#spelling is guestimated

[raredrop]

THE STANDERVIENER

[randomfoggytiger]

So, ehat was your take of the podcast of these two old friends? I thought it was lovely and different than his other podcasts. She gets him to relax.

Now, what about the recreation of the picture they said they would do?:) I think they might have talked about the picture but not when the photoshoot would happen. Xmas is around the corner. Come on guys, give the Fandom a merry David-Gillian gift of all time! It's been a dry spell without your loving craziness. Hike up those stockings on your little legs, G, and hop onto those DD shoulders.

It'd be funny if they did, wouldn't it? It'd also be funny if they recreated it in a way that wouldn't hurt either of their backs, shoulders, or knees, too. XDDD

I had an excellent time with the podcast! It confirmed every single one of my suspicions, theories, and guestimations of their friendship: their personalities, their focuses, their dynamic then, their dynamic now, etc. It was refreshing. It was, for lack of a better word, simple: the facts were the facts were the facts, and there wasn't anything big or grand to be made of their interactions, past or present.

I liked hearing them talk over each other. I liked that both admitted to already butting heads in Season 1. I liked that both admitted they'd never thought to trade childhood stories, or cross their personal lives over.

Most of all, I loved their candor: David admitting he felt dumped in the Revival, and that Gillian didn't know and felt sorry in retrospect. That Gillian didn't feel dumped during the first run. That Gillian thought the Revival's story line reduced her character, especially the ending. That David felt trapped and villainized over the pay gap issue; and only later learned his pay wasn't due to his merit so much as internal favoritism. That Gillian now understands and feels for his pain. That David still feels the sting of Vancouver hating him and being forced out of rehab anonymity, and all the pain he gathered from both incidences. That Gillian admitted she doesn't process shame, just stays too busy to have to face it. That David felt comfortable to say that was unhealthy, and that she felt comfortable enough to hum in agreement. That both know their children have to fail, because they would fail their own children if they stopped those failures. That David tried to drill into his son that he's a miserable person and nothing is as it seems; but that that perspective hadn't worked. That Gillian feels motherhood is the most fulfilling thing for her, yet chooses her work over and over (again, staying too busy to feel shame.) That DD knew as early as Season 1 that Chris intended for Mulder and Scully to be an end goal-- asking CC if he wanted to send GA and himself to couples' counseling as their characters. That GA forgot and laughed over the memory. That Gillian arrived late after he offered her a ride on his private aircraft; then wrote him a beautiful letter, on the plane, instead of saying those words in person. That he marveled she hadn't gone insane from the pressure. That she no longer feels the need to run from Scully's legacy. That both admitted that communication, though important, was non-existent during that time in their lives.

There are so many good bits. But I have two takeaways:

They have the same frenetic drive, the same "crazy" as David calls it; but I can see why it drove a wedge between them (and could, now): they wouldn't be able to tolerate that same freneticism in each other in large doses. (Hence, why they didn't speak for weeks while on set, and were already exchanging "blows" in Season 1.)

Most importantly, they were two old friends who purposefully dug in and rediscovered new things about each other. The camaraderie was different: settled, more "in-character" to how I think they talk when David doesn't feel like he has to perform (though there was a bit of that) and Gillian doesn't feel uneasy, or anxious, or "watched."

In short: they felt wholly the same, but in a new way. :DDDDD

[pokemon-ash-aus]

I recently remembered u mention that in SM, Ash's companions get their ages changed (like Brock being a kid/the youngest of his siblings and Bonnie and Max being the older sibling while Clemont and May are the younger ones), so with that in mind, are there any differences in their dynamics with Ash when compared to their canon counterparts?

Max and Bonnie like to treat them like little kids, it's honestly quiet amusing to see them. At times they'll "baby talk" them as a teasing note.

I want you all to know that they're all *barely* older than the others so it's a huge age shift. Bonnie is about 3 years older and Max is barely 4 years older. So if Ash and Indigo parade around as 18 they'd be 21 and 22 respectively.

Brock and Cilan are the youngest at 12-14 years old. Im leaning towards more 14 than the initial 10 since i always guestimated Brock to be 14 when Ash was 10.

Brock adores Ash and Indigo. Often time clinging to them and hiding behind them. He's still aiming to be a breeder but that's been gradually shifted to Doctor the more he travels. He's excited to learn and tries his hardest to mimic Indigo and Ash's cooler and more aloof demeanor when things get tough.

Cilan on the other hand is a ball of cocky. He thinks he can do so much better than he can and he really tries his hardest to prove it. It doesnt help that being the middle sibling of his triplet trio makes him so much more insecure. He feels mediocre and in turn tries to make it up with false bravado. He means well. But he comes off a bit... Much. Peach is the one that has to kick that habit, lamenting over the fact that her brothers look and act so much older than her even though their all the same age.

Ash is the one that has to remind him to slow down and ease into things, starts to lean him more towards his Connoisseur carreer(imma call it Sommelier cause Connoisseur is too hard for me to remember how to spell).

[lunarflare64]

Yknow, after a reeeeeaaally long dry spell in terms of being horny (like really long. Like 6 months is the guestimate long), suddenly being constantly horny is both a little fun and driving us insane. Its fucking killing us man some moderation here would be nice it doesn't need to be all or nothing

[whumpsmith-participates]

Whumptober 2024

Day 1 - Race Against the Clock

Tags/CW: claustrophobia, vampirism, starvation (sorta), suffocation, buried alive

Being a hero, sidekick, or otherwise entangled in crime fighting can land you in all kinds of gnarly situations. Ranging from the hospital with a bout of radiation sickness to an ancient vampire's lair. Eclipse had already seen his fair share of pretty much anything, and he'd only been a sidekick for one year and eleven months — only one month away from graduating to a recognised hero.

Eclipse had been part of a 2-year training programme that taught teens and young adults with powers about all the ins and outs of being a hero. A programme that was supposed to keep them out of real danger until they were ready for it, but unfortunately sidekicks tended to be a beloved target for villains. So in all fairness, Eclipse wasn't too surprised, nor concerned, to wake up in a dark space, trying to remember what happened before he was apparently knocked out one way or another.

Bonk!

Eclipse cursed under his breath as he hit his head, just as he'd lifted it in an attempt to shake the haze from his mind. He dropped it again, his face hitting something soft and cold. A memory began to dawn on him, but he couldn't quite picture it just yet, until he tried to reach up to feel around.

His arms refused, his shoulders protested in pain, his hands somewhat numb from the softly whirring metal bands that locked his wrists together. Eclipse groaned. Now he remembered.

He'd been investigating a series of break-ins with a new sidekick; a fledgling vampire who wanted to use his newfound powers for crime-fighting — And also one of his best friends. Adam Smith used to be a mundane human, working for one of Eclipse's mentors as a handler, his guy in the chair. Eclipse had spent many missions with Adam's voice in his ear, talking him through some of the toughest situations, warning him of more incoming goons, and so on and so forth.

But now, one series of unfortunate incidents later, Adam had been turned into a vampire and now acted as a sidekick with the alias Buzzkill. Now it was up to Eclipse to guide him through the hectic life as a sidekick, and judging from the current situation...he may have dropped the ball a little today.

He remembered it clearly now. The break-ins all happened at musea and antique shops, the only stolen items being some niche occult objects that no one was particularly interested in — except for the thieves apparently. Eclipse and Buzzkill had been following up on a lead, only to discover that the occult items were old vampire hunter tools.

They'd subdued Buzzkill with ease, commenting how fledgling vampires were easy pickings. Eclipse was very much ready to kick all their asses, but the threat of a wooden stake aimed at his friend's heart forced him to surrender. They rendered him powerless with a pair of power-suppressing cuffs. And all he could do was watch as they used some kind of sleeping spell on his friend and placed him into a casket.

He never found out why they did that instead of just killing him after all. Because at that point they smothered him with a sweet-smelling cloth until he lost consciousness. Chloroform. He should've known.

He gathered, from his current dark and cramped surroundings, as well as his soft and cold pillow, that they'd thrown him into the casket with Buzzkill. At least...he hoped the corpse-like body beneath him was Buzzkill. Especially when he had no choice but to nudge his cheek with his face in an attempt to wake him up.

"Come on man..."

When that didn't work, Eclipse put in a lot of effort to try and scoot downwards a bit, trying to get his face level with his chest so he could rub his sternum, like they'd taught them in first-aid classes. What they didn't teach in any class, however, was how cramped a casket was. He had to really squeeze himself down, hitting and scraping himself on something with each movement. And when he finally reached his guestimated position, something pricked in his eye too.

"Ow—"

Bonk!

"Again?!"

Eclipse huffed in frustration as he'd pulled his head back too fast and hit it on the lid of the casket again. He caught his breath for a second, before closing his eyes and feeling around a bit more carefully. There was something soft and sweet-smelling tucked under one of Buzzkill's hands. Soft, yet sharp enough to scratch his cheek as he tried to push the hand away with his face.

He knew it had to be the secret to his friend's state, having learned a lot of vampire lore from Buzzkill's complaining. He moved a little more carefully as he tried to pick up something long and thin with his teeth, bitter sap seeping into his mouth as he bit down on it and lifted his head more slowly now.

Almost immediately, Buzzkill began stirring. Eclipse couldn't see in the dark casket, whilst Buzzkill could see just fine when he opened his eyes almost immediately, only to see his friend lying on top of him with a rose clenched between his teeth.

"Xan...what are you doing?"

"...helfing?"

Buzzkill took the rose from Eclipse's mouth so he could talk normally, though he already remembered how he ended up there.

"Who told them about the rose trick?" he grumbled.

"They seemed to know plenty on their own," Eclipse pointed out, "I really thought they were legit vampire hunters, but...they didn't kill you?"

"We're bait," Buzzkill said, "if they are legit, they'll wanna go after Killjoy too."

"Your mentor? But he's so nice..."

"They're probably just biased," Buzzkill said, "anyway, did they hurt you? You're bleeding."

"I am?" Eclipse said, "I probably did that to myself. It's hard to navigate in here. Can you bust us out? My powers are locked."

"...nope," Buzzkill said.

"No?" Eclipse asked, "I watched you lift a car to a different parking spot so you could park your van just last week."

"Yeah, but a car is a whole lot lighter than six feet of dirt," Buzzkill said.

"What...what are you saying?" Eclipse asked.

"They buried us." Buzzkill said matter-of-factly, "All I can smell is dirt...and you."

"Oh..." Eclipse said, "I- I'm sorry. I wasn't able to stop them..."

"Oh don't worry about me," Buzzkill said, "I only need air to talk. You need it to breathe, though."

"Wait, wait, wait," Eclipse said, "Cassie once told me about this. The dirt is still loose, we should be able to dig ourselves out!"

"Calm down," Buzzkill said, "your heart rate is through the roof. You need to slow it down or you'll only be wasting oxygen. I know we could be able to dig ourselves out - under ideal circumstances. But it's raining too. If I were alone I'd just go for it, but you'd suffocate before we made it to the surface."

"...so I trapped us here," Eclipse concluded.

"No," Buzzkill immediately said, "but you ain't exactly making it easier either."

"Well it wasn't exactly my idea for them to toss me in with you," Eclipse said.

"I know, I know, just chill for a minute," Buzzkill said, "if you get anxious you waste more air and you smell better."

Eclipse couldn't help but to freeze for a moment. He couldn't see his friend's expression, but he just knew something was off. After all, he couldn't quite remember...

"Adam...when's the last time you ate?"

"Depends."

"What do you mean it depends?!"

"Chill!" Buzzkill reminded him, "it depends on how long I've been asleep."

"Um..." Eclipse slowly said, "they knocked me out not too long after you, and I think they used chloroform so...some time between half an hour and two hours I guess?"

"Oh, then it's been three or four days."

"Adam—"

Bonk!

"Dude, chill," Buzzkill said, squirming a bit before he managed to put a hand on the back of Eclipse's head, so he would stop hitting it.

"Why haven't you been eating for four days?" Eclipse asked, blinking the tears from his eyes.

"Because I wanna learn not to go all psycho when I have to go without daily meals for a while," Buzzkill said, "like, sure I have access to almost expired blood from the blood bank now, but good things tend to get ripped away from me, so I need to be prepared to figure shit out without that luxury."

"Okay," Eclipse slowly said, "okay, you've been doing really well so far. I'm sure you won't go psycho before the others find us either. They knew where we were headed and we haven't checked in for long enough for them to begin looking."

"Exactly," Buzzkill said, "I can control myself if you just stay calm, because fear smells so good..."

"This is gonna be a long night," Eclipse sighed.

They waited for a good hour or so, deciding to stop talking to save oxygen. Buzzkill kept his ears and nose open for any signs of their friends finding them, but it seemed they were fashionably late as usual. There was no sign of life beyond the layers of dirt covering them. No other heartbeat than the almost deafening pounding of his friend's heart, and no other scents than the overwhelming aroma of—

"Xander..."

Eclipse's real name. Buzzkill tended to default to it, especially when there was no one else around to overhear. Or when he was too worried to care. Eclipse didn't immediately respond.

"Xan! Wake up!"

Buzzkill shook him a bit, and Eclipse woke with a start. His heart rate immediately shot up, as did his breathing. He began sweating from the sudden increase in activity, and then shivered from the sudden drop in temperature.

"Hgn...h-how long..."

Buzzkill could tell he was struggling to focus. And honestly, he was struggling too. Not for the lack of breathable air, but because he needed all his focus to resist the temptation to drain his friend of all his delicious blood right there and then.

"Adam..."

He snapped back to his senses, closing his mouth as he realised it had been open.

"Um..." he said, "it's definitely been an hour by now...how are you holding up?"

"I...feel like crap," Eclipse admitted.

Buzzkill cursed mentally. It seemed they were running out of time faster than he thought they would. Eclipse's heartbeat was too fast, his breathing too shallow, and his movements — although still limited — were too slow.

Why did that make him smell so much better? Was it the fear of running out of time? Or were humans close to expiring just at their most alluring? Like a sweet fruit that reached the perfect ripeness just a second before the rot would set in. "Ad— Huff... Adam..."

Buzzkill snapped out of it again, and he realised he was licking Eclipse's neck. He quickly closed his mouth again, lying his head back down.

"Sorry."

"...'s fine," Eclipse slurred, "if I die..."

"—You're not going to."

"...won't need my blood if I'm dead...you can have your fill."

Buzzkill groaned, the invitation making it even harder to resist.

"Oh my god I've never been so hungry..." he said.

But he had to be strong. Surely it was only a matter of time before they were found, right? They could be dug out before Eclipse slipped too far away to be revived, right?

"Xan?"

"...hm."

"Xan, stay awake," Buzzkill said, "I need you to keep talking to me so I don't lose myself."

But Eclipse didn't respond to that anymore. Buzzkill cursed. It was only a matter of minutes now. Only minutes before either Eclipse's brain was irreversibly starved from oxygen, or before Buzzkill would give in to his hunger and deny his friend any chance of survival. He didn't want to find out which would happen first, but all he could do was wait. And count down the seconds to the inevitable.

Adam/Buzzkill belongs to @illustriousshadow Cassie (mentioned) belongs to @dr-abitat-blog

NOTE: I wrote this before deciding to switch to the AI-less Whumptober prompts, and still wanted to share because I love these boys and I never toss anything I write so might as well share it :)

[blorbologist]

🗣️

🗣️Talk about your favourite WIP

*screams into my fist about One for sorrow / Two for joy*

I CAN'T FUCKING TALK ABOUT IT WITHOUT SPOILING SHIT. AND IF I DON'T DELICATELY ALLUDE TO THINGS Y'ALL WILL PIECE IT TOGETHER, AND I'M REALLY PROUD OF HOW I'VE FANANGLED THINGS, AND I WANT YOU TO EXPERIENCE IT ALL AS INTENDED!

here's a very very zoomed out screenshot of where I am in my planning doc, striking through my rambles as I go. It's ~13 pages long [though like 3 of those are spells/level guestimates/lists of birds to use as chapters.] if you can decipher shit from that you honestly deserve to know NKRGNKRTN

I can just say that if you appreciated the twists to canon included in One for sorrow - well, some continue to have consequences in Two for joy, and new ones snarl up. Sometimes because of character arc changes, or shifts in how information travelled, or simply abilities (Grog having the broom here, Vex having Twilight Cleric class features - if she gets enough levels she'll have Revivify ;3).

I constantly have to keep myself from spoiling things, which is why my betas and co get relentlessly spammed so I can gush to them, being pre-spoiled.

But uhhhh - one thing that's likely obvious is that each chapter's bird-title is related to that chapter. Sometimes it's symbolism (there's a chapter named after the domestic pigeon, aka white doves. take a guess!), sometimes it's something specific to the story (Next chapter is named after the American robin. Which, if you've read One for sorrow, might give you a hint what I'm posting next week ;3) and sometimes it's tied to specific characters the chapter puts a spotlight on ('Kynan's chapter' is named after the common grackle - which looks like a corvid but isn't!). I'm saving Pica pica for a very special one.

[seth-shitposts]

Lmaoooooooo

So

Ima give a bit of context for this.

We have aphantasia (there's a good chance I spelled that wring but it's the thing where you can't visualize things in your head. We see PITCH black back there baby. No pictures at all. Aphantasia exists on a scale, some people can make out shapes/colors, some can see very blurry imagines, but the idea still comes across, and then there's the two ends of "can see the thing in full detail" and "nothing.")

And on top of that, we have really no connection to the inner world. So far, Devon has been the only one who has consciously been able to intentionally feel his way away from the front and make any progress toward what's just slightly back that way.

So the way we exchange messages to each other, and it takes quite a bit of energy most of the time - especially if who ever is communicating isn't already co-con/co-fronting. Dhsish anyway how we communicate to each other is by sorta throwing concepts back and forth. That is the best way I can describe it. Just take a thought, throw it, and hope it lands.

And then, also we have a specific way we "see" each other. There's no visualization, just sorta a type of feeling. I call it Aura Sight. Like we can sense each other when we're close to one another. And the aura also comes across as feeling a color as well. (Which is where we've assigned our colors, approximately) idk I think it's very neat and it's just one if those things that Alex spent weeks studying and taking notes on.

Mmmmmmm oh yeah lmao. So, since we can't see each other, we have pretty much no idea what we look like. We have guestimations and assumptions, but no confirmation. Toga is the one who seems to have the most accurate descriptions and estimates. She also has a good read on everyone's psychological individuality as well, which is why her and Alex will chat about it often.

Some of us aren't sure when we formed or when we may have been frequent fronters in the past. For me, there's a possibility that I've been around ever since we were 7,8 or 11 ish. Somewhere in that time line. And I've just been in and out over the years. My memories consist of video games and Sonic, as those are my special interests. I also have memories of caretaking for siblings as well. I'm what you would call "Built like a big brother".

Anyway. It's a joke between Alex and I that it's a possibility that I'm a Sonic fictive and just the though of there being the other 6 and one hedgehog makes us both laugh. Is it probable? No lmao. Just a funny thought.

However,

I will say

That if we have some Shadow the Hedgehog fictive waltzing around back in the inner world or in dormancy, that is most likely 100% my doing because I brain rotted over him nearly every time I fronted at some point. Because he's someone who's severely traumatized but can't remember trauma and I'm someone who's severely traumatized but can't remember lmaoooooooo.

So

Conclusion:

I'm prob not a Sonic fictive

But IF we have a shadow fictive somewhere in back that's 100% on me.

Alex, after a long conversation with Toga about her insights on the copilots and what information she's able to draw about them to help Alex with notes: "Alright, this last question is more of a half joke, but how do you know Sebastián isn't a Sonic ficti-"

Toga, 100% serious & no hesitation: "He doesn't like chili cheese dogs."

Alex, at a complete loss for words: "...."

[ibemandapanda]

Do you eve misspell a word so fucking bad, Spell Check is just like

[starrzies]

★Stolen Power [Fanart]★

I absolutely adore Lego Monkie Kid. I didn’t think I would enjoy it but I really did and binged it in its entirety within 2 days. I’ve been rewatching the show a lot and really liked the coloring of this scene and wanted to try my hand at doing a screenshot redraw.

This piece took me,,,, a long time. Idek how many hours but probably within 4-6 if I guestimate. (Idek if that is how its spelled but whatever, its 3AM.)

Anyways, this scene was from S1 Ep9!

I’m super happy with the outcome of this piece and I hope whoever sees this does too! I don’t know when I’ll get around the drawing fanart again, but we’ll see! Gonna be focusing on Art Fight in a few days so my attention will be elsewhere!

Quick Reminder!!  I DO NOT allow people to reupload, repost, claim, trace, reference or use my art without my Permission! If my art is posted anywhere else other than my accounts it’s not mine! If you like my work, consider following me or commissioning me!!

-------------

Screenshot Redraw;

Original Image;

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Art Trades are Open!! Commissions are Open!! Do NOT ask me about Requests!! Do Not; Reupload, Repost, Claim, Trace, Reference or use my art without my Permission! 💜 You can Dm me Questions or Concerns! Like my work? Check out my Carrd for where else you can find me! (starrzies.carrd.co/)

[doodamancy]

Note: Many thanks to everyone who has enjoyed this little series of drabbles so far! It’s time for some more pining wizards B)

No major warnings this time, though some serious questions of self-worth and self-doubt come up. Final thoughts & credits in the tags.

First | Previous | Next | Latest

—————

The following morning, after Caleb had finished copying down the surprisingly intricate web of magical runes for the spell Sending, the copper-haired human laid still in his bed, light filtering through his closed curtains and into the room to spill over his sheets. His bedroom was small, but comfortable—it had just enough space to fit his bed, a small desk, and a small bookshelf comfortably, leaving enough space to move freely without feeling too crowded or cluttered. Overtime, this may change—already, Caleb’s desk was starting to collect piles of scrolls, paper, books and other miscellaneous things—but, at least for now, it was organized. As he lay there, he idly pondered some guestimations for how long this may last—another week? Two? At the rate he had been working, well…

He let out a small laugh and slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, mind then wandering to the previous night as his eyes fell onto the desk and the scroll he had copied carefully into his book. “Hm. I think, first order of business, Sending to Essek, yes?” he murmured to himself. He had been tempted to last night, but it was late and he did not wish to risk disturbing the other wizard from his Trance. No, much better to wait till it was a more reasonable time. Stretching a hand out as he turned to reach under his pillow, Caleb slid his spellbook toward himself from its night time resting place beneath his head. This, of course, was a habit borne from both a sense of paranoia and from being on the road for as long as he was. He could no longer sleep unless he felt the tome resting beneath his head and he didn’t have any strong desire to put his anxiety to rest on that particular matter. (He didn’t think he could, if he was honest with himself—not even he wanted to.)

Flipping open the book, he began to go through his usual morning ritual of preparing his spells for the day. He stood carefully and began to slowly pace along the pathway between the closet and his bedroom door as he did this, thumbing through the pages and lingering on the runes of each particular spell. Committing them to his near-perfect memory. He could probably recite the contents of his spellbook from end to end from heart, but that wasn’t necessary. This practice was less a matter of refreshing his mind and more an act of committing to a decision, and… well, maintaining a ritual, a habit. There was comfort in that routine.

Once he was done, Caleb closed his spellbook and set it on his desk, moving to his closet to prepare himself for the rest of the day. As he did, he pondered just what he wanted to say in his Sending to Essek. Only twenty five words was a restriction he had to abide by, but there was much he wanted to say to the drow. Perhaps… I should simply ask if he is available to meet sometime soon? Then I could Teleport him here, offer him something as an anchor. But what? he thought.

After slipping on clean pants and an undershirt, Caleb grabbed his book holsters and shrugged them on, eyes wandering about as he considered. Once the holsters were on, he picked up his spellbook and strapped it under his arm, all while racking his brain for something to give to Essek. It could be pretty much anything as long as the object had been taken from here, from amongst his possessions, but he also… It was Essek, and Caleb had a desire to find something special for him.

As Caleb mentally fumbled through various objects he had in his possession, he felt a familiar ping in the back of his mind as the wards set at his gate went off, alerting him to an approaching guest and cutting off his thoughts. Brows rising in surprise, he quickly turned his head in the direction of his door. “I wonder who…” he muttered absently, moving toward his bedroom door to make for the entryway to his home. As the wizard quietly padded through his hallway, a small streak of orange and white ran past his bare feet, meowing as it went. “Yes, yes—you’ll get your breakfast soon, little one,” he said, looking back to see his latest addition to the home, a young orange and white tabby he had found huddled under his porch the other day. She was probably barely a year old at the oldest and, at the time of being discovered, her long coat was matted and covered in burs from the nearby bushes and tall grasses. She looked considerably better now, after Caleb carefully cleaned and brushed her. She was surprisingly friendly, leading him to believe she had at one time lived with someone, though who would have left such a kitten outside to fend for itself in the bitter cold winter of Rexxentrum, Caleb had no idea.

She was warm and happy now, however. And also very vocal around feeding time. Bending to give her some scritches behind her ears, the red-haired human smiled.

“I must tend to some unexpected company first, though, alright?” Allowing her a moment to rub her furry cheeks into his palm and bunt into him, he sighed softly before rising back upright and making his way through the rest of the hallway into the living room where the front door awaited him. With nearly perfect timing, Caleb was less than ten feet from the door when he heard a familiar knock—five knocks in a particular cadence he had quickly become to associate with none other than his friend Beauregard. Apprehension he didn’t realize he held melted from him and he took in a deep breath before temporarily releasing the wards on his entrance with a flick of his wrist and opening the door, a slow smile curling his lips upward.

“Beauregard,” he said as a way of greeting. “Should have known it was you.”

Returning his smile with a crooked grin, the monk raised a hand in a casual wave. “Sup Caleb. I got some news you’ll wanna hear,” she said. Then, taking in his disheveled hair, quirked a brow. “You just getting up? It’s like, almost 11, dude.”

Chuckling, he offered a sheepish shrug and stepped aside to allow her entry. “I stayed up a little later than I usually do last night copying a new spell. Also, it’s not that late. It’s 9:47,” he said, giving Beau pause, her face contorted in a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“What, really? Holy shit.”

“Yes, really. But please, come inside before the cat gets out,” he said, amused.

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” At that, she quickly shuffled inside and Caleb shut the door with a furtive glance behind him, making certain the cat in question was still safely indoors. As he did, he caught a glimpse of an expectant yellow-eyed gaze boring holes into him from the archway leading into his kitchen and his smile widened fondly at the sight. For Beau’s credit, she did not waste any time quietly approaching the creature, crouching as she came into arm’s length and extending a hand. “Hey, you—you look so much better now than when I saw you a couple days ago,” she cooed in a soft tone Caleb, when he had first met her, would never have imagined her capable of.

The ginger and white tabby flicked her tail, meowed, and scurried away to march into the kitchen where the food dish sat. “Wow, fuck you, too.” The surly pout in her voice and the immediate slump of her shoulders pulled a warm laugh from Caleb, earning him a glare from his dear friend. “Aw, fuck off, man.” When he simply grinned at her, Beauregard’s expression softened into a smirk and she pushed herself back up into a standing position.

“So, what brings you here again? You mentioned news, ja?” Caleb asked, grin subsiding into a more serious expression—one of genuine curiosity, though he tried not to seem too concerned or apprehensive as his mind wandered over the most likely topic of concern here. Trent Ikithon.

“Uh, yeah. Like I said, I thought you’d wanna hear this. But maybe we should sit down first?” The way her smirk faded from her expression and her tone shifted into something more careful and articulated spiked Caleb’s anxiety a little. Blue eyes darting about his living room, he lifted his hands to nervously wring at his wrists, resisting the sudden urge to scratch at the scars beneath his sleeves.

“Ah, yes… um. Let me just… feed the cat and put on some tea, I think,” he said, forcing his mind to focus on the two tasks he set before him. Quickly, he moved toward Beau to slip past her into the kitchen and breathed in deep through his nose.

“Yeah, of course, man. Let me help,” she said, following after him.

Caleb, for his part, did not argue, though there was some hesitance in his nod of acceptance. Beau was his guest and having her help with tea felt wrong, but he also didn’t feel in a position to insist on such pleasantries. Instead, he focused his attention on preparing some food for his insistent furry friend. As he focused on this task, she weaved through his legs, rubbing up against him meowing and chattering excitedly. It was more than enough to distract him from Beau’s own prepping of the kettle and rummaging through his cupboards for his stash of tea leaves.

As he knelt to set a small clean platter of food for the cat, he heard the monk behind him ask, “So, have you thought of a name for her yet?”

The platter barely clinked against the floor tiles before the cat was practically on top of it, stuffing her face between contented meows. Smiling at this, Caleb shook his head. “I haven’t settled on one just yet, no,” he said before turning around to look at the other. “I have some I’m considering, though.”

“Yeah, like what?”

Caleb slowly moved for the table at the other end of his kitchen, pulling out a chair to sit and look up at Beau. “Hm, Gerbera is one. Marigold or Marmalade also. I don’t know. What do you think?”

With a laugh, Beau pulled out a chair next to him and flopped down. “What do I think? Well, shit.” She looked over at the cat as she continued eating her breakfast, a hand rising to clutch her chin in thought. “Copernicus. Or, Mrs. Nezbit. That one’s good.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, considering. “Charles Wallace? Mabel? What about Sausage? Or, ooh, Bacon! Remember, I helped lure her out from under the porch with my pocket bacon—”

 As Beau continued, Caleb’s expression shifted from one of consideration to confusion to exasperation, a hand rising to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “Ah, yes, thank you, Beauregard, for your—” He cut himself off, struggling to find an appropriate word to describe her input. “Contributions. I will think more on this.”

“Hey, man, you asked for my suggestions,” she said, turning back to face him in her seat.

“…I did, yes,” Caleb relented with a sigh.

With a roll of her eyes, she shifted in her seat and rolled her shoulders a bit. “Alright, well. About that news.” Her gaze dropped briefly to her lap, one foot propped up on the seat of the chair by her heel as she leaned forward against her thigh. “I’m sure you probably guessed it was about Ikithon. The Cobalt Soul’s uncovered more evidence against him recently, so between yours, Astrid’s, and Eadwulf’s testimony and this new evidence… We got a pretty sizable case against him. Things will be moving forward pretty rapidly from here.” She paused then to meet his gaze as her words slowly cycled through his brain and he processed the information.

“That’s…” Slowly, Caleb leaned back into his chair and took in a deep breath, holding it a moment, before releasing it slowly through his nostrils. With it, some of his earlier tension left him, but he could not let go of all of it. He still felt some apprehension, there was still some part of him that feared the worst against all odds. “Gut. Good, that’s… good. Right?”

A half smile briefly flashed over Beau’s features, empathetic and understanding of her friend’s current struggle. “Yeah. Yeah, man, it’s very good,” she said. Then, dropping her propped foot to the floor, she furrowed her brows as she contemplated her next words, forearms coming to rest on her knees and her hands loosely clasped together. “I just… I wanted to check in with you before we move on to the next stage. I know you said you’re willing to testify, but I want you to know you don’t have to. We have everything we need to put this asshole away. I already talked to Astrid and Eadwulf about this, admittedly because I knew you’d ask—” True to her expectations, Caleb had begun to open his mouth to do just that; quickly, he closed his mouth again and nodded to let Beau continue. “—and Wulf is going to continue forward with testifying in court. Astrid, for her part, said she doesn't trust herself not to throw a fireball in Ikithon’s direction. And I think I believe her on that one.” A hint of a smile briefly tugged at Caleb’s lips at this, his gaze dropping to his lap where he wrung his wrists a little too tightly.

“No, I-I appreciate it, Beauregard. But I would very much like to testify. I think… I think I need to. I need to be there,” he said. I need to see him as they drag him away.

When he finally looked back, Beau met his gaze with a look of understanding and nodded, a hint of a smile quirked slightly on her lips. “Yeah. Yeah, I kinda expected that much. I just… needed to make sure,” she said.

Caleb offered her a weak but grateful smile, shifting to sit up more in his seat as the kettle began to whistle, startling them both and breaking the tension.

“Oh! Shit, forgot about the tea,” Beau said, scrambling up to grab the kettle off his ironwood stove. “Uhhh, towels? Mitts!?” Caleb couldn’t help but laugh as the monk began to look about frantically for something to use to set the kettle on. With a flick of his wrist, a spectral hand floated up to grab a towel from the counter behind Beau and drop it on her head. “Wh—What the fuck— Oh. Thanks, asshole.” She quickly grabbed it and leveled a sour look at him, to which Caleb just smiled, leaning against the table now with his stubbled chin in his palm.

“You’re welcome, Beau. Thanks for offering to make tea,” he said. “I’ll get our cups.” And, with another flick of his free hand, the Mage Hand opened a cupboard and grabbed two tea cups from within, carrying them to the table beside him.

He could hear her muttering something under her breath (something about wizards, he was certain) as she made her way back to the table, but made no indication he heard anything even as she tossed the towel beside the tea cups and set the kettle on top of it. “Anyway, change of topic, but I can’t help but be curious—what’s up with that letter Essek asked me to give you?” she asked, catching his gaze before turning back to grab the container of tea leaves she’d left on the counter. Caleb paused, blue hues drifting almost sheepishly as his thoughts from this morning instantly flooded back to him and he remembered the task he had initially set out for himself.

“Ah, well, it’s…” Suddenly, the state of his bare feet was very interesting. Why didn’t he grab his slippers? Why indeed.

Beau, seeing this, bit back a laugh. “It’s what? Surely he wouldn’t confess his undying love to you in a letter.” He could hear the tease in her voice, could almost see the accompanying smirk on her lips as she regarded him, as he felt warmth crawl up his neck, expression shifting to something akin to incredulousness that this was even a question she’d think to ask him.

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous, Beauregard. Nothing like that.” He forced himself to meet her gaze, though he wondered how fruitless it was to hide his growing interest in the other wizard—the tumultuous feelings he had been struggling to hold at bay for… awhile now, if he were honest. He was tired of denying them to himself, though he had done little to fully express those feelings. He wondered if he could without guilt of some kind creeping in. There was a vocal part of himself that had difficulty allowing him the little bit of happiness he had found in this home. Imagine how loud that part of him would be if Essek expressed any desire to share any part of his life with him? Surely, that was too much to hope for, anyway.

“Alright, then what?” She punctuated her question with the clunk of a tin as she set it on the table next to their cups, then sat, looking at Caleb pointedly.

“He told me he was working on something and wished to talk to me about it,” he replied simply, reaching out for the tin of tea leaves. Popping it open, he breathed in the fragrant leaves before he began portioning some of the contents into their cups.

“That’s it? C’mon, man, I know he wouldn’t have been so cagey about something like that.” She watched him a moment and when Caleb didn’t respond, she sighed and swung her head back to clunk against the tall back of her chair. “Fiiine, whatever. You don’t have to tell me. What spell did he send you, though?” When he turned to look at her, opening his mouth in an attempt to deflect her question, she sat up and jabbed a finger in his direction, a crooked smirk on her lips. “You can’t tell me he didn’t send you a spell scroll, Widogast! Why else would you have spent all night copying a new spell?”

A huff of a breath left his lips, a frown set over his features. Caleb should have known better than to underestimate Beauregard’s uncanny ability to extrapolate details and connect the dots, as it were—that was her job, after all, and she was exceedingly good at it. Her brilliant mind was likely one of the reasons he had come to respect her most out of all the Nein, as much as he loved all of them. “He sent me a Sending scroll,” he relinquished, meeting her gaze with some reluctance. He could see the gears turning in her head, the look of genuine surprise over her features, before the monk burst into laughter. Confused, he furrowed his brows, trying to understand why this was so funny to the other. “What? He said, as much as he enjoyed hearing of all our exploits from Jester, some things he would rather hear from me.”

This only made Beauregard laugh harder for a moment, clutching her side, before eventually tapering off. “Oh, man, I gotta admit, I don’t really know what I expected, but I really should have seen that one coming,” she said. Then, more seriously, “Have you messaged him yet?”

Caleb, unsure what Beau meant by that at all, leveled her with a look of suspicious apprehension. “...No. No, not yet. I was in the middle of trying to decide what to say when you showed up,” he admitted.

This made his friend’s face split into a very suspicious looking grin and he narrowed his eyes. “Hey, Caleb?”

“...Ja?”

Her expression shifted into one of contemplation for a moment, as if considering her words, before she said, “You should tell him.” At those words, Caleb felt a leaden weight drop into his stomach and he quickly looked away, a hand reaching out to the kettle he had momentarily been distracted from in a desperate need to focus on something other than what Beau could possibly mean by that.

“Tell him what, exactly, Beauregard?”

He could hear the sharp intake of breath, followed by the slow exhale, even as he tried to focus on the act of pouring, hazel blue hues intently watching the swirl of loose leaves whirling in his tea cup.

“You care about him, don’t you? I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. You both have been dancing around each other for… for months now. Especially in Aeor. Don’t get me started on how—”

“Beau.”

He cut her off, setting the kettle down with a louder thunk on the table than he intended, his fingers clenched around the handle still. Silence hung over them for a long moment, the monk watching him carefully, waiting. She’d gotten a lot better at knowing when to give him space, at least, learning when she was pushing too hard and how to pull back. Caleb was begrudgingly grateful for that, but she was also just that much more effective at getting him to talk about things he didn’t particularly wish to talk about.

This was one of those things.

“It’s… complicated,” he finally said, voice breathy and strained. He wished, for all he was worth, it wasn’t—that he could pursue what he wanted guilt-free or without worry of rejection, betrayal, or any million other things he could think of. So many reasons Essek wouldn’t want him. So many more reasons neither of them would be good for each other, even if Essek did. The weight of his doubts hung heavy on him, though he wished desperately to will them away, to just linger on the longing and joy he felt when in the drow’s presence.

He didn’t realize he’d been trembling slightly until he felt a hand on his shoulder, steadying him, and closed his eyes, his hand falling limp and retracting to himself.

“Hey.” The grip on his shoulder squeezed slightly, Beau’s tone both firm and strangely consoling. “Hey, look at me.” Caleb nearly refused with a huff, but he knew Beau wouldn’t let up until he did. So, with a sigh and some reluctance, he lifted his head to look at her where she now stood next to him, crouched slightly so as not to seem too overbearing. “I know you’ve got this whole… internal struggle going on or whatever. And, look, I get it, man—I mean, I didn’t go through the same shit you did, but I can see it and I understand.” Here, she paused, brows furrowing as she tried to think carefully about her next words—not something she was great at, but Caleb at least appreciated the effort and growth here. She was trying, where she had fumbled many times before, to level with him. “Look, uh, I’m—” She sighed and closed her eyes a moment before forcing herself to meet his gaze again. “You already know I’m shit at words in times like this, but you gotta believe me when I say whether or not you think you deserve happiness or whatever isn’t for you to decide. That’s for the people who care about you. And I— we—all the Nein—want you to find happiness, whatever that looks like for you.” Then, she straightened and lifted her hand to muss up the (already disheveled) hair at the top of his head roughly, pulling a strangled noise of surprise from the older human’s lips. “I don’t expect that shit to go away overnight, but think about it. Just don’t think for too fucking long, our lives are too short for that and you got, like… ten years on me or some shit.”

[automotiveexpress]

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[ask-starplat-and-co]

So for that bread question, is there a specific type we're counting? Cause I could probably guestimate pretty closely. XD raisin bread would be about 50. White would be about 300. 4 strawberry! And about 10 that had pretty food dyed swirl design. And about 7 bagettes. Oh and 2 asiago focciata or however it's spelled.

World: I... I wasn’t prepared for anything like this.

[chibioniyuri]

Claimed by Shadow Reread 2019

TINTTT

I’d forgotten that demons and vampires are essentially competing predators. I wonder how that works with, say, Casanova. Does he need double the partners? Do Rian and he take turns feeding? I assume one human can’t source them both, unless that human is merely a snack-sized morsel for them both? And how will that work with the demon-vamp hybrids we’ve seen? What type of life energy will the demons feed on, and will that conflict with vampires?

Is that.... Caleb? I hate to be that person that’s like, I spotted the AA man, it must be Caleb! But he was a prominent pain in the backside with the kids, and that started.... book three? book four? I think it would be neat if he showed up first as nameless henchman-type figure, and then KC decided to develop him further.

I just realized that the magic suits of armor were a great predecessor to the concept of the Allu.

Will Cassie ever call in that favor from Chavez? Or does the fact that Dracula dies negate it? OR maybe HE dies in the Dory side of this ‘verse. I’ll need to get on that.

....If the chameleon is always hiding when it’s on Cassie, why is it visible on Mac? 

And another clue that this whole thing was set into motion roughly six months ago. That’s when they guestimate Agnes started getting poisoned.

Also, something that has bugged me for literal YEARS. If clairvoyants have the potential to rise above all mages into the position of Pythia, why are they considered “the dregs of the magical world”? Makes more sense to me to treat them with some sort of respect. But I guess that only happens for the Circle-selected initiates that can scratch the Circle’s back.

“I really hoped the side effects from encountering incubi were going to wear off soon.” *snerk* Not likely in the current company you’re keeping, Cassie.

Interesting, so the magical tattoos imprinted on auras is a Fey thing. Think this will make a comeback now that we’re venturing into Faerie?

Knowing what’s coming ahead for them, I am delighted every time I read how horrified Cassie and Pritkin are that they’re attracted to one another.

Who is the mage that cast the geis in the first place? Mac is absolutely certain that only mages with low ability work for vampires, and they wouldn’t be skilled enough to pull off this spellwork. So is that typical Silver Circle arrogance, or was Mac on to something here?

In regards to Mac asking if Cassie is ever tempted to go back and change things, particularly her parents’ death: “Besides, I thought the idea was for me to help guard the timeline, not to interfere with it myself. I could end up changing something vital and possibly make things even worse.” It never hit me until just now, how absolutely vital that instinct is to the plot. If she’d gone back to save them, they wouldn’t be available to anchor the ouroboros, and things would have gone to hell in a handbasket long before now.

This is a good reminder that Cassie may shy away from being the HBIC now, but once upon a time, she dreamed of being the knight in shining armor. Or the plucky apprentice to a wizard. Why not both?

WHY do they need Cassie’s permission to execute Tomas? I get stuck on this all the time. ‘Vamps believe in ending problems permanently.’ I don’t know, maybe someone that sides with the enemy trying to bring you down with no regards to propriety or set rules would be considered an enemy? Maybe even a PROBLEM? Is she going to interfere with every punishment the Senate doles out, or just the ones that affect people she cares for? Like, maybe there’s a professional courtesy here, maybe, but only a few pages later she’s talking about how mages and weres don’t interfere in vamp affairs and vice versa and…. I don’t know where I’m going with this, but I guess I feel pretty strongly about people using their office to benefit people related to them. They shouldn’t get out of being punished for a crime just because you don’t want to see them punished. Boy, watch me rant about this bs when watching one of those crime procedurals and I see a cop let the perp go or destroy evidence because they don’t want to see their family do time for fucking MURDER.

Continuing on the theme of things that disturb me: Cassie deciding she’s definitely, no doubts about it, in love with Mircea when she KNOWS she’s under a spell known to amplify feelings. 

Also, maybe the doubling effects of the geis should be a lesson to the vamps NOT to lay ancient spells known to bind the spellee to the speller on someone who can time-travel? Or on someone they want to gain that ability? Because she did! And their machinations backfired on them! And that’s their fault, not hers! Consequences, not intentions, and all that rot. But I guess vampires are immune to consequences when the other party is non-vampire, hmm??? Shoddy double standards.

Wait a second….. Vamps don’t hear their masters in Faerie! Will this come into play during the vamp/demon invasion that’s coming? Masters can’t force possession so those possessed are willing in that aspect, but it’s all the ‘expendable’ ones being voluntold to sign up, so…. Maybe some will want to stay in Faerie? Or they’ll take the opportunity while they’re free from their masters to ask Cassie to do what happened to Jules?

I still cry when Mac’s wards get used. Odd. I don’t cry when he dies. But his wards disappearing feels like his final death. That’s something I really wanted to confirm while I’m at work.

And then more waterworks when she finds the chameleon. I’m a soggy mess now. 

[digick]

Accidental typos and guestimated spellings actually train Google's spelling algorithm. Find out how.The post Why Spelling Mistakes In Google Searches Are Actually A Good Thing via @RebekahDunne appeared first on Search Engine Journal.

[youlovelucie]

things i’ve done today instead of getting ready for and then doing my job:

1)  Thought up every conceivable way that Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt can get back together

2)  Figured that while I’m at it I may as well try to guestimate how long Justin Timberlake will be married because I’ve been holding out for him and Britney, too

3)  Gotten inspired by my love for them and needed more actualy physical encounter so watched videos of Tessa & Scott

4)  Gotten maj classic romance feels from T & S and started hunting for Reylo theories on the interweb

Can you guys tell I'm in the longest dry spell of my life?

[bestfriendforhire]

Children of BFFH, Entry 40

 Rona’s face was hilarious when she saw lunch, spreading out across the great table in the kitchen, the counter, and several serving carts.  Apparently, Stormcrow had never let her eat with us, because I doubt she’d forget it like I would.  I wasn’t certain how long we’ve been gaming since lunch, but I needed to focus on the memory of Rona’s face to remember.

 “Turtle formation!” ordered Four.

 Rona Darkwind stepped into my spot along the front of our formation, so I had to hurry around her to seal the gap where our spell walls wouldn’t be covering us.  Her face at dinner was so funny that I’d forgive her.  Her mouth was hanging open, eyes were wide, and everyone could see she was salivating with how she had to quickly shut her mouth and swallow.  As I stepped forward with the wall at Four’s steady command, killing Nilfen invaders that reached me, I tried picturing what Rona would do when she saw the even larger meal at dinner.  How did her clan eat when they were together?

 The memory of Rona’s face almost slipped.  I felt it, much like I felt my soft shirt against my skin.  Clutching tight, I focused on all the details.  I could count her teeth, see how her black hair fell past her shoulders, and guestimate the angle of her jaw as it approached her neck  Luckily, following orders didn’t take much thought.  I really wanted this beautiful memory, though there was a strong chance I wouldn’t remember when this happened.  If I didn’t know this wasn’t a permanent memory yet, I wouldn’t know this just happened even now.

 Where were we now?  I was still savoring that sweet, new memory.  Looking around, I didn’t recognize the room, though I was certain this was still part of home.  Otherwise, why would we all be sitting here?  I stared at a beautiful, otherworldly painting of a twin sunrise over a violet ocean.  Dani had painted this.  No one could paint quite like her, and few favored such bright, unearthly coloring for a landscape.  I had studied many of her paintings with Momma Mila’s help and even had a couple memories of watching Dani sing, making paint dance through the air before precisely applying itself to her canvas.

 Laughter caught my attention, and I saw Rona rolling on the ground with Leilani giggling over her, a single finger touching Rona’s head.  Leilani’s vibrant, red eyes were tearing from her giggling as she bounced on her feet  Was she still four?  How long until she had the graceful steps of her mother?  Did she still fall occasionally?  The shock of people changing was good for me, helping me to latch on to their new features.

 “This is… so cool!” exclaimed Rona between laughs.

 I wanted to remember this moment too, so I focused on her motion and the sound of her laugh.  Leilani’s cobalt hair was dangling in front of one eye.  She was a bundle of pure joy.  A memory tugged at my mind, but I tried to ignore it.  Like a wave, it crashed in my mind, showing me Dani looking sad.  I shook off the somber feeling from when she told us of her childhood.  By my age, Dani had been enslaved.  I didn’t know why I had wanted this memory so much that day I found out, but I would never forget that sad look in her eyes as she spoke of enslavement or the brilliant smile replacing it when she spoke of the Boss and Momma Alma saving her.

 “Your turn, Ella!” exclaimed Rona, grinning at me.

 “Turn?” I asked, feeling that I was forgetting something.

 “Show me what you can do.” insisted Rona, her face inches away as she stared into my eyes.  Seeing the illusions floating around me, she looked at them instead.

 Focusing, I forced a single, giant question mark to appear over my head.

 Laughing, Rona said, “That’s cool, but they said you could control me.  I want to see what it feels like.”

 “You have permission, Ella.  Make her dance for us!” suggested Dani, smiling at me.

 I nodded, knowing Dani was telling the truth.  “Rona.” I stated.  The moment she looked at me, I used my power.  “Dance for a minute.”  Doing my best not to giggle, I watched Rona trying to dance.  She would be trying to do her best, so I did my best not to laugh.  She hadn’t been taught dance yet.

 “Why..?” asked Rona, looking around in confusion.  “I was just dancing, wasn’t I?  What just…”

 “You asked Ella to demonstrate her power.  Feels weird when you’re released, doesn’t it?  You know you wanted to be dancing, and just don’t know why!” exclaimed Aid, grinning at her.

 “But I don’t remember even asking her!” exclaimed Rona.

 Four shrugged.  “Father taught her to force the person to forget around half a minute whenever she uses her power.  She does that by instinct now.”

 “Wait.  She can make me forget things by just telling me?” questioned Rona.

 “No.  I have to gaze into your eyes too.” I told her, wondering why she was so surprised.  Everyone here could do things.  What had I made her do?  Just forget something?  I couldn’t remember anymore.  I did remember the lessons with the Boss.  He had seemed even taller then.  When was it?

 Aid created a tiny updraft around Rona’s head purely by manipulating the heat, which took awesome control, but Rona didn’t seem impressed.  He then froze the air around her while protecting her from the cold, which obviously startled her.

 Four stood and bowed to her, but either him or an illusion was still standing.  The spell had been cast too quickly for me to follow.  More illusions split off as the first two versions of him moved.  Rona spun in place, staring at the ring of Fours.

 Together, the Fours asked “Which is me?”

 She guessed wrong, of course.  Few of us here would know.

 “This one.” stated Luce, playfully tugging her brother away.  The illusions vanished as the real Four took a seat again, but Luce was already stripping the air of moisture.  A floating ball of water became a dragon, flying through the air on watery wings.

 The demonstrations continued with Rona getting excited with each one.  When we left, I assumed that I had shown her something as well, but I wished I could remember what.  Maybe mine just wasn’t that impressive.  After I got in bed, Momma Mila was kind enough to replay some events for me.  Best of all, I could actually remember a couple things from this day, proving it was one worth remembering.