Solemnly Swearing: The Marauder’s Oath of Silence

by Rita Skeeter

December 1, 2000

Well, well, well, dear readers! Today marks two decades since The Marauders decided to pack up their musical mischief. Can you believe it? The once-most popular band of the ‘70s mysteriously called it quits, and oh, the rumours that still linger even after all these years.

Now, you’ve heard the hushed whispers, haven’t you? Theories abound about backstage feuds, alleged affairs, and the like. Word is James Potter, the charismatic guitarist, may have had more than just musical chemistry with Regulus Black, the lead singer’s enigmatic brother. Oh, it’s all too scandalous, isn’t it?

And let’s not forget the revelation of the real, genuine feud between Sirius Black, the strumming heartthrob lead singer, and Remus Lupin, the brooding bassist. A little more bite than bark, it seems.

Since that fateful gig in London, on December 1, 1981, where they left fans hanging, the band members have not been seen together.

The Marauders once owned the stage, riding high on the success of their award-winning album “Mischief Managed,” but for ten long years, their lips have been sealed. No interviews, no exposés. The band members and their inner circle have refused to give interviews on the record about what happened.

Until today, that is.

Trick or treat! 👻

🍬 Treat!

How about some OC Trivia for Cara Evelyn?

As Booker's love interesting in Changeling, we find out that she had a fairly tragic past with both her parents becoming Kavians when Cara was quite young...

While Cara isn't physically with Lizzy and Booker in book two, we still learn more about her and her past through her parents involvement with Connorbar Moore.

In fact, Cara's family home is one of the first places that Andric, Lizzy and Booker go after leaving Speculo.

It's a three floor manor house, and I did a rough sketch of the layout when I was away on holiday. It's since been digitized, but here's a picture the first draft of the ground floor...

(Event Post)

Two chapters left to edit

Not all Hope is Lost (Sneak Peek)

Next Sorry, but Tumblr is being difficult with the rest of this. Think of it as a sneak peek for the full chapter! You will get the full chapter on Ao3.

And that was the prologue!! Now, what will happen in the future for Donnie?

I will post it on Ao3 in a few days after editing it.

___________________

“Mikey,” Donnie announced his presence and walked into the infirmary, in his hands a bowl of Applesauce with Apple slices (just to be safe). Mikey’s head shot up and looked at him, confused. “Got your food for lunch.” He held the bowl out in front of him, still feeling a little hesitant about uncuffing his brother. Not that the fact that he had cuffed him in the first place was any better. “I even made this portion bigger than last time.” Mikey gave the bowl a sniff before diving in, not hesitating anymore after the last two times. Things between them seem more relaxed now; Donnie at least was not as scared about possibly being bit, as he was yesterday. And Mikey appears to be doing better too, looking at how much more lively he is than before. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and glancing over, Donnie almost lost it. A wagging turtle tail. Ooooh, he used all of his willpower to not laugh, what he wouldn’t give to record this! While each of them had a tail, only Raph had it out most of the time because it was so big. It would be uncomfortable to retract and even then, it would not go in completely. The others, like Donnie, kept theirs mostly retracted in their shell, for different reasons. Donnie, for safety reasons, did it in his lab and that eventually became a habit. Leo started hiding his because, for how dismissive or dramatic he acted, his tail would always reveal his true feelings. And everyone knew that Mikey started hiding his because of how embarrassed he was of it- of how small and stubby it was, and it having a small spot on its tip too! Looking at his tail now, Mikey will not have to worry about that anymore, Donnie mused bittersweetly. “Mikey…” The bowl fell on the floor with a plab!, spilling its content all over the floor. But Donnie did not care- he hardly noticed. “What did you-” All that mattered now was his brother and what he said. Donnie swallowed hard. “Can you repeat that?” Mikey, who had looked forlornly at the spilt mess, tilted his head up. One might be deceived into thinking that he was not looking at anything (having no visible pupils and all), but Donnie felt his gaze resting on him. He looked down and then back at Donnie, before opening his strong beak filled with sharp teeth. “Food?” He croaked, with a questioning tilt at the end. “Oh-,” it felt difficult to breathe. “Oh Mikey, this is great!” But air never tasted more beautiful. “You can talk! You can understand me!” Half-formed thoughts and ideas raced through his mind. “Is this a sign that whatever it was that turned you into this is wearing off? Or- or was it exposure? Socialising? Did I accidentally teach you that? Or-” Theories and more theories streamed out of his mouth, pacing the room while rambling, not noticing how he walked through the spill on the floor. (Watching the purple turtle pace, a stream of words falling from his mouth, “Mikey” thought how odd that turtle was. But being here taught “Mikey” many things- many interesting things. It made being stuck here bearable. And he did not find it in himself to want to leave either.)

Deadgirl 4 Progress

Daybreak is looking good! Almost finished with the fourth act (traditionally one of the shorter acts) then it’ll be right into the fifth act, basically the climax (also pretty short).

The epilogue section is gonna be a little longer in this book than the others, but it’s the end of a series, whaddya want from me?! In fact the whole book is looking to be longer than the others (even 2, which has been the longest up until now).

But, it’s hard to tell for sure. It is a first draft, and I tend to cut like a motherfucker when second draft time comes. I’ve removed entire chapters, characters, and storylines snicker-fucking-snack before. All cruft must go. Not even cruft, just stuff that isn’t necessary. I removed literally my favorite scene from Ghostlight.

1st draft probably done in a couple weeks, 2nd a couple weeks after that, 3rd depending on how long Gina takes to read it and tell me what’s terrible and then I fix what’s terrible. Maybe two weeks more there, a month on the outside.

Then it’s just copyediting, formatting for ebook and print, then wrangling it into the system. Maybe another week or so there.

What does that add up to? Optimistically a March 2023 release date? Certainly possible. April at the latest.

Started editing my 42,000 word rough draft this week. If I keep up this pace, my first complete draft should be finished by mid-Feb. Feeling pretty good about my progress. Inching away from just-another-writer to become an author.

Took advice from some editors online and am also re-outlining the story and marking up new character sheets at this point. Just to make sure things are in balance and properly reflected in the writing. It has already has led to some major edits and additions to the first three chapters. I found I wasn't stitching in enough expression of character or the story world and was too focused on plot.

I have written 2 screenplays and many short stories, but this is my first real attempt at writing a novel (not counting half-assed outlines and drunken benders of yesteryear).

✌🏻

Col. Sato 1st draft

Just skimming through old writing and find an odd typo.

Blocks away from Jane’s home were the short fight was

“were the short fight was”

“were” !?!?!?

How did I miss this while typing the story?

AND WHY DID I JUST READ MY OWN POST IN PM SEYMOUR’S VOICE

Silver Tongue Tales - Gray Chronicles Book I - Take Off Running: Chapter 4

Written and Voiced by Kai Forrest (That’s me!)

Art by @lottiewyn

🎃Trick or treat? 👻

--@oh-no-another-idea

🍬 Treat!

I was talking about the Evelyn Manor House earlier in another treat. How about a snippet of the first time they enter the building?

This scene is also a first, because it's in Booker's POV, which we don't get to see at all in Changeling.

The floor was dark stained wood, but his footsteps were muffled by a thick carpet covering the centre of the hall, leading you deeper into the large house. The walls had a horizontal beam of carved wood around waist height with some kind of decorated paper below and plain cream walls above that brought the white-washed cottages of Arbaon to Booker's mind. "Lizzy?" Booker called, his voice softer than intended but he didn't need her to answer him. He could feel that she was close. The familiarity of her mind called out to him, and he stepped through a large living room with deep, soft looking seats and an actual candelier hanging from the tall ceiling before opening a set of double doors that revealed a large, muli-floored library beyond. "Rot and termites," Booker cursed under his breath as he stared up and winced. When Cara had said the Evelyn Journals were in her family's library, none of them had realised what she'd meant. The room was large enough for a formal dinner at the Court of Arbaon, and the walls of books rose at lease a floor above them. It rivalled the library at Speculo School and Booker could already feel a headache building at the back of his neck.

(Event Post)

Draft 1: Complete.

Began writing Book 5 on December 21st 2021

Finished first draft May 7th 2023

Finished editing first draft December 10th, 2023

Book 5 of the Recovery series (my 8th book written since 2004) was, again, a book I didn't fully intend to write when I set off into this series back in 2013. I'd originally planned this series to be three books based off a short story I wrote in my Creative Writing course in college. But here we are, 5 books in of 8 now planned.

With the chopping of original ending and slicing and dicing Book 1 (Embassy, 2013) by a full 50%, it grew into a very different story, one not full of aliens and interstellar wars, but the wonders and pangs of humanity's expansion to new planets two thousand years after the desolation of Earth.

Book 2 (Resonance, 2014) was originally meant to take place 18 years after Book 1, but ended up being a continuation of the new story, all leading up to those pages I'd chopped off and held onto for two years.

Book 3 (Perihelid, 2017) was originally what Book 4 ended up becoming in some ways. A loose version of the story, at least. The Book 3 I ended up with was a direct continuation picking up mere seconds after the end of Book 2, and coming full circle for the main character's arc.

Book 4 (Belvun, 2021) was born from the scraps of original Book 3. With a fully fleshed out plot spiralling toward ultimate disruption of balance among humanity's inhabited worlds, Book 4 ended up with a vastly different tone from the first three books, written from fresh new perspectives covering both political and civilian spheres.

And now, Book 5 (due for release October 2024 or April 2025) continues and concludes the story of Book 4, setting fire to the balance humanity has maintained. This destruction will set the stage for the concluding three installments, Books 6-8, which I will write between 2024 (?) and 2040.

Come January 2024, I'll input these edits, and then it all starts again (this time, only on the computer! Every first draft I write is on paper, though).

The next step from here is a break.

To all our endeavors.

Looks like your Brother

Part 1

1st Draft for the 2nd Chapter! Still part of the Prologue tho, lol

I will upload the edited Version on Ao3 in 2 or 3 Days.

Starring into those wild eyes, Donnie thought back to when everything went wrong. Not even two days ago had he last seen Mikey, his bright little brother, unharmed and safe. Now, his little brother was wildly clawing at him, jaws biting down hard on the tech bo he had been able to put between himself and his attacker (and just how painful that thought was). Those seemingly glowing white eyes glared down at him, hissing furiously at him from behind the tech bo, and started to bite down even harder. Donnie’s eyes widened when he saw cracks forming from where Mikey was biting. Seems like his behaviour was not the only thing different.Steeling himself, Donnie twisted his tech bo in different directions, Mikey’s head unwillingly following his lead. New sharp nails were scratching blindly at him but Donnie persisted, pulling most of Mikey’s upper body off of him and rolling them, now with Donnie on top. Pushing the tech bo down, white eyes widened in panic, the body under him wiggling incessantly and limbs flailing in an attempt to throw him off. Like a cornered animal, he mused absentmindedly. “Mikey,” he called out to his brother.

Why did he do it? What did he think would happen? That Mikey would magically be okay? Calm down? That wild white eyes reveal the ones he desperately wanted to see? HISS!But it did not work. It did nothing. It was just Donnie and this feral animal looking like his little brother, deep within the sewers. The wounds he received felt fake; painless in comparison to his emotions inside. Pushing everything down, he pulled out something he did not think he would need. The struggle died down quickly after Donnie used the knock-out dart he rarely ever gets to use. Now, he was alone. Hunching over the body, his eyes unwillingly scanned it. Every new injury and any new change. Cuts and blood. Markings and appendages. This was his brother. It was not his brother. He slowly got up and picked up the body, ignoring how blurry his vision was. He can fix this. He cannot fix this.

His first instinct was to bring the… Mikey to his lab but he quickly doubled back to the Medbay, where he did the best he could. Cuts, bruises, lacerations - they all pale in comparison to the spiderweb-like cracks adorning the carapace. In the end, his best was very little against those injuries. Nothing life-threatening yet, but the shell was a problem he decided to look into later. He left Mikey bound to a bed, laying on his plastron to keep the pressure off of the carapace. While the plastron was not left untouched, the small chips were less of a concern to him at the moment.

Donnie sighed when nausea hit him hard. Noticing the time, he could guess why. All appetite left him after he noticed his brothers’ disappearances, so he has not eaten since lunch on the day he last saw them. Weird to think that it has already been three days. It felt simultaneous like it was yesterday and forever ago. Assuming that fainting should be avoided, he should probably go eat something. Giving himself a moment (which involves groaning loudly for a minute straight), he got up and shuffled his way to the kitchen.

While waiting for the leftovers to heat up, Donnie did a rare thing (for him) and let his mind wander aimlessly. Fixing the other two trackers is important, but doing some research on cracked-shell care takes priority; letting it heal wrong would be bad in the long run. Also finding out what happened to cause their disappearance is a must. Looking at Bio-Data, to find out what caused the physical changes, from Mikey will only get him so far. Taking out the food from the microwave, he barely paid attention as he ate.

Chewing, he hummed thoughtfully. Mikey is probably going to be hungry once he wakes up. Should Donnie…bring him something? Mikey should be still unconscious from the dart, so he could leave him something to eat, uncuff a hand and wait until he sleeps to cuff it again- all without the risk of getting bit. The food would have to be something simple and easy on the stomach after, presumably, not eating since initially leaving the lair. Putting the dishes in the sink, Donnie went and opened the fridge, his eyes roaming its content. Nothing hard or heavy, a fluid being the best choice. Taking his state and their biology into account, something closer to their species’ diet would be better. Taking out two items, Donnie set them down on the kitchen counter, looking at the two in consideration.

Yoghurt and Applesauce. Yoghurt would be ideal and he could possibly put in some berries, but without knowing how much Mikey’s Biology has changed, with the more animalistic behaviour he has portrayed, he should avoid feeding him dairy. Maybe another time, when things are not as uncertain. Putting the yoghurt away, Donnie went to grab a bowl. Before hesitating and grabbing a plastic bowl. Before thinking better of it and grabbing a paper bowl. Donnie was still repairing his tech bo from Mikey biting it, so he can guess how much power is behind that bite. With his current unpredictable behaviour, Donnie is not taking any chances. Besides, once Mikey is back to normal, he will have Donnie’s head for breaking one of his “favourites”. Honestly, Donnie has the suspicion that Mikey does not have a favourite and is only messing with them. Not that he will voice this to anyone else. The fear on Leo’s face when he accidentally cracked Mikey’s “favourite” mug was hilarious.

He chuckled softly at the memory, ignoring the sting in his chest. Sighing, he opened the door and- he froze. Wide-eyed, they stared at each other. Donnie, rooted in the doorway, and Mikey, bound and cuffed to a bed, straining to look at him from over the shoulder. Mikey was awake. How was he awake?! Could it be…The physical changes? An increased metabolism or resistance to drugs, perhaps? White eyes bore into him, the intensity behind it almost flooring him. Mikey seemed calmer than before. Coolcoolcoolcool- just, be calm about this. Forcefully adopting a relaxed posture, Donnie tried to be as unthreatening as possible.

“Mikey,” he greeted in a measured tone. His brother just blankly stared at him. “Hope you feel better.” No reaction. Okay, small talk isn’t working. “I brought you food…” Oh, it was a useless endeavour. He could tell that what he was saying was flying over the other’s head. It was like talking to a wall. Or an animal-

Churrr…Donnie blinked, ripped away from the more pessimistic thoughts, and looked surprised at Mikey, who was clicking and chirping. It was slow and hesitant, he looked at him with less of a blank expression and more with expectation. The weight of the bowl reminds him of his purpose in coming here. Carefully approaching him, Donnie extended his hand with the bowl, bracing himself for a possible bite. But that never came. Instead, Mikey focused on the mush in the bowl, sniffing curiously at it. Giving it a tiny lick, he chirped delightedly and devoured the little Applesauce that was there.

It was like his brain bluescreened. Mikey was not inherently aggressive towards him. The aggression could be written off as survival instincts kicking in. Alongside the injuries and hunger, Donnie’s appearance was just unfortunate timing then. Or unfortunate circumstances? Everything Donnie observed pointed towards that the mental changes made Mikey act more animalistic.

Their family was not unfamiliar with some of their animal characteristics, them being heterotherms (cold-blooded (Turtle) and warm-blooded (Human DNA)) as one of the more obvious biological traits. Chirping and hissing are also not new but these (Turtle) noises are rarely made. It is an instinctual and unconscious thing, nothing they can force or suppress (unfortunately, there were a few embarrassing instances involving them). Splinter mentioned that when they were Turtle Tots, they used to make them a lot but grew out of it or forgot how to make them consciously. So hearing them now? It was weird. The chirps he heard from Mikey before were happy, excited, affectionate- obvious and simple to understand. These chirps though… It feels like he should know what it means, that a part of him should know. And on some level he does…? The ones Mikey just made were so much more complex and meaningful; like a language, he once knew so well but long since forgotten.

Chirp!Donnie cursed himself for getting lost in his thoughts again. What was up with him today? Looking down, he saw Mikey look up at him quizzically, using his beak to push his hand. Was he still hungry? “Oh, I don’t have more food. You haven’t eaten for three days so we have to go slow with the food.” He explained. His brother stared at him for a second before huffing, again paying more attention to Donnie’s hand that was holding the bowl. Not knowing what to do, he just let it happen. Mikey curiously observed the appendage: sniffing and even giving a tentative lick (what a weird texture). Recognising the pattern, Donnie was about to pull back to avoid the bite but Mikey beat him to it. But instead of a painful bite, he simply nibbled a little, his teeth (they feel sharper) gracing his scales. And Donnie…let it happen. He was not a fan of the experience, but the entire thing seemed, almost fragile in a sense. His little brother went about in such a gentle way, mindful of his teeth even when he was experimentally biting, his bite was very light.

Donnie was kind of in a daze when Mikey pulled back, looking back at him. Neither spoke or made a move. But this time, it felt more like a companionable silence, devoid of an underlying anxiety it had before. Unconsciously, Donnie’s other hand moved toward Mikey- why, he did not know- but stopped when he saw how the other flinched away from it. Moving slowly, Donnie stepped back. Things were… not as bad as he thought. Mikey was not incredibly friendly but also not outright hostile. They were on neutral terms. Maybe even slightly positive, if he thought about the whole hand thing.

He should leave for now. His guts told him it was better to go at this slowly, that he should not test his luck. And he did make some progress, he supposed. He was further than he was before leaving the lab. Walking out of the infirmary, Donnie did not bother to hide his small smile. Feeling a little lighter than he had the last few days.

It was the food, wasn’t it.

So... um... I've got ideas again.

I wonder why April's mutated-

Apparently in my wuthering heights era cause of a story

i got a barbie for christmas, so why can’t i use it like before?

it’s slipping out my fingers, a fist full of needles,

i grasp and i grasp and i grasp

way past others giving up and letting go

not because of their weakness

but because they know to cling is pain

yet i cling,

and when i let a needle slip i mourn its loss

i want it back, miss it’s sting

it’s another step towards me being an empty handed one of them

and i can’t do that

i won’t do it

won’t i?