#those plastic glow in the dark stars you see on amazon

[aquared]

what is the space equivalent to clocks … like … time : clocks as space : ?

i cant put my finger on it

[jinmukangwrites]

@damianwayneweek Day 3 (6-15): “That wasn’t supposed to happen” | Reconciling with Tim | Autistic!Damian

Note: at this point, this is just "Damian cries and Dick hugs him" week. Someone send help. I love these two so much.

Warnings: angst and tears and Damian being a ball of separation anxiety.

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The smell of sea salt mixed with the pollution of Gotham's coast is almost close to nauseating. If Damian hadn't already been feeling anxious and sick to his stomach, he would definitely be now.

And the thing is, he doesn't even know why.

It's been this way all night. It started before tonight, even. He's convinced himself it's probably something he had for lunch, but even a child would know that's a weak grasping of straws. No one ever gets sick from the food made in the Wayne Manor, not when Alfred is there to cook it.

But he tells himself it's because of that anyways. He feels sick to his stomach because the lettuce in his sandwich must have been old. Not for any other reason. And certainly not because his father has been off-world for the past month and Richard is once again holding the mantle of Batman while he's away.

"What do you say about heading home early?" Richard asks from where he stands besides Damian. The word home grates on Damians nerves for reasons that he... cannot bring himself to comprehend.

Damian nods his head, not saying anything. It's been a quiet night in Gotham anyways. His nerves feel fried from the constant anxiety pressing in his chest and he's sure the moment he gets to his bed he'll pass out.

Or at least stare blankly at the ceiling until he does.

The ride back to the manor is silent between Damian and Richard. Almost a month ago, it used to be loud with banter whenever he and Richard had a minute to themselves. They'd get back at the manor and Alfred would be there to pester them into taking care of themselves. Cassandra and Duke would enter and leave as they wished with the occasional appearances of Timothy and Jason. The only time they had to themselves was inside the batmobile, as there's not much private banter you can have while defending the streets either.

But it's silent now. Damian's chest and stomach hurts and no words seem to want to come to his throat, but he's not usually the one to start the conversations anyways. Something is keeping Richard silent as well. The thought that, for whatever reason, Richard doesn't want to talk to him makes his anxiety spike just the same as the thought of conversation.

It feels like the second they pull into the cave Damian's jumping out of the car and stalking towards the changing rooms. Alfred let's him stride past, lifting an eyebrow as he does, but he doesn't stop him. Alfred simply walks over towards Richard and offers him a cup of tea from the metal tray he's been holding.

Damian can hear the low rumble of words beginning to be exchanged between the two, but he's already too far away to make sense of them. He doesn't care to listen anyways. He just wants to get dressed and go to bed without anyone talking to him.

Without anyone asking him what's wrong. They must notice something is wrong, right? What would he say if they do ask? No. No one knows anything is wrong. Because nothing is wrong. Everything is okay.

He dresses into a clean pair of pajamas that feel fresh from the dryer and heads straight towards the exit of the batcave, not sparing Richard or Alfred a glance as he does so.

Everything is okay. He ate something bad for lunch.

That's all.

He manages to get all the way to his bedroom without running into anyone. Cassandra and Duke must be busy tonight, and he can't think of any reason why Timothy and Jason would be here at this hour of night. It's not surprising he didn't run into anyone. Why does he almost wish he had?

He shakes his head and closes the door behind him. Whatever is making him feel this way, it will go away if he rests. He's sure of it.

Wordlessly and single-mindedly, he removes the decorative pillows from his bed and pulls down the sheets. In a few practiced and fluid movements, he's under the covers and glaring at the ceiling, his stomach clenching.

There's glow in the dark stars above him, made of plastic and held to the ceiling with fun-tak. His eyes drift to a bigger glowing figure, it's circular and there's swirling patterns that mimic the global storm of Jupiter's surface. Another has two rings, like the planet in Treasure Planet.

Richard put them up the second month after Damian first came here. Damian had expressed... desires... to study and learn how kids who weren't raised in the League of Assassins lived. Glow in the dark stars was something Richard very much enjoyed getting off of Amazon that night, saying they were all the craze when he was younger. Every friend he visited had them in their bedrooms. His own childhood bedroom still has some old and dim ones hanging on the ceiling from when he convinced his father to get him some.

He didn't understand the appeal of them then. Nor does he now. Perhaps it's something to do with children in Gotham never seeing the actual stars because of the light pollution. All he knows is that in the desert he grew up in... these fake green plastic decorations do not compare to the galaxy he used to see as if the only thing separating him from the universe was a single pane of glass.

He turns away from the fake stars, closing his eyes, before they open again to glare now at his bookshelf, filled to the brim with books of all kinds and Cheese Viking figurines. There's a collectable coin there too, one Richard accidentally won way back when he decided to buy a mystery box from some website. It turned out to be pretty rare. He gave it to Damian and Damian got curious enough to look up the game.

It's his favorite game now. Because Richard found him a random gold coin.

Richard. His stomach clenches. Why won't it stop hurting? He has no reason to be this anxious.

No reason at all.

There's a soft knock on his door. Damian shifts so he's holding himself up on his elbows, watching as the door opens to reveal none other than Richard. His hair looks damp from a shower, which makes Damian wonder how long he's been glaring at random things in his room. He's dressed in an old Gotham Knight's tee-shirt with mustard stains around the right breast. Damian went to a game with him when he was wearing that shirt. He accidentally got shoved into Richard in the crowd, looking for their seats, when Richard was holding a hotdog. It got all over him, but the mustard is the only thing that persisted multiple rounds in the washer.

"Dami? You up?" Richard asks. Damian reaches over and turns on the dim lamp by his bedside.

Richard's eyes settle on him, and he smiles. It looks strained though.

That festering, lingering anxiety spikes.

"What is it?" He asks.

Richard walks into the room, then sits down on the side of Damian's bed. Damian bends his knees to allow room for him. He brings his pillow in front of his body and hugs it.

"Did I do something wrong?"

The question shocks Damian, as he didn't mean to ask it. It seems to startle Richard as well, because he goes stock still and looks at Damian with wide eyes.

It shocks them both, but it must be the reason if a bad lunch isn't.

Then, Richard breaks into soft laughter, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was about to ask the same thing, actually," he says, once the laughter dies down.

Damian frowns. Has Richard done anything wrong?

No. The answer is immediate. Richard hasn't done a single thing wrong. He's been nothing but his usual annoying and loud and pushy and kind and loving self since his father left and he came to keep the suit warm.

It almost feels like the beginning all over again. Waking up in the morning and smelling sweetened mocha instead of straight black coffee. Sketching in the afternoons by the fireplace in the family room and being interrupted by Richard barging in with a portable speaker, blasting the newest trending pop song. Going to bed with a goodnight hug. Bandaids snuck into Alfred's first aid supply that have cartoon and Disney characters designs. He's wearing a Frozen 2 bandaid now, on his knee.

If his father hadn't left with the rest of the Justice League, the band-aid would be a normal tan color and the day would be close to silent and alone.

It's feeling normal again, he realizes with horror. Because whatever mood Richard brings into the manor isn't normal. Normal is Bruce Wayne silently checking up on him throughout the day and calmly helping him with homework and giving tips on sketching techniques. Normal is leaning against the strong shoulder of his father as he tests those tips while his father reads a book, the only sounds to interrupt them being the ticking clock on the wall and the crackling of the fire.

Normal is... Normal isn't...

It's not this. He likes the time he spends with his father. He enjoys the wordless love and reassuring squeezes to his shoulder.

Normal isn't the loudness and silliness of Richard's affection.

And just like that, he finally knows what's wrong.

It feels the same as it used to be. Back when they thought his father was dead. Back when Richard seemed to be the only trusted adult in his life, and the daily interactions he had with him almost promised to be infinite.

And then they found out his father was still alive, just stuck in time. With the help of Timothy and others... They managed to bring him back.

And.

And.

And Richard left.

And Damian was left.

And.

And that wasn't supposed to happen. Was it?

He hasn't allowed himself to think about much. It was something neither of them had acknowledged or mentioned. Richard once said he considered adopting Damian if his father was dead. Damian didn't stop himself from taking comfort in that.

And it feels like history is repeating itself. His father is away. Richard is Batman.

However, now Damian knows that the second his father returns, Richard will be packing his bags and leaving. This isn't normal. He can't get used to this again. He loves his father. But Richard...

It hurt enough the first time, watching him go.

And it will happen all over again. He'll get comfortable with Richard and his daily hugs and laughter, and then he'll be gone.

Separation anxiety. He has separation anxiety.

"Oh buddy," Richard coos, wrapping his arms around Damian and bringing him to his lap to hold him better.

He's crying. Tears are running down his face and it's stupid, because he knows that when Richard leaves again, it won't be like he'll never see him again.

But he's crying, and it hurts. Hurts more than if he had eaten something bad. He clutches to the pillow between them and let's the tears fall.

"Tell me what's wrong," Richard soothes, probably the only person in the entire universe to not freak out when he cries. Probably the only person in the entire universe Damian would allow himself to cry like this to. "What can I do to help?"

"It's stupid," Damian says, through it's through a hiccupping sob, which makes it sound very not stupid to someone like Richard. He sniffs and rubs his eyes on the pillow, forcing his breathing to go normal and to stop crying. "It's nothing. Father will come back, and- and you'll go back to Blüdhaven, and everything will be normal again."

Richard stills, then sighs. "So it's about that," he says softly. Of course he immediately knows what Damian means. He tightens his hold on Damian. "You know when your dad comes back, nothing will change between us, right? Even if we're on the opposite side of the world."

"I don't want to be on the opposite side of the world," Damian snaps, shoving himself away from Richard and glaring. "I want- I don't-" he presses his face into his pillow and groans.

Dick is silent, then he shifts closer and wraps his arm around Damian's shoulder gently. "I know. I don't either. But... it's just the way things have to be. You know this. Just like you know that... that if you ever really want to, I can clean out my guest room."

Damian shakes his head, his feelings feeling so all over the place and raw. "I just- when father came back, I didn't expect you to just leave. I don't want to choose. I-"

"I know," Richard whispers. "I know. I love Bruce. He's my dad too. But, you know us. If I move back in, we'll be at each other's throats. I'm a grown man now, Dami. I have to be on my own. He's... Protective. He still sees me as seventeen years old. And he's your father. You should be with him."

Damian sniffs. He doesn't nod. He doesn't shake his head. Agree nor disagree.

Simply understands.

It's just the way things are.

He stays silent as Richard continues. "And you know that I'll always be there for you, if you need me. I'll drop everything for you. Just say the word. I'll be running, even if I'm on the other side of the world."

Now Damian nods. Let's the cotton of his pillowcase soak up his silent tears.

He doesn't feel much better, but he doesn't feel so awful anymore either. He supposes that's the best it will get in this situation.

So he just sits there until his head begins to dip with exhaustion and Richard pulls him in so he's laying against his shoulder. His eyelids droop, and they stay there, together, like they used to.

It's scary to allow himself to become attached to things, but he can never help himself with Richard.

The best that he can do is enjoy it while it lasts, and make the most of it.

Richard will be gone when father comes home, but for now he's here, and he's warm, and he's solid.

Damian falls asleep, and Richard doesn't leave that night.

[fascinationuniformed]

Festival Tipi

by Mr. Scade https://www.patreon.com/fascinationuniformed http://iancooketapia.com/  Story originally inspired by the photo above.

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

Marco unzipped his tent and the light was agony. Immediately, the leftover alcohol beat at his skull like smiths to iron, as if the very understanding of daylight had injected them with energy.

He scrambled inside his tent and found his sunglasses. With a contended sigh, he sat his ass on the plastic of the tent and rested his bare feet on the wet grass outside.

“How’s that headache?” Jen appeared. Before he knew what was going on, a water bottle was in his hands. He drank greedily.

He made a non-committal sound, and then flopped back onto his sleeping bag. He groaned, forgetting that he was lying on a patch of semi-dry farm field and not his feather down bed.

Jen chuckled. “Drink that whole bottle. Go for a piss. Come back, and we’ll start getting you feeling better. Trust me, it feels worse if you stay there.”

And with that, Marco heard her feet mulch on the wet ground towards the sound of sizzling bacon.

Marco’s first festival had so far been a loud, wet, rambunctious and drunk affair. Everything he had heard and more. Constant drizzling rain and mud splatters up to your chest? Check. Popular crap music as well as fascinatingly good unknown bands? He had already bought some CDs he doubted would be available on Amazon. Drunk and a little rude? Well… not just a little rude but in a near-constant state of passive-aggressive confrontational entitlement. It is alcohol, after all! That was expected. Required, even. The drugs had surprised Marco, though, but the more he walked around the festival grounds the more sense their presence – if not outright requirement – made.

Without those drugs, then some of the attractions in the festival would either be empty or burnt to the ground. Especially the tents. Oh, there were tents dedicated to forest spirits, tents designed to put you in a sensorial overload or a deprived state that really made you see things. There was an entire little tipi hut made of furry, soft things that people went in just to, kid you not, roll on the floor laughing. It was called the ROFL Tipi. Going into one of the tents sober was a trip on its own – they were just that good – but seeing the reaction from those whose perception of reality was, should we say, enhanced was a riot. Being on acid must make some of them a truly mind-bending experience.

No. Of all the things that stood out about his first festival experience, it was the bare skin that surprised Marco the most. The grand majority of those showing extra skin were women, with the occasional dude or older gentleman bare chested or wearing naught but a banana hammock. It was on the second day when it suddenly became a pattern, when Marco finally realised it. Perhaps his own heterosexuality affected his perception, but he hadn’t really seen that many guys dressed up like peacocks during mating season. A relatively fit man in naught but a speedo and wellington boots? Yeah, okay. Some heavy set obese man, glowing pale white, in a vest and assless cowboy chaps? Well, someone might be into that. Perhaps the sample size was too small. But the girls? Yes. Not all the women were dressed like rave culture had an illegitimate child with hair metal and then had it raised by Eddie Izzard. But those that were? Neon bikinis with fishnets, plastic-tassels wigs and gaudy, giant sunglasses. Leotards with cut-off breast holes, tear drop-shaped pasties covering the nipples, and that getup wasn’t half as eye-catching as their holographic wellington boots. One girl had high-waisted shorts, a black PVC harness on top, a sheer bra, and pink hair in messy pigtails. Marco noticed the earphones leading to a secret pocket inside her shorts, as she danced by herself next to a bin overflowing with beer cans.

Two days, and Marco had trouble not staring. After all, those outfits were meant not so much to be looked at but gawked at; eye-catching, proudly proclaiming “here’s my woman’s body” and making a statement. If it was political, sexual or just going with the flow of the festival, Marco didn’t know. And the longer he was there, the less he cared to even think about that. Booze, dance and the few hot girls amongst the sea of impractical outfits made it hard to have such lofty conversations with his friends and even with himself.

It was a festival, after all. Rules and normalcy were outside this muddy field. In here, anything went. Possibilities could be bent. People could even look attractive wearing high-waisted jeans!

 By the third evening, Marco’s initial anxiety had been drowned and everything felt pretty mellow and right. His gut didn’t feel like exiting in an emergency, and the meal they had made from what was left of their store of tins had been edible. And he managed to keep it in, unlike the bacon-heavy breakfast. That very morning, however, he had learned the dangers of mixing alcohol and weed. But after drinking a little cocktail from one of the health stations – little kiosks manned by some NGO dedicated to safe consumption – he felt more human than usual. He even went for a second one. Whatever that thing was, it felt like all the lies healthy supplements try to sell but, you know, real.

The day had been pretty chill after that. Some shows, some games, a lot of standing around in what had at some point been a green field but could now double as a “junta de embarre”. Come the evening, though, he and his friends were feeling a little bored.

Down the hill, a show of lights and loud synth guitars shook the ground. A mass of people holding glow sticks moved like one wave. With one mind, one body. It was beautiful to witness from far away. And sitting down. Not for the last time that night, Marco rubbed his feet. He should’ve brought hiking socks to this place. Or hiking boots. Something comfortable, at least.

Jen passed a joint to Brando, who tilted his head back as he inhaled. An old habit of his. After a moment, he passed it on. Marco took a drag, and then drew hoops with the smoke and then passed it on to… whoever had made their way into their little campsite. In any other situation, Marco would’ve worried. But the tangy, mellow flavours in his mouth made it easy to not care. It was a festival, after all. Make friends and make love. Rules were abandoned outside these muddy fields.

“D’ya see that?” Jen said suddenly, pointing up to the sky.

They had agreed to no lights at night. Some stars could be seen overhead, but mostly it was the lights reflecting on the clouds. An ethereal, otherworldly show, half-imagined, half-there.

After a while, Jen pulled the hood of her frayed hoodie down and pointedly pointed at something in the dark, past their tents. “We should do the Experience Tipis.”

“Which one, though,” Marco said, a little unsure.

“Take your pick. I would so,” Elongation. The syllable hanging in the air for too long. “Love to go into the expansion tent.”

“The what?”

“Expansion tent,” Jen repeated.

Brando coughed some smoke, rubbing his nose on his shirt sleeve. “She means the spandex tent – tipi, I mean,” He coughed some more. “It is covered in soft spandex and the floor is a big shaggy carpet. Soft. And dry.”

There was general assents at the word dry. The floor mulched under the plastic tarp they all sat on.

“And with the show down there,” Marco pointed down the hill. “It should be emptier.”

“Sounds like a plan,” The person next to Marco turned out to be a woman with a thick accent. It was a pretty accent, though.

They zipped down their tents, and then trudged through trenches of brown-grey mud and slush. Past piles of plastic cups, tin cans and the occasional guy passed out on a wet puddle that could’ve been anything.

A no-nonsense woman guarded the entrance to the Tipi Village. She eyed them, shone a light on their eyes, and sniffed around.

“Strong stuff?” She asked, as she made a note of their festival bracelets.

“Mellow. Could run a mile, but might get distracted by a tree,” Jen said. Whatever that meant satisfied the guardswoman and she let the four of them through.

The Tipi Village was arranged in a horseshoe shape, with the heavily decorated gate at one end. In the middle of the space, there was a big bonfire that turned the people there into eerie shadows. Most were unmoving, some were eating. They were all quiet.

“This one!” Jen cried, opening the flap to the tent with the sign that read Relaxation and Rebirth Tipi.

One girl sitting near the fire glared at them, shushing loudly.

Marco looked at her, in her star-shaped bikini, a row of tiny, strawberry-sized hair buns giving her hair something like a ridged spine. Discreetly, he adjusted his erection. The whole gathering was made up of these festival girls in their gaudy and trashy and, frankly, pretty hot outfits.

“Hey, you coming?” Brando said, waiting just inside the tipi. Some of the light landed on Brando’s face, illuminating the scar on his lip.

Marco was glad for the darkness. It hid just how close that phrase had come to reality.

“Yeah,” Marco said before stepping into a world made of soft pastels inside. Warm lights gave the whole place a colourful glow, not too intense, and very homey.

His friends had found a little step of soft plush green carpet, pink beanbags, and other soft items. Jen was already stepping into what looked like a cocoon hammock made from whatever soft spandex-y fabric Marco felt under his socks. Brando flopped onto a bean bag. While their new friend simply lied down on the plush carpet. She was tall and plump.

With a shrug, Marco went towards them.

The tipi had other people. Some on their own, others in small groups. They must’ve been here for a long while, because they looked asleep or, rather, a little out of it. Every single one of them was just lying down, on the floor, or on the steps, cradling themselves on the soft fabric. One or two seemed to be sinking into their chairs, blissful expressions on their faces. What he did notice was that every single person in the tipi was looking up at some sort of projection of a psychedelic dream. Just looking at it made Marco feel a little dizzy.

“Hey,” The stranger girl said. “Come. Sit down. It is so nice.”

As Marco sat down on a soft plushy chair and—

“Holy shite, this is so soft!” He cried.

“Told you,” Jen said, mumbling like a happy cat.

“It is life, bro,” Brando sighed, already halfway swallowed by the too-soft beanbag.

And Marco couldn’t help but sigh as he let his weight be taken by the plush… object. It wasn’t like any beanbag he had ever sat on – it was like stroking a soft cat and being wrapped in silk all at once.

It was then that Marco looked up and saw the shapes. Not just the psychedelic colours straight out of a Pink Floyd-induced nightmare, but the shapes hiding between the colours, inside the patterns.

“Guys, do you… d-do you see that?”

The patterns were shifting, circling, psychedelic dreams, perfect truths, new realities unheard of. Like every trippy piece of media, ever song composed while high as a kite, like every epiphany about the size of the universe all neatly put together in an impossible pattern of impossible colours.

Marco heard someone shush him. He turned, and from the corner of his eyes saw Brandon’s happy, blank face slowly sinking into the plush chair as if he were on quicksand. With a pop, his friends’ visage disappeared and all that remained was a round, plump fuzzy chair.

“G-guys?” He tried again, his attention snapping to the patterns.

The world felt so soft. So snug and warm and comfortable and, damn, those lights even felt warm on his skin.

Marco moved his neck just in time to see the floor swallow their new friend. It was like she was a leave floating on water, dipping the surface tension but not breaking when, suddenly, the woman disappeared with a pop.

“What the fuck!” Marco tried to get up, but something snapped him back into the plush cahir.

“Shhh… Marco,” Jen moaned hard and long. “It feels so much better when you let it take over.” She moaned again like someone getting their brains fucked empty.

Marco blinked, glancing to the side. Jen’s shape was visible, writhing and twisting, inside the tight green spandex cocoon. Her hands were groping at her boobs, between her legs, as the hammock closed down as if someone was reverse-peeling a banana. With a sigh, Jen’s face disappeared under the fabric before it tightened around her features as if she were being vacuum packaged.

“W-what the—” Marco’s voice was swallowed by the soft, green furry plushness of his chair. He could move his arms and legs, but just barely. The heavy plushness weighted on him, making it hard to kick or punch. Besides, just moving felt so nice that Marco would forget to even fight and just idly start stroking the fabric, letting it swallow him.

As the plushness came over his face, darkness didn’t appear. Instead Marco saw a world of technicolour spark through his eyelids and into his mind.

  Eventually, the four of them left the tipi and sat around the fire, staring at it for a long while. Silent, enjoying the orange glow on their bare skin.

Jen sat with legs spread wide, letting the warmth of the fire lick her skin. The sheen of perspiration shinning on her bare midriff, her exposed breasts and naked legs reflected some of the light. If the sweat was from external or internal heat, that was hard to tell. The girl simply sat, eyes staring into a place far away inside the fire. Her star-shaped facepaint impervious to perspiration. Her hair, shiny green, cast a shadow over one half of her face.

Next to Jen, the plump girl coughed a little before she was shushed quiet by all the other festival girls basking before the flames. She looked abashed for a moment, before she leaned closer to the fire. Her neon-green bikini top disappeared under a rain of pink tassels from her plastic poncho enveloped her. Her enormous pink sombrero made her look like a giant, plastic Mexican statue.

A small girl kept playing with her boobs muttering something. Every squeeze sent her body shivering, letting a moan escape lips coloured a deep red. The colour, however, was carefully applied to avoid the scar that decorated her pretty face. The rest of her was wrapped in tight, shiny red spandex, a unitard of some sort, with a plunging neckline. Her arms and legs, however, were wrapped in fuzzy, furry, shaggy, pink hair.

A fourth girl, sat by her friends, looking around nervously. Something was odd about her friends, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. A sound broke her rumination. She turned, seeing a group of guys going into the same tipi she had walked into just a couple of – hours? days? – ago. As she moved, she felt something graze her legs. She looked down, seeing grass tickling her fishnet-covered legs. She giggled, and it made her bouncy tits bounce. They looked nice in their neon-green bikini top. Comfortable, like they had always been there.

“Oh, of course I’ve always had them,” Marco said. “I’ve always been a festival slut.”

Another sound. Someone shushing the boys.

She turned, seeing one of the tipi caretakers approach her. The woman was dressed in stars and tassels, in bright neon spandex and with colourful face paint. She looked hot as.

“Oh, Marcella, darling, you have to look into the fire,” She placed a hand on Marcella’s face and she felt her pussy tingle.

Softly, the caretaker tilted Marcella’s face towards the controlled, multi-coloured bonfire. “Look into the Fire. Let it warm up your heart. Your pussy. Let it fill you with feminine power. Let it burn away what was. Learn to burn bright and blinding. Learn to look like no one could ever look away.”

Marcella shuddered, feeling the warmth of the fire lick her skin. The caretaker’s skin caressing the inside of her thigh.

“Learn to be a festival slut, dear.”

 FIN ‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘

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[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Bad Blood - Chapter 31

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

__________

Panic drives Stiles upstairs when the shouting starts, but it’s muscle memory that takes him to the room he hasn’t set foot inside for six years. He doesn’t even realise what he’s done until he’s already pushed the door open and he’s staring his old life in the face.

The bedroom isn’t exactly how he left it—Stiles is pretty sure there wasn’t day when his comforter wasn’t in a pile on the floor and there was crap from one side of the room to the other—but all his things are here. All the things that ten-year-old Stiles loved so much.

His comforter has the Transformers on it.

There’s a plush Yoda sitting on his pillow.

His bookcase is full of Animorphs books—ha!—and comics and Lego figurines.

There are glow-in-the-dark stickers of stars and moons and planets on the ceiling.

This is a little boy’s room.

This is what Kate and Gerard stole from him. Not just possessions. Not just dumb stuff. They stole that little boy from Stiles.  

“Stiles?” his dad asks him.

Stoles jolts, and spins around. He didn’t even realise his dad was behind him. If Gerard was here, he’d get punished for letting someone sneak up on him like that. He blinks, and sees the arrow sticking out of Gerard’s busted eye. It calms him more than something that grisly should.

“You, um,” Stiles says. “You kept it all the same.”

“I couldn’t bring myself to do anything else,” his dad says. His eyes shine, and he swallows.

Downstairs, Allison and Victoria are still yelling and then, abruptly, it stops. The sudden silence feels even quieter than it should.

“I don’t remember everything,” Stiles says. “I don’t remember how to be him. That kid you lost.”

“I don’t need you to be him,” his dad says. “Kiddo, I just need you to be you.”

Stiles snorts. “Still figuring that one out, to be honest.”

“Yeah?” his dad asks, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. “Well, you take all the time you need.”

Stiles moves further into his room and reaches out to pick up a plastic toy from the desk. It’s some cheap crap that looks like it came out of a Happy Meal or something. He turns it over in his palm. “Do I… I mean, am I staying here now? With you?”

“I’d like you to,” his dad says.

“In this room,” Stiles says, “that’s full of kid stuff?”

“I’ve got boxes in the garage,” his dad says. “We can clear some of this stuff out now, if you want. Because I have to tell you, there is nothing in that closet that will even come close to fitting you now.”

Stiles thinks of his clothes back at Gerard’s house. “Shit. The photo of Mom and me. It’s at Gerard’s place. And my passport too. I need to get those back, or it’ll totally fuck with that cover story about the grandparents.”

“We’ll make it happen,” his dad says. “And, since I haven’t been able to say this in six years, watch the language, huh?”

Stiles flushes warmly. “Yeah, sorry.”

“I guess I’ll let it slide,” his dad says. “Extenuating circumstances.”

Aren’t they, though? Stiles squeezes the plastic toy in his hand until it hurts. “I’m not that kid,” he says again, his voice rasping. “That kid who fit into those clothes. I’m sorry.”

“I was making a joke, Stiles,” his dad says, his forehead creasing. “A pretty shitty joke, apparently. Hell, I’m not going to treat you like a little boy, Stiles. I promise. It’s going to take us a while to find our feet around each other again, but I don’t…” He sighs, and drags his hand through his hair. “I don’t have any expectations of you, you understand? I just want you to be happy here.”

Stiles swallows past the ache in his throat. “Okay. I’ll try.” He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip in an effort to ease the word out: “Dad.”

It sound so big.

Dad blinks, and his eyes shine with tears. “We’re gonna make this work, kiddo, you’ll see.” He clears his throat. “Now how about I get those boxes from the garage?”

***

Allison goes home with Victoria, though she promises to be back tomorrow. Stiles spends the afternoon going through his old stuff, with Derek beside him. Derek is… Derek is like a fire that Stiles leans towards on a winter’s night. He’s warmth and comfort and a silent promise that he’ll keep the cold away. He laughs at some of the t-shirts Stiles holds up.

“This was fashion?” Stiles asks. “Was this ever fashion?”

“I bet you were the coolest ten-year-old on the block,” Derek says.

Stiles tosses a bright red flannel shirt at him, and Derek bats it into the closest box.

“Don’t even pretend,” Derek says. “You’d still wear that if it was in your size.”

Stiles snorts, but doesn’t answer. He thinks that maybe Derek is right. Like right now his closet at Gerard’s place is full of blacks and grays and dark, muted colors. The kind of clothes that people didn’t notice. The kind of clothes that made him blend in. Stiles could wear bright red now if he wanted, or any color at all. Having that choice seems suddenly dizzying somehow, so he inhales slowly and reaches for the next shirt.

He holds up a small Batman t-shirt. “Okay, I’d wear this one if it fit.”

“You could probably get that in your size,” Derek says.

“You think I could get superhero underwear in my size too?” Stiles asks, tugging out a pair of blue and red Superman underpants.

“Oh,” Derek says with a smile. “Please do.”

Stiles snorts out an ugly sounding laugh, and feels his face burning.

He’s relieved when they turn to the toys and books.

“Hey,” Derek says, and bumps their shoulders together.

Stiles glances at him.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Derek says.

“Last night you stepped in front of a bullet for me,” Stiles says. His mouth feels dry. “I can handle a little embarrassment.”

Bullets and guns and blood and death though—Stiles knows those things. He doesn’t know this. He doesn’t know smiles and teasing and long gazes and want. He doesn’t know them at all.

But he wants to.

He shifts so that he’s sitting in front of Derek. Derek is cross-legged on the floor, and Stiles is on his knees. Stiles lifts a hand and discovers that it’s shaking, like he’s in the middle of an adrenaline dump. He brushes his fingertips against Derek’s cheek, and watches the way it pulls when Derek smiles softly.

He’s so beautiful.

He’s so beautiful, and Stiles is allowed to think that. Gerard can’t take that away from him. He can’t force Stiles to push it down, to suffocate it, the way he did with the memory of the boy in Budapest. Stiles is allowed this.

He leans in, letting his eyes close, and then his lips—a little rough and chapped—are pressing gently against Derek’s. It’s not the same kiss from the party. It’s not heated and desperate. It’s soft and slow, because, for the first time in his life, Stiles has all the time in the world.

It’s a new sensation, and he clings to it tightly.

Stiles has all the time in the world.

***

It’s a strange thing, to feel like a guest in the house he grew up in. When it’s dinner time, Dad and Peter are the ones getting everything together, not Stiles. It’s weird, because he thinks he remembers where the plates are kept, but also, they’re not his plates anymore, are they?

Dad makes spaghetti bolognaise and pairs it with store-bought garlic bread, and Stiles isn’t used to eating such carb-heavy food, at least not when he hasn’t trained in days, or even been on a run. There’s even dessert, which Stiles isn’t used to at all—a hot apple crumble with cream. It tastes so nice that Stiles doesn’t even mind feeling a little over-full.

Stiles rinses the dishes after they eat, and Laura puts them in the dishwasher.

“Laura?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

She looks over at him, her brow creased. “What for?”

“For tricking you,” Stiles says. “For, um, for shooting you.”

She shows him a shaky smile. “You scared the fuck out of me, Stiles. I was ready to rip your throat out there for a second when I thought you’d double-crossed us. But you saved us.”

“So we’re good?” he asks cautiously.

“Stiles, you savedus. Of course we’re good!”

And Stiles lets out a breath he thinks he’s been holding since last night.

***

That night Dad sets Stiles up with his laptop and directs him to Amazon.

“Get a phone,” he says. “And some clothes, and shoes, and toiletries, and whatever else you need. Don’t worry about the total, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Dad says. “The Argents are paying.”

“Guess I’ll get a laptop too,” Stiles says.

“As long as it’s a top-of-the-line one,” Dad tells him with a grin.

Laura and Derek sit on either side of him on the couch, and Laura offers unsolicited advice on fashion, and Derek keeps reaching over Stiles to jab her in the arm whenever she does. There’s a movie playing on the TV, but none of them are watching it.

“Der, you probably need a new comforter, and sheets and a pillow,” Stiles says. “Your room was kind of a mess.”

“Oooh!” Laura leans forward. “And I bet we need new kitchen stuff too.”

“The kitchen was barely touched,” Derek says.

“The couch might have been though,” Laura says. “Do they sell couches?”

It’s fun, Stiles thinks, in a weird way. It’s fun to make the Argents pay for Star Wars themed potholders and an ugly expensive lamp just because Laura likes the look of it. It’s fun, right up until Stiles thinks of everything the Argents owe the Hales, and how a crazy online shopping spree is nothing compared to what they’ve really lost.

And then Stiles thinks of a werewolf pack in Kroměříž and what he took from them.

He shoves the laptop in Laura’s direction, and pushes himself off the couch.

He hurries down the hallway and into the kitchen, and shoves the back door open. He stumbles down the porch steps and into the yard.

The night is dark and cool.

He can hear a neighbor’s television playing a fraction too loud, and, out the front of the house, a car passing in the street.

His rich, carb-heavy dinner heaves in his stomach, once, and then twice, and Stiles doubles over and is sick on the lawn. Then, stepping away from the mess, he drops to his knees and presses his hands to his eyes.

He’s a killer.

A murderer.

Stiles is the monster, and he has no right to be laughing at Star Wars potholders and ugly lamps.

A warm hand on his spine startles him. For a second he thinks it’s Derek—it’s alwaysDerek—but when he twists around, he sees that it’s Dad.

“Come on, kid,” Dad says, and draws him into an embrace. “It’s okay. It’s okay, son, I’ve got you.”

And Stiles leans into him and howls.

[bae-in-maine]

The Hocus To My Pocus

Notes: This is my addition to the Hocus Pocus theme for Clextober18! This story is loosely based on the 1993 Disney movie, Hocus Pocus. This is a multi-chapter story, and the first two chapters are posted here and on AO3 and FF. The rest of the story will be posted on AO3 and FF by 10/31/18 under my author name: Jude81. 

Rating: Current rating is T+, but as the story continues, the rating might change. 

Tags: Clexa, Clarke and Lexa, Raven, Echo, Nia, Anya, Madi, Aden, Salem, Hocus Pocus, Halloween hijinks, high school. More tags will be added on AO3 and FF. 

@clextober

************************************ Chapter 1: 

“Come on, Madi! We are going to be late if you don’t get a wiggle on!” Clarke stood at the bottom of the staircase, hand on the railing as she leaned forward in an attempt to project her voice so her nine year old sister would hurry up. She’d promised Madi she would take her trick or treating, and it was already 7:00 pm. If they hurried, she could be back in time at 9:00pm and make her way to the party at the Tri mansion being thrown by none other than her new highschool crush, one Lexa Tri, Captain of both the swim team and cross country team.

She tapped her fingers on the bannister, wincing when she noticed some flecks of dry paint still embedded around her fingernails. “Crap,” she muttered as she tried to pick away the paint. She was interrupted though by a loud yell, and she looked up just in time to catch the small body clad in a Wonder Woman costume.

She stumbled backwards, her feet desperately trying to regain their footing as she wrapped her arms tightly around her younger sister, but the sheer force of small body hurling through gravity propelled her backwards into a wall with a loud thump.

“Damn, Madi!” She yelped as she wheezed from getting the air partially knocked out of her. She let Madi slowly slide down her body, while she bent over, hands on her knees wheezing slightly.

“You shouldn’t swear, Clarke.”

“And you shouldn’t throw yourself down the stairs like that, Madi! What if I hadn’t caught you?!”

Madi cocked her head, looking up at her sister before smiling a little. “But you always catch me, Clarke. Always.”

Clarke stood slowly and looked down at her younger sister. Madi might have been nine, but she was the size of a six year old, a small six year old. She’d been sick most of her life, the doctors never really understanding the stomach pain and wild mood swings that plagued the young child. Her parents had abandoned her at the age of three in the hospital, deciding that the medical bills and a sickly child were simply too much for them.

Abby had been her doctor, specializing in diseases and pediatric care, but it had been Clarke who had fallen in love with Madi one day when she visited Abby at the hospital. It didn’t take much convincing, Jake and Abby had always wanted more children, but the time had never been right, and ten year old Clarke had convinced them that this child had been waiting for them, and they her.

The adoption had become official when she was five years old, and now they understood better Madi’s sensory issues and her dyslexia. Her stomach issues meant she was on a restricted, no dairy and no gluten diet, which made Halloween, her favorite holiday, particularly….tricky.

But Clarke was ready, her backpack stuffed with an extra Wonder Woman costume, wipes, underwear, water, noise-canceling headphones, and special gluten and dairy free candy. Candy she would sneak into Madi’s plastic, pumpkin head basket and exchange for the snickers and kit-kat bars when Madi was inevitably distracted by something else.

Madi’s stomach issues also usually meant Madi was prone to accidents, something that was often humiliating for Madi, but after years of this, they had a system in place, and Clarke was very good at helping minimize her sister’s shame, turning it into a game of costume changes.

She ruffled the top of Madi’s head, laughing at the way Madi jerked her head away. “Noooo! My hair, Clarke!”

She laughed again, “You hair is fine, Madi.” She leaned down so they were eye to eye and tapped Madi on the nose. “Hey…” she waited for Madi to look at her. “I will always catch you, Madi. Always.”

“I know.” Madi smiled happily, clutching her shield and grabbed Clarke’s hand. “Let’s go!” She pulled on Clarke’s hand, her small feet skipping along as Clarke chuckled and let herself be pulled out of the house, stopping only to turn and lock the door, before they stepped into the small crowds of children running about along the long sidewalks framed by tall trees and light posts every six feet.

***************************

Lexa stepped out of the house, shutting out most of the noise behind her. It was eight, and the party was supposed to start in another hour or so, although judging by the number of people in her parents’ home, they party was already well under way. The basement had been set up for her and her friends, while the ground floor was reserved for the adults to have their own Halloween party.

The adult theme this year was Unconventional Couples, and she shuddered at the thought of how many Jokers and Harley Quinns would probably show up at the party. But she supposed the theme was fitting, since her parents were considered fairly unconventional. Her mother, Indra Tri, was a four star general in the Marines, the only woman to ever achieve such a high rank, and she was technically retired, but she made a lot of trips from their home in Salem, Massachusetts to Washington DC, trips that she couldn’t speak about. And her father Gustus Tri was a great hulking man with more tattoos than he spoke languages, and he spoke seven. He taught Economics and Classical Literature at Salem State University.

Her parents roots were deep in Salem, especially her mother’s. Her mother’s family had been here since the early 1600’s, one of the original families. Her grandfather back twelve or so generations had been one of the first black slaves brought to Salem in the 1630’s, only a couple of years after Salem had been founded. It had been his grandson who had earned his freedom, and the subsequent generations had been freemen despite slavery not being abolished until the 1790’s in Massachusetts.

Their roots were deep, and Lexa’s freed tenth generation grandfather had taken the last name Sangedakru, in honor of his African grandfather’s clan. But over the years it had been Anglicized and then Americanized until it was simply Sanderson. It was a seemingly simple, innocuous name, and most had forgotten it’s African origins, but it still caused people in Salem to pause when they heard it.

Because when people thought of Salem, they thought of the Salem Witch Trials, and those who visited Salem, quickly learned of another trial, the trial of the three Sanderson Sisters. Three sisters, all witches, accused of sucking the life of the children of the village, so the sisters could be immortal.

And on October 31, 1693, the three sisters were hanged in the dead of night by the light of dozens of torches from the townspeople. But before they died, with her last breath, Nia Sanderson cast a spell promising that when a virgin lit the candle on the night of Hallow’s Eve, the sisters would rise again.

Lexa stood on the front porch watching as witches and goblins, ghosts, and iron men, and captain americas, and zombies, and princesses, and winnie the poohs, and cowgirls littered the street, bustling about  about, screaming excitedly to each other, pillowcases and pumpkin heads laden with candy.

She shivered and looked up at the full moon peeking behind the clouds. The sky was a dark slate, shadowed in blues and purples. The moon hung in the sky, a silvery white that simply glowed, pushing the shadows back. It was beautiful, but there was something chilling in the air, something more than the fall frost in the air. She pulled her sherpa fleece tighter around herself, trying to shake the feeling of...something...something big...impending...dark...something just around the corner.

She chuckled and glanced over, eyes widening slightly at the black cat that had jumped up on one of the thick marble railings. “Well, hello there, Raven.” She reached out and scratched behind the black cat’s ears. “I was wondering when I would see you.”

She smiled at the way Raven bumped her hand, clearly in the mood for more scratching behind her ears. Lexa smiled, enjoying the soft silk of her fur against her fingertips. She glanced down at the red collar, with the old, tarnished heart hanging from it. It simply said Raven. There was something about the old metal heart that always made her feel strange, almost cold. It was old, her father had said that it had been made by a blacksmith, you could see the hammer dings in it. This wasn’t a heart that was purchased on Amazon or at Petco.

But no one knew who the cat belonged to. She came and went. Lexa would go months without seeing her, and then she would suddenly pop up again. Lexa and her parents fed the cat every time. And when she was a child, she had tried to find the owners, hanging up flyers, even asking the local police if they knew who owned the cat, but no one knew. They only knew that the cat had just always...been. Even the old-timers who gathered down at The Witche’s Brewe swore they had seen the same cat with the red collar and tarnished heart when they were children.

But a cat couldn’t be sixty odd years old. Could it?

She glanced away, trying to shake the feeling. Raven never failed to show up on Halloween. Every single year as long as Lexa could remember, starting when she was four, Raven had appeared on the marble railing on Halloween night. She licked her dry lips and turned away again.

“Well, Raven, I think I’m going to take a walk. You coming?” She walked down the steps, knowing without seeing that Raven was a few steps behind her. They did this every year, walked down the streets, turned up the north alley, and kept walking until they reached the Sanderson Museum. It was the original Sanderson Cottage and had been passed down to her mother, and someday she supposed she would inherit it. She rarely went in. The cottage was...unsettling, especially on Halloween, but sometimes it felt like it was calling to her. And she knew Raven was intimately acquainted with the cottage. She had seen her around the cottage enough times to guess that maybe it was her home.

It had been her great-grandfather who had turned it into a museum in the very early 1900’s, after returning from the Great War. He had been like a man possessed, cleaning out the cottage, repairing parts of it, and then setting it up as a museum. It was popular in the summer, but nobody went near it on Halloween, the curse hanging over them like an avenging shadow. And no teenager wanted to admit they were a virgin anyway.

She scoffed and tucked her hands into her pockets and stepped out onto the small street, turning left and walking down the sidewalk away from the center of town. It was quieter here, along the neatly cobbled sidewalks, the tall trees swaying slightly in the light breeze. She pulled the beanie down over her ears, wishing she’d grabbed her gloves. She walked down the street, nodding at the children tumbling about, the crowds quickly thinning out, as most people were headed to the center of town. Little Salem. It was technically part of Salem, but functioned as it’s own small town of about 17,000 people. Big enough for a movie theater, golf course, boutiques and stores catering to the tourists, small police force and a ten man fire department, three healthcare clinics, and the hospital was only twenty minutes away in the heart of Salem. It was a good town, perfect for her. Not big enough to feel truly lost and alone, but still big enough to afford her a little bit of independence.

She turned crossed the street at the stop sign and turned the corner, Raven padding along behind her, only run into something or someone.

She yelped when their bodies collided, and she stumbled narrowly missing tripping over Wonder Woman.

“Damn!”

“Holy Hell Hannah!”

“You shouldn’t swear.”

She blinked and looked down, her eyes clashing with green that looked almost exactly like her own. “Oh..I...uh...sorry…” She muttered, pink blossoming across her cheeks.

She glanced over to the older girl, swallowing harshly at the sight of a wild mane of blonde curls tumbling about the girl’s face, her snapback askew on her head, her blue eyes sparkling in peach cheeks.

“Sorry. Are you hurt?” She looked back down at Wonder Woman, “You ok?”

“Yup.” Madi nodded and shuffled her feet leaning into Clarke’s side, relaxing the moment she felt her sister’s arm fall across her shoulders.

“Yeah. Yeah...sorry. That was my fault. I was hurrying,” she laughed, pink now staining her own cheeks, as she scrubbed at her cheek with her other hand before grasping the brim of her hat, and turning it back so it was behind her head again.

Great. Her crush. Clarke had smacked right into Lexa, and damn if she hadn’t smelled good. Like vanilla and lavender. She licked her lips and looked away, too embarrassed to look her in the eye.

Lexa smiled a little, she had noticed the blonde in a couple of her classes, and she didn’t know much about her, a recent transfer from California. She knew the girl took a lot of art classes, including at least one class at the local college. She might have asked Octavia about Clarke. The two were in the same classes, both Juniors while Lexa was a Senior.

Clarke straightened her shoulders and stuck out her hand, grimacing a little when she remembered that she still had paint on her fingers, but it was too late, because Lexa grabbed it in shook it.

“I’m Clarke.”

“I know.” Lexa smiled and held her hand a little longer than necessary before finally releasing it.

“Oh. Right. We have some of the same classes,” Clarke ducked her head glancing down just in time to see Madi roll her eyes at her. Madi might have only been nine, but Clarke still shared almost all her secrets with Madi. And Madi was well aware of who Lexa was.

She bit her lip, hoping and praying that Madi wouldn’t...well be Madi. Just this once, her sweet sister with a corruptible streak might actually not out her in front of Lexa. Although she had an idea Lexa already knew she was bi, as she didn’t exactly hide it. No, she prayed Madi wouldn’t out her crush on Lexa.

“You’re Lexa.”

Clarke winced. Too late.

Lexa looked down at Wonder Woman, and then glanced up at Clarke, quirking her eyebrow at her, a small smile playing about her lips. It was clear that Wonder Woman knew who she was, despite Lexa not introducing herself.

“I am. And what is your name, Wonder Woman?” She held out her hand, smiling at the way Madi blinked owlishly up at her, chewing on her lower lip, before finally deciding to shake Lexa’s hand. Lexa was surprised by the firm grip, but it still made her smile.

“I’m Madi, Clarke’s younger sister. She talks about you. A lot. I like your cat. Our eyes are the same.” Lexa blinked, her mouth hanging open a little, her mind buzzing with all the words that had just tumbled past Madi’s lips.

Madi...Clarke...talks about you...cat...Cat? What cat? Oh! Raven!...eyes.

She nodded and chuckled looking up to meet the mortified face of Clarke, her peach skin now flaming red. She chuckled again and reached out, laying her hand on Clarke’s arm. “Really?”

Clarke closed her eyes briefly, debating between yelling at Madi or just keeping her eyes closed forever so she wouldn’t ever have to face Lexa again. But she was pulled out of her humiliating reverie by a squeeze to her arm, and the sudden warmth of a tall body almost pressing into her’s.

“Hey. It’s ok.”

She looked up, blinking at how closely Lexa was standing in front of her. The older girl was only a couple inches taller, and only a few inches away. Her eyes wandered across high cheekbones, dusky skin with a light smattering of golden freckles across her nose, to full coral colored lips. She licked her own, wishing she had the courage to close the space between them, but before she could even finish formulating the thought, Lexa stepped back.

Lexa blew out a shaky breath, her skin warm enough now that she unzipped her jacket a little. She glanced down at Madi. “Yes, we do have the same eyes don’t we.” She bent down a little until she was eye-level with Madi.

“You know, Madi. I’ve noticed your sister too. I know she likes to paint, and she is funny. I like hearing her laugh,” she whispered to Madi, pretending to ignore Clarke, but making sure Clarke could still hear her.

She heard Clarke gasp, and it made her smile again as she straightened. “Have you had fun trick or treating?”

Madi nodded and reached up grabbing Clarke’s hand, “Clarke? Are we going to do more trick or treating, or are we going home?”

Clarke nodded. They’d already hit the houses on the lower end where they lived and were on their way to the center of town.

“Do you want to come with us?” Madi handed her candy basket to Clarke and then held up her other hand for Lexa to take.

Lexa was tempted, but she needed to do something first. She had been heading to the Sanderson Cottage, her yearly pilgrimage. She wasn’t sure why, but the pull was even stronger this year, and by the way Raven was starting to rub against her legs, she knew the cat was anxious to get going also.

“I would love to, but I’m actually on my way somewhere. Unless you want to come with me?” She grabbed Madi’s hand and looked expectantly at Madi and then Clarke.

“Ok!” Madi grinned and swung their arms, deciding for them. She pulled on their arms, turning back the way they had come and then looked up at Lexa, waiting for direction.

“Oh look! Your cat!”

Lexa turned and saw Raven ten feet ahead of them, standing in the sidewalk, tail twitching, clearly waiting for them to follow her.

“Raven isn’t actually my cat. She only belongs to herself.” Lexa pointed towards her. “Every year we visit the Sanderson Cottage. She knows the way.”

“Oh I heard about the cottage, but don’t really know the history. I heard there is a curse involved?”

Lexa nodded slowly at Clarke and then looked down at Madi, wondering how much to tell them.

“The Sanderson Sisters were witches: Nia was the oldest and the meanest, and Anya and Echo were twins, but they didn’t look exactly alike. They say though that there were more children, children who died mister-mishteriously.”

“Mysteriously,” Lexa corrected as she stared down in surprise at Madi. “How did you know that?”

Madi shrugged, “I’m not good at reading. I don’t like it, but mama gets me the audible books from the library so I can listen to them. And I like misherteries.”

Clarke smiled, “She has almost perfect recall. She can quote back almost anything once she had heard it once or maybe twice. She likes mysteries. She was really excited to move here.”

“You are from…”

“Los Angeles. We moved here in August.”

They walked along slowly, the houses slowly falling away in the distance until they finally reached their destination. It was a medium sized cottage, only two, open rooms with a partially open loft that ran the entire area of the cottage.

The weeds had grown up around it, and Lexa frowned, wondering why the gardener hadn’t been out to clear out the dying shrubbery. She shivered a little, staring at the front door, her fingers itching to grasp it and open it.

Raven had settled on a windowsill waiting patiently for Lexa to decide.

“It’s a little spooky.”

Lexa glanced at Clarke watching the way the blonde fidgeted, biting her lip, before she straightened her shoulders and puffed her chest out a little.

“Let’s go in. It will be fun.”

She was surprised the blonde wanted to go in, sure the younger girl was a little scared of it. She looked down at Madi who was staring intently at Raven, her brows furrowed.

“Ok,” she heard herself say before she had even thought of it. She dug into her pocket for the key and dropped Madi’s hand, approaching the door. It took a minutes of jiggling the old iron skeleton key before it finally clicked and the door opened with a small squeak.

Chapter 2: 

They stepped into the large room, Lexa frowning again at the cobwebs. The museum had been closed for repairs for the last two years, but Lexa had assumed someone was at least cleaning everything. But she could see the dust coating almost everything, cobwebs in the nooks and crannies. She flicked the lights on, and the lights pinged and flickered before finally settling.

Clarke stepped inside, pleased that the lights at least worked. The room was full of items, many of them books. A table and chairs, a large cauldron. She rolled her eyes at that, sure it had been placed there for the benefit of the tourists. Witches weren’t an actual thing.

But there was a large book on a pedestal, a glass box covering it. She glanced down at it, wrapping her fingers around the edges of the pedestal.

“Wow...so they actually put a spellbook in here?” She chuckled and laughed, “bet the tourists love that.”

Lexa grumbled a little and moved further into the room, trailing her fingers through the dust. “It’s real. The sisters are real, and so is the spellbook.”

Clarke looked up, surprised at the tone in Lexa’s voice. “Sorry,” she muttered.

Lexa shrugged and sighed a little, “No, I’m sorry. The Sanderson Sisters are actually part of my family history. They were my great-great-great-great...well, a lot of great aunts. My family owns the cottage and museum.”

Clarke nodded and walked around the room, checking briefly on Madi who was sitting in one of the old chairs at the table, patting Raven who was sitting on the table purring to her heart’s content.

She stopped in front of a tall, thin metal handle holder. In it sat a pristine, fat black candle, the wick unburnt. It was the only thing that didn’t have a layer of dust on it. She frowned and stared at it. There were numerous candles scattered around the room, most of them a whitish, yellow, wicks partially burnt. This was the only black one, never burnt.

“Lexa, what is this?”

Lexa glanced up from where she was reading one of the books written in the late 1800’s that spun the tale of the Sanderson Sisters.

She set the book down and walked up to Clarke, their shoulders brushing each other. “It is the curse.”

Raven stopped purring.

“How does it go?”

Lexa said nothing for a moment, before spinning the tale she had heard from her mother as a child. “The Sanderson Sisters were born in the mid 1600’s, witches. Real witches. Not women that were simply independent and used herbs and such to heal people. They weren’t like the innocent women in the Salem Witch Trials.”

She shook her head, reaching out as if to touch the candle before snatching her hand back away. “They were real,” she murmured. “Like Madi said, Nia was the oldest. By twelve years. Their parents were farmers, but Nia...Nia was different. She had a cruel streak. After Nia was born, legend has it that three boys were also born, and they all died mysteriously as babies. The oldest only living to be two or so. People whispered that Nia killed them.”

“B-but, that would have meant she was a child too.” Clarke gaped at Lexa and shook her head, sure it wasn’t true.

“Yeah. Exactly. But then Anya and Echo were born. Twins, and they say they never cried. And they didn’t look like each other, which was unusual. I mean it isn’t unusual now. We know they were fraternal twins, but back then I guess fraternal twins only happened when a boy and girl were born, not twin boys or twin girls.” She shrugged again and crossed her arms looking around the room.

“Anyway, the girls were born and were inseparable. Echo almost drowned twice, but each time, Anya saved her. And they said that Anya was badly burned once on her hands, like..really bad. But somehow Echo healed her? I don’t really know. That part of the story isn’t well known, and there aren’t a lot of sources. Just a few diaries really.”

She rubbed her hands across her face, needing something to do with them, unsure why re-telling the story she’d told her friends a hundred times, suddenly was hard to do. It felt different, telling the story on Halloween in the cottage. Different, because Clarke and Madi were there. Different because Raven was just a cat, and yet, she swore sometimes Raven stared at her so intently, that Lexa was sure she would open her mouth and speak.

“Stuff happened. The girl all grew up, and if people angered them, suddenly their hogs would die, their kids get sick, the rain wouldn’t come. So the townspeople started to pay them tribute. Like give them money when they had it, give them their sheep and cows. They sold potions and stuff, stuff to heal people, and I guess it worked.”

“And then the kids went missing.”

Lexa and Clarke both jumped, turning around to stare at Madi who was sitting at the table, sorting her candy not looking at either of them as she continued. “Kids started going missing, and the sisters never aged. They should have aged, but they didn’t. So people began to suspect that the sisters were somehow living off the children. Like sucking them up.”

Lexa nodded slowly, “Yeah. That’s it exactly. Every few years a child or two would disappear. Until they took the wrong child.” She turned back to the candle, staring at it, imagining what it would look like lit.

“Which child?”

She jumped and her laugh quivered in her throat. “Aden. Aden Walker. They took Aden when he was only five years old. Lured him from his father’s house. Aden was said to be a strange child. He never spoke,” she muttered. His father was Finn Walker, but he was also called Aden Woods.”

Lexa stopped, surprised at what she had just said. She didn’t remember where she had read that Aden had also been called Aden Woods. She’d been obsessed with her family history when she was younger, and she had spent hours reading and researching the Sanderson line. She vaguely recalled the name Aden Woods in the genealogy and wondered if she had confused the two. There had been an Aden Woods in the 1600’s, but he couldn’t have also been Aden Walker, because Aden Walker had died as a child.

“No one knew who the mother was. He was delivered to his father’s doorstep when he was about two years old. Or something like that.”

“Maybe he wasn’t Aden’s father. Maybe he was just supposed to protect Aden.”

Clarke turned and stared at Madi before walking over to her and resting her hand on her head. “Why would you say that, Madi?”

Madi shrugged and went back to sorting her candy. She knew she’d had kit kat bars, but now they were all gone. She wrinkled her nose and stared at the small candy bars in her hand. The wrapping was red, and they were nut and dairy and gluten and soy free, and egg free. But they actually tasted good. But she knew she’d had kit-kats! She sighed and went back to sorting.

Clarke looked around the room, noting the dust and cobwebs, the almost haphazard piles of what looked like blankets or clothes in one corner, dried lumber and a toolbox in another corner. Obviously someone had been working on the cottage.

She walked back towards Lexa, “So what happened then?”

“He disappeared. Dead they say. Someone saw him die, I guess and ran back to tell the townspeople. The came in the dead of the night and captured the sisters in the middle of doing a spell to gain their immortality. They hung them. Right outside the cottage from the tall sycamore tree.”

Lexa said nothing for long moments, staring at the candle, her mind tumbling. History hadn’t recorded who it was that had witnessed Aden’s death and then run and gathered the townspeople and brought them back here. And that was odd, because history had recorded the events of the night in detail, even recording the names of the townspeople. The Blakes and Kanes had been present that night, the Millers and Monroes. Even the rest of the Sandersons had been there that night. They had even recorded the strange spell and ritual the sisters had enacted to suck the life out of young Aden Woods, but still...no one recorded who it was that had witnessed it all.

Clarke waited, giving Lexa a few moments to think about it. Whatever had happened here obviously meant something to Lexa, her family was tied to it. But it was still all legend. The sisters had probably existed, but they had probably been three women, refusing to conform and bow to the patriarchy like most women accused of witches. And they’d been murdered by the men of the town.

She pressed her shoulder against Lexa’s gently, taking a deep breath and brushing her fingers against Lexa’s. “Lex? What happened then?”

Lexa jumped a little, her fingers wrapping around Clarke’s. She squeezed and intertwined their fingers together, smiling down at Clarke, suddenly feeling lighter. “With her dying breath, Nia cast a curse, claiming that any virgin who lit the black candle on Hallow’s Eve, or Halloween night when the moon is full, will resurrect them again.”

“And?”

Lexa shrugged. “That’s it.”

“Sooo...no one has ever tried to light the candle?” She nodded towards the candle. “This is a new candle, no way it is from the 1600’s.” She laughed and dug into her pants pocket, pulling out her lucky lighter, the one her grandfather had given her. He’d been a young pilot during World War II and had given her the lighter, claiming it had saved his life when he’d been shot down over Nazi-occupied France.

She flicked the lighter and smirked a little, hoping to dispel the gloom sitting heavily in the room. “Come on, let’s light it, and see if the curse is real,” she wiggled her eyebrows. “Stories are just stories, but we should light it anyway.”

She held out the lighter to Lexa who shook her head and smirked back at her. “Sorry, Clarke, but that ship sailed this summer.”

“Oh.” She ducked her eyes, trying not to look as embarrassed as she could felt. Of course Lexa wouldn’t be a virgin, of course she was dating someone! She suddenly didn’t want to light the candle anymore, didn’t want to be in the cottage, and didn’t want to be near Lexa.

“She’s gone now. Costia. She and her parents moved away. We were better friends than girlfriends anyway.”

Clarke jerked up, color flooding her face again, but she couldn’t stop the smile that practically split her face in two. “So...no girlfriend?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope. No boyfriend or girlfriend.”

Lexa nodded, already having suspected that Clarke was bisexual. The girl did have a patch on her backpack with the bisexual flag after all. And she had a rainbow sticker on her locker.

“You should kiss.”

Clarke choked on her saliva, face flaming, as she whirled around to gape at Madi who was staring intently at them both.

“Wh-what?”

“Isn’t that what people do when they like each other? It’s what you did with that boy Finn last year. That was a lot of kissy-face.” Madi wrinkled her nose. Finn had been ok, mostly. But she didn’t like the way that he always wanted to spend time with Clarke, demanding that Clarke stop spending time with her, and with him instead.

“Kissy-face eh?”

Clarke groaned a little under her breath. “Yeah, he was just a boy. I broke up with him before we moved.” She shrugged. “He was kind of annoying actually.” She laughed and looked over at Madi, well aware that Madi hadn’t really liked him.

“Yup. Annoying.” The girl unwrapped a piece of chocolate and popped it into her mouth, smiling as the sweet hit her tongue. She swung her legs back and forth looking around her.

“Are we going to get more candy?”

“Yeah, kiddo, we are,” answered Lexa as she turned towards Clarke. She shrugged, “light it if you want, but we should go.” She leaned in closer to Clarke, only inches away, her eyes searching Clarke’s.

“You know, part of the legend goes that when a virgin lights the candle, she should be kissed at the same time.”

Clarke bit her lip, looking up at Lexa from under her eyelashes. “Oh, really? Does it now?”

Lexa smiled and leaned in closer, daring Clarke. “Does it matter?”

“No.” Clarke flicked the lighter, the flame springing to life, and she reached over and lit the wick of the black candle, just as Lexa pressed her mouth to her’s.

***************************************

It was a moment before she realized that something had crashed loudly outside, the wind suddenly picking up and roaring through the trees. The house shook, and for a moment, she was sure it was because of their kiss.

But as she pulled back, she saw the cauldron lit with fire, the flame from the candle black as night and growing higher and higher. Raven was howling, and Madi screamed, jumping up and knocking over her chair with a loud crash, as she ran and threw herself at Clarke and Lexa.

Lexa scooped her up, Madi’s little legs fastening securely about her waist. She grabbed Clarke and pulled her back and behind her, stepping away from the candle. The light suddenly went out, and Raven howled again, the wind shaking the cottage. Books fell from the shelves, and the fire beneath the cauldron spit in angry time to the shaking of the house.

“Fuck! Fuck, Lexa! What is happening!?” Clarke grabbed at Lexa’s arm, pulling her with her, terror licking along her nerves. It was a myth, a legend, a stupid scary tale that they told to kids to scare them. But the lit candle’s flame was black, and it towered above them, almost reaching towards the ceiling now, but it gave off no heat, only a freezing cold slowly drifting through the air.

The lights were out, and they could barely see, and Clarke stumbled, her fingers gripping Lexa’s arm, refusing to let go, relieved that Lexa was carrying Madi, as she was the stronger of the two of them.

“Shit, Clarke! I don’t know. I don’t know! We have to get out now!” She pulled Clarke towards her and circled around the candle, staring in horror when she realized that the glass case covering the spellbook had been shattered, and the pages of the book were fluttering madly in the wind. Except…

“Lexa, how is that possible. There isn’t any wind in here?”

Lexa shook her head, her heart pounding in her ears, her skin hot to Clarke’s touch, but felt icy to her own. She could feel the temperature dropping. She tried to make her way to the wall, and with every step they took, a new candle suddenly flamed to life, blinding them only to suddenly burn out again.

“I can’t see, Clarke! Clarke!”

Clarke reached up, her hand scraping along Madi’s head, trying to soothe the wailing child. “It’s ok, Madi. It’s ok, we are getting it out.”

“Lexa, which way?” She was disoriented from the flashing candles, and the cold that was seeping into her bones, making her tired and dizzy. She fought to place one foot in front of the other, wondering why her movements were so sluggish.

“This way! Hurry! This way!” She heard the voice off to her left, and she tried to make her way towards the voice, pulling Lexa with her.

“Stop! No, move to your left, back! Back!”

She followed the voice, obeying their every direction, until she was able to get around the table, stumbling against the pile of lumber.

“The door. It’s right in front of you. Hurry!”

“Lex, this way!” She tightened her hold on Lexa and surged forward the remaining steps, her hand reaching out blindly for the handle. She closed her hand around it, and she pulled, struggling with the door as it refused to budge.

“Push it!” The voice hissed again. And Clarke threw her weight against the door, gasping as she and Lexa and Madi tumbled through the door, tripping down the wooden steps to land in a heap in front of the cottage.

They lay there breathing heavily, their hearts racing and limbs trembling. The cottage was suddenly quiet, all of the lights off, the candles blown out. The wind outside had died down, and they could hear mice rustling through the leaves under the trees.

“Wh-what was that?!”

“Madi! Madi, are you ok?”

“I’m ok.”

“Clarke?”

“Yeah.”

Lexa sat up, pulling herself to her knees and then to her feet. She swayed slightly, relieved when Clarke wrapped her hands around her waist to steady her, before leaning forward and sliding her arms fully around Lexa’s waist. She leaned her head against the back of Lexa’s shoulders, trying to regain control of her breathing.

Madi scrambled to her feet, lifting her arms to Lexa, who immediately picked her up again. She was probably too old to be held like this, but she didn’t care. She was afraid. They had done something. Something bad. Something was awake.

Clarke loosened her grip around Lexa’s waist and slid her hands up Madi’s legs, squeezing them gently.

“You sure, you ok, Madi?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok.” She nodded and pulled away, stepping around them both to look at the cottage, before turning back towards Lexa.

“Lexa…”

“Who were you talking to?”

“Wait. What?” Clarke looked at Lexa, surprise on her face. ‘What do you mean who was I talking to?”

“In the cottage. Who led you out?”

Clarke stared at her for a full minute, her heart dropping to her feet. “Lexa,” She stepped closer, her words somber and heavy. “You. Lexa, you led me out.”

“No, Clarke,” Lexa shook her head and wiggled her arms, readjusting Madi who still clung to her. “No, I was to your right, and that voice came from your left. I followed you, Clarke.”

“L-Lexa, I...I don’t...I followed…”

“Me. You followed me.”

They both froze and turned slowly to face the cottage again.

Raven sat on the front step calmly licking her front paw, before gracefully jumping down the few steps to pad over to them and sit a couple of feet in front of them. She tilted her head back and stared at the three of them. It had been done. Finally. She had waited centuries for this night.

She had always known that the Griffins would return to Salem, having fled it the same night that young Aden Walker had supposedly met his end. Salem had a way of drawing the original families back, especially those with magic in their blood.

And nowhere was the more magic in Salem than in the three who stood before her: a Griffin and the true Sangedakru. Except...She peered over her shoulder, her body tense, the cottage was quiet, too quiet. She knew they were in there, waiting like the predators they were. They didn’t have much time.

“Listen, I realize this is a lot to take in…”

“Oh my god! The cat is talking! The cat is talking! Why is the cat talking!?” Clare turned to Lexa who simply stood there, looking more than a little bewildered, her jaw hanging open, her eyes wide.

“Cool! A talking cat!”

Clarke focused her attention on the squealing Madi. “No, not cool! This is bad, Madi! Oh..god...it’s the candy!”

Clarke grabbed Lexa jerking her around, terror coloring each word as she grabbed at Madi, trying to pull her into her arms. “It’s the candy, Lexa! It’s been poisoned, by...by...I...a...hallucogenic! Oh my god! Shit! Shit! We have to get her to my mom, she will know!”

Lexa simply stared at Raven, her mind buzzing. “C-candy?”

“Yes, I ate the kit kats!”

“I knew it!” crowed Madi, earning a wild glare from Clarke, who had finally managed to pull Madi from Lexa’s arms. She wrapped both her arms around Madi and turned headed towards the long paved road back to town.

“It’s ok, Madi. It will be fine, don’t be scared.” But the words felt useless, and she could feel her own panic bubbling up about to spill over.

“I didn’t eat the candy,” whispered Lexa, before finally turning and jumping after Clarke. It only took a couple of steps before she caught her, grabbing her gently by her arms and pulling her back into her own body. She turned her, unprepared for the sobs that suddenly jerked Clarke’s entire body, or the way the blonde almost entirely collapsed into her arms.

Madi wiggled, unable to slip out of Clarke’s hold, now squashed between two bigger bodies. She tried to crane her head around Clarke’s so she could see Raven. Raven who talked, when she shouldn’t. She always knew magic was real.

“It’s ok, Clarke. It’s ok,” murmured Lexa as she ran her hands up and down Clarke’s back. “I didn’t eat the candy, and I hear Raven to. It’s ok. We aren’t hallucinating.” She sighed and gulped. “This is real.”

Clarke sniffed, Lexa’s words finally piercing her growing panic. Her sobs slowly subsided, and she finally stepped back a little, and Lexa carefully prided Madi from her arms, setting her on her feet, keeping one arm around her tightly.

Clarke laughed, tears drying on her cheeks. “Better? Oh god, Lex. How is that better? Could it be real?”

All three of them turned to Raven who hadn’t moved, but was clearly unimpressed. “Are you three done? Because we are almost out of time.” She stalked forward, her eyes intent upon Clarke, her tail flicking with every step.

“Listen. My name is Raven Birch. I was born in 1667, here in Salem. And I was turned into a cat on the night the townspeople of Salem hung the three Sanderson Sisters. With her dying breath, Nia Sanderson cast a curse promising that they would rise again when a virgin lit the black candle under a full moon on Halloween. The sisters have risen, and we have go. Now.”

“B-but...you can talk,” sputtered Clarke.

“Yes, oh smart one, I can.”

“Oh my god. Did she just sass me?” Clarke turned towards Lexa, her mouth open, hands on her hips, only to see Lexa trying not to laugh. “Really? You think it’s funny that a talking cat just sassed me?!”

Madi laughed and grabbed Clarke’s hand, pulling on it. “Come on, Clarke. It is kind of funny.”

Clarke huffed and rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to Raven. “Fine. You can talk. Look…”

But Lexa interrupted her, stepping forward and crouching down near Raven, “Could you always talk? And I just didn’t hear you?”

Raven smiled as only a cat can and stepped closer, rubbing against Lexa’s knee. “No, Lexa. I was always aware of who I was, but I couldn’t speak until the candle was lit.” She sat down and peered up at Lexa, her voice soft and gravelly, breaking a little “I’ve waited so long for this night, but we do have to go now, I will tell you the rest of what happened that night.”

“Well, well, well. And what do we have here.”

All three of them froze at the sound of the voice, before Raven turned quickly, crouching slightly, tail flicking wildly. She hissed and bared her fangs at the three figures standing in front of them.

“Well, well, Raven. It has been a long time. But how long exactly? Hmmmm?”

Lexa grabbed Clarke, who had already grabbed Madi, pulling them behind her. This was bad, very bad, because she recognized them from the sketches and paintings that had been done.

“It’s the sisters,” she whispered, throat tight with fear.

“Oh very good! Very good!”

The woman with reddish brown hair stepped forward and off the stoop, advancing on them slowly before stopping five feet from them. Her face was heavily scarred, but Lexa quickly realized that the scars were symbols and not random, and they were almost beautiful in a twisted way. The woman was thin, wearing a dark gray cloak, over a blue dress that obviously had gone out of fashion hundreds of years ago. Her eyes were ice blue and her chin sharp and haughty. She was clearly the one with the most power.

The woman to her left was taller with dark eyes and long brown hair tumbling about her shoulders in waves. She too wore a dress, long out of fashion, and leather shoes with buckles. Her cloak was dark green and clasped at the neck with, a large copper button. She grinned, her lips twisting, making her beautiful face all the more chilling.

And the last woman was taller than the rest, lithe and almost gangly. She wore what looked like a crown of interwoven branches upon her head, and her hair was long and brown with flashes of yellow in it. But it was her eyes, rimmed in what looked like charcoal with streaks spreading partly down her face that were the most startling. She wore trousers and leather boots, with a long coat studded with what looked like metal pieces.

“The sisters,” croaked Lexa.

Nia laughed and waved her hand and the woman to her left stepped forward giving a little curtsey, before smiling and licking her lips and stepping further away from Nia, circling closer to Lexa and Clarke.

Raven hissed when the woman moved, and she hissed back, her lips twisting into a sneer. “We meet again, Raven. You were always annoying.” She raised her hand, fingers extended towards Raven who backed up a step, just as the third woman stepped forward.

“Enough! We don’t have time for this,” She cast a quick glance down at the cat who was still staring at her sisters, but she knew Raven was watching her out of the corner of her eye. “Leave Raven be, we have no quarrel with this cat.”

“No, quarrel??” snarled Nia, “she is the one who brought them to our door!”

“Yes, and you cursed her and she paid her debt to you. It is finished.”

Nia stepped back and eyed her younger sister, her brows pulled low, her lips pursed slightly. It would appear that time had not brought her sister to her senses.

She stepped towards Lexa, smiling and holding out her hand. “So, you apparently know of us? Hmmm?”

Lexa swallowed harshly and nodded. “You are Nia,” she jerked her head towards the woman in the green cloak, “that would make you Echo, the youngest twin.” She pointed towards the last woman, the one with the crown. “And I guess that makes you Anya, the first twin.”

Nia laughed and nodded her head, while Echo clapped her hands and twirled in place. “So you recognize us!” She flicked her hand in the air, “We are rather unforgettable. But enough of that,” she flicked her hand in the air again, slowly letting her gaze roam over the three of them. “Tell me, what exactly are you wearing? Is it common for girls to wear pants? You are girls? Right?”

“Not that it matters, and gender is a social construct anyway, but yes,” hugged Clarke in annoyance.

“A gender..what?” Nia cocked her head, confusion wrinkling her face and making the scars jump slightly. “Oh never mind. That isn’t important. What year is it? How long have we been gone?”

“It is 2018,” chirped Madi, as she shifted out from behind Clarke, her curiosity getting the best of her.

“It’s...it’s...2018?!” sputtered Nia as she raised a hand and rubbed at her forehead, sighing deeply. “Well no matter.” She turned her attention to Madi, a slow smile breaking across her face, twisting her lips and highlighting her scars. She leaned down a little, while Raven spit at her.

“Aren’t you a beautiful, little thing.” She reached out towards Madi, as Echo stepped closer, her gaze intent upon Madi also.

“Look at her, Nia! So small and delicate! So...yummy,” Echo murmured, excitement spilling from her mouth as she licked her lips.

Clarke and Lexa both grabbed at Madi just as Nia and Echo suddenly rushed forward. Raven yowled and threw herself at Echo, who had managed to beat Nia to Madi, claws extended. Raven yowled again when her claws dug into Echo’s shoulders, her teeth catching Echol’s ear as she bit down.

Echo screamed and backed away, jumping up and down, grabbing at Raven and trying to pull her off of her. But her hands couldn’t find purchase in Raven’s twisting body, and the cat started to slash at her shoulder, ripping through the cloak.

Nia stumbled, falling to the ground when Echo had shouldered her out of the way. She cursed and held out her hands, fingers sparking, but she was too weak to draw her power from the spellbook.

Anya crouched slightly, her hand going to her hip, where a long dagger rested, bound to her waist with leather cords. But she didn’t move, her gaze darting between Nia and Raven clawing at her sister.

Echo finally managed to get hold of Raven, and pulled hard, screaming as Raven bit at her head and scratched her across her forehead. Echo screamed and cursed again, finally throwing Raven from her.

Echo bent over, angry tears coursing down her face, her hands gingerly poking at the scratches on her head and forehead. “Damn that cat to hades!” She snarled as she whimpered at the pain and the sight of the blood on her fingers.

Raven landed on her feet, twirling quickly and facing the sisters again. “Run!” She spat and hissed raising her clawed paw.

And this time Lexa and Clarke ran, Madi safely ensconced in Lexa’s arms as they tore down the paved road as fast as they could back to down, Raven right behind them.

[opalcosplays]

Witch OC Progress Entry #2

I’ve been neglecting to do this for so long omg it’s flippin August xD

So I was wrong in the last post.  There were fewer things absolutely certain than originally thought.  Like the color combo.  First it was purple and black and silver.  Then it was blue and black and silver.  Finally I decided to have red and black and silver.

The Corset

Almost immediately we started casually looking through Amazon for corsets.  They are not that cheap.  I need one with straps in order to set my cat puppet, Grendel, on my shoulder.

We had even worse luck finding purple corsets once we factored in the need for straps.  So I changed my mind to blue.  We had an easier time finding blue corsets with straps, but none that I particularly liked.

Finally, after watching a Just Dance video on YouTube (I kid you not), I decided to go with red.  The only colors that have stayed in the palette this whole time have been the black and the silver.  Luckily for me, we hadn’t bought any fabric for the skirt or any makeup products yet.

Then we made the brilliant decision of making the corset ourselves.  I know, great idea.  Spend a bunch of money on a specific fabric (assuming we can find one that I like) for a specific style that I want.  Then get a sewing machine with none of us having any background in using one.  The only sewing I’ve ever done myself has been fixing holes in dog toys.  I know, lowkey sad.

But we did it.  We bought a sewing machine (and THOSE THINGS ARE NOT CHEAP LET ME TELL YOU), got some practice fabric from the clearance rack, and my dad started practicing using the machine.  It came out pretty nice with the practice fabric.  My mom half joked that we could put some stuffing in it and make a small pillow.

Then came the task of finding fabric for the corset.  According to the Internet, you need brocade fabric or some kind of curtain type fabric to make this stupid corset.  As if this wasn’t stressful enough, now we gotta hunt for this special fabric and hope and pray we find some in a nice black and red pattern I like.

We go to Joann’s.  Hope is high, chances are alright.  Before buying anything, we decide to check and see what Hobby Lobby has.  So we go there.  Hope is lowered, chances are even lower.  We pop by Michael’s.  Hope is low, chances are slim to none.  We go back to Joann’s.

We look at the pattern we bought a while back to see if it says what fabrics we can use.  Lo and behold, cotton is an option!

We book it to the cotton section of the ginormous fabric section.  They have some nice red and black fabrics, but I want some more black on it.  I turn my head and I see a glorious sight before me.  I felt like a spotlight shone from the Heavens and I heard angels sing.

The Halloween fabrics.

This gorgeous fabric was the first to catch my eye.  It is wonderful: red roses, black coffins and bats on a gray-black setting.  I was almost deadset on this one until I saw another.

HOW COULD I NOT GET THIS MASTERPIECE?!  Red roses, cobwebs, black bats, SKULLS WITH MELTING CANDLES ON TOP OF THEM!  IT SCREAMS GOTHIC MENACE, EXACTLY WHAT I WANT.  EVIL BUT NOT TOO EVIL.  DARK AND GORGEOUS (not unlike Elijah from The Originals).

I chose this fabric.  This is what my corset will have.  We also got the interlining or intertubing or whatever the lining/boning stuff is called.  It’s not whalebone, mind you, but good sturdy plastic.  We also got some plain black cotton for the inside.

Half of the outside layer is done.  I’m not sure how much there is total since my dad is the one sewing it BUT I’M EXCITED.

We’ve also decided to hang little bottles on it as well.  This corked bottles are the size of bracelet/necklace charms because that’s what they are.  We got them at Hobby Lobby because Hobby Lobby has A LOT of jewelry charms.  Inside the bottles will be dust glitter.  Think pixie dust.  To make the glitter glow, there will be tiny LED lights inside.  The bottles will be sewn to the corset with conductive thread.  I’m gonna try to explain conductive thread as best as I can, but if that doesn’t work then I suggest trying Google.

Conductive thread is actual thread.  You sew it into the fabric and connect it to a battery.  When turned on, whatever you want to light up or move will do so, assuming you’ve attached all the right parts and haven’t broken the thread or whatever.  It’s like wiring, but it’s thread.

The Skirt

We got this poofy black tutu type thing to add poof to the top since we weren’t sure if using just the fabric we bought at Joann’s would be enough.

Speaking of the skirt fabric...

So when we first decided to make a poofy tulle skirt, we popped by Joann’s and looked through the tulle/netting section of fabric.  Reds, blues, blacks, whites.  Elsa blue, Belle yellow, I’m noticing all sorts of things that would be useful for other projects.  Then we stumble upon a silver tulle.  With black crescent moons and stars.

Sadly, I don’t have a picture of it.  Even more sad, we can’t find it anymore.

See, we didn’t buy it right then and there like we should’ve because we had no idea how much we’d need.  We hadn’t taken my measurements yet.  Hell at this point we hadn’t even decided to make the corset yet.  So we decided to wait.  We went back the next week, and it was gone.  It hasn’t returned.

Now we jump forward to picking out fabric for the skirt.  This is about a week or two after buying the corset fabric.  Black and silver tulle will be easy to find.  Red is pretty abundant as well, but I want a specific shade of red.  A dark red, but not too dark, but also not too light.

We’re flipping through the bolts of fabric, when this piece jumps out at me.

The red is a bit bright, but other than that it’s the near perfect fabric.  Deciding to look for other options in case there’s something else, we keep flipping.  We’re almost at the end now.  I flip the second-to-last bolt, and this one pops out.

Quite literally.  It actually fell and whacked my forehead.

BUT LOOK AT IT.  THIS IS IT.  THIS IS THE FABRIC I WILL USE.  The red is a bit bright, but not as bright as the bats on the other one.  This is the perfect shade I was looking for.  We didn’t end up buying it for another week or two because it’s about $40 a yard and there were no sales or coupons at the time.

First we bought 2 yards.  A couple weeks ago we went back to look for a bright silver tulle (which was easy to find and pretty cheap too) and, after much stress, decided to get another 1-2 yards.  We had a coupon, but ended up using it something else because the fabric was already on sale and was excluded from the coupon.  Of course.

Last week we went and bought some black elastic to make the skirt.  So it goes like this:

The poofy black tutu-skirt goes on first.  Then the actual skirt goes on over it.  If I swish there are some gaps, but I don’t really swish.  There was no sewing.  Just tying the fabric around the elastic.  I comes about halfway between my ankles and my knees, which is the perfect length because we also got these cute red-and-black striped tights to wear underneath and, combined with the ankle boots I’m wearing, you can still see them.

Makeup

In between the time we spent looking for fabrics for both the corset and skirt and making them, I’ve been practicing makeup looks.  First I was deadset on recreating this look with black, red and silver.  I went out and got this palette for it.  I also got some silver glitter eyeliner too because I WANT GLITTER.

I love this.  But after getting the corset, there is so much black in the outfit that I wanted something with more red.  So I went looking for red eye makeup looks on YouTube but could not for the life of me find something I wanted.

Then, while I was sick, I stumbled upon this tutorial.  I wanted to do this but replace the coppers with red.  So I did.  It took a couple days of trying, but I finally settled on a combo I like.

And you can’t really tell, but the silver glitter goes into a wing.  I love outlining my glitter liner, so I’m thinking about getting red eyeliner and trying something new with that and black liner.  I don’t know if it’ll work, but I hope it does.  I really want the silver to be obvious, so I guess if it doesn’t work I could try building it up a little higher than it is here.  But then I don’t want the silver to hide all the glorious red, so there’s that too.

Do you see my problem lol

Also I’m planning on getting a silver crayon to use instead of the white on the inner corner.  If that doesn’t work then I’ll just still to the white.

And LET ME TELL YOU BLACK EYESHADOW IS A PAIN IN THE ASS TO GET OFF OF YOUR LASHLINE LIKE HOLY CRAP

Accessories

When it comes to jewelry, I’ve come a long way.  I wanted something gothic and cool but also, obviously, in black and red.  TO AMAZON.

And I found this necklace, this bracelet, and this finger claw awesomeness.

I also have this dragon earring/cuff that I got from the renaissance fair back in April.  Pain in the ass to get on but still gorgeous.

I should also mention that I’ve given the character an name.

Morgana Alexa Carter.

Go follow my main blog to discover more about her personality.  Why?  Because that’s where I’m developing her as a person.  Here is where I create the costumes.  For her this costume is basically what she would use if she would dress up as a witch for Halloween, especially since she is a witch.

So the week of the con I’m headed to the salon to get my hair dyed red.  It’s gonna be a nice bright red and I’m SO excited for it.  I’ve only had red in my hair one time and that was back in December 2014 when I’d had ONE streak on both sides of my head for Christmas (one green & one red).

On the other hand I’m also kinda nervous because red fades fast and even though I won’t be washing it until the con I’m afraid of it fading too much.  Because I’m paranoid like that.

Props

I want a prop for this costume (besides Grendel).  Michael’s already has some of their Halloween stuff out.  MY PEOPLE ARE RISING.

So we’re looking through the Halloween stuff.  I’m seeing fake crows, skulls, cobwebs, etc.  Then my eyes land on a stack of fake spellbooks.  I want a spellbook.

My dad turns to Pinterest.  There he finds a way to make an old leather-bound book, like the one from Hocus Pocus.  We got a small and a big wooden book from Michael’s, the kind that looks like a book but is actually a box.  The small one will be a practice one.  The big one will be untouched until further notice.  We also got some big books that no one cares about from Half Price Books to use.  We’ll see which one looks better.

Basically it requires mod podge and paper towels.  I’m not sure how that’s gonna work, but I trust my dad.  That’s also why we bought practice books.  We also got some charms from Hobby Lobby to try and put on the book so it looks like they’re inside the cover.  We’re also planning on (hopefully) getting an eye like the ones we got for Foxy, as well as a small skeleton hand to act as the clasp of the book.

That’s about it though.  I’ll put up pictures of everything I haven’t ASAP.  Until then I’ll catch you in the next update.  No matter when that is...

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Gifts for Lovers in the Death Throes of The American Republic

 Share a final candle-flicker of joy before the annihilation begins

Barry White: All-Time Greatest Hits / $4: Want to set the mood? Here's the soundtrack your evening needs. — Jason

Such romance. Much feelings. / $5: A Very Doge Valentine Card — Jason

Star Trek: The Original Series Adult Coloring Book / $10: If you are home alone, chances are you'll enjoy this TOS coloring book. — Jason

BookBook laptop covers / $80: Show your loved one that you love them, but don't want to look at their ugly laptop. One of the best looking and feeling laptop covers, BookBook protects your device from a drop. It looks enough like a book you may be able to keep your laptop in the seatback when traveling by air. — Jason

Key Knife / $12: A blade cleverly hidden in a key-shaped handle, which many report having successfully taken through TSA checkpoints — Cory

Unfuck Your Habitat / $13: Unfucker-in-chief Rachel Hoffman has distilled the Unfuck-your-habitat philosophy into a brilliant, breezy book — Cory

Latex Skull Bag / $75: Also available in black and pink, this glow-in-the-dark molded memento mori handbag features a spooky lining and an inside pocket — Cory

Giant Testes Door Knocker / $200: Are you meeting a romantic partner's family for the first time this Christmas and at a loss for a gift idea that will impress them with your suitability as a potential addition to the clan? Look no farther. — Cory

Defenders Mushroom Extract Blend / $35: Say it with shrooms! This is a high-quality Asian medicinal mushroom extract tonic, an exotic blend with purported adaptogenic properties. It may brighten up your brain and help you cope with stress. Chaga, Reishi, Shiitake, Maitake and Turkey Tail. — Xeni

Barefoot Dreams Bamboo wrap / $90: A soft and cozy feminine gift that looks amazing. Depending on the season, usually these are in the $80-$100 range on Amazon . With proper care, they stay fuzzy and fresh for a long time. — Xeni

Jasmine Absolute Essential Oil / $55: An uplifting, hopeful, and romantic scent. Beautiful as a pick me up, or an aphrodisiac. — Xeni

Crystal Ball / $13: Your loved one might need this to see into the future of our country. You may want to buy one for yourself. — Xeni

Lotte Lenya Sings Berlin Theatre Songs / $7: The great bittersweet voice songs of romance, hope, hedonism, and a reminder that life and love endure, even when dark clouds fill our skies — Xeni

Personalized End Grain Chopping Block / $190: This personally engraved chopping block is to die for! As you shall, in the brutal civil war portended by the election of Donald Trump. — Rob

Silver heart pill container pendant / $100: Compartment will fit 6 small antipsychotic pills comfortably.

The Womanizer: comes with a "100% orgasm guarantee": It's not a vibrator. It's a gadget that suckles the clitoris. Vanessa Marin, a licensed psychotherapist specializing in sex therapy, said it "induces powerful orgasms in a shockingly short amount of time." — Mark

Square, lightweight plastic flask from Stanley / $15: Sturdy, multicolored flasks that go around the world with you, perfect for a sneaky V-day cocktail with your sweetie (Previously) — Cory

Laser-cut birchwood landscape rings / $24: Beautiful landscape rings to mix and match from Britain—there are houses, trees and mountains (there's also an acrylic tsunami). Read more — Cory

Sex and Drugs: A Journey Beyond Limits / $25: A classic book of blissed-out altered consciousness by Boing Boing patron saint Robert Anton Wilson. — Mark

Flashing LED Heart Kit / $10: Solder up a special something for your loved one or, better yet, have a romantic maker date and do it yourselves. Ah, love just makes everything glow. — David

Diamond-Accent Pendant Necklace / $80: For those who just need to get the Valentine's Day situation dealt with immediately — Rob

Anatomical Heart Necklace / $48: Designed by Lost Apostle, the heart is white bronze, approximately 3/4" tap, and comes on a gunmetal chain. Also available as a ring! — David

Belgian Darts Set / $120: End grain basswood board, scoring rings separated by hydraulically inserted brass, and polished steel-tipped darts with birch wood barrels and shafts.— Rob

Pilot Vanishing Point retractible nib fountain pen / $140: I love my unique, never leaking Pilot/Namiki Vanishing Point. I have carried it for years and the pen writes as beautifully today as when I bought it. Read More — Jason

Full Body Spandex Lycra Suit / $40: Enjoy a close encounter of the 4th kind with your loved one!

Kawaii Heart Stickers / $5: Five bucks a sheet

Moleskine, Large / $16: For writing romantic slashfic

https://boingboing.net/2017/02/07/gifts-for-lovers-in-the-death.html

[thephoblographer]

The Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art lens is the fastest aperture wide angle lens that you can currently find on the market, and it’s perfect in so many ways for the photographers that do astrophotography as well as those who photograph interiors in low lighting. The fast f1.8 aperture along with the autofocusing will suit these photographers well. However, the moment that you try to attach a filter to the lens is when things start to go weird. It’s very difficult to do despite many lens options on the market finding ways to make this easier. At the same time, photographers can argue about how modern day sensors are so good at getting the image that you may not need those filters. But the same argument can be made for high ISO output–I mean, why would you need an f1.8 lens? Let me restate that: why would you need an f1.8 wide angle lens?

Despite my questions and reasoning with just how good modern optics and cameras are, the Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art lens is a fantastic, and innovative lens for pretty much any photographer out there that needs a wide angle prime lens.

Pros and Cons

Pros

Sharp image quality

Keeps distortion down to a minimum

Fun to use

Great look overall to the scenes that you get

Images look fantastic in black and white

Weather resistance

F1.8 aperture is nice for really low light shooting

Cons

I wish that there were a way that I could attach a filter to the front.

Gear Used

The Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art was tested on the Canon 6D and the Canon 6D Mk II.

Tech Specs

Specs for the Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art were taken from the Sigma website

SPECIFICATIONS

Lens Construction 16 Elements in 11 Groups Angle of View (35mm) 114.2° Number of Diaphragm Blades 9 (Rounded diaphragm) Mininum Aperture F16 Minimum Focusing Distance 27cm / 10.6in Filter Size (mm)  – Maximum Magnifications 1: 9.8 Dimensions (Diameter x Length) Φ95.4mm × 126mm / 3.8in. x 5.0in. Weight 1,120g / 39.5oz. Corresponding Mounts

Sigma HSM DG Nikon HSM DG Canon HSM DG

HSM -Hyper-Sonic Motor DG – DG for Digital Full Frame and APS-C * The appearance, specifications, and the like of the product are subject to change for improvement without notice.

Ergonomics

The Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art is first and foremost, characterized by that big, massive front element of glass. It’s curved and feels almost like a crystal ball. It’s also prone to oil and smudges, so be careful! Oh yeah, the lens hood is permanently attached too.

Turn the Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art to the side and what you’ll find is the Sigma Art badge. The exterior is a carbonite type of plastic or something like that. Sigma doesn’t use metal like many other manufacturers do.

On the side of the Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art is the AF/MF switch. Generally speaking, I only use MF if I’m focused out to infinity. Otherwise, there is this big giant focusing ring that you can use in combination with this switch’s functions. The ring provides the only real grip on the lens with the exception of the fact that the head of the lens is so darn giant.

Build Quality

When you look at the Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art, what you’ll find is this rubber gasket ring on the outside. This is part of the weather sealing. For what it’s worth, I didn’t test this lens out in the rain, but it survived a splash or two from the Atlantic ocean–and those splashes weren’t that bad at all as I stood on a pier over at Coney Island and witnessed some of the biggest waves I’ve seen in a while. I have a lot of confidence in the build quality but for what it’s worth, I still think that IRIX, Tamron and Zeiss are more superior due to their incorporation of metal into the body’s exterior. IRIX in particular is a brand that I’m very impressed by these days.

Granted, if a plastic lens takes a bump then it’s less likely to affect the alignment of the elements. But metal prevents that in the first place.

Ease of Use

Using the Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art is pretty simple. Screw it onto the camera, autofocus, and shoot. That’s it. But where it really starts to change is with the manual focusing that you’re going to need to do to shoot scenes at infinity. What I’m really in love with though is the fact that for the first time with a lens from the Global Vision project, Sigma incorporated a zone focusing system into the autofocus. That’s awesome!

Autofocus

On both the Canon 6D and Canon 6D Mk II, the focus was pretty much always accurate. In fact, even in low lighting the cameras and lens never missed focusing unless I wasn’t using the center focusing point. You need to expect this with the Canon 6D series of cameras though. They still are my favorite over the 5D series. I can’t imagine anyone shooting super fast moving subjects with the Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art though, so don’t worry about needing to have the fastest focusing with such a wide angle lens anyway.

Image Quality

The Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art is a lens that you’re not going to really have any sort of trouble with as long as you combine it with a high megapixel DSLR of some sort. At the lower megapixels, you may complain about sharpness until you zoom all the way in on a computer to see how stupidly, amazingly sharp this lens is wide open at f1.8. It’s very useful and pretty fun to work with. Then there are other things like the color.

Bokeh

Because I know that someone is bound to sit there and complain about the bokeh, you should know that it’s nice bokeh indeed. Is it creamy? No. You’re not going to get that from a wide angle lens. But to its point, the Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art has the closest thing to creamy bokeh that I’ve seen from any sort of wide angle prime lens. As it is, you don’t buy this lens for the bokeh.

Pro tip though: because of the contrast that this lens has, it has a really beautiful look when shooting in black and white.

Chromatic Aberration

While some folks may say that lens flare is chromatic aberration, I embrace it. This lens has a lot of flare but surprisingly manages to keep the fringing down. Embrace the flare is what I say!

Color Rendition

The Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art is like many of the company’s other wide angle lenses, very contrasty and very saturated. Perhaps they designed it for landscape photographers and this is why you get that look. Those colors and contrast translate well into beautiful black and white images.

Using the Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art with Ilford Pan F 50 Film

The Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art was loaded up in my Canon EOS 33 and used with Ilford Pan F 50 film. In the right situations, the film looks great with this lens. But the lens also has a whole lot of contrast that I don’t think works so great with what’s the equivalent of slide film. It’s hit or miss; but when you hit it, you really hit it! More of this can be found over at La Noir Image with a subscription.

Sharpness

Wide open the Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art is super sharp. But as you stop down it becomes even sharper. For the most part though, it’s designed to be used wide open.

Extra Image Samples

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Conclusions

Likes

Sharp wide open

Beautiful for black and white photography

Weather sealing

f1.8 aperture

Dislikes

I really think that it’s time that Sigma start making lenses like these for Sony E Mount

The Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art is a fantastic lens is every single way. I’ve got pretty much no issues at all with its image quality. But the reason why it’s not getting the Editor’s Choice award is because at this point, I think that Sigma makes such great glass that it’s normal to expect this. This is the company that made an 18-35mm f1.8 lens and a 24-35mm f2 lens. their innovation game is strong in terms of traditional features like a Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art being created. But I’d like to see more. For example, IRIX lenses have a clicky area that tells me when something is an infinity. The writing can also glow under a black light. Considering that this lens is designed to be used for astrophotography, I’m shocked that the text doesn’t glow in the dark at all. It would make heading out to the shoreline and looking at the text on the lens so much easier.

Still though, as far as sharpness, colors, and overall image quality go, this lens can’t be beat.

The Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art wins five out of five stars. Want one? Check out Amazon for the latest prices.

The Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art is such a fun lens to use! The Sigma 14mm f1.8 DG HSM Art lens is the fastest aperture wide angle lens that you can currently find on the market, and it's perfect in so many ways for the photographers that do astrophotography as well as those who photograph interiors in low lighting.

[humanoid-lovers]

About time someone came out with a book on this topic Comic books were a big part of my childhood. So was all this junk that I order out of them. And that was exactly what all these trinkets and toys were - JUNK. Still didn't keep me from absolutely loving them though, or going crazy waiting for my order to be full filled via snail mail. Great memories, great book. Go to Amazon

I still have a few of these items.... Are you kidding me? I ordered most of these at one time or another. A look into the pre-Amazon days of mail ordering from the backs of comic books. The difference is....back then...jusssst when you'd forgotten you even ordered something....shazam the mailman brought you Christmas in July. Funny to see how they marketed this stuff and remembering how it actually came. Reelung in the years here. Great book. Loved it. Go to Amazon

Great nostalgia As a child of the 70s I recall pretty clearly seeing most of these ads in my comic books. This book filled those long forgotten curiosities with great descriptions and photographs of what you actually got with your hard earned dollar/box top. Needless to say i think we all dodged a few bullets, and I caught a couple as well. This is a fun, light read, but may be lost on people that don't have those memories. For me, 5 stars and a hearty thanks for bringing closure to those long forgotten dreams. Go to Amazon

If you grew up fascinated by stuff offered in and on the back page of comics growing up you will simply *love* this book! As a kid, I ordered plenty of this stuff. My older Brother was a comic book fan, and when I got my hands on his comics these pages were the first place I would go. Go to Amazon

My parents were right! As a kid from the 70's i remember all too well all of the ads in comic books that advertised everything from Sea Monkeys to X-ray glasses. I remember "needing" ventriloquist dummies, hovercrafts and hypno coins to be complete and i remember the parents always nixing the very idea of buying any of it. Years later i found most of the cheap trash featured in this book at a local dollar store and realized that my parents were right in their cynicism. Go to Amazon

A MUST buy! What a fantastic idea for a book! I used to lust after many of these items when I was a comic-book reading kid. I finally saved the money to buy the giant 6-foot Frankenstein & was so disappointed when it arrived in a thin envelope - it turned out to be a color print of the monster on a 6' long piece of plastic sort of like a Hefty. It had two glow in the dark stick-on dots to put on the eyes. My mom let me hang it on my bedroom wall a couple of weeks. And I remember dreaming of the carbide cannon, which was WAY out of my price range at $6.95! Anyhow, this book shows me how much money I would have wasted & makes for a tremendous nostalgic read. Go to Amazon

Time Machine Book! I haven't picked up a comic book in years. This book instantly took me back in time. I recognized almost all the ads and as a kid I was sooo tempted to order some of the junk. Love this book. A lot of the mail order toys brought disappointment, but this book will not disappoint! Go to Amazon

No rip off this time ! I do remember those adds in the back of comic books and always suspected them of being scams . I also did have a curiosity of what they actually where . This book not only answered my questions but went into more detail than I expected . Most items where not quite as they where hyped . The X-Ray glasses are one that I remember . Nothing for a dollar could possibly be effective in any way and as the book points out not only that but how the effect was produced . Go to Amazon

I Keep It on the Coffee Table Four Stars ... during the 60s and wondered about all those too good to be true ads you saw For Baby Boomers I was satisfied with the content as expected Is It Worth The Money? Fun book Buy this book for yourself and enjoy! Reads Five Stars

[tortuga-aak]

The best tape measures you can buy

The Insider Picks team writes about stuff we think you'll like. Business Insider has affiliate partnerships, so we get a share of the revenue from your purchase.

The Insider Pick:

No toolkit is complete without a great measuring tape. From the professional contractor's work to the DIY home repair, countless projects call for precise measurements. The QuickDraw DIY Self Marking Measuring Tape is our top choice because its innovative built-in pencil ensures you mark the same spot you measured.

If you want to measure the area of a room prior to the purchase of a new carpet, couch, or coffee table, you're going to need to use a measuring tape. If you want to see if that new furniture will fit in the back of your vehicle, that's another time when a measuring tape is key. Should you want to build a fine piece of furniture from scratch to perfectly fit that space in your home, then you're certainly going to need a quality measuring tape.

A measuring tape or tape measure is useful for landscape design, interior decorating, construction, crafts projects, and so much more. Imagine seeking the perfect placement for a painting, calculating the size of a bedroom, or planning the design of new kitchen cabinets and countertops without a tape measure — nothing would ever look or fit quite right. That old adage of "Measure twice, cut once" is oft repeated for good reason.

I've been using the same Stanley tape measure for years because the damn thing just won't break. I almost wish it would, because a few of the newer releases in the measuring tape category feature innovative and clever features, such as laser-assisted measuring and digital displays. For most people, a basic 25-foot tape measure is about all they'll ever need, but as a reliable tape measure should last for many years, it's OK to spend a few extra dollars and get some special features.

If you're in the market for a new tape measure, you're shopping at an exciting time. Well ... as exciting as tape measures get, anyway.

Although the QuickDraw DIY Self Marking Tape Measure is our top pick, for the reasons laid out in the slides below you should also consider the Stanley PowerLock 25-Foot Tape Measure, the WorkPro 100-Foot Fiberglass Measuring Tape, the General Tools LTM1 2-In-1 Laser Tape Measure, and the eTape16 Digital Measuring Tape.

The best tape measure overall

QuickDraw/Business Insider

Why you'll love it: The QuickDraw DIY Self Marking Measuring Tape helps prevent human error in carpentry, construction, and craft projects with its built-in graphite marking wheel.

Even if you have carefully measured out a length of lumber or chosen the exact right spot on the wall, your painstaking measurements won't count for much if you make a mark in the wrong spot and then cut, drill, or sink a nail in the wrong place. The QuickDraw DIY Self Marking Measuring Tape eliminates that all-too-common problem thanks to a graphite marking wheel built directly into the base of the unit. All you have to do is jiggle the measuring tape ever so slightly once you have it in the right position and you will create a clear dark gray mark exactly where you need it.

And speaking of finding the exact right spot, this tape measure makes that easy, too. It has a bright red marking indicator band and a "Tru-View" sight that lets you see exactly where the measurement you need lines up with the surface underneath.

You might think an advanced measuring tape like this is only suitable for professional builders or designers, but in fact, it's much the opposite: This measuring tape is perfect for those of us who need all the help we can get with our projects. You also might think it would be expensive, but at around fifteen dollars, this is hardware that fits any budget.

One satisfied customer calls his QuickDraw measuring tape "an ingenious idea" he wishes he had owned "years ago." Another user called it "easy to hold, easy to lock" and of course said the tape measure makes it "easy to mark materials."

In a review on ToolGuyd.com, a writer appreciated that the tape measure's marking wheel can make up to 1,000 marks before needing a graphite rod replacement, while in a video review from Tech Trends, a gear demonstrated how quickly it can be used to make and mark measurements, even when being used with one hand.

Pros: Easy and precise marks, clear measurement indicator, great price point

Cons: Rather bulky, blade wobbles at longer extensions

Buy the QuickDraw DIY Self Marking Measuring Tape on Amazon for $15.89

The best low-cost tape measure

Stanley/Business Insider

Why you'll love it: The Stanley PowerLock 25-Foot Tape Measure is tough enough for commercial use, durable enough to last for years, and yet it still costs only ten bucks.

Stanley tape measures are something of a benchmark for this category of tool. They have been around for generations and, arguably, are the original retractable tape measure brand. A man named Hiram Farrand patented the first modern spring-operated retractable tape measure in the 1920s, but the product rights were subsequently sold to Stanley Works. This basic, no-nonsense tape measure is a fine example of the years of design experience the company has to offer.

This tape measure features a one-inch wide, 25-foot long blade that will stay straight without bending (often called standout) for eight or nine feet, provided you have a steady hand. Its case looks like polished chrome but is in fact made from high-impact ABS plastic. The hardware is well protected, but the overall piece is relatively lightweight.

As the PowerLock portion of the name implies, the blade stays locked in place when you have the locking slide pushed forward, so once you have a measurement calculated, you can count on the tape staying steady while you note the length or make your marks.

While this tape measure is short on bells and whistles, it's big on quality, and that's the true measure of success here.

With well over 1,000 reviews posted on Amazon, this tape measure has a glowing 4.5-star rating. One satisfied Stanley customer named Todd puts it best when he says: "After buying several newer designed tape rules and having them fail in a matter of months or even less I went back to the first one I ever used thirty years ago. They lasted my dad decades and they seem to be built the exact same way as they were thirty years ago."

The experts at The Sweethome said the Stanley PowerLock "delivers the best basic combination of durability, ease of use, and accuracy — and all for a very low price." A writer with Popular Mechanics reports that "the blade feeds out quickly and smoothly and reels back into its housing the same way. The design is elegant, simple, and extremely rugged."

Pros: Great low price, time-tested design, smooth extension and retraction

Cons: End hook breaks off some units

Buy the Stanley PowerLock 25-Foot Tape Measure on Amazon for $9.88

The best extra-long measuring tape

WorkPro

Why you'll love it: If the area you need to measure is too long for a standard 25-foot tape measure, chances are the WorkPro 100 Foot Fiberglass Measuring Tape can handle it with ease.

Most measuring tapes are between 15 and 25 feet long, and for most projects, that's plenty of reach, but for measuring the area of extra large rooms or for plotting out design schemes for landscaping, patios, and other outdoor projects, you often need a tape measure with some extra reach. If the WorkPro 100 Foot Fiberglass Measuring Tape can't handle the job, it's probably time you call in the professionals anyway.

Thanks to the soft, flexible material used to construct this measuring tape, it tucks that impressive 100-foot long tape into a disc-shaped housing that will fit in most toolboxes and that is lightweight yet durable. The tape dispenses rapidly with minimal pressure and has a large metal loop on the end that can be hooked over a nail, screw, ground stake, or many other protrusions. The tape rewinds rapidly as you spin a retracting handle, which then folds flat into the case.

This measuring tape is ideal for use in larger construction projects as well as for scientific or classroom research. It can also be used for work ranging from surveying, thanks to its long length, to measuring a person's waist, chest, arms, and inseam for tailoring, thanks to its flexible design.

The WorkPro 100 Foot Fiberglass Measuring Tape has a fine 4.5-star rating on Amazon, with customers calling it "incredibly well made," "better quality than I expected," and noting that it "operates quite well considering the cheap price."

The product writers with Ali Express noted the WorkPro's "durable, comfortable, and highly visible" overmolded ABS plastic case, which protects the tape and retraction mechanism and should see the unit last for years.

Pros: Extra long length, lightweight design, flexible tape useful for myriad applications

Cons: Manual rewind required

Buy the WorkPro 100 Foot Fiberglass Measuring Tape on Amazon for $11.99 (originally $19.00)

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