Marshmallow-Manju gave me the prompt ‘magic, snails, and bruised knuckles’ and this is what I came up with.
Making Friends
Matthew flicked the snail back into the cauldron and straightened his pointed hat with his other hand. He squinted at the grimoire floating in front of his face.
“Snips, and snails, and puppy dog tails…” He muttered, turning the page with a flick of his wrist. “That can’t be right…”
His mentor had told him to go out and make some friends his own age.
He had taken her advice to heart.
“Oh well.”
He stirred the bubbling pink mixture counterclockwise and lowered the heat until it popped and simmered and darkened. It was almost red now. He stood on his tiptoes and peered into the cauldron.
He had never had a friend before. His parents had brought him to the old witch when he was four years old and the magic started leaking out between his fingertips and toes. He lived with her in a thatched hut in the forest and the children in the nearest village laughed whenever the two of them passed through with bundles of dried flowers and clinking, clacking bottles.
So he would just have to make a friend from scratch.
The cauldron started to tremble and shake and Matthew stepped back, raising his arms when it flashed a brilliant white, and tripping over the hem of his cloak. He toppled backwards into shelves of mint and ragweed. The jars crashed around him.
“Are you okay?”
Matthew gasped and pushed his hat back into place.
There was a naked boy standing in the cauldron. He was paler than he should have been, maybe, and his eyes were the same colour as the bubbling mixture but he was grinning at Matthew. His elbows were scratched and rubbed raw and his knuckles were bruised.
He looked just like all the little boys in the village who fought and climbed trees and rolled around in the grass.
“Yes!” Matthew scrambled up and helped pull the boy out of the cauldron. “I’m sorry! Are youokay?”
“I think so.”
Matthew draped his cloak over his shoulders.
“Do you have a name?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I feel like I have a name.”
“You can pick! My name is Matthew. I didn’t get to pick.”
The boy closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and cackling.
“Gilbert!” He said. “I feel like a ‘Gilbert’!”
“That’s a wonderful name.”
Gilbert put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest in pride.
“Of course it is.”
“Do you…” Matthew bounced and fidgeted with nervous excitement. He really liked Gilbert. He wanted Gilbert to like him too. “Do you want to be my friend? I’ve never had a friend before. You would be the first.”
Gilbert puffed up even more.
“Then I’m going to be your bestest best friend ever.”
Luke:The phrase “free as a bird” is often misused. It means you don’t have to pay for them. See a bird? Pick it up. It’s yours now. I have 4 hawks, 10 pigeons, 23 crows, and a penguin.
Vyn: You picked a lot of chicken as well. What happened to them?
You know, I’m grateful that my pack-rat writing tendencies mean I still have the initial chapter-drafts for most of Deathly Weapons squirreled away on my hard-drive.
Some days it’s reassuring to look back and see solid evidence that the first draft coming out absolute rubbish is just a natural and recurring part of the process, and not a sign that I’ve lost my grip entirely.
Fun fact: the Deathly Weapons you all know is actually a stealth re-write, starting at about Chapter 9 onwards.
I had a much rougher, structurally weaker proto-version drafted out for about 15 short chapters back when I first started writing. Super clunky, super exposition-heavy, very meandering (I hadn’t fully planned things out and it showed), cutting all over the shop et cetera et cetera… suffice to say it really didn’t do much for me and got extensively reworked and fleshed out into what we have today.
Anyway, here are some snippets of the OG proto-version of what would become Chapter 16, the first draft of the actual Chapter 16 and the final version you know. Have your rotten fruit and best jeers at the ready:
PROTO version (“CH12: Upgrades”, total word count <1K)
Two teens stood in front of the Batcave’s Zeta tube, awaiting clearance to beam to Mt. Justice. Robin grinned, shifting unconsciously on his feet, excited for the moment. The same could not be said of Phantom. The ghost-boy stood taught and stiff, examining the transporter with apprehension. Today was the day.
Robin watched his friend carefully as they waited for the signal. Danny had been living with the duo for a month and a half. The decision hadn’t been hard to make – after all, the teen already knew their secret identities. Nothing was official of course. Fenton was legally dead and, with Phantom’s hunters still at large, all three heroes recognised the wisdom in leaving the declaration uncontested. So Danny was staying quietly in one of the smaller, less obtrusive guest rooms of the manor, avoiding the public eye at all costs.
(Ohno, oh dear, look at that exposition, look at baby-me trying to cram the equivalent of Chapters 12 -15 into a one-paragraph summary.)
Re-structured Chapter 16: Second impressions, DRAFT 1
“Seriously, will you relax already?”
Robin bobbed onto his toes, punctuating the remark with a playful grin. Disturbed by his voice the cave’s handful of native residents took wing, soft chitters echoing from above as they fluttered in search of more comfortable roosts. He beamed at them, relishing the sight through the mask. The knowledge that he was finally, finally back in the game. To be out there again afterweeks… even days later the rush of patrol refused to leave. It wasn’t just fun and games, of course. What they did was dangerous. Meticulous planned and prepared, driven by the mission… but that was all part of it. Things he’d actually missed. And speaking of things he’d been missing… there was a certain group of individuals that he probably owed a few explanations to. Though hopefully not for much longer. The bird stretched in anticipation, lacing hands behind his head with a sideways glance.
Unfortunately the cave’s other inhabitant wasn’t nearly so at ease. Phantom shifted in place, white-gloved fingers tugging absently at a ridge of stitching near his collar as he eyed the Zeta Tube. The hand froze at Robin’s pointed look, halfa’s ears tinting green as he lowered it deliberately back to his belt. For a moment he almost seemed calm. Then he was fidgeting again, worrying at the hem of a glove. The detective sighed.
The voice drifted upwards, echoing past the platforms. Soft chitters answered as it reached the roof, wings rustling as the cave’s smaller residents fluttered away from the noise. The Boy Wonder beamed up at them, savouring the view through the mask.
It felt good. Even three days into patrols – mostly minor incidents, plus a slightly more major one that left Robin with bruised knuckles and Batman with a hole in his cape – the buzz refused to fade. Five weeks on the bench… he’d been all but crawling the walls by the time Bruce offered the suit and cape back. No amount of training or back-and-forward with Danny could compare to the feel of the streets. Not that he’d taken full advantage of his reinstated freedoms just yet. There were still a few more things to do. Places to go. People to see. Although what they’d think of his surprise… he stretched in anticipation, lacing hands behind his head with a sideways glance.
That same enthusiasm wasn’t shared by his companion. Beside him Phantom shifted, eyeing the inactive Zeta tube with an expression that was far from turbed. Whether due to the transporter itself or where it would be taking them, Robin wasn’t sure. A little from column A, a little from column B, he guessed; considering the ghost’s history it wouldn’t be a surprise if he took a while warming towards giant energy tunnels.
With a cough the spirit looked away, hand reaching to tug at a seam near his collar.
idk why but even as literally everyone’s senior in superm I have a feeling Taemin stepped into the room and was immediately like ‘me baby’ and everyone just agreed on site.
if you want me to consume a new media you MUST catch me at the exact moment when the stars are aligned and the air pressure is equal to the current degree of the sun’s peak against the horizon and all the cosmic energies are perfectly unified (aka my old interest is fading out) or i will nod and say “im adding that to my list!” Knowing theres no chance i will check it out
“unless its a book!” “unless you tell me it has gay people in it!” “this but only for live action shows” “theres a good chance i’ll get to it eventually” no wrong this post is not for you this post is ONLY for bitches who could have a treasured friend recommend them something that sounds grown in a lab to be your personal catnip and, with no choice in the matter, immediately know it will never be the right time to watch/read/listen to it
Cant sleep for the nth night in a row because Im lonely as fuck and horny as fuck
All I can think about is the need to have someone’s body pressed against mine or to be able to ‘unleash’ all the love and lust that’s been building in me for like a year and a half
I’m literally in the prime time of my life to be s*xual (20 y/o already babeeey) but i can’t and i feel like I want to take my skin off from all of those feelings and hormones
you’ve heard of feedees/gainers being teased and stimulated as they stuff themselves silly till their feeders are happy with their performance, now get ready for
feeders who are dripping wet and/or swollen and throbbing from some kind of a toy keeping them on their edge as their feedees have their fill, the remote in their hand, perfectly in control of the situation.
bring me this. bring me that. *hiccup* oof, rub my belly… no, you can’t come yet, i’m still hungry! now go fetch me the rest of the cake from the fridge, then we’ll see. ahh baby, you’re blushing! are you okay, do you want me to go slower on you? turn it down a bit so you can manage yourself? i know i must look spectacular, but come on, you can do better than thaaat!
it goes on for hours,maybe even a whole day,and their feeder thinks they might as well go insane from anticipation, they’ve been so good for so long it’s physically exhausting to hold back, but they’re still waiting by their partner’s side/feet, trying not to moan too loudly or shiver at the sight of their full mouth and plump gut pushing hard on that tight waistband of their sweats. all they can focus on is how much they want to press their face into that delicious gut and touch themselves till they can finally- finally-
ah-hhhh…
another strong wave of vibrations shakes their body uncontrollably. their partner smiles knowingly, finally wiping their palms from tasty sugar to softly pet their obedient feeder’s slightly damp hair, urging them to look up at their beautiful face
okay, you’ve had enough. come here, you deserve a reward
oml i’ve only been back on here for LESS THAN A DAY and i’ve already done that thing where you tell yourself “i’ll just look for 10 minutes” and then end up scrolling for hours with out blinking or speaking or getting up to pee or having literally any awareness of time passing and the word rotating.
![Life, after, again.[Croooooow ლ(╹◡╹ლ)]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/8a07e434ea3b88b1954acffb1aee139e/tumblr_oym0kw8N8F1r3p3xco1_1280.png "Life, after, again.[Croooooow ლ(╹◡╹ლ)]")
