that meant and, heartache overtaken by curiosity, he opened the small package Cedric handed him.

It was a quill and a bottle of ink. Harry didn’t find the gift particularly interesting until Cedric grabbed one of the letters from Harry’s desk and flipped it over.

“Can I write on the back of this?”

“Sure.”

Cedric pulled, from his other pocket, a bottle of ink almost identical to the one Harry held. He dipped in a quill and signed his name on the back of the page. “It’s Disappearing and Reappearing Ink,” he said.

Harry stared at Cedric’s name. It did not fade, not even a little. “When does it Disappear?”

“When I want it to. The thing is, we have to decide on a code word. I asked Fred and George about ways to send encoded messages. I didn’t want something just anyone could read, especially now that I work at the Ministry. I wanted a way we could write letters while you’re at school without worrying about who was reading them. Fred and George said they’d worked with ink that only appeared in response to a specific code before and they could make it for me. I haven’t picked the code yet, because I wanted it to be something we’d both remember.”

Harry was stunned by how much thought Cedric had put into the gift, especially for someone who hadn’t seen the Marauder’s Map. Of course Fred and George were familiar with ink that appeared and vanished on command. Harry had the map they’d given him sitting in his trunk.

He supposed “Mischief Managed” wouldn’t work terribly well for a secret code shared between him and Cedric.

“I dunno,” Harry said. He cast about his room for some sort of inspiration. There wasn’t much he and Cedric had in common, other than nearly dying together. His eyes settled on one of the books on his desk, one his father had given him ages ago, Quidditch Through the Ages. Surely Cedric, having been a Seeker and Captain for Hufflepuff, had read it too.

“Oh, the thrill of the chase as I soar through the air?” Harry suggested.

With a grin, Cedric finished the couplet. “With the Snitch up ahead and the wind in my hair.”

Cedric placed both bottles of ink on the desk and waved his wand over them and his scribbled signature. “Obscure upon these words that follow: Oh, the thrill of the chase as I soar through the air; and reveal when spoken by my fellow: With the Snitch up ahead and the wind in my hair.”

The ink on the parchment and within the bottles vanished. Harry picked up one of the bottles, pointed his wand at it, and said the first half of the couplet. It filled immediately.

“Easy enough,” Harry said. “I see what you mean about Sirius abusing it.”

“I know it isn’t as flashy as fireworks —”

“No, it’s great,” Harry assured him. “It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to about… y’know.”

“I do. And I won’t tell you who to trust but… you’ve got other friends than me. Friends who are a bit closer, who aren’t under Scrimgeour’s constant watch.”

The more Harry thought about it, the more he was certain he’d have to tell Ron, Hermione, and Neville everything. They’d notice him sneaking away for private lessons with Dumbledore, at the very least. Having Cedric remind him actually made it easier. There were others he could go to, and if it did seem like Ron or Hermione or Neville didn’t understand, Cedric would listen.

“Thanks. And… speaking of Scrimgeour, shouldn’t you get to work?”

Cedric checked his pocket watch and winced. “If Tonks and I are much later, they’ll assume the Death Eaters got us. Happy birthday, Harry.”

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Dear Hermione,

I hope you’re having a good time at the Burrow. It was mostly quiet here, just Neville and I working in the garden or getting summer homework done. Mum and Dad have been teaching me defensive spells, too, and Sirius has been teaching me Healing magic. It’s been really helpful, and I’ve learned a lot. It’d be fun to teach some stuff to the D.A. again, but we’ll have to see how busy we are with N.E.W.T. classes, I guess.

Sorry I couldn’t have you and Ron over for my birthday, but it was the full moon the night before, so we were really busy. I really want to see you in Diagon Alley. Mum and Dad said the Ministry wants to give us extra protection when we go, so we’ll have to sort that out, but hopefully it works out that you and Ron can be there too.

If it doesn’t, I’ll see you on September first!

— Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶——————————

Ron —

Tonks and Sirius gave me the most amazing birthday present. I can’t wait to show it to you when we get back to school. I’m sorry you couldn’t be here, but it was the full moon and all, so we had to have a quiet day.

Let me know when your mum wants to take you to Diagon Alley. I know it’s hard right now with everything going on, but the Ministry’s offered Mum, Dad, and me extra protection so that might make her feel better about bringing you along. I want to see Fred and George’s shop with you.

I saved the best news for last:

I got Quidditch Captain! I can’t wait to play again. I feel like I’ve hardly been on a broom all summer. It’s going to be awesome to have practice again. I promise not to be like Wood and lose my head about winning games.

See you soon, one way or another.

— Harry